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Prologue - An Impulsive Change of Heart
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu
    Summary:

    Kalos is currently in the clutches of a drug epidemic, and Odette Cinq-Mars is a former theater hopeful with a little too much time on her hands and a penchant for reading into things a little deeper than most.

    When her best friend Noel uncovers an alarming discrepancy in some public case files regarding the drug epidemic, she begins to do more than just question. When an old flame returns to haunt her, she launches herself into the world of the Shiny Pokemon Trade to uncover some answers. She soon finds she might have been in some deep trouble long before she involved herself…

    Content warnings will be listed at the beginning of every chapter, but as whole, this story is flagged for:
    Sexual themes (though no sexually explicit scenes will be written), themes of sexual assault and abuse, themes of lacking body autonomy, themes of trafficking, themes of child neglect, themes of child abuse, occult and paranormal themes, biblical themes, instances of non-consensual physical interaction, instances of torture, instances of chronic illness, drug usage, gun usage, cults, terrorism, stalking, blood, kidnapping, and experimentation
    Patch Notes!
    12/30/21:
    • Chapter 6​
      • Made Odette way more lovey toward Dorien, despite the fact that she's disgusted.​
      • Added small kissing scene.​
    • Chapter 7​
      • Made Odette way more lovey toward Dorien, despite the fact that she hates it.​
      • Made Dorien more handsy toward Odette.​
      • Added larger, somewhat noncon kiss.​
      • Added emphasis on unhappy shiny pokemon.​
      • Added scene where waiter drops drinks all over a rich person, and the rich person yells at him. Odette wants to help, but cannot because she's playing a part.​
    • Chapter 8​
      • Eliminated every exposition about Odette thinking she's being a stalker.​
    • Chapter 9​
      • Chapter name change.​
      • Entire latter half of chapter was overhauled to eliminate a battle scene, and add a seen where the concept of Odette being possessed is introduced.​
      • Blatant show of Pokemon trafficking.​
      • Odette is still sent to the hospital, but for a different reason.​
      • Added the concept of a "Pokemon Coercion Service" that shiny traders use to coerce Pokemon that have special evolution conditions to evolve.​
      • Conversation with Clovis slightly edited.
      • Conversation with Enora heavily edited to show more compromise.
    • Chapter 10​
      • Chapter name change.​
      • Entire chapter rewritten. Now takes place in Bernard and Marieanne's home, with Odette sick with a fever.​
      • Odette still witnesses a conversation with Loic's help, but the conversation was overhauled to match the changes made in Chapter 9.​

    1/4/22:
    • Prologue
      • Light edits to typos and incorrect grammar.
    • Chapter 1
      • Changed Noel's "in" at the Kalos PD from a friend he knew in an online class to somebody he knew in person.
    • Chapter 3​
      • Chopped down the opening scene.​
    1/7/22
    • Chapter 1​
      • Moved explanation of shiny trade from chapter 3 to chapter 1.​
    • Chapter 3​
      • Rewrote battle scene almost entirely. Provided more stakes, more Odette getting mad, and more Dorien seeming like a competent trainer.​
    • Chapter 4​
      • Modified the discussion with Bernard to track with the changed battle scene.​
    • Chapter 8
      • Added some extra dialogue to indicate that the Rotom in Odette's RotomPhone is a Rotom going through rehabilitation.
    • Chapter 10
      • Added a bit more meat to the dialogue and more reactions from Odette as she listens.
    1/17/22
    • Chapter 1
      • Indicated the year.
      • Added dialogue indicating Odette's mother is a Pokemon professor and why she's moving to Alola.
      • Tweaked dialogue between Acadia, Noel, and Odette.
    1/25/2022
    • Chapter 6
      • Added a line that indicates Odette normally vents to her mom about things, but has resigned herself from doing so in the current situation she's in.
      • Typo fixes.
    • Chapter 7
      • Typo fixes
    2/24/2022
    • Chapter 9
      • Slightly adjusted conversation between Odette, Enora, and Clovis, where Clovis is the one to ask Enora if she wants to be sleuthing and that's where she gives her answer.
      • Grammar and typo fixes.
    8/22/2022
    • Chapter 3
      • Minor tweak to Odette's first meeting with Dorien, where it's more clear they had a weird mutual crush in high school and that she doesn't remember why they stopped hanging out.
      • Minor edits to the verbiage around Dorien and Odette discussing their Pokemon teams to sound less like they're talking about pets and more like they're talking about partners.
      • Minor edits to Odette realizing Dorien is in the shiny trade. Also mentioned that she didn't realize he was involved with the shiny trade until well into their relationship.
    • Chapter 4
      • Details tweaked to further indicate Odette didn't know Dorien was involved in the shiny trade at first, and that they had a thing in high school.
    9/2/22
    • Chapter 1
      • Mentioned Odette's blood pressure problems and overall poor immunity issues sooner.
      • Adjusted verbiage to refer to Pokemon as "partners" and "friends" and not like pets.
      • Gave the Purrloins director a name--Martin.
      • Wrote in the concept of Odette's Pokemon taking leave from working to pack for the move.
      • Move date has been moved down to April.
      • Tweaked Acadia bringing up the league--Alola forming the league a few years out, and not within the next few months.
      • Lowercased all Pokemon species names unless they were being referred to as proper nouns.
    • Chapter 2
      • Lowercased all Pokemon species names unless they were being referred to as proper nouns.
      • Tweaked Odette talking about Loic--she now speaks more fondly of him. Mentions how he got her out of bed during a depressive spiral, and that he decided to stay with her instead of returning to the wild.
    • Chapter 3
      • Lowercased all Pokemon species names unless they were being referred to as proper nouns.
      • Adjusted verbiage to refer to Pokemon as "partners" and "friends" and not like pets.
      • Introduced RotomPhone as a helper Pokemon in rehab from an injury.
      • Rewrote Dorien and Odette's meeting, where Odette clearly still has a crush on Dorien, and thinks about the almost-relationship they had in high school.
      • Mentioned that Odette had her entire team sans Loic in high school.
      • Odette's realization about Dorien's involvement in the shiny trade hits a lot harder, and it's more obvious that she's perplexed about forgetting it. Emphasis on how she didn't realize it until later into their relationship.
      • Dorien is more forthright about starting a relationship with her.
      • Mention that Odette's team take different classes from her during the day.
      • Move names are capitalized.
    • Chapter 4
      • Lowercased all Pokemon species names unless they were being referred to as proper nouns.
      • Adjusted verbiage to refer to Pokemon as "partners" and "friends" and not like pets.
      • More exposition on Odette's anger problems. Rewrote the excerpt about her breaking a student's finger. More emphasis on the fact her anger issues have been diagnosed as part of a hormone problems, also associated with her other medical issues.
      • Bernard knows about Odette's former thing for Dorien.
    • Chapter 5
      • Lowercased all Pokemon species names unless they were being referred to as proper nouns.
      • Adjusted verbiage to refer to Pokemon as "partners" and "friends" and not like pets.
      • Adjusted some dialogue around Dorien.
    • Chapter 6
      • Lowercased all Pokemon species names unless they were being referred to as proper nouns.
      • Adjusted verbiage to refer to Pokemon as "partners" and "friends" and not like pets.
      • Included Vienna's partner, a Gardevoir named Thea.
    • Chapter 7
      • Lowercased all Pokemon species names unless they were being referred to as proper nouns.
      • Adjusted verbiage to refer to Pokemon as "partners" and "friends" and not like pets.
      • Mentioned Dorien's clique, consisting of Denis, Colin, Adam, and Lionel.
      • Touched on Noel's former relationship with Colin, and his general awkwardness with commitment.
    • Chapter 8
      • Lowercased all Pokemon species names unless they were being referred to as proper nouns.
      • Adjusted verbiage to refer to Pokemon as "partners" and "friends" and not like pets.
      • Slight line edits.
    • Chapter 9
      • Lowercased all Pokemon species names unless they were being referred to as proper nouns.
      • Adjusted verbiage to refer to Pokemon as "partners" and "friends" and not like pets.
      • Included the names of Dorien's friends in passing.
      • A little more dialogue on Noel's commitment issues.
    • Chapter 10
      • Lowercased all Pokemon species names unless they were being referred to as proper nouns.
      • Adjusted verbiage to refer to Pokemon as "partners" and "friends" and not like pets.
      • Added a little more description to Marieanne and tweaked some of her dialogue.
    • Chapter 11
      • Lowercased all Pokemon species names unless they were being referred to as proper nouns.
      • Adjusted verbiage to refer to Pokemon as "partners" and "friends" and not like pets.
      • Used director's new name, Martin, to refer to him.
      • Acadia brings up the conversation about Odette's health from Chapter 1.
    • Chapter 11.5
      • Single sentence mentioning that Odette wouldn't remember Denis asking her out twice, but Dorien does.
    • Chapter 12
      • Lowercased all Pokemon species names unless they were being referred to as proper nouns.
    10/14/22
    • All Chapters
      • Corrected Odette calling her mother "maman" instead of "mom" or "mum."
    10/31/22
    • Chapter 1:
      • More dialogue around Odette's health problems to supplement the exposition in chapter 4.
    • Chapter 4:
      • Trimmed exposition around Odette's health problems.
    • Chapter 5:
      • Rewrote Noel not being aware Dorien was in the shiny trade.
    • Chapter 11:
      • Rewrote Acadia not being aware Dorien was in the shiny trade (and Odette hasn't told her).
    11/11/22
    • Chapter 3
      • Modified the police discovery being presented on the news. Instead of a drug bust, they found bodies of trainers and Pokemon who overdosed on sacrilege.
    11/23/22
    • All Chapters
      • Grammarly'd that shit.
      • Changed all mentions of money to "Euros."
    • Prologue​
      • Changed chapter name​
      • Rewritten entirely​
    • Chapter 9
      • Noel mentions Dorien's friend Denis asking her out twice, and Odette doesn't remember that happening.
    12/29/22
    • All Chapters
      • Minor typo fixes
    • Chapter 7
      • Adjusted line about Clovis beating Dorien in Pokemon battles, now implying that Dorien has beaten Clovis in battle before.
    1/9/23
    • Chapter 2
      • Described Odette coming out of her anger spell a little more to match the visceral descriptions of her initial onset rage.
    • Chapter 4
      • Added some lines indicating Bernard has to be selective about what he can tell Odette about his job and cases.
      • Tweaked the wording of the Virtue Corp letter.
    • Chapter 5
      • Added scene at the end where Odette talks to her team about getting involved in the investigation.
    • Chapter 8
      • More discussion on whether or not Virtue Corp is good or evil, or in kahoots or rivaling Team Enigma.
      • Added more exposition around Odette wondering if Clovis was involved in a scandal.
      • Added a part where Noel suggests Clovis might be hiding information because he was involved in a sexual assault scandal, and Odette panics a little bit.
    • Chapter 9
      • Added dialogue of Odette asking Clovis if he was involved in a scandal and Clovis getting really offended.
      • Tweaked the dialogue around Noel discussing Clovis flirting with Odette, to have him indicate that he's still suspicious of him.
    • Chapter 12
      • Added a part where Noel admits they don't fully trust Virtue Corp's alignment.
      • Added a part where Clovis states he's alright with having to convince them Virtue Corp is good.
    • Chapter 13
      • Added a part where Noel specifically asks for Valentin to explain why Virtue Corp is good.
    1/10/23
    • Chapter 6
      • Changed the setting--restaurant is now on a private island that can only be reached by boat. Dorien and Odette are on the boat when he wipes her memory.
      • Tweaked the brief exposition about Odette thinking about what lipstick to put on. She instead decides her lips look fine without lipstick, and also "doesn't want to give Dorien more reasons to look at her."
    • Chapter 11.5
      • Tweaked Clovis's conversation with Dorien about Florent and lessened Clovis's urgency to meet him.
      • Wrote a little more about Dorien hating playing nice with Clovis.
    1/13/23
    • Chapter 7
      • Tweaked the dialogue between Odette and Clovis when they joked with each other.
      • Tweaked Noel showing up to flirt with Dorien, and had Odette act like she was annoyed by it. Also had her be a little upset that Noel did it after the fact.
      • Tweaked dialogue from the rich woman asking about Odette's lips. Also tweaked how Odette answers--she says her lips are natural but she does know a plastic surgeon.
    1/14/23
    • Chapter 8
      • Included some discussion about the blood pokemon and what they might be. Noel asks Odette if her mom might know about it, and Odette denies knowing the answer to that. Odette also worries for Enora.
      • Some light prose changes.
      • Cut out some of the beginning exposition to get to the meat of Odette's research faster.
    • Chapter 9
      • Tweaked dialogue between Odette and Enora to suit the inclusion of the earlier conversation Odette has with her team about getting involved in the investigation.
      • Tweaked dialogue around Odette asking Clovis if he's a predator.
    1/16/23
    • Chapter 1
      • Tweaked dialogue around Noel and Odette discussing the castform mating season and the weather.
    • Chapter 11.5
      • Added dialogue about Clovis having taken Lust sacrilege a lot in the past.
      • Clovis now states that he just buys sacrilege for himself and his whole team, not for Claire De Lune.
      • Clovis now mentions that he's taking a break from sacrilege.
      • Tweaked the line from Florent to say "If you personally mess with a single hair on her head without my firm approval--"
      • Added some internal discourse about Dorien wondering if Florent is eyeing Clovis to be the new Envy host or the new Lust host, on account of how often Clovis allegedly purchased Lust sacrilege.
    • Chapter 13
      • Straightened out the dialogue to be more coherent and flow better. Moved bits around and deleted dialogue that didn't make sense.
      • Added some extra explanation about Team Enigma members worshipping the blood legendaries.
      • Added dialogue about Clovis explaining how he had to purchase and take sacrilege to get in with Dorien.
      • Added dialogue about Clovis explaining how he's hit a wall with his undercover work, as he can't get to Florent even after earning their trust.
      • Rearranged dialogue around Odette asking what happens if someone non-Enigma aligned uncovers a blood type. Clovis now explains how tight Enigma is about dealing it.
      • Slight edits to Vice Dust explanation.
      • Added explanation about how Florent and Dorien got their sin Pokemon.
      • Modified explanation stating that while humans can spawn blood types with sacrilege, it takes a lot, to the point where most don't do it and just take sacrilege for the high.
    1/18/23
    • Prologue
      • Added a small paragraph to describe Florent and Armel's maroon/red eye color, and its significance with the Blood Legendaries
    • Chapter 2
      • Had Noel comment on Odette's eye color, and Odette insists it's a mutation.
    • Chapter 4
      • Included a line about a mutation in Odette's eye color.
    • Chapter 13
      • Added a line to indicate that the legendaries will not pass between Lambourne descendants if they're already with vessels.
    2/1/23
    • Chapter 1
      • Odette questions why the Pokemon in the shiny trade don't fight back.
    • Chapter 3
      • Changed convo between Dorien and Odette. Dorien insists rumors about the shiny trade are false and that the Pokemon want to be there. Odette says it shouldn't be an institution, and rebuffs his attempts to ask her out.
    • Chapter 5
      • Tweaked the conversation Odette has with her team when telling them she's getting in on the investigation. Changed Solene's reaction to a determined agreement.
      • Enora is still grouchy, and Odette decides to leave her out of it until she hears a firm yes. Wonders why Enora is so reluctant, and wonders if it has something to do with her past.
    • Chapter 7
      • Odette wonders why the Pokemon don't fight back if they look so upset.
    • Chapter 8
      • Odette wonders if the Pokemon don't fight back because of sacrilege.
    • Chapter 9
      • Added some lines to indicate that Enora had suddenly decided she wanted to come along, to supplement how she'd been reluctant and how Odette had decided to leave her out in earlier chapters.
      • Added some dialogue of Odette asking why Enora wanted to come.
      • Added some lines to indicate Enora is upset.
      • Tweaked the conversation between Odette and Enora. Odette is worried about what she's doing to her Pokemon more than she's worried about them watching her put herself through what she's doing.
      • When the plusle and minun pair are split up, the plusle tries to flare up but its owner has a move dampener that prevents it. Odette realizes this is why they won't fight back.
    • Chapter 13
      • Odette wonders if Enora was so reluctant to get involved because she knows she has a blood type in her.
    • All Chapters
      • General grammar fixes.
      • Changed Noel's Pokemon names. Braviary is Elton, Talonflame is Freddy, Vullaby is Ru.
    6/26/23
    • All Chapters:
      • Went back and changed all dialogue for the Pokemon characters to actual translated versions. New worldbuilding I've come up with states that the longer you're around certain types and species, the better you get at understanding them (so for example, Odette's pretty good at understanding Ghosts because they all talk similarly, and likewise she can grasp what Eevelutions are saying because she has a longtime eeveelution partner). She can understand say, Noel and Acadia's Pokemon because they've all been friends since they were 6 so she's had a lot of exposure to their partners. Still, she'll struggle to grasp what Clovis and Dorien's Pokemon are saying because they're types and species she's majorly had little interaction with.
    6/29/23
    • Chapters 2, 3, and 7
      • Introduced and talked about the concept of an "astral shrine"--something magical-type Pokemon trainers use to passively power up their Pokemon. They're little altars with offerings placed upon them that can help power up magical-type Pokemon. Odette observes her own, thinks about it before her battle with Dorien, and mentions it to Clovis.
    • Chapter 3
      • Odette thinks about using Arceus plates on her astral shrine to boost its efficiency, but she doesn't because they give her headaches.
    7/21/23
    • Chapter 6
      • Vienna comments about going to church and Odette throwing up every time they went.
    • Chapter 13
      • Noel asks if blood types are affected by holy relics like blessed water, buildings, and items. Valentin says they are.
      • Valentin comments about how Dorien doesn't like to go to Arcean churches and Odette asks why. Valentin tells her it's because Dorien gets stomach aches in churches, and confirms it's because he's the vessel for a blood type. Odette is very thrown by this revelation and starts to wonder if Arcean plates give Dorien headaches, and if it's all just a coincidence.
    12/17/23
    • Prologue
      • Mentioned "The Lambourne Birth Curse" as Florent is dwelling on Odette's birth.
      • Changed it so the Blood Legendaries had been in the Lambourne family for a millennia and not just a few centuries.

    ***

    White Swan.jpg


    Prologue: An Impulsive Change of Heart
    CW: Thoughts of infanticide, talk of infanticide, thoughts of murder, implied child neglect
    Author's Note: Hey all! Thanks for stopping by. There's two versions of this chapter--the original that's been up since this fic was posted, and the rewrite. I do highly suggest you focus on the rewrite, but you're more than welcome to read both. Hope you enjoy!

    The emergency breach sirens wailed through the halls of the S.S. Mystic Milotic.

    Team Enigma usually functioned like a well-oiled machine, but the sirens prompted chaos. Grunts ran around trying to gain information from one another, but every grunt was just as clueless as the next. Some just stood by and waited for further instructions from their feared leader, but nothing came.

    He was dealing with the issue himself.

    Florent Lambourne threw open the doors to the highly secure keep, located in the ship's bowels, with his 11-year-old son Armel at his heels. Florent's hardened features were twisted into a look of pure rage, which appeared to make his maroon eyes glow. He pushed on his navy suit's sleeves, trying to keep his hands busy. Armel’s face was a little more blank, but there was an obvious glint of childish apprehension in his gaze. He clutched a thick journal tightly to his chest.

    The alarm sound was at its loudest in this room, bouncing off the server-lined walls and metal floors. There were no windows for the noise to escape out of, allowing it to swell and rattle through the high-tech research equipment that had been placed throughout the space. All the light fixtures on the ceiling flared red.

    The four grunts on guard in the keep whirled around at the loud bang of the doors. Although their faces were entirely covered by their uniform gas masks, Florent could still see their fear, plain as day. Their stiff straight postures, the jumpy ways their shoulders rose and fell in time with their panicked breathing. They were absolutely terrified.

    As they should be.

    “Your majesty!” one greeted. There was a clear air of distress in the way he spoke.

    “Where are they?” Florent grunted.

    “Um, they’re still there, but…” another grunt tried to answer.

    “But what?”

    He pushed past the line of terrified grunts and quickly approached the center of the keep. It was a large space built to take up the entire bottom portion of the ship. Florent had to widen his stride to cover the distance quickly. A raised pedestal stood in the center, with a Pokeball holder perched atop it. His heart dropped when he saw that the glass that normally protected the balls inside was completely shattered.

    “No, no, no, no…” he muttered to himself as he leaned over the contents. The holder had five pockets, each occupied with its own neatly situated Pokeball, closed and undisturbed. Or, at least, that was how it was supposed to be.

    The fifth and final Pokeball was open and broken as if the Pokemon it housed had blown it out from the inside.

    Florent’s eyes went wide, much more so when he read the label that marked the pocket.

    Venira.

    “How is that even possible…”

    “Your majesty,” one of the grunts said again. “We are terribly sorry. But we don’t know--”

    “Did one of you take it?” Florent cut him off.

    The underlings quickly fell into a collective fit of denial.

    “No, your majesty."

    “We would never."

    “They’re your relics, your majesty."

    Florent took a deep breath and straightened his back. He calmly turned to face them as he folded his hands behind him. His expression wasn’t angry anymore. His features had relaxed, now showing something a little more stoic.

    “You say that, and yet...why is it that my most powerful Blood Legendary has gone missing while you were the ones on duty?” he asked sternly, like a teacher questioning misbehaving students.

    “We didn’t know what to do, your majesty,” one said as evenly as he could manage. His voice wavered nonetheless. “It had a meltdown. It just busted out, and we couldn’t catch it.”

    “Isn’t the whole point of guards in the keep to ensure none of my relics go missing?” Florent inquired. He lightly cocked his head to the side for good measure. “So you’re either going to tell me that one of you has taken it, or you failed to do your job. Both are equally as bad.”

    The panic wafting off of the grunts thickened the air and caused a smirk to tilt Florent’s lips. He stepped down off the pedestal.

    “Your next option is to beg for my forgiveness.”

    The four grunts exchanged looks. After a beat, they dropped to their knees and fell over into a bowing position. They then began to run through their memorized code of apology.

    "Forgive us, King Florent, for we have wronged you..."

    Florent let it go on for several seconds. He didn’t bother to interrupt; he didn’t bother to terrorize them further. In the middle of all of it, he felt an all-too-familiar tickle in his ear. His eyes narrowed, and soon, the voice followed.

    “What is it you’re going to do?” it asked tenderly.

    Florent considered the words for a moment before holding up a halting hand.

    “Cease and rise,” he snapped.

    The four grunts quieted themselves and stumbled back to their feet.

    “You should know I am feeling peckish,” the voice said.

    Florent pursed his lips, then turned his head slightly to look at Armel, who had kept quiet through the altercation. He had moved off to the side, away from the door, to stand near a table of empty beakers and test tubes. He stood stiff and straight, still clutching that little book of his. That same glint of trepidation still lingered in his eyes.

    He felt that, perhaps, this would be a good learning experience for his one and only heir, even if he would probably forget it.

    His smirk broadened as he looked back at the grunts and their lowered heads. “Your words have moved me,” he began. “So much so that I am willing to forgive your transgression against Team Enigma and me.”

    There were evident sighs of relief from the grunts. They held themselves quite stiffly as they were trained, but Florent could still see the tension beginning to leave them.

    “However,” he continued. He pulled his left hand from behind his back, revealing the single Pokeball he’d had on him. “You’ve outlived your usefulness to me. Your time for purification has come, my good men.”

    He pushed the button on the pokeball, and it popped open with the familiar flash. The inhabitant began to manifest in front of the once-again frightened group.

    “Gulattive, it is dinner time,” Florent said calmly. He brought his free hand to his lips and bit down on his thumb until it drew blood.

    The bead of red that formed on his thumb began to glow, and a stream of light shot out from it and joined the beams emanating from the Pokeball. It met with the manifestation, causing it to begin to grow in size. It grew, and grew, and grew. It didn’t appear to stop growing until the glowing form had nearly hit the ceiling. However, it stopped short of it and faded from the beams of the Pokeball and Florent’s blood into reality.

    It was a towering, lanky form with arms as long as its seemingly legless body. This left the being floating like a ghost. A cloak appeared to cover it, with a hood up over what should have been its head. However, there looked to be no head to speak of. Only a single, bloodshot red eye sat in place. Once formed, it loomed ominously over the four grunts.

    They didn't attempt to run, knowing damn well it would be futile. Their fates were sealed. They accepted it.

    "Mom, I'm coming home, pure and true," one muttered as his tears began to soak the inside of his mask. He shut his eyes and prepared for the inevitable.

    “Feast,” Florent said simply.

    A slit tore open in the Pokemon’s stomach, revealing rows upon rows of serrated and saliva-coated pincers. A pointed tongue that looked far too long to fit in its body licked the pincers before curling outward into the open. The Pokemon emitted a threatening growl before lunging at the grunts. All that could be heard was a set of high-pitched squeals, followed by the sickening sound of their bones crunching and the squelch of their flesh being bitten into. It took Gulattive no time at all to swallow down all of them.

    Florent chuckled to himself as he watched the Pokemon finish its meal before turning back to the puzzling sight of the broken pokeball and holder. He huffed again and crossed his arms.

    “Tell me. Were any of them lying?” he asked.

    Gulattive slurped to itself before turning to face its host.

    “No, master,” it said slyly, speaking out loud this time. “They tasted pure. No trace of Venira.”

    “Then where could it have gone? How did it break open its ball?”

    “It seems,” Gulattive began, “Venira has selected a host. It willed an escape, enough to break any bindings."

    Florent’s brows furrowed deeply, and he whipped around to face the towering Pokemon.

    “What do you mean selected a host?” he growled. “You told me that I selected the hosts for the rest.”

    Gulattive hummed to himself with sinister glee. “You do. But if your bloodline expands, one shall inhabit the offspring, as Avareed did with the boy."

    Florent moved his gaze over to Armel, who was frozen in his spot. Sheer terror had grabbed hold of his body and had no plans to let go any time soon. His eyes were locked on the place where the grunts had been standing. All there was left of them now was a puddle of blood.

    “F-father, you…” Armel stammered.

    Florent scoffed to himself. “Wipe the look off your face, boy. That’s how things are handled around here."

    He turned on his heel and approached the wall just off to his left, where a giant red button was affixed. With his face now out of Armel's sight, he took that small second to cringe to himself as a wash of minute regret came over him. While those bumbling morons had failed to keep Venira secure, they were still valuable numbers among Team Enigma. It had been difficult to come across new recruits lately, and now that he was thinking clearly, he realized he couldn't afford the loss that had just occurred.

    And yet, here they were.

    Florent wasn't quite sure how he could keep telling himself he could keep his destructive impulses under control. After a whole lifetime being the Pokemon of Gluttony's vessel, he should have known by now that there was no wrangling those side effects, no matter how much he tried.

    With a single, very aggressive shake of his head, he pulled a key card from his pocket and swiped it into the reader strip that was placed just next to the button. It released, and he looked back over at Armel, who was still quivering like a pathetic Magikarp out of water in his spot.

    "You'll forget it by tomorrow anyway, my dear boy."

    He slammed his fist on the button, halting the alarm and flashing red lights. All returned to normal as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

    Florent turned back to Gulattive. “And you couldn’t have told me that me expanding my bloodline, even unwillingly, would cause me to lose these Pokemon of mine?” he queried.

    “You didn’t ask.”

    Florent clenched his teeth in disdain. He supposed it couldn’t be helped that this particular Legendary was so conniving.

    “So, you're implying I have another child somewhere?”

    “Not implying, master. Telling,” Gulattive stated. “Judging by the speed which Venira left, I am to assume a child of your blood has just been born.”

    Florent paced back to the front of the pedestal, his eyes downcast in thought. He raised his wrist to his face, seeking the date off his watch.

    December 14th, 1997. 8:16 pm. The alarm had begun to go off a mere five minutes ago.

    “How could I have another child born at this point?” he asked himself. He racked his brain for possible answers. Several mistresses of his were aboard the ship, but none he’d had long enough to carry a baby to a full, healthy term.

    “Quite strange that master cannot remember who he has lusted after.”

    “Shut up, you,” Florent snapped. “You’re Gluttony, not Lust.”

    As his father conversed with Gulattive, Armel was wracking his brain for ideas on what he should do. He had to be useful if he were to avoid the same fate as those grunts.

    He slowly brought his journal to his face and pulled it open, shaky hands flipping frantically through the pages, trying to find something he might have written down that could assist his father in the current predicament. He hoped he’d written some helpful information down somewhere in his previous lives.

    He turned page upon page, his eyes scanning them for any trigger words that might prove worth mentioning. In the several seconds he turned, he found himself slightly tripped up by the recounts of preceding days, as he always was when he reread everything. Instances that he had no recollection of, rewritten clear as day in his own handwriting, and dated for convenience. He blew backward through November, October, September, August...all the way back to April, where he finally found something.



    April 4th, 1997.

    Galar.

    Father’s woman left today. He didn’t know she was leaving, so he was really angry. Don’t mention her to him tomorrow. We will likely be leaving Galar tonight because of it, too, so don’t be alarmed if we’re elsewhere.




    “The Galarian woman…?” Armel stammered quietly. He gulped and took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. Trying to get the image of Gulattive eating four people whole out of his head. If there was any moment for him to be thankful that his brain was fried, it was this one. He’d have no recollection of it tomorrow morning, and it wouldn’t be something he planned to jot down.

    “Speak up, Armel,” Florent shouted sharply. Armel flinched at how his father’s voice bounced off the walls, and his shoulders tensed.

    “The Galarian woman,” he repeated, louder this time. There was no need, though, as Florent had strode over to him, and now stood over him.

    “The one you met back in Spring. While we were in Galar,” he clarified. He tentatively closed the journal and held it down at his side, hoping desperately that he’d said enough.

    Florent brought a thoughtful finger to his bottom lip, as the memories lit up his eyes.

    “Vienna,” he recalled fondly. “That was her name. Beautiful, sweet Vienna.”

    She’d left him without a trace. High, dry, and heartbroken. He remembered going to pick her up from her dorm at her college, only to find she’d left the region entirely. No goodbye, no note, not even a phone call.

    He remembered how badly he wanted to wring her neck for it.

    He caressed his chin, allowing his eyes to slip shut in contemplation. Their last time together had been April--eight months ago. It wasn't necessarily farfetched to assume she could have been with a child in the weeks before. Still, he thought he'd been careful...

    Recalling the timeline of his brief relationship with her caused him to wonder: did she leave him behind because she’d gotten pregnant? He had to wonder if she even knew at that point. If she did, it only gave him one more reason to want to feed her to Gulattive too. Keeping one of his heirs from him was a crime he wouldn’t allow himself to forgive.

    Especially not when said heir had stolen his strongest relic from him.

    “You told me Venira was comatose. How is it that it broke free to find my child?”

    “I can’t say,” Gulattive mused. “Venira has always been an odd one out. It seems they have been reawakened by whatever presence has been introduced. It must be a strong one!”

    Florent didn’t like that prospect. While the idea of having another heir was one he enjoyed, having said heir attract the attention of the otherwise dormant Pokemon of Wrath…

    It just wouldn’t do.

    “How could I get Venira to return?”

    “The child would have to willingly give it to you or perish.”

    That was a no-brainer. A newborn couldn’t willingly give up possession, so the demise of it would have to do.

    “Well. Then I must do some digging and find what it is my sweet Vienna hid from me.”

    He placed a light hand on Armel’s head, causing the boy to flinch at the touch. Florent didn’t appear to notice it.

    “Good on you for remembering, my boy. That journal was a good investment.”

    Thank you, father,” Armel gulped.

    “Come. We must go to the surveillance rooms at once.”

    “Yes, father,” Armel agreed.

    “Is there anything the master requires of me?” Gulattive inquired.

    Florent didn’t hesitate to hold out his empty pokeball and push the button.

    “Yes. Return,” he said as Gulattive was sucked back into the ball in another flash of light. It sealed shut, and he threw it up once and caught it.

    “Your services shouldn’t be needed until I locate my newborn. It should be a solid meal for you.”

    His left ear began to tickle again, and Gulattive spoke in his head again.

    “I shall be looking forward to it!”

    As the S.S. Mystic Milotic docked in the shipyard, Florent Lambourne sighed to himself. He was annoyed he even had to bother with something like this, but that's what he got for being complacent. Reckless. Horny.

    He stared out over the dark Azure sea, deciding he didn't have it in him to stand just yet. So much work to be done, so much on his plate. Leave it to the birth of a goddamn baby to make it worse.

    Whipping his swivel chair back around to face his desk again, he grasped at the pile of papers that had been presented to him. The ones that gave him everything he needed to know about his plan for the evening.

    Galar was always home to him. He'd spent most of his life there with no plans to uproot. The food was good, the architecture was astounding, and the opportunities…well, they were knocking. Not to mention the women were in abundance, just as eager to approach him at the first sign of his wealth as anyone would be. Nobody had caught his fancy until he met her.

    Her. The absolute bane of his existence.

    Vienna was leaps and bounds above any other woman he'd laid eyes on. Hair like a luxray's mane, skin glowing like a morelull’s, lips as red as a magmar. So enticing. And her body? Unmatched.

    She knew damn well she had a choke-hold on him, too. And she played him like a goddamn fool.

    It'd been about seven months since she left him standing at the entrance of her college dorm, wallowing in his idiocy. She thought she could simply avoid telling him she was returning to her home region without telling him her real name. She thought she could skirt around him, spin him up in her web of lies, and get off scot-free.

    Never. Not in a million years. People who tried to play him for a moron always lost their heads, literally and figuratively. Vienna, despite the grip she'd had on his heart, was no different. Especially not after what she'd done.

    He shuffled through the papers again, finding the notes his spies had put together. She'd said she was Kalosian, and he believed her just based on her accent alone. He was pleased to know there was one thing about her that was truthful.

    It'd been a while since he'd come to Kalos. He'd have enjoyed it more if he weren't seeing red.

    Anybody would be livid if something were stolen from them, right? What was it with Kalosians thinking they could just take things from him? First it was that slimy Jean-Louis, and now—

    Something tickled the inside of his right ear, and Florent's jaw instinctively clenched.

    It seems we've arrived, spoke the literal devil on his shoulder. Soon, we'll have the family back together again.

    "I don't understand how this could have happened if the ball was locked," Florent said, thumbing his lower lip, his maroon eyes locked on the page he held. Reading the words for the twentieth time in a row.

    I've already clarified that I'm just as perplexed as you. However, if we've found the correct source, I can assure you that recapturing Venira will be a simple task.

    Florent was silent for a beat. "And you're sure none of the guards had it on them?"

    A chuckle. As much as I did enjoy the extended dinner, rest assured that I have not lied about that.

    Florent sighed gruffly and settled back into his chair, palming his face. That was…what, twenty men becoming Gulattive's meal? Of course, the Pokemon of Gluttony wouldn't mind that, but that was par for the course.

    Gluttony. Liking things in excess. Making Florent do things in excess.

    It seemed like a good idea at the moment, the punishment for letting Venira escape being death. But, thinking about it days later with a much clearer head, he could feel the regret settling in.

    Team Enigma was no small gang. Much more significant than any organized crime group. And slowly growing. But they couldn't afford such a loss. Yet, Florent hadn't hesitated to throw all who were on duty at the time of the Pokemon of Wrath's escape into Gulattive's mouth.

    Rolling his shoulders, he steeled himself with a sharp breath.

    They were examples. Examples of why not guarding his prized possessions with their lives was a horrible idea. The next subjects to fill their places would know better once Venira returned to her place in the keep.

    "You do tend to pull my leg, Gulattive. Pardon me for wanting to make sure," he replied, letting a rancorous smile upturn his lips as he spoke.

    I have no reason to lie about Venira escaping into your newest bastard.

    The smile fled off Florent's face, replaced by a scowl he should have probably saved for the confrontation he was about to have. His gaze zeroed in on a specific paragraph.

    It has been confirmed that on December 14th, 1997, at 8:16 pm, target Vienna Cinq-Mars gave birth to a baby girl. The child was born eight weeks premature and has been admitted to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Mount Molteau Hospital. Vienna Cinq-Mars suffered tremendous blood loss as a result of placental detachment and–

    It was nice to know that at least she'd suffered, but it was unfortunate she was so resilient. She could have died in childbirth and taken the baby with her.

    Florent began to wonder how Vienna thought she would get away with it. She'd never even informed him she had gotten pregnant. Part of him wondered if she'd even known herself, but that was beside the point. She still left without telling him, which was criminal in itself.

    It was one thing for Vienna to have lied about her age—he'd remembered thinking she looked a little young to be twenty-four, but he'd decided to chalk her youthful appearance up to her immaculate Kalosian genes, as it seemed those women never aged—but it was another to leave without warning, then bear a child that somehow managed to inherit his most powerful asset.

    Florent couldn't afford another illegitimate kid running around with his claim to power within them. The Blood Legendaries were his and his alone to bestow, especially concerning that one Pokemon of Wrath.

    He needed to kill that baby. Tonight. And maybe Vienna, too, just out of pure spite. As pretty, as rambunctious, as entirely conniving as she was, she'd make a splendid snack for Gluttony.

    He’d normally have one of his operatives carry out the acts, but this was a special case. He wanted to see the life drain from the baby’s face. He wanted to tell Vienna the baby was dead, then perhaps see the horror in her eyes as she realized she would be next. It would be some fabulous revenge.

    As he silently imagined his personal murder spree, a knock rang out from the door to his office. He dropped his papers and sat up straighter. "Come in, please."

    The door swung open slowly, and in walked his right hand and closest confidant, Silvain. "Your grace, the ship is set to disembark. There is a car waiting out front for you."

    Florent let out another sigh and finally willed himself to stand.

    "How hard can it be to kill a premature baby?" he muttered.

    Surely not difficult, Gulattive replied, which is why it must be done.

    There was a forcefulness in Gulattive's tone that sent an involuntary chill up Florent's spine. He'd never been scared of the legendary, but there was a level of edge to the ‘mon that sent Florent's survival instincts into a frenzy. He sometimes wondered how they'd made it thirty-four years together with little incident.

    He couldn't help but notice how dead-set Gulattive was on keeping Venira at bay. She was the strongest, but she’d been stuck in her ball for years. Gulattive had seemed convinced that that was for the best.

    All it did was pique Florent’s interest.

    The seven legendaries had been with his family for the last millennia, and none of them had managed to get Venira out of her ball. She was dead to the world up until now. Would Florent have been better off being the vessel for Wrath instead of Gluttony? Now that she had decided to awaken, he had to consider the possibilities…

    “You’re quite invested in this,” he commented.

    Venira is a tyrant, Gulattive snapped. She must be kept at bay, or she'll destroy all of us.

    The sudden outburst caused Florent to jolt, effectively ceasing his trek out of his office. Silvain, ever steeled, didn't move. But, the two were left staring at each other dumbly until Florent could force himself to move again.

    "I would be surprised if the embodiment of Wrath weren't a tyrant," he said evenly before continuing forward.

    Florent was set on making his way to the ship's exit when a thought occurred to him. He once again stopped mid-step, leaving Silvain to gaze upon him quizzically. Florent didn't acknowledge him as he checked his watch.

    9:31 pm. Past Armel's bedtime.

    His brow furrowed. He'd been so caught up in tracking down his other kid that he'd begun to neglect the one he already had on hand. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a good look at the six-year-old's face…

    There was time for a detour.

    "Please give me a moment. I need to see something first," he said.

    ***​

    Armel's room was a deck up, with all the more oversized bedrooms. Not too far out of the way of his office. He'd make this quick, then be on his way.

    Florent pushed the door open to his son's room, eyes squinting in the dark. At least the room was dark. Florent expected at least a lone light shining into one of Armel's books as he evaded sleep with his reading. Florent supposed the boy could be doing much worse things while staying up past 9, but…bedtime was bedtime. He was the boss, and that was that.

    Stepping into the room, he was greeted with faint snoring. With a few tiptoed steps, he was near the bed, watching Armel's chest rise and fall at its slow pace. Out cold for the night. Good.

    His eyes slowly roved over Armel's sleeping form, and for the briefest moment, he felt himself second-guessing his plans. He very well could kidnap the child and bring it aboard. Raise it like he was Armel; the boy was constantly complaining about a lack of companionship, like the Blood Legendary he harbored wasn't enough for him. Though Florent realized one could only handle so much of the Pokemon of Greed for so long, especially a six-year-old. Eating at his thoughts, making him the poor amnesiac he was.

    Florent often found himself annoyed with the impulsiveness Gulattive gave him. Still, he was sure it was far more manageable than dealing with a mind-eater like Avareed. Waking up every day forgetting most of, if not all, of the day previous. Needing to write it all down as a reminder. So much for a child of Armel's age to be dealing with. A sibling to confide in would suit him since he was still too young for another Pokemon partner.

    But Florent didn't want to deal with this with another kid. Especially not a kid holding the Pokemon of Wrath. He could barely be bothered with Armel most of the time, but with Armel and a newborn? A newborn he didn't even ask for? Not that he'd asked for Armel, but things happened. It was Florent's fault for not being careful about who he invited back to his room and doubly because he wasn't vigilant with his contraceptives. Besides, somebody had to hold Greed, and he supposed it was best off in his own kid.

    Not Wrath, though. He wanted Wrath to go to somebody of his choosing now that she was awake. Preferably himself somehow. Not a baby. Not the baby of the woman who played him.

    Cutting his gaze to the nightstand next to Armel's bed, Florent noticed the boy's journal neatly stacked next to the lamp. The one that held every minute of every day, lest he forget about it the next morning. Without thinking, Florent approached the stand and took the journal in his hand, flipping through the full, wrinkled pages to the most recent ones. It looked like Armel would be needing a new book soon. Florent made a mental note to have one of the nannies pick one up.

    He lazily skimmed the words, noticing how Armel's handwriting seemed to fluctuate between immaculate and absolute combusken scratch. Florent had half a mind to wake and chastise him about it, but he caught himself on the thought and shook it off. No, that was no reason to wake a sleeping boy. He'd bring it up with the tutors in the morning and leave it at that.

    In a moment of curiosity, he flipped to some earlier entries. With a quick skim, he found one that stood out.


    April 4th, 1997.

    Galar.

    Father brought a friend home today. Her name is Vienna. She has big hair and big lips and is very pretty. She is also very nice. The stuffed impidimp is from her. We like Vienna.


    Florent’s rage surged, and he reached over to shake Armel. He stopped as his hand landed on the boy’s back.

    No. No. Even poor Armel had been fooled. It wasn’t his fault. Let him sleep in bliss, he thought.

    With a shaky breath, Florent flipped back to the newer entries.

    There wasn't much of note. Just things about his meals, what he was learning in his lessons, more reminiscing about Pokemon partners. A few notes on nonsense conversations he'd had with Avareed, which he could barely understand. Kids were strange, especially when they had primordial legendaries stuck to them.

    He was about to shut the book when he flipped to one of the entries from earlier in the week.


    December 14th, 1997

    Galar.

    One of the Pokemon got out today. Venira is what father called it. He yelled a lot and threw all the guards that were there in the lower part of the boat. Gulattive ate them, and father made me and the others watch. I was really scared of how much they screamed. It sounded like it was hurting. It was an accident, and I don't think they deserved it. But father told me that he didn't care and that I needed to learn. I don't know what I need to learn but I didn’t like that lesson. Father is scary when he's like that.

    Blood smells bad. I hope I don't end up like that.



    Florent's eyes slipped shut as he exhaled slowly. Now the regret was gripping him entirely.

    An example had been made, yes, but at what cost? What was a young boy like Armel supposed to take from watching a group of grunts get eaten alive? Fear that it could be him at some point? What the hell had Florent been thinking?

    Armel couldn't be kept under Florent's thumb with Avareed if he was afraid of him. Besides, the boy was too young for gore like that. Perhaps when he was older, he'd be able to stomach it better.

    Florent grasped the page and tore it out in a single flick. Crumpling it, he sat the journal down and turned back for the door. He didn't get very far before the blankets on the bed rustled.

    "Father?"

    Another slow exhale as Florent stopped in his tracks. He gripped the paper in his fist and turned his head. "What are you doing up?"

    Every time Florent looked at Armel, he always found himself amazed at how much the boy resembled him. From the face to the hair, to the maroon glow in his eyes--the true sign of a Lambourne born with a Blood Legendary. Genetics really were unreal. As much as Florent hadn't wanted to be a father, it was quite neat to have a miniature version of himself. Hopefully, he could raise it to act the same as well.

    It was a few seconds before Armel responded with a yawn. "I…I heard a noise."

    "I was just checking your windows," Florent replied. "Go back to sleep."

    He didn't give him a chance to reply before exiting the bedroom.

    ***​

    "Your grace," Silvain spoke, catching his attention. Florent raised his gaze to meet his assistants, only to see that he was being handed a lab coat, what looked to be an I.D, his dampening device, and Venira’s repaired pokeball.

    "These are for you. The subjects in the lab were able to fashion a working keycard for ease of access. You should be able to get into all the wards without much hassle.’

    Florent pursed his lips and took the items, eyeing the I.D. closely. It looked official. It felt official, too. With a doctor's coat on, nobody would know what he was up to unless he was stupid.

    "You've outdone yourself," he praised as he began slipping the coat over his shoulders. "This should go rather smoothly then, hm?"

    When he was sure the coat was snuggly in place and he had everything he needed, he handed Gulattive’s ball to a puzzled Silvain.

    “You don’t require Gluttony’s assistance?” he asked.

    “I’d prefer if I didn’t have him screaming in my ear while I’m trying to practice stealth,” Florent replied. Some time away apart was always good. The hospital was a solid two-and-a-half-hour drive from the shipyard, so Gulattive would be too far away to interfere. And Florent would have his dampener with him, so no mental interference would happen either.

    He wanted to do this alone, without an eldritch god bossing him around. Or doing something rash.

    I do not scream in your ear. I speak firmly into your ear, Gulattive protested.

    “Of course, sir. I will guard him accordingly.”

    “I trust that you will.”

    As Florent stepped onto the ramp leading off the ship, Gulattive’s voice began to tickle his ear again.

    I’m quite offended that you think I won’t be an asset to you for this, he said.

    And I don’t trust that you won’t eat the child yourself and cause me more strife. Let me handle this on my own, Florent thought back sternly.

    He flicked on the small radio-shaped device, its dull purr indicating to him that it was working. Even if Gulattive did respond, Florent didn't hear it.

    ***​

    The ride over to the hospital was entirely uneventful. Though, Florent did enjoy watching the passing buildings and foliage. Kalos was a beautiful region. Once all of this blew over, he would try to enjoy it.

    As the car rolled on, he shuffled through his notes again. Reading up on who he was up against.

    The child was born nearly two months premature. That was an issue in itself. Aside from being grossly underdeveloped before her birth, she was diagnosed with respiratory distress syndrome, severe hypotension, and anemia. It was a wonder she managed to survive to make it into the NICU.

    Vienna was also spending time in an intensive care unit. She'd suffered traumatic blood loss due to placental detachment, leading to early birth. Clearly the Birth Curse in effect, he realized with a shake of his head. One of the perks of having a pact with seven eldritch gods.

    However, Vienna was stable and expected to recover fully, and even the baby showed signs of progress, even after only a few days. Of course, this would be one instance in the birth of a Lambourne--where they became tethered to one of the Blood Legendaries--when nobody died. Truly obnoxious.

    It'd taken quite a long time for his spies to track her down. There were many women named "Vienna" in Kalos, though none quite as pretty. But Vienna’s father being a cop and her mother being a well-renowned coordinator helped. Much information about their genius daughter, set to go to Professor school on a full scholarship. Vienna Cinq-Mars, the brain. Vienna Cinq-Mars, the player.

    He felt ridiculous, putting so much stock in an eighteen-year-old. He supposed he had a right, as he'd been under the impression that she was much older the entire time they saw each other. How was he supposed to know she'd been lying about her age? How was he supposed to deduce that she was fucking with him?

    Yes, he was certain he should take her out, too. Nobody needed to know he got played by a barely legal girl. Maybe it was deserved; he was a fool.

    Even so late at night, Mount Molteau hospital was still bustling. A wailing ambulance pulled up to the emergency room entrance as they drove through the campus. They passed numerous cars and buses on their way to the main building, where the maternity ward was.

    The car didn't park, instead pulling off to the side near what looked to be a back entrance. The door was closed, and a keycard reader was embedded into the wall next to it. Florent slipped out of the back seat, adjusting the coat as he went.

    "I will be back here in 20 minutes to meet you, your majesty," the driver said. "Good luck to you."

    Florent gave a single nod as he pushed the door shut. "I won't need it," he said.

    As expected, the keycard worked. He slipped in through the back entrance and briefly wandered in the direction of what he figured was the front desk. However, he soon caught sight of a sign directing him to the neonatal ward, and he followed his way from there. Simple enough. Maybe he wouldn't even need 20 minutes.

    It had been a while since Florent had visited a hospital so late at night. It was rather eerie just how empty it was, as he'd have expected a maternity ward to be a tad busier. Wasn't it a prime inconvenient birthing hour? There had to be at least one poor woman nearby screaming through the spawn of her offspring.

    His mind was wandering, though. It didn't matter why the place was so quiet; it was ideal. Less prying eyes around meant plenty of opportunity to smother a baby without getting caught. And because this child was being held up in the NICU, it was like the kill was being presented to him on a gold platter. Maybe he wouldn't even need to smother it. He could unplug some machine as a little "whoops" and call it a night.

    The NICU was laid out as expected. Rows upon rows of incubated cribs, all affixed with varying machines to suit each infant's needs. Some were a little more equipped than others—for the more unfortunate souls, it seemed. But, every crib dawned an infantile name tag, each decorated to suit the apparent gender of whoever occupied the spot.

    Florent breathed an involuntary sigh of relief because that made his job much more manageable. Here he'd thought he'd have to go around and unplug every crib. While he was never truly above murder, mass infanticide seemed a little extreme for the circumstances. He was only here for one; the other innocents needn't be bothered.

    It was amazing how many babies had been delivered with a problem. He'd have assumed the NICU was the main nursery had he not known better. He looped around three whole rows before finally finding the name that had been reported to him in his notes.


    Odette Harmonie Cinq-Mars


    A cute name. A darling name. It was a pity that it would never truly see the light of day. The rat of a child had committed the grave sin of stealing one of his most prized possessions from him. That could only be punished by death. Even if her entrance into this world did awaken Venira from her slumber, it was still unforgivable. He could deal with the science behind it later when the damn 'mon was back in her ball on the ship.

    Florent examined the crib for a beat, trying to decide which wires and tubes hooked up to it could be unplugged to ensure a quick death. He could have been able to tell she'd been born ridiculously weak even if he hadn’t gotten any reports on it. The array of monitors and IV drips beside her safe haven made that clear. Maybe he'd be doing her a favor, ending her life like this.

    As he took some quiet steps around the crib, he took a peek inside, just for the hell of it, to see who he was against.

    By gods, he wished he hadn't.

    Small. So small. Tiny arms and legs splayed out in all directions, each wrapped in a tube or wire. A cannula, most likely the smallest one the doctors had on hand, was still too big for her little button nose, so it had to be taped in place. Her chest rose and fell steadily, indicating she was sleeping despite the discomfort she probably felt. And goodness, she had so much hair on that little head. More hair than he'd ever seen on a newborn baby.

    She was perfect.

    It was surreal just how fast all of his violent thoughts melted away. The longer he beheld the sight of this baby girl, his baby girl, the more intense the warmth in his chest began to feel.

    "Oh, my gods…" he muttered, placing his hands against the tempered glass, longing to run his fingers along her little cheek. The tape would be in the way, though. Was it going to irritate her skin when they pulled it off? Would the doctors even place that tape on her in the first place if they knew it would cause a rash? Surely not. He'd throw a fit.

    He blinked at the thought. Him? Throwing a fit at some NICU nurses and doctors because a baby got a light skin irritation from some medical tape? Was he going mad?

    No, he wasn't. Just a brief lapse in judgment. He needed to get back to what he was doing. It was all too obvious, now that he was looking at her, that he'd be putting her out of her misery. She wouldn't last much longer without the machines she was hooked up to, so why even bother trying? That was no way for a baby to live, even if it was temporary.

    But he couldn't take his hands off the glass. He couldn't look away.

    Suddenly, his legs felt like grimer residue. Before he knew it, he'd sunk to his knees, now finding himself at eye level with her. Odette.

    "Odette," he whispered.

    The name felt like a top-shelf wine against his tongue. It danced off his lips as effortlessly as the fouette of a prima ballerina. It felt magical to say, even at that volume. Vienna was many things, but she at least knew how to pick out names.

    This baby. This perfect baby girl. Odette Harmonie. This was his daughter. His progeny. The one presence to have been enough to drive Venira to awaken. The thing Florent been interested in accomplishing happened when Odette took her first, albeit labored, breath.

    What the actual fuck was he thinking?

    Everything he'd previously thought was out the window. He would take her, raise her, and make her a woman of substance, class, pedigree, and power. Being stuck in the NICU like this would be a minor setback. She would be destined for fantastic things with Venira within her. It was certain. He'd make sure of it.

    Perfection deserved nothing less than the best. He was suddenly very glad he'd left Gulattive behind.

    He reached for the hatch that would open the incubator but immediately stopped as he was about to pull it open.

    There was a medical ward aboard the Mystic Milotic. It was suitable for an onboard clinic, enough to handle pretty hefty injuries. But, there was no nursery. Nothing to handle a baby who had been born with so many problems; so early.

    No, no, he'd make it work. He'd order things in and set it up himself, and—

    A light flicked on in the hall, causing him to flinch. He had the badge and coat, and he'd be fine enough to maneuver his way out if caught alone. But holding Odette? Would she even be okay long enough outside the incubator to survive the trek back to the ship? Or the time it would take to commandeer the equipment needed to sustain her? He started thinking about it more, only to realize that no specialized pediatricians were on board. Nobody to handle things if something were to go wrong.

    Now he was panicking. He needed to take her with him; he couldn't stand the thought of leaving the building without his little girl.

    But he just…couldn't do that to her.

    He wasn't equipped to handle it. She wouldn't survive if he took her, and the thought of her dying on his watch hurt him more than the thought of leaving her behind. He'd much rather her be alive and out of reach than in his arms and dead.

    He'd also need time to talk Gulattive down from the inevitable tantrum he would throw.

    Tears prickled at the corners of Florent's eyes as he kneeled down again. He rested his forehead against the glass, watching her little chest rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall.

    So small. So beautiful. She needed to be okay. He'd take the heartbreak to be sure of that.

    "Gods, I love you so much," he murmured into the glass. He wondered if she had developed enough eardrums to hear him. Or if her brain could compute his words. If she somehow knew that she was half of him.

    "Do you know that? I love you, Odette. My world is yours."

    Footsteps neared the NICU, but they only sounded like a clock ticking. Soon that clock would go off, signaling the end of their meeting. Florent wished he could stop time and sit there with her forever. Even with her looking so ill, he felt like the sight of her would never get old.

    Unfortunately, things didn't work for him like that.

    He stood for the last time, running his hands along the glass. Pretending it was her skin. "I will be back for you, my darling. You have my word," he said.

    Pulling away from her crib was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

    As the door to the NICU swung open, a nurse entered to do her rounds. Florent stuck himself into a cranny between a wall and another crib, keeping in the shadows as she walked to the opposite end of the room. He watched the woman with tears in his eyes and willed her to take extra special care of Odette. If he couldn't, someone else would need to.

    With a final look toward his baby's resting place, he tiptoed toward the door and slipped back into the hallway.

    ***​

    The ride back to the shipyard was borderline unbearable. Florent sobbed uncontrollably in the back seat, having to put up the car divider to ensure the driver couldn't hear him. Nobody needed to witness him in such a weak state, anyway.

    It hurt. It hurt so badly. It topped every other pain he'd ever felt. He shouldn't have looked in the crib. He should have just pulled a plug and been done with it.

    Clawing into his palm, he inhaled a shaky breath. He couldn't think like that anymore. The fact that he'd gone into that hospital with the intent to kill was terrible enough, but it was much worse that he was still thinking about it even after his lapse in judgment. Killing her wouldn't be an option anymore. Truthfully, he'd sooner die in her place.

    It was wonderful to think of her growing up, enjoying the things she wanted to enjoy, and being a beautiful, successful woman. He wanted her to experience everything wonderful in life and he'd annihilate anybody who willed the opposite. Returning home without her left him feeling like he'd lost a part of his soul.

    He couldn't hold her. He couldn't run his thumb over her cheek. He couldn't weave a strand of her curly black hair around his finger. He couldn't take one of her tiny hands in his and kiss it over and over again. He couldn't show her how much he loved her.

    How was he going to sleep? Hell, how was he ever going to sail out of Kalos? How could he return to Galar without Odette with him?

    Florent hadn't realized the car had stopped until the door was pulled open.

    "Welcome back, your majesty. I hope you had a good trip," the attending grunt said as he stood by. Florent sniffled quietly as he hastily wiped the tears from his eyes.

    "It was wonderful," he said, stepping out. He did his best to hide the stuffiness in his voice.

    "Is everything alright?" the grunt asked. Evidently, Florent needed to try harder. He sent a pointed glance toward the grunt as he cleared his throat and adjusted the collar of his shirt.

    "All is well. I expect a bottle of Moet in my room in five minutes," he said curtly. He'd certainly need a drink or five.

    Silvain was at the ship's entrance, Gulattive's ball still in his hand. He must have taken notice of Florent's tear-stained face and puffy eyes, because he quickly became perplexed.

    "Sir, are you okay? Was your outing a success?" he queried.

    Florent willed himself to take another deep, leveling breath and plucked the specialty ball from Silvain's hand.

    "I'd say so," he said, moving past him and toward his office. Silvain's footsteps followed him, but he couldn't concentrate much on that as Gulattive filled his mind almost immediately, now that the dampener was out of reach.

    Well, I take it you weren't caught. How did you do it? the Gluttony Pokemon asked.

    Florent didn't answer. He was silent on his walk back to the office. Gulattive was no stupid legendary because he picked up rather quickly.

    Is Venira in her ball?

    "No," Florent said. He threw himself into his chair, setting the ball down on the desk. He felt a headache coming on. At least it would distract him from the throbbing in his chest.

    You didn't kill the child. It wasn’t a question.

    Florent sighed. “I did not."

    The ball rocked. It opened with a foreboding pop, and a slew of maroon smoke filled the room. It wasn't long before Gulattive took form before Florent's deadpan gaze.

    When he wasn't powered up by blood, Gulattive looked no more menacing than a mid-evolution Pokemon. His voice, however, still managed to carry all the weight of a primordial eldritch terror.

    He was lanky, with arms as long as his legless, floating body. A cloak appeared to cover what should have been his head, but there was none to speak of. Only a single, bloodshot red eye sat in place, blazing in anger.

    "How?" Gulattive yelled. The force of his voice caused the chandelier overhead to rock and the china in the nearby cabinet to rattle.

    Florent wondered how he should explain himself. He wondered if he even should. "She’s my daughter," he eventually said. "I decided I didn't want to kill my daughter."

    Gulattive seethed, and he slammed his tendrils down on the desk, his single bloodshot eye hovering dangerously close to Florent's nose.

    "Have you forgotten that she has become Venira's new vessel? You were supposed to get her back, and the only way to do so is–"

    "I decided I didn't want to kill my daughter," Florent repeated angrily, also slamming the desk. "What don't you understand about that?"

    Narrowing his eye, Gulattive hovered backward. "If you didn't want to kill her, why didn't you bring her here?"

    "I couldn't. She's very ill and needs to stay where she can get the proper care."

    Gulattive looked like he was contemplating how to respond.

    "What makes you think an ill child could handle Wrath? Are you planning to leave her to be raised by this eighteen-year-old who–"

    "Enough!" Florent screamed.

    He was tired. His head hurt. His heart hurt far worse. Even so, he wouldn't let Gulattive convince him why keeping Odette alive was wrong. That wouldn't happen.

    "Last time I checked, you rely on me for your sustenance, yet you're awfully vocal in my day-to-day doings. I've allowed it this far, but I will not let you tell me why I should kill my own baby. I'm not going to hear it," he spat.

    Gulattive might have been frowning if he had a visible mouth. "Aren't you planning to return to Galar? What are you going to do about her being here in Kalos? Do you plan to return for her when she's in better health?"

    Florent clenched his jaw and settled back in his seat. Yes, that was something he had considered. It was meant to be a quick trip. But, the thought of leaving was causing him far too much anxiety.

    He abruptly turned his head toward Silvain, quietly standing by the door as always.

    "Silvain," he called. "Change of plans. Alert the crew."

    Silvain stiffened as he was regarded. “Your grace?"

    Florent rose and peered back out over the sea.

    "We'll be setting up our new home base here in Kalos. Starting today."
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 1 - A Lot On Her Mind
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu
    White Swan.jpg


    Chapter 1: A Lot On Her Mind
    Strong Language, Implied History of Sexual Assault, Talk of death, talk of Pokemon death

    Odette Cinq-Mars’ maroon-hued eyes were locked on her news app. She leaned against the backstage wall, tapping her clipboard lightly against it, keeping with the orchestra's tempo. She was humming along to the actors' singing while her eyes roved hungrily over the words on her phone screen.

    The victim, 25-year-old Gervais Morel, was found unconscious in his car. His Pokemon, a Simisear, attempted to take a firearm from one of the first responders and was subsequently gunned down. The Simisear was later found to have lethal amounts of sacrilege in his system. The Lumiose City PD declined to--

    She began to shake her head when a tap on her shoulder caused her to jump. She pressed her phone to her chest and cut her gaze over, meeting a set of slyly narrowed hazel eyes.

    “Shouldn’t you be paying attention, Miss Stage Manager?” Noel whispered.

    She scoffed. “Shouldn’t you be listening for your cue, Mister Mistoffelees?”

    Noel returned the scoff and crossed his arms. “To think, after years of acting classes, you don’t have that faith in me? Purrloins is my favorite musical of all time, you think I don’t know it like the back of my hand?”

    With a roll of her eyes, she returned to her reading. “Implying you know the back of your hand.”

    There was no response from him. Instead, she felt his chin dig into her shoulder as he undoubtedly tried to sneak a peek at what she was reading.

    “Oh, more Team Enigma news?” he said.

    Odette impatiently scrolled through the rest of the article before clicking the phone off and shoving it into her pocket. “Just the recent OD case. Nothing new.”

    He sighed, then removed his chin. “Oh, that? Lame. I’ve been waiting for a new break.”

    “You and me both.”

    He leaned against the bunched-up curtain, crossing his arms over his chest. “Anything else to report on? Can you at least tell me what the weather’s like today?”

    As if the universe sought to answer for him, a groan of thunder rocked the building. It was quite loud, but it didn’t stop the rehearsal on the stage.

    “Why don't you ask one of the castform? I'm sure they'd be down to talk to you about it between their mating.”

    To that, Noel chuckled. “Why, dear castform, does your collective horniness cause us so many weather problems?"

    “It's just another January, you should be used to it by now."

    "Oh no, it's worse this year. The rainstorms have been nonstop, and the temperatures are changing so drastically, I don't know what wardrobe I should be fucking tapping into." He huffed loudly. "2020's got some shit in store for us, I swear."

    They were silent for a moment, and Odette heard the sound of something being rolled behind her. She turned her head just in time to catch two of the stagehand machamps, dressed arms to toes in black, moving one of the light props to set on this side of the stage. She snapped twice, drawing their attention.

    “Hey!” she whispered. “Stage right, not left. Other side.”

    They frowned at her. “Mach,” one grumbled.

    With that, they rolled it off to where it was supposed to go. Odette sighed deeply to herself. She brought her clipboard back to her face, flipping up the first page to double-check her prop placement notes. “I swear, they don’t listen.”

    “You know, I found something interesting regarding this sacrilege stuff, I figured you’d be interested to know,” Noel said wryly, disregarding her annoyance.

    “You waited until now to tell me this?” she asked incredulously, shooting him a side-eyed glance.

    “I was going to wait until lunch, but since you’re on your phone on the job, I figured I’d humor you.”

    The actor playing Macavity the purrloin began to deliver his ending scene lines. Noel mouthed along to them, mimicking the actor’s conviction mockingly. Odette joined in, though she performed with a little less gusto. It was more like she was reciting them because she knew them by heart. She knew the entire show by heart, actually.

    The lights went out on the stage. Macavity’s actor disappeared through a trap door on the floor as the actors left began to shout and squeal in their performance of confusion.

    “I was doing some digging last night before bed, getting some dirt on all the released OD names so far,” Noel continued their conversation. He ran his thumbs under the shoulder straps of his bodysuit as he spoke.

    “As one does,” Odette snickered.

    “Lissssssteeeeen,” Noel insisted, swatting at her. “I was putzing around, looking for some similarities. It’s not much, but ninety percent of the cases have been among people in the wealthier demographic.”

    "What's new?" she said flatly. "The cops figured that one out ages ago."

    Noel smirked. "Did I mention that the press conveniently leaves out that a decent majority of the Pokemon being affected by sacrilege are shiny?"

    Odette knit her brows at him. "No way," she said.

    Noel had his phone out before she'd even finished talking, growing smugger by the minute. "No, seriously," he said, swiping his finger across his screen. "Most of these case files are there for public viewing, but my in down at the LCPD managed to send me her admin password for their whole case-file system."

    "Who's your in at the LCPD?" Odette asked, "and why don't I know about it?"

    "I've got gals in different locales, baby, don't you worry," Noel snickered, heightening his voice for dramatic effect. "Good friend from coding class. We cheated off each other all the time."

    Odette narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to pretend you didn't tell me that so this in of yours doesn't lose her job. Grandpa would have a coronary; he's well on his way there as it is."

    Noel finally stopped scrolling and held his phone to his chest. "So, as I said," he started, ignoring the comment, "I was putzing around, examining some case files and whatever, and boom. She texts me the login. Asked her for it a couple days ago, said she'd get back to me, whatever," he explained. "I kind of went a little nuts in there; pulled up something on that most recent OD case, and sure enough...didn't match with the public record. Specifically denotes a shiny simisear, while the public record denotes an ordinary."

    He handed his phone to her. "Scroll left."

    She shot him a wary glance as she took it. She squinted at the screen, which showed a close-up photo of his computer monitor, displaying a website with a bunch of case information. She didn't bother reading all of it because her eyes immediately fell on the part that had been highlighted for her convenience.

    Simisear (Standard)

    She did as instructed and swiped left. Another photo of his screen displayed an interface she recognized: the LCPD's online case filing system. She'd caught sight of it multiple times, glancing at it over her grandpa's shoulder while he worked. This time, the same information was highlighted again.

    Simisear (Shiny)
    She blinked in surprise and cut her eyes back to Noel, who was already nodding toward her with a jokingly pensive expression. "What'd I fucking tell you? That's suspicious as hell."

    He crossed his arms, pursing his lips in thought as his eyes traveled up to the ceiling. "Granted, not all of them were like that because some cases actually did just involve ordinary 'mon. But the ones that had shinies? All had discrepancies like that. And I'd say, of maybe the..." he trailed off to count his fingers, "twelve I looked through last night, nine of them were about shinies. I'd guarantee it's a majority. Can't say for sure, but I'm willing to bet."

    "You got me," she said after a moment of stunned silence, returning the device to him. Her mind had become so aflutter with this new revelation she'd almost completely lost track of where they were in the song. She didn't care, though. She had to dwell on this.

    "The wealthy, plus shinies..." she muttered. "Sounds like some shiny trade bullshit."

    The trade--very loosely reminiscent of the stock market--was centered around the buying and selling of shiny Pokemon. Hunters searched day in and day out for the coveted shiny and would sell them to willing buyers for ridiculous amounts of money. When Odette had learned about it at face value, it didn't sound inherently awful. That is until she looked deeper into it.

    Reports of mistreatment, unethical catching practices, and selling the Pokemon without their consent, among other despicable rumors, were constantly coming out. Last Odette had looked, there was overwhelming support for abolishing it. Despite that, it still stood, loud and proud.

    Of course, big names in the trade always made huge efforts to debunk the rumors, but she wouldn’t trust it. Money made people greedy, and greed could make people do some terrible things. Like, say, force-feeding a synthetic drug to a Pokemon.

    "I don't understand why the 'mon don't fight back if it's to the point that they're drugging them," Odette said. "Why not protest it if it's so bad? That's always been my gripe."

    "Maybe that's the point of the drugs," Noel suggested. "Or they like it. Or all the rumors are fake." He shrugged. "But these pics don't lie. So I don't even know what to fucking think at this point," Noel sighed.

    It’d been quite a long time since the region had experienced a synthetic drug problem as bad as "the sacrilege crisis." It started as just a couple of unfortunate accidents, with hardcore partygoers overdosing on some new fad. That substance exploded on the party and battle scene within a few years. Soon, more and more people, and even Pokemon, were overdosing, but not all of them perished. Those who lived exhibited some very strange behaviors, which is what really caught everybody’s attention.

    In one police report she had read, a young woman had to be checked into hospice because she'd ingested so much sacrilege that she lost all of her memories, and her brain functions reverted to that of a newborn baby. Another case mentioned a trainer being arrested when they instructed their drugged-up coalossal to eat the opposing trainer’s vaporeon during a battle tournament.

    All the users started to call the drug “sacrilege.” Soon, they were also starting to claim they were getting it from a group called Team Enigma. But, all attempts to uncover the group so far had been unsuccessful. So much so that it was hard to believe Team Enigma was even real. The whole ordeal was absolutely mind-boggling to her.

    Now, seeing this new take on the issue was sending her into a faster tailspin. What was the reason for keeping that information from the public? Hell, why was the majority of affected Pokemon shiny?

    She was starting to wonder if she should trust any of the reports she'd been reading at all. If they were willing to mess with that sort of observation, what other falsities could there be?

    It planted a weird seed in the pit of her stomach. Why would her grandfather let that happen?

    “How has Chief Cinq-Mars been lately?” Noel inquired.

    Odette sighed again. “Like I said, closer to a coronary every day.”

    Noel clicked his tongue and began to shake his head. “Poor guy needs a break. Maybe next time he takes one, you can ask him why they're fudging info," he said jokingly.

    Of course, being the chief of police at the Lumiose City PD would expose her grandfather to all the terrible things the otherwise beautiful city had to offer. But she’d seen firsthand how much of a toll this was taking on him. Coming up on drug death after drug death would do that to anybody.

    She remembered how he’d responded to a call about five fatal OD cases in a residential flat. The bodies, three trainers and two Pokemon, sat there for about a week before the smell of their collective decomposition alerted the other residents. Of course, nothing on them indicated where they might have gotten the drug from. He had been so disturbed that he didn’t talk to anybody for almost a week following the incident.

    She immediately regretted allowing her brain to travel there and shook off the thought as quickly as possible. She knew damn well what it was like to bear witness to death like that. Probably even more so.

    A shudder racked her small frame. Noel seemed to take notice because he placed his hand back on her shoulder.

    “Ease up, you’re good.” He spoke tenderly as if he’d also known where her brain wandered.

    “All good,” she assured him, her words short. “Don’t worry about me.”

    It was there that the sound of scurrying paws approached behind her. Something began to tug at her leg, and she looked down to find her blue-hued sylveon shooting a droopy-eyed stare at her. A folded piece of yellow legal pad paper dangled between her teeth.

    She supposed that was another reason this weird little discrepancy was starting to bother her so much. As a trainer with a shiny partner, she didn't like to bear the thought of her friend falling victim to such a drug.

    Odette frowned, both at the thought and at the sight of the paper. Noel gasped and placed his hands over his lips.

    Hello, Enora!” he greeted in a louder whisper.

    Odette leaned down and took the note from Enora’s mouth, and the fairy-type quickly looped around her to affectionately rub herself against Noel’s leg. He leaned down to pet her, cooing softly as he did.

    “Damn, Dee, I swear she likes me more than you sometimes.”

    “Why do you act like this shocks you every time?” Odette responded, opening the note. “She’s liked you since she entered the ball. She just has a thing for pretty gay men.”

    The 'gay' distinction is unnecessary. I just find him pleasant,” Enora purred quietly, sitting politely next to Noel’s feet.

    Odette retrieved her phone from her pocket and flipped the screen back on, using it as a light to illuminate the note. She squinted through her thick-rimmed glasses to get a better look at it.

    PAY ATTENTION!!!!!

    If her frown could have gotten any deeper, it did. She shot her head up, her gaze zeroing in on the entrance to stage right, just across from her. She was entirely unsurprised to find Acadia, also decked out in her practice dance garb, standing in view with a stern glare plastered on her face.

    Noel snatched the note, and Odette heard him laugh to himself.

    “Gods, what a mum,” he said. “She’s just mad we’re more interested in Team Enigma than she is.” He tossed the note over his shoulder and proceeded to stretch his shoulders. Odette knew his cue was coming up shortly, so he needed to be ready. See, she was paying attention. Damn Acadia and her parental-grade micromanaging.

    “I was thinking, Dee,” Noel said, stretching his left leg. “You and I should team up and try to uncover this bullshit together. We can give the PD a break, and it’ll be the last hurrah before you move to Alola.”

    She rolled her eyes. “That’d be something, wouldn’t it?”

    “I’m only half kidding. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, so I need something to hold me over,” he whined. “Two clueless entertainment workers busting the case of the decade would do it.”

    “You can always fly to Alola whenever; it’s only a ten-hour flight,” Odette chided.

    Only a ten-hour flight,” Noel repeated. “I can barely stomach flying to see my sister in Galar, and that’s four hours away.”

    “Sounds like a personal problem.”

    Noel opened his mouth to retaliate, but the song began to pick up in tempo. He held up a finger.

    “Hold that thought,” he said. He then strode onto the stage and began what Odette considered the best dance solo in the show. She might have been a little biased because it was Noel. He'd always been a talented performer. Back when they used to dance competitively, he was a force to be reckoned with. She was too. Their duets were always flawless.

    The memory made her frown. Her hold on her clipboard tightened.

    There wasn’t a world where she ever thought she’d be doing the crew work for a show. She’d grown up wanting to be the person in the spotlight. She sunk herself into her dancing and singing lessons and even picked up acting in high school with high hopes of being the next Broadway performer. Another Diantha—no, the next Diantha; talented performer and Pokemon trainer. That was all she had wanted for as long as she could remember.

    The strings section of the orchestra began to groove as Noel took off into his 30 fouettes. Odette took that moment to lean out just slightly from behind the curtain, and she eyed the auditorium chairs. She could see the show’s director, Martin Gagnon, and his assistant watching the rehearsal, probably nitpicking every little thing as he tended to do. Other than that, the thousand other chairs stood empty.

    This run of Purrloins! The Musical was sold out for the opening night. Odette began to imagine how the house would look that day, filled to the brim with those eager patrons of the arts waiting to be entertained by some of the most talented performers in the region.

    She started to imagine herself in, perhaps, Noel’s position. A big name part, with a big name solo. All eyes on her as she did the thing she swore she knew best.

    It all sounded dreamy until she was rudely reminded why it wasn’t.

    You’ll never get anywhere unless you do things like this, Odette...

    She recoiled back behind the curtain, anxiety gripping her chest. It caused her heartbeat to start ringing in her ears.

    Stop, stop, stop, she told herself. Shut up. Shut up.

    It’d been over a year since she last stepped out on stage as a performer. She thought picking up a crew worker job would help her get back into it; make her realize she missed it. But every time she thought about it, she thought about that thing that happened. She thought about those words and where his hands and his body went.

    She thought too hard about him. She hated it.

    She told herself that she’d at least attempt to eat lunch today when she left her apartment that morning. But, as it seemed, whenever she stepped foot into this building--the Lumiose Center for Performing Arts--something always happened that led her to lose her appetite. It’d become almost expected at this point. Probably not the healthiest thing in the world, but that was how exposure therapy worked, right?

    She just wished it somehow...worked better.

    ***

    “Dee, really?” Acadia asked incredulously. “Again?”

    Odette opened her eyes from the half-nap she was taking. It was lunch hour, and she’d decided that if she wasn’t going to eat, she could at least try to sleep through it. She was sprawled out on the stage, using her backpack as a pillow. Her fellow cast and crew, Pokemon and human alike, sat around her, talking amongst themselves about who knows what.

    Her eyes immediately landed on the untouched bowl containing her nanab berry salad, sitting next to her legs. She stared at it for a long moment before looking at Acadia square in her face. She was quick to take in the peculiar way her brow furrowed and her top lip slightly pulled back to reveal her clenched teeth.

    She’s on Mum Mode, she thought. But what’s new?

    “What? I’m not going to force myself to eat if I’m not hungry,” Odette said, knowing her words would be futile. Once Acadia made that look, there was no turning back.

    Acadia crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, not hungry for the fourth time this week?”

    More thunder shook the building, and Odette secretly wished it would keep rolling to prevent her from having to answer.

    “My stomach shrunk,” she muttered. She flung her arm over her eyes. “Lunch has never been my best meal anyway,” she added tentatively.

    “You should at least try to eat,” Acadia returned without missing a beat.

    “I haven’t fainted yet, so don’t be too concerned.”

    “Come on, ‘Cadia, let her live her life,” Noel huffed. He was sitting next to her head, with Enora curled up in his lap. “She stopped eating because she doesn’t want to grow anymore. She’s perfectly content being a cute little midget.” He reached over and grabbed the bowl, and began to eat from it. “Which means more for me.”

    “You're going to hog it all?” Enora queried, perking her head up as Noel began to chew. He stared at her questioningly before his eyes widened in realization.

    “Oh right, you like these things,” he said. He picked a berry from the bed of lettuce and fed it to the sylveon, who purred in thanks. Noel started to pet her, but Odette smacked him on the shoulder. He flinched, thus causing Enora to flinch too.

    “Owwwwwwwwww-uh,” he whined, rubbing the contact site.

    Odette!” Enora chastised.

    “He asked for it,” Odette insisted. “Five foot zero doesn’t equate to midget.”

    “It does for somebody who just turned twenty-two!”

    "Tell that to my fucked up hormones; maybe they'll suddenly start working."

    Acadia sighed deeply. “Well, excuse me for trying to make sure my friend is healthy. You've spent enough time in the hospital with your terrible immune system; gods know we don't need to add starvation to the list.”

    “Again, these all sound like issues that need to be taken up with my endocrines," Odette said flatly. She sat up and rolled her shoulders, releasing a yawn before speaking again.

    "You'll be stoked to know I haven't had a hypotension episode in a very long time,” she said. “And I survived flu season again. And since we're talking about it, I only got seven hours of sleep last night, so I’m trying to get the full eight right now. I'm the picture of health, immunocompromised, fucked eyesight and growth, and all."

    Acadia was frowning deeply at that point. “Okay, but I'm pretty sure that’s not how 'getting a full eight' works,” she said.

    “Well, not now. You woke me up.”

    Deciding that she no longer wanted to partake in that conversation, she zeroed in on the current conversation of the others sitting near her.

    “Psychic types are ideal,” said one of the dancers. “They can sense the audience's feelings, and therefore know when to play up their performances.” For good measure, she stroked her hatterene partner on her chin, causing her to coo in glee. “Calliope has been in a bunch of performances with me; she’s a natural.”

    “I get what you’re saying, but you can’t knock ice-types either,” one of the stagehands responded. His freshly hatched swinub friend sat snugly in his lap, fast asleep. “They’re absolutely glorious to look at onstage.”

    “Okay, but electric types can literally bring a house down. Luxray has a voice to end all other singers. He’s something,” another responded. Luxray was laid out next to her, enjoying his own lunch. He seemed bashful at his trainer boasting about him, so he hid his head behind a paw.

    “What are we talking about?” Odette asked after a few timed blinks.

    “Opinions on the best performance Pokemon,” Acadia said. She’d been listening in.

    “Depends on the performance,” Odette said simply after thinking for a beat. Her hand instinctively traveled to Enora’s head. “Solene is the best dancer I know, but I’d never put Enora in dance shoes,” she said.

    It was not something I picked up on, unfortunately,” Enora sighed in reluctant agreement.

    “You wouldn’t need to, people would flock to see a shiny Pokemon do anything. People love the novelty,” another dancer said jokingly, prompting some agreeing chatter.

    And apparently, people like giving them drugs, too, she thought bitterly.

    Yes, well...” Enora said in a low voice, ducking her head into Noel’s thigh. Odette heard the apprehensive undertone, but knew better than to question too much. Enora wasn't one to discuss such things. Instead, she scratched behind the eveelution's ear.

    “Hear that? You’re a novelty,” she said, pushing the thought away.

    “A cute novelty,” Noel interjected.

    The conversation continued on, merely consisting of more arguing. Odette found she couldn’t hold her focus on it for much longer.

    “So what were you going to say before we were so rudely interrupted by your cue?” she asked Noel. She shot a playfully sassy look at Acadia. “That we were paying attention to, by the way.”

    “It looked to me like you two were just running your mouths, so I couldn’t tell,” Acadia said with a shrug. “Be lucky I didn’t send Vigoroth over instead.” She slyly patted her pocket, where the bulge of her trusty friend's ball was visible.

    Odette pressed her lips together, deciding she had a point. Acadia had always been a stickler for the rules, even more so in a place of performance. She had an intense love for enforcing “theatre etiquette,” and she did so using the rather persuasive Vigoroth. Odette’s head began to ache, remembering the countless head smacks she’d endured for talking during an opposing team’s dance performance.

    “Instead, you dragged my own partner into it. Conniving,” Odette said dully.

    “Oh, I wasn’t going to say much,” Noel answered. “I was just going to bitch that all my friends are moving away.” He sniffled and ran his finger under his eye as if wiping away tears. “First Claude, then Basile, then my sister, now you. Why'd your mum have to put in a transfer?"

    "She's been trying to move her base of operations to Alola or Sinnoh for years, and the Professor's Org finally approved her for an Alola move," she explained with a shrug. "Now, she won't be out of town as often."

    Noel stuck out his lower lip, his posture going slack. "Who will I hide behind when Acadia yells at me for drinking too much wine?”

    “Nobody,” Acadia groused. "You're going to learn to take it to your face."

    “Besides, you have the group chat. Just complain there like you always do,” Odette suggested, raising the sleeping RotomPhone for emphasis.

    “It won’t be the same, though," Noel groaned, waving a dismissive hand at Acadia.

    Odette had to nod in agreement, it wouldn’t be the same. While she was somewhat looking forward to the hefty change, something about leaving behind the place she grew up was only adding to her daily anxiety load. She didn’t know what it would be like not being able to walk three floors down to Noel’s flat when she needed to get out of her head. Or being unable to meet Acadia for lunch when she was bored and needed female interaction. Or, possibly worst, being unable to ride across the city to her grandparent’s townhouse just because.

    It would be a new house, a new town, and new people. Shit, even new Pokemon.

    She felt like she’d come to terms with it, but it was still ringing...odd.

    The move wasn’t for another three months, but the household had collectively decided to get going on packing now. Normally her entire team should have been at work with her, but they'd taken leave to start working on boxing up the place. Now she was down to having one partner accompany her a day, which she supposed wasn't the worst thing in the world if it meant packing was indeed getting done. The focus today was all the glassware because they weren't planning on using it any time before the move.

    However, she wouldn't be shocked if her thoughts of productivity were all wishful. Solene and Isaur might keep everything under control without breaking anything, but asking Ange and Loïc to do something productive and careful like that together was like asking an aggron to do jumping jacks: it wasn't going to happen.

    Maybe I should have asked Ange to come with me today instead, she thought.

    “As sad as I am that you’re leaving,” Acadia spoke solemnly, snapping her out of her thought, “I do think that’s what you need. A change of scenery and a clean slate.”

    There were implications to that sentence that made Odette feel blessed to have a friend so concerned about her mental state and disgusted that anything even needed to be hinted at in the first place.

    Why couldn’t she just be okay?

    “The Elite Family dance studio is in Alola! You could audition,” Noel suggested suddenly. “Alolans are known for being great singers, too, so you could also find another coach!”

    “I heard they’re finally establishing a Pokemon League there in the next few years, too. That would be great to get in on as well since you’ve gone back to Pokemon training school,” Acadia added.

    Enora appeared to like that idea because her long ears stiffened at the sound of ‘Pokemon League.’

    That might be something worth pursuing, yes?” she asked hopefully.

    Odette couldn’t help the dubious tilt that took over her lips. The idea of a clean slate was great, she didn’t deny that. But all of those suggestions made her stomach perform aerials. She thought back to how she’d imagined herself center stage on opening night, and...no. The fear began to gnaw at her again.

    “Those all sound like great ideas,” she said, ensuring her voice didn’t waver. They didn’t need to know how badly her head was spinning. “I’ll look into them.”
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 2 - The Audacity...
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu

    White Swan.jpg

    Chapter 2: The Audacity...
    Special thanks to Pen and Flyg0n for beta reading this for me!
    Strong Language, Implied History of Sexual Assault

    Odette had never wanted to trade her motorcycle in for a flying-type pokemon. Noel, when he wasn’t going on and on about how his braviary partner Elton didn’t listen to him, always claimed flying was a truly exhilarating experience. But for Odette, nothing trumped a motorcycle. She was in full control, weaving in and out of traffic and between buildings at mach speed; she decided where to go and how fast she went. Flyers didn’t know what they were missing.

    Odette tightened her grip on the handlebars as a breeze stirred her bangs, cool against her uncovered head. She’d have to be extra careful tonight, with the roads still being soaked from the downpour. The last thing she needed was to have Acadia screaming, “I told you so!” at her hospital bedside. Or worse, over her grave.

    The city storefronts flew by her in streaks of bright light, seemingly absorbed by the headlights of the other cars she was surrounded by. The brisk air nipped at her face, leaving her nose inflamed and beginning to run. She quickly reached up a hand and rubbed at it as she switched into the middle lane of the road. Her eyes darted between the two cars that bordered her bike, and she instinctively slowed down when she saw the right car begin to swerve into her lane without using a blinker. It then sped up as if trying to leave that little faux pas behind.

    “Dumbass,” Odette said to herself, returning to her normal speed. Her mind ran with observations as she maneuvered between cars.

    Watch the van, they’re lane hopping...that hatchback’s driving under the speed limit, the driver looks like they’re texting, steer clear…why is this stupid sedan on my ass? And there’s the stoplight. Shit, it’s turning. Not even going to try to run it with Noel on here.

    She slowed to a stop at the front of the pack of automobiles waiting for their chance to charge across the four-way intersection. The downtime allowed her to rub her tingling nose again and untangle her bangs.

    Noel seized the opportunity for a chat. He rested his chin lightly on her shoulder and loudly inhaled.

    “Dee, what shampoo do you use again? The inside of your helmet smells so good.

    She looked over her shoulder, resisting the urge to laugh at the sight of Noel in her helmet. She'd felt it'd be safer for him to wear it considering she was the experienced motorcyclist between them, but the thing barely fit his head. Something was better than nothing, though.

    “Bulba and Bulba curl moisturizing shampoo,” she answered. Her eyes returned to the traffic running perpendicular to them. “It doesn’t have much of a smell, though. You’re probably noticing the heat protectant spray.”

    “I still don’t understand why you straighten your hair,” he sighed. He grabbed one of her braids and began to tug on it playfully. “Your curls are amazing, and you would rock the luxray mane look.”

    Odette pressed her lips together. “Until you have thick curly hair to deal with every day, don’t yell at me about what I do to mine,” she said. “I like my braids, and my braids like me.”

    Noel kept up with his chatter, but Odette tuned him out as she watched the traffic. The hundreds of tires rolling over soaked asphalt blended with the sounds of rumbling engines around her, combining with the music from the storefronts on either side to create a full cacophony. Odette drew in a deep breath. Most people weren’t fans of traffic noise, but she had always found the sheer volume calming.

    The sound of an engine revving echoed violently from over the building off to her right, and it caused her to jolt. Even from far off, it rattled in her eardrums above all the other sounds.

    Odette jerked her head in the direction of the disturbance. On the street, a few people had halted, looking around.

    “Street racers? Who the hell is street racing in Lumiose at this time of night?” Noel exclaimed, pulling his hand away from Odette’s hair. Before Odette could answer, that same revving noise exploded through the area again, louder than the first.

    “Look!” Noel called, nudging her back. Three cars raced around the corner. They were sleek, shiny, and probably cost more than her entire apartment and everything in it. They were colourful, too--clearly, they wanted to be seen doing this illegal nonsense.

    Rich people out for a joyride.

    “Red light’s gonna rain hard on their parade,” Noel laughed. Odette’s eyes flicked over to their light; sure enough, it had gone green. The cars around them started forward, but Odette didn’t move her foot from the brake. Her gaze was fixed on the three cars. Their speed wasn’t letting up in the slightest.

    They’re not going to stop, she realized.

    The cars behind her began to honk, and she felt Noel jostle her again, lighter this time.

    “Uh, Dee?”

    It all happened in a blink. As the sports cars entered the intersection, the honking became frenzied. Cars screeched to a halt. The street racers tore past, sending up a spray of mist. They rounded the next corner, and they were gone as quickly as they’d appeared.

    Odette blinked rapidly, trying to process what she’d just seen. The passersby erupted into conversation. Even though she couldn’t make out the words, she could hear their disdain and disbelief.

    Those fuckers could have killed somebody, she thought numbly. Around her, the honking had died down. The light was still green, but the traffic remained halted, all sharing in the same shock.

    Odette felt an all-too-familiar tingling sensation start to form in the small of her back. Her lips curled back over her teeth. The corners of her vision began to go red.

    “Those fucking lowlives,” she spat. She violently revved her bike. “I’m gonna--”

    “Hey!” Noel snapped. He smacked her lightly on the crown of her head. “Simmer down, Hothead!”

    Odette whipped around in her seat, one fist raised. She couldn’t hear anything above the rush of blood in her head.

    “Do you want my goddamn fist down your throat?” she shouted.

    Noel flinched back. His hands came up defensively in front of his face. “I want you to drive before the guys behind us shove their fists down both our throats!” he yelled back.

    She stared. The red began to clear as the aggravated honks behind her began to pick back up again. She lowered her fist, turned around, and propelled the bike forward. Her heart was pounding as fast as her mind was moving.

    “Gods,” Noel breathed when they were well away from the intersection. “Leave it to you to go psycho over some stupid racers. Keep it together, Dee.”

    Warm-up breaths, she thought. One second in, one second out. That was a start. Now two seconds in, two seconds out. She wasn’t feeling any different. The tingle in her back had yet to lessen, and her brain buzzed with threats and ferocious thoughts of payback. She wanted nothing more than to blacken the eyes of one of those drivers. Haul him out of his car, slam him against the wall and punch and kick until they were a bloody pulp, until—

    The audacity, the sheer fucking audacity…

    The breathing wasn’t working. She felt like she wasn’t getting enough air. All of her brainpower was going toward her rage. She had to concentrate on something else.

    So, she began to recite the Purrloins! script instead, starting with the opening song.

    “Are you blind when you’re born, can you see in the dark, can you look at a king, would you sit on his throne…” she sang to herself. She focused on remembering how the orchestra sounded when they played along with the singers in rehearsal. The harmonies, the rests, the subtle grooves, the way they were never quite together on the sudden rests, no matter how much the conductor scolded them.

    She kept on driving toward her building. The more she focused on picturing the stage as she sang the lyrics, the less she focused on the idea of hunting the drivers down and making them pay for their bullshit.

    Another turn brought her onto Gigavolt Way. She slowed to a stop outside a low-rise apartment building. The familiar sight helped in cutting her anger for a moment. Arched doors stood behind wrought iron balcony fences and flower boxes brimmed with blooming daisies and pansies. Some of Odette’s night owl neighbours were on their balconies with their Pokemon friends, enjoying the cool post-rain air. They waved as Odette drove by and turned onto the downward incline leading into the garage.

    “Flat sweet flat,” Noel hummed as Odette stopped at the security gate and entered her code. She easily maneuvered down the rows of parked cars through the parking lot until she found one of the spots labelled 310. She and her mother had certainly gotten lucky when they moved into the building because the first 310 spot was stationed right next to the elevator and staircase leading up to the lobby.

    Once the bike rumbled to a stop, Odette swung off and stomped toward the elevator doors. She’d forgotten about Noel. His voice caught her just as she reached out to jab the elevator button.

    “Hey! Temper Tantrum!”

    “That’s not my name,” Odette snapped back, not turning.

    “It might as well be,” he said. “Quit stomping around and come back here.”

    Odette closed her eyes. She didn’t have the patience to deal with Noel being Noel. Nonetheless, she pulled back her arm and turned to face him.

    “What,” she said. The word came out more menacingly than she had intended.

    Noel had taken off the helmet. He held it in front of him like a shield. “Pick one. We’re either gonna woosah, or we’re gonna sing another happy song.”

    The tingle in her back flared again. The attempt at calming herself was wasted.

    “Neither, I’m fine,” she ground out.

    “Pick one,” Noel repeated as he stepped closer. He had a ridiculous grin on his face. The fuck was he so happy about? “I would suggest singing because the acoustics in here are great. Don’t think I didn’t hear you singing Jellicle Songs.”

    His grin didn’t falter, despite the intensity of her glare. All she wanted to do now was get up to her apartment and stretch all the anger out of her system with her Pokemon team, provided nobody was up to anything foolish. But no, Noel had to be a good friend and make sure she calmed down before any of that happened. The babying lunatic.

    She sucked in a deep breath.

    “Jellicles do, and Jellicles can,” she sang, her voice echoing through the brightly lit garage.

    Somehow, Noel's smile widened even further. “Jellicle purrloins sing Jellicle chants,” he belted.

    As they continued through the verse, Noel dropped his things and began to do his own choreography for the song as if he were back on the stage. Although she tried to keep herself from doing so, she was soon smiling at the ridiculousness of it. But, the subdued performer part of her was aching to dance with him. She’d spent enough time on the stage’s wings, watching the dancers run through their steps repeatedly, that she felt she knew the choreography as well as she knew the timings of the scene changes.

    As Noel danced, she began to move along with him. Not with the same pep but with just enough gusto to show she had an idea of what she was doing. A couple of steps in, the tingle in her back faded almost entirely.

    She stopped what she was doing, arching over and placing her hands on her knees.

    All previous thoughts of violence, wrath, and everything in between vacated her mind, leaving her feeling winded. Her vision began to cloud with sleepiness, and her insides felt like they’d melted into jelly. The feeling was so intense that she forgot what she'd been so mad at just moments before. She was so focused on the malaise that gripped her that there was no room to be angry at anything. To even feel anything else but weariness and, of course, regret.

    It suddenly pained her to be standing upright.

    Gods, I hate this part, she thought through her fatigued haze.

    Nonetheless, she made herself breathe through it. She began smacking her lips together, longing for a big sip of water. Something to treat the dry feeling on her tongue and the gross feeling at the back of her throat.

    Hydration was always the answer. The results were usually instant.

    She felt a hand begin to paw her head as the elevator dinged, signaling it had been called.

    “Maybe if you diverted more energy into smiling, you wouldn’t always get so winded every time you got pissed off,” Noel teased from his new spot next to her. "You think your eyes are red because you're so angry all the time?"

    Odette dazedly leaned over to open her backpack. She retrieved the water bottle she’d swiped from the backstage fridge just before leaving for the night and started chugging it in greedy gulps.

    “Smiling causes premature wrinkles,” she huffed when she finished. "And it's a mutation, ass."

    Pushing herself up to stand upright, she blinked until the corners of her vision straightened themselves out. Her guts reformed, and as the water hit her stomach, it sent an instant surge of energy through her nerves. She suddenly felt as if she'd never been tired in the first place. No aches, no dizziness, no urge to fall over. All was right within her again. The regret was still prominent, but at least she could focus on it without the lingering feeling that she would dry heave and pass out.

    "I dunno, red eyes and anger go pret-ty well together,” Noel said, his voice inflecting upwards. “Real talk, though. Getting so mad that you’re tired afterward shouldn’t be the move.”

    She pursed her lips as she wrestled the half-empty bottle into her bag. “My anger issues know no bounds.” She paused, then exhaled slowly through her nose. "I'm sorry for yelling at you."

    The elevator dinged again, and the doors slid open. Noel sauntered in. Odette followed with considerably less spring in her step.

    “No harm done. I know how you are, Little Miss Angry Eyes," he replied easily. "Still, they were just stupid rich kids racing their new toys. Why waste your energy on that?” he continued as they began to move up. "Based on my observations, they might die of a sacrilege overdose soon, so..."

    Because,” Odette said strongly, “they could really hurt somebody. If I hadn’t been paying attention, there’s a chance they would have hit us. Then we’d be paralyzed or dead. And they don’t give a shit. The inconsideration just…”

    Her jaw clenched, and she pushed back her rising anger. There was no need for a round two of that.

    “It just pisses me off,” she finished flatly. Another pause. "And that's not funny."

    Noel sucked his teeth again, then returned his free hand to her head and began to scratch affectionately. “Sorry, sorry, my bad," he apologized. "But gods, you have so much rage in that tiny body. You must hide it all in your hair.”

    The elevator soon stopped and opened into the complex’s main floor. The interior wasn’t nearly as fancy as the exterior, just a wide open space with an empty front desk, a sitting area of mismatched chairs and loveseats, and a wall of mailboxes.

    “Let’s see what BS junk we got today,” Noel said as he popped open his own mailbox. Odette’s was quite high up, so she had to stand on the tips of her toes to be able to get the key in the lock.

    She was surprised at how much mail she pulled out once it was open. A couple of magazines, pamphlets, and some smaller envelopes.

    Maman’s, maman’s, maman’s...she thought as she flipped through the magazine covers. Finally, she came upon a pamphlet addressed to her. She flipped it over to read the cover, and her chest seized at the words that blared in her face.


    Fleurrh University of the Arts

    You’re almost done!
    Sign up for summer classes today!


    She dropped the rest of her mail and tore the page in half. The sudden movement made Noel flinch. When she returned from dumping the thing in the trash, she found him watching her with knowing eyes.

    His brows raised. “More shit from Fleurrh?” he asked.

    Odette didn’t immediately respond. She kneeled and began to pick up what she had dropped.

    “What gave it away?” she muttered.

    “I know that look on your face. But what gives, Dee? Why are they still bothering you?”

    She shrugged. “I only had six credits left when I dropped out, I guess they want to keep reminding me of that.”

    Noel shook his head incredulously while nudging his locker closed. He set his own mail pile down and knelt to help Odette collect the rest of hers.

    “Oh yeah, because you’re totally going to step foot back on that campus. After everything they did to you.” He considered his words for a second. “Or didn't do for you, more like.”

    Her vision was swimming, but not with red this time. Her chest began to tighten, the same as it had when she’d started thinking of him.

    She hadn’t gotten anything from her former university for a while. She’d thought for sure they’d removed her from the mailing list. Her, her mother, her grandparents, and their lawyer had told the school’s higher-ups and her former professor's family where to shove it, and she figured that was that.

    But life seemed determined to rub salt against her wounds. Odette began to massage her forehead.

    He forced himself on you, and you killed him for it…

    You killed him.


    She didn’t realize she’d started staring at the floor until Noel snapped at her. She jerked her head up, catching his concerned gaze.

    “Hey, ma’am, up here,” he said. “You’re good.”

    “Sorry,” she said, shuffling the rest of her mail pile together. “All good. I'm fine, just thinking.”

    She stood up and pushed her locker closed, shaking her head as a means to rid herself of those thoughts.

    “Would a glass of Domaine De La Roserade-Conti help? My mum would happily let us break into the wine cooler,” Noel said, flashing a grin.

    Odette had to admit the offer sounded tempting. A solid buzz would put her straight to bed, no wrestling with her brain needed. However, she also had to consider the possible hangover to follow.

    She shook her head again, sighing. “It would, but I have trainer school tomorrow. I don’t want to be dealing with dry mouth and wrangling Loïc at the same time.”

    At the mention of the name Loïc, Noel’s expression melted into one of slight fear. “Right, handling a rabid mimikyu while hungover doesn’t sound like a smart thing to do.”

    Odette scoffed as they made it back to the elevator. “For the millionth time, he’s not rabid.”

    “You say that, and yet, he acts pretty damn rabid,” Noel said. “I’ve never met a Pokemon that's so set on causing problems on purpose.”

    “Then you’ve never set foot in a Pokemon research lab,” Odette said. “Have you ever met a gengar that’s had too many bottles of protein? It put Loïc’s tantrums to shame.”

    Noel shook his head as he pushed the button on the wall. “Fine, fine. I guess the little guy did get you out of bed."

    Odette's nose crinkled at the mention of it. That all seemed so far away now; the days after that thing where she couldn't move, couldn't shower, couldn't eat. All she did was sleep because she had no will to do much more. And even that was interrupted by nightmares that the case was going to trial and that there was a chance she might be arrested for it and--

    But, of course. Leave it to her mother to bring home an injured mimikyu that needed all the TLC in the world and then some. She couldn't have stayed in bed with him running laps around the apartment and breaking shit, especially in the state he was in. There had been no room left in her mother's lab for him to board there, so at home he stayed, keeping Odette on her toes and actually driving her to get up and move.

    That was months ago, and Loïc made it abundantly clear he had no intention of returning to the wild any time soon. Apparently, he enjoyed crawling around in the vents and the free pecha berries he got out of the partner lifestyle. And truthfully, as much of a pain in the ass as he tended to be, that made Odette quite happy. Pain in the ass or not, it was a pain she welcomed because she wasn't wallowing in her depression in bed. Now she could at least do it while being a partially functional member of society.

    Shuddering at the thought, she sighed. Fond feelings aside, Loïc still acted like a wilding. Surely leaving him home to pack with her team wouldn't bode well.

    “Can’t wait to see what nonsense is in store for me.”

    ***
    Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep.

    Nonsense had indeed struck the Cinq-Mars apartment.

    Standing in the doorway, the sound that hit Odette immediately was the ring of the smoke alarm. White smoke rose in three separate columns behind the bar top bordering the kitchen. The dinner table was in complete disarray, with all four chairs completely toppled over and the tablecloth dangling off the edge in a bunched-up heap. A board game and its many colourful pieces were scattered over the wood floors. The only one of her Pokemon partners in sight was her froslass friend, who was face down on the living room sofa.

    “I swear to gods...” Odette said as she began to fan the smoke away from her face with her mail stack. “Isaur?” she said loudly. “What the hell?

    Don't ask; don't talk to me,” Isaur said, her voice muffled by the cushion. She sounded exasperated, and that seemed to be the only answer she was going to give.

    Odette kicked the door shut behind her, then threw her helmet and mail down onto the coffee table. Her eyes began to water as she stomped across the small family room to the dining area, passing the tipped chairs to get to her balcony doors. She threw them open and fanned the rising smoke outside. She tried to hold her breath for as long as possible to avoid breathing the smoke in but found the task to be a little too difficult. She took to staggering her breathing instead.

    “What happened to packing?” she yelled through short huffs.

    She moved into the kitchen and quickly found the source of the fumes. Her chandelure friend, Ange, was sitting on the floor, bright red in the face from pouting. His signature embers had flared up and were releasing smoke as a result.

    “Ange!” she snapped. “What’s the problem? You’re going to smoke out the whole building!”

    “He cheated!” he said angrily. “He cheated, and I'm mad about it!”

    Odette began to cough, feeling that tickle returning to her back again, along with a new tightness in her lungs. She grabbed a plastic cup full of water from the sink and dumped it on Ange's fires. They fizzled out, and he slumped over, clearly winded from whatever energy he’d been exerting.

    “You’re ridiculous,” she said in a huff, throwing the cup aside. She went back out to the living room and returned to fanning the exhaust. There, her gothitelle friend, Solene, came running out from the hallway leading to her bedroom, breathless.

    "I'm...sorry,” Solene said, panting. "I'm trying...to find--"

    “Help me,” Odette cut her off. “Psychic, please.

    Solene drew in some air and put her hands together. An orb of pink light formed between them, and suddenly, the smoke still left in the room began to ball together. The ball hovered out the open balcony doors and said doors slammed shut behind it. The beeping stopped, and Odette sighed in relief. She began to rub her back as if trying to coax the tingling sensation out of it.

    “Guys, I wanted to come home to a calm place tonight,” she said, irritated. “Of all the days to be up to some shit, today wasn’t it.”

    Things were perfectly fine up until about ten minutes ago!” Solene said insistently.

    Odette paused in her rubbing, a thought suddenly occurring to her. She looked around the room almost frantically. Isaur was on the couch, Ange was collecting himself in the kitchen, Solene was in front of her, and Enora was still in her ball.

    “Where’s the imp?” she asked.

    Solene pointed up at the ceiling, evidently annoyed. Odette looked up just in time for the sound of skittering feet to echo from down from it. Her gaze cut to the vent above her, and it popped open almost immediately. That familiar fake pikachu head hung down from the darkness of the air duct.

    Kkkkkkkyu,” Loïc hissed ominously.

    Odette narrowed her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of the vents? What could you possibly need up there?”

    Kkkkkkkkkkkkyu,” he responded. His body weight shifted slightly, and several other board game pieces and cards fell from the duct. Odette silently watched them all hit the floor before speaking again.

    “Why are you being a dickhead?”

    “Kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk.” It was amazing how even after living as a partner Pokemon for so many months, he still elected to speak in hisses.

    Why are you being a dickhead?” she asked again, her anger rising. Loïc was silent after that.

    Odette pinched the bridge of her nose and took another deep, long breath. “I’m going to count to three,” she said evenly. “If you’re not out of the vent by three, I’m throwing every single chocolate-covered pecha berry we have in the garbage. Do you--”

    She didn’t need to finish her sentence. Upon looking back up, she saw the rambunctious ghost-type slowly floating down to the floor. He landed at her feet.

    “Am good,” he said sweetly. Speaking in a way she could fully understand that time. For good measure, he began to rub himself up against her leg.

    “You’re so easy,” Odette sighed. She picked up the haphazardly thrown board game and unfolded it, seeing the familiar print of a Monopoly track. She frowned at it.

    “Who was playing Monopoly?” she asked, peering up at Solene.

    “Those two!” Solene snapped. She pointed down at the now-politely sitting mimikyu, and toward the kitchen.

    “Kkkyu,” Loïc replied.

    “Tattletale…” Ange called in a wary tone.

    Odette nodded slowly. “I could have told you that the two of you playing Monopoly would be a horrible idea. What were you even thinking?”

    There wasn’t a verbal response from Loïc this time. Instead, he scurried between Odette’s feet and dove under the living room coffee table. That was all the answer she needed.

    “Boys, when I said ‘start some packing,’ I meant ‘start some packing without getting sidetracked by random shit,’” she sighed. She sat the board on the table, along with her backpack.

    “I'm not sure how you expected this to go any other way,” Solene spoke. "The two of them together results in the opposite of efficiency."

    Odette eyed the gothitelle dubiously. “Fair, but what’d you do today?”

    Solene wildly gestured back toward the kitchen, where there was a stack of four small boxes against the back wall, plain as day. Odette had been in such a hurry to do some damage control, she hadn’t noticed them.

    All the glassware?” she asked.

    Solene nodded firmly, then gestured to Isaur, who had yet to move from the couch. “Of course! How could you underestimate our efficiency? I'm the fastest packer in the group!”

    At least the girls--sans Enora--had gotten something done.

    “Can I humbly request I not be left with them tomorrow? I'm over it,” Isaur grumbled, rolling over onto her back. At that moment, Loïc stuck his head out from under the coffee table and attempted to jump up on the couch with her. She immediately sat up and swatted at him.

    “You better get the hell away from me, I'm not in the mood!” she yelled.

    Kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk,” Loïc growled.

    Odette pulled Enora’s pokeball from the front pocket and pressed the front button. With a bright flash of blue, Enora herself appeared on the table. She stretched herself out, yawning as if just waking up from a nap.

    “Loïc and Ange, clean up your mess. Solene, make sure Loïc and Ange clean up. Enora, make sure Isaur doesn’t kill Loïc. I’m going to take a shower,” Odette instructed flatly, grabbing her bag and making her way toward her bedroom. She’d typically be able to attempt to diffuse the situation, but her brain was fried at this point. She needed a breather before she got upset again.

    Her bedroom was a bit messier than she normally tolerated. The contents of her closet spilled all over the floor, reaching as far as her desk chair and bed. Most of the drawers on her dresser stood open, also threatening to also dump their stuff. The only thing that looked relatively well-kept was her astral shrine, which had been arranged neatly on a small table in front of her window. It was still fit with the ganlon and liechi berries and various items she'd put out as offerings, her standard configuration for the sake of her team's battle prowess. She had half a mind to light the odd incense sitting in the middle of the crudely drawn magic circle, just as a means of calming her nerves, but decided against it. She settled for dusting off one of the candles, wondering when she should start breaking it down for the move.

    With the preparations to move underway, she had a lot of organizing she needed to do. What could be packed away for now, and what she needed to keep out. A pile of flattened boxes was leaned up against her wire bed frame, ready for use. Only one box in the room had been packed and taped, but she’d had that box together for over a year--long before this move to Alola was even finalized.

    Her eyes instinctively traveled to her wall of empty shelves, catching on the amount of dust that had started to accumulate on them. Despite the fact that she’d shoved every last of her trophies and photos from her performance days into that box, she still found herself glancing at the shelves every time she entered her room. They used to fill her with joy and a sense of accomplishment and worth. But now, they just existed, hoping to hold something else that filled her with those same feelings.

    That possibility seemed bleak.

    She threw herself onto her unmade bed after tossing her bag to the floor. Lying there, she allowed herself to really take a second to decompress. Forget the day, forget work, forget her team’s shenanigans. She just concentrated on relaxing.

    She hoped, in some way, shape or form, tomorrow would steer clear of the weird brushes with the past. Just a day at Santalune Pokemon Academy, focused on nothing but training. That was all she was asking for.

    A small crash sounded from the family room, followed by a chorus of angry shouts from her teammates. She cringed to herself and took the deepest breath she could muster.

    “All good. All good.”
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 3 - A Bad, Bad Run-In
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu

    White Swan.jpg

    Chapter 3: A Bad, Bad Run-In
    Special thanks to @kintsugi for beta reading this for me!
    CW: Strong Language, Talk of Pokemon Death

    Odette’s forehead hovered centimeters over the floor as she pointed her toes. She exhaled deeply, feeling the effects of her straddle wash over her. The knot in her lower back began to loosen, and her glutes began to scream a little. In a good way, of course. There was no better way to start a busy day than with a solid stretch.

    A loud sizzling noise rang from the kitchen, and Odette pushed herself upright, keeping her legs straddled. The smell of vegetable omelets started to waft through the apartment, and she felt her stomach rumble. Instinctively, her hand travelled to rest on it.

    “Smells good, Sol,” she said. "You really didn't need to cook today, though. I was planning to stop at the food court before class."

    Nonsense; Nana showed me a new recipe the other day, and I'm eager to see what I can do with it,” Solene replied sweetly. She was always looking for an excuse to use the stove, so Odette supposed she couldn't blame her.

    From her spot on the floor, perpendicular to the coffee table, Odette turned and eyed Isaur as she slowly flipped through the TV channels. She was using the arrow buttons on the TV set itself, and she’d been at it for almost five minutes.

    “Just put on the news and be done with it, goddamn,” Odette said. She thought for a moment. “And where’s the stupid remote?”

    A hiss rang from behind her, somewhere near the table. She heard something slide across the floor, and it struck the back of her leg. She shot a look at it, only to see it was the missing remote. She narrowed her eyes before looking over her shoulder. Loïc was sitting under one of the chairs, staring back innocently.

    “Very funny,” she said.

    Yes,” Loïc replied.

    Odette picked it up and typed in the number for the news channel. The screen flipped to it, prompting annoying grumbles to rise from Isaur. The familiar jingle played over the speakers as she hovered over to the couch, and plopped herself down between Ange and Enora. Ange was blinking drowsily, still trying to wake up, while Enora took to idly grooming herself.

    “There, was that so hard?” Odette asked.

    “Always. There's never anything good on at this time,” Isaur said defiantly.

    "All the more reason why you should save your energy,” Odette said. She sat the remote on the coffee table, next to her idle phone, before lowering her chest back to the floor. She exhaled, concentrating on her stretch while partially tuning in to the sound of the TV.

    “We are still receiving updates regarding the gruesome discovery made early this morning. The Lumiose PD received a tip late last night and made the bust early this morning,” the reporter said. “According to the reports we have so far, ten trainers and their Pokemon partners were found dead at the Pangoro Packing Storage Facility on Crabhammer Road. LCPD Police Chief Bernard Cinq-Mars has been on the scene with detectives securing the area."

    Odette’s head snapped up at the sound of her grandfather’s name.

    Sure enough, his familiar face popped into view: short, well-kept salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed matching beard framed a pair of tired, somber-looking brown eyes. Despite that, he held himself confidently and spoke with an air of determination that could only be found in somebody as passionate in their job as he was.

    “We’re still in the process of investigating what's happened here, but...it's not looking good right now,” he said.

    “Can you confirm that this is another case of a sacrilege overdose?” asked the reporter behind the camera.

    Bernard’s face fell ever so slightly as he contemplated the question. He soon shrugged. “We'll have to see what the toxicology reports come back with, but I'd say it's more than likely,” he replied grimly.

    There was a cut back to the reporter, who continued rambling through her report. However, Odette heard none of it, and her head had begun to buzz: first, with relief that her grandpa hadn’t been hurt and still seemed in good spirits. And then, with some concern: she’d scrolled through her news app for fifteen minutes yesterday on her lunch break and only found the one repetitive OD story. Now, there was a new one. Well, at least ten, more specifically.

    She began to scratch her cheek apprehensively. “I should probably call--”

    The words had barely left her before her phone began to ring from the coffee table. It morphed into its Rotom Mode and floated up to her face.

    "Bzzzzzzzt, an incoming call from Marieanne Cinq-Mars! Bzzzzt!” it said.

    She grabbed it hastily. “Thanks,” she said, then answered as she wriggled out of her straddle.

    “Are you watching the news?” Marieanne gasped on the other end.

    Odette blinked rapidly but couldn’t help the slight smile that began to form. “Good morning to you too, Nana,” she greeted hesitantly.

    Marieanne laughed. “Oh, silly me. Good morning, little Swanna,” she said. "Now, are you watching the news?

    Odette usually preferred keeping her discussions of sacrilege issues between her and Noel, but she could stand to humor her grandma for a few minutes before she headed off to school. She eyed the clock hanging just above the balcony door and found they weren't due to leave for another thirty minutes. She had time.

    “I was. I was getting ready to call you myself,” Odette said, standing up and wandering over to the couch. "Might actually go see Grandpa after class after seeing that, honestly."

    ***​

    It was colder today. It didn’t help that another round of thunderheads had come out to play. Odette had barely made it inside the building of the Santalune Pokemon Academy before the downpour started. Now, sitting in the lecture hall for Mr. Songmin’s Battle Tactics class, she could hear the rain pounding on the building outside. Thunderclaps would shake the classroom every now and then.

    On most days, she was a very attentive student, especially in this class. Mr. Songmin was one of those young teachers who prided themselves on being on good terms with their students. He always put effort into making sure his lectures--no matter how boring the subject matter-- were at least moderately entertaining, so the moldable minds in his presence would be more open to listening. Odette particularly enjoyed his enthusiasm. She also loved how his Kantonian accent shone through his Kalosian words once in a while. She found it charming.

    However, today her mind buzzed with thoughts of the morning news. No matter how much she tried to shake it off, it was like her brain had magnetized to thinking about it. She had to resist the urge to pull her phone out and see if there were any updates. But she doubted it would be that simple, making her eager to delve more into it.

    It's absurd, she kept telling herself. From talking to Bernard about all the cases he’d worked on, she knew it wasn't abnormal for drug epidemics to cause deaths. But at the rate they were happening with this sacrilege stuff, it was starting to feel like they were dealing with something much more intense. Were groups of people found dead in strange places while overdosing on opioids? Or meth? Or anything else, really? What was Team Enigma even trying to accomplish with this sort of thing? Wiping out a whole socioeconomic class, maybe? And why was it so targeted at shiny Pokemon, anyway? She'd need to have Noel look into the file notes when--

    “Cinq-Mars, I didn’t know the lecture was on the ceiling.”

    She hadn’t realized that she had leaned back against her chair and was staring into space. She slowly sat up.

    “I don’t have to be looking at you to be listening, Songmin,” she replied easily, hoping to play off her inattentiveness.

    Mr. Songmin smiled broadly as the class collectively chuckled. He sauntered over to his desk, which was stationed right in the middle of the lecture hall. He then sat down on it, crossing his legs and folding his hands politely in his lap. “Mm, then tell me,” he said. “You have a froslass partner, correct? Isaur? What are froslass known for in competitive battling?”

    “Their speed,” Odette answered.

    “So how would you tactfully use Isaur's speed in a battle scenario? Say, you’re up one, but the partner you currently have out is struggling.”

    She folded her hands on her desk in a somewhat mocking fashion. She started to tap her fingers on her knuckles as her mind began to run with adequate answers.

    “I’d switch into her in a case of out-speeding. I’d swap her in while the opposing Pokemon was distracted because of whoever was in before or charging up.”

    Mr. Songmin nodded along slowly. He didn’t say anything for a short moment. “Fair, but what if the opposing Pokemon again out-speeds her? Froslass most certainly aren’t the fastest competitive Pokemon, and surely there are ways for your foe to knock her out in one hit?”

    Odette pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Isaur’s been training with a Focus Sash since she was a snorunt. She can take a powerful hit,” she said. “In which case, she uses Destiny Bond. Now my foe is stuck between switching out themselves or losing another Pokemon and being down two.”

    He pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “Good answer. I’ll pretend I didn’t catch you daydreaming,” he said playfully before standing up again. He returned to the whiteboard and launched into something else about using Pokemon stats to one’s advantage. Odette exhaled quietly. She could shake off zoning out in lectures like this, but she’d have to be on her A-game in battle class.

    That class came to an end without much other incident. At the very least, Odette could say she now knew that a pachirisu could be a good staller. If she ever decided she wanted to deal with the pain of electric types, she’d have to remember that.

    The giant class filed into the hall, where some other older students loitered. As Odette exited, she was cut off by two youngsters, their raticate friends in tow, as they bolted back to their classroom from gods knew where. She sometimes forgot that kids as young as five also attended the academy with bright-eyed partners. The advanced classes were normally held in a building separate from the young kids, and Odette’s classes had primarily older students. But it wasn’t uncommon for some Pokemon prodigies to end up in them. Hell, she had two eleven-year-olds in her advanced monotype class. It was quite jarring to feel like she was back on a university campus, only to find herself sitting next to a primary school-aged kid on some occasion.

    She scoffed at the thought, then withdrew her phone to check the time. 12:34, eleven minutes to battle class. She might have had time to get something to eat from the cafeteria before getting her team from their HM class, but her will to eat had faded when she remembered today was an exhibition day.

    Every Friday, her battle teacher would randomly select two students to go head-to-head for an exhibition 3v3 match while the other students took notes on what they did right and wrong. The winner would receive extra credit. They were a month into the semester, and she hadn’t been called on yet. Each Friday that passed, she was sure she was getting closer and closer to having to pit her skills against one of her talented classmates while the others looked on.

    It caused a hole to open in her stomach every time she thought about it.

    It was so invigorating to witness other people go at it, taking in their expressions as they struggled side by side with their partners, hoping to come out victorious. She was usually okay battling it out in her smaller classes, but...in Mrs. Chuquet’s class of thirty-five students, that proved to be a little more daunting.

    She rolled her shoulders. She wasn’t sure what was making her stomach hurt the most. The thought of losing or the thought of battling in front of such a large group.

    “RotomPhone, any updates on the latest sacrilege OD?” she asked her phone as she turned and started walking for the battle gym. Her screen displayed a loading screen before Rotom’s frowning face popped up again.

    Bzzzzzt! Nope, nothing! Bzzzzt!” it said. "It's only been a couple of hours since the last, so I doubt anything would come out so quickly."

    Her frown deepened, and she sighed.

    “I know, but I can still--”

    "Bzzzt, watch out!"

    Suddenly, her shoulder made contact with somebody’s arm. Somebody’s buff arm. The person she’d bumped into was at least a foot taller than her and was moving quite fast, so they sent her stumbling back. She would have very much fallen on her butt had they not reeled around and caught her by her arm.

    “Whoa!” he yelped as he grabbed her. He pulled her up to stand, slipping an arm around her back in a protective manner. “I am so sorry,” he sputtered once Odette was still.

    She stood stiff, staring straight ahead and blinking as she tried to swallow the bout of rage that had shot up through her back. “Why don’t you watch where you’re--” she began as she tilted her head up to peer at the guy. Her gaze caught on a set of handsome green eyes, downturned with concern. A pair of expensive-looking Praltz sunglasses sat on his head, the same ones this guy used to wear daily to school.

    The familiarity of his face caused her rage to subside tremendously.

    Dorien?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

    His smile grew more excited with each passing second. "No way,” he gasped.

    He released his grip on her and took a step back. “Odette, holy hell,” he exclaimed. “I knew I recognized those braids. You look fantastic, my god." He laughed to himself. "How long has it been?"

    Odette adjusted her glasses, taking a beat to look him over. Everything about him looked expensive. She was so used to seeing him in their assigned secondary school uniform that she forgot he had the money to spend on such high-end outfits. The prestigious logos embedded into his clothes seemed to shine like the diamonds they were probably worth. Praltz, Louis Vibrava, Roll-X...

    “I…” she stammered. “Yeah,” she finished. "I think...it's been, like, five years since we graduated, yeah?"

    Dorien exhaled sharply as he pushed his hair back, minding the sunglasses. “Man, I hate the passage of time. Rodin's chem class feels like yesterday."

    She nodded along. "It does. Best partners in that class."

    He beamed at her, and it caused some heat to travel up to her cheeks.

    "You know it," he agreed.

    That was certainly true; the two of them never got anything less than A’s on their projects together. Where she sucked at math, she made up for it with her fantastic presentation and PowerPoint-making skills. His strong suit was the numbers and wooing the teachers with his gene-instilled charm.

    She remembered how stoked she was to have him as a lab partner. He was easily one of the best-looking straight guys at Lansat Preparatory Academy, and she wasn't the only student who thought that. But she was the lucky one. Seeing each other in chemistry every day and having to do so many projects together allowed them to get rather...close.

    They were almost a thing. Or, perhaps, kind of a thing. She'd been so caught up in her musical theatre studies that having a boyfriend had never crossed her mind. She felt like she didn't have the time or energy. At least until she met him.

    Why didn't we ever become official? she thought to herself. Now that she was thinking about it, it was strange. They just...stopped hanging out for some odd reason that she couldn't quite recall.

    Suddenly, she felt a little bad. He was a package; what the hell had she been thinking about letting it go?

    The warmth was spreading over her nose and was only growing more intense. It startled her, but she figured that not acknowledging it would cause it to fade faster. Scratching at her cheek awkwardly, she decided to ask the age-old question.

    “What are you doing here?”

    Dorien raised his shoulder gleefully, then flashed a piece of paper that depicted a class schedule. “Late enrollment, believe it or not. I start today. I kind of hit a rough spot in my training and decided I needed divine intervention,” he added dramatically. “I’ll admit, I was kind of worried at first, but I’m so glad to have a really familiar face here.”

    A smile began to curl her own lips. “I guess you were jogging because you’re late?”

    He exhaled sharply and peered at the slip of paper. “No, actually. Well, not yet. If I can’t find the room, I will be,” he said. He handed the paper to her. "Help?”

    She leaned over to examine it, roving her finger over the 12:30 time slot.


    Battle Performance - Building A Gym - Tania Chuquete


    She blinked in surprise. “Oh, lucky you,” she said. “We’re in the same class.”

    Dorien’s face lit up, brighter than it already was. “Lucky me for sure,” he said eagerly. Almost too eagerly. He was always easily excitable, but she didn’t remember it being this excessive. She raised her brow dubiously.

    He must have seen her expression change because he rubbed the side of his neck bashfully. “Sorry, like I said. Excited that you're here.” He flinched suddenly and rushed to correct himself. "That I know somebody, I mean."

    More heat. A cutiefly hatched in her stomach and tried its hand at flying.

    Odette shook her head abruptly, deciding to brush the feeling off. “No, don’t worry about it. I am, too,” she said. “I’m headed there anyway, so you can follow me. My team will meet us there.”

    “Sure thing. Lead the way, then.”

    She walked ahead, figuring it was best to keep up with the small talk. Asking how he’d been, how he was faring the weather, small stuff. He had no issue talking her ear off. Frankly, she didn’t mind. She’d rather ask him about himself than vice versa, lest she end up in that bad place again.

    “What kind of team do you have together?” she inquired as they rounded a corner, maneuvering through a crowd of loitering teenagers.

    “Well, I have a thing for steel and fighting types, surely,” he said. “But, I’m trying to keep my group well-rounded, you know? Counters for everything.”

    She pursed her lips. “That’s always smart,” she said. And so baseline, she thought.

    “That being said, I’ve got my partners Ferrothorn, Togedemaru, Corviknight, Pangoro, Toxicroak, and Bewear,” he listed, raising a finger with each passing name. “I tend to swap between them because I also have Excadrill, Poliwrath, and Conkeldurr.”

    Odette nodded. All primary and secondary fighting and steel types. An interesting combination. If and when she ended up in a battle with him, she’d have to watch out. Those steel moves would send Enora, Loïc, and Isaur to the emergency room at a Poke Center if she weren’t careful. But, she could solidly counter those fighting types...

    “What about you? I know you always had a neat team--gothorita, lampent, snorunt...and a...shiny eevee, right?”

    “Oh,” she said. “They're still around. Well, they’ve evolved since then. Gothitelle, chandelure, froslass, and sylveon. I also recently had a mimikyu join as well. And, of course, RotomPhone here, but he's not a battler. Just on rehab from an injury, so he's helping me function from inside my phone for a bit."

    "Bzzzzzt, howdy!" RotomPhone greeted, waving one of his jagged arms.

    Dorien nodded in approval, then began to scratch his chin as a thought seemingly occurred to him. "Pleasure to meet you," he said. "But, no battling sixth?”

    “I’m having a hard time finding someone who’d fit into my team dynamic,” she said quietly like she was embarrassed about it. “Loïc...” she paused. “I mean my mimikyu friend,” she corrected. “Was a fluke as it is. My maman kind of saddled him on me, but he’s...made himself at home. Pain in my ass, but he makes things very lively."

    “Well, I was going to say,” he chuckled, “a shiny sylveon would bring in enough money to last you a lifetime if you sold it at an auction. But, maybe not the best idea if you’re only running five.”

    Odette’s eyes went wide. What an absolutely audacious thing to say. She heard RotomPhone buzz in alarm next to her.

    “Excuse me?” she said. A mix of intense anger and an undying urge to laugh stirred in her chest. She started to let some of those laughs go, but she stopped when she remembered how Dorien's family, the Bonhommes, got their fortune.

    Dorien came from a clan of shiny hunters, and they were active members of the shiny trade. Active proponents of keeping it alive, too.

    Wait.

    Now it made sense. That's why they'd stopped hanging out. A whisper of nostalgic horror filled her gut as she vaguely remembered how his familial occupation came to light. How she'd been blissfully unaware of his involvement until the end of the year.

    Fucking seriously? she thought bitterly.

    How the hell had she forgotten that so easily? She would have assumed something like that would have stuck with her for the rest of her damn life, yet...

    Suddenly, her mind was racing again, this time with the thoughts of what Noel had found yesterday.

    The wealthy, plus shinies...sounds like some shiny trade bullshit.

    “It’s not the best idea, period,” she said. “I’m not somebody who's in favor of the trade. It should have been abolished years ago.”

    She watched as Dorien rolled his eyes. It lit a fire in her stomach. “Come on, you sound like the rest of the world. You do know the rumors are fake, right? Pokemon in the trade want to be there.”

    That time, she let her laughs out with no stops. She reached up her hand, signaling RotomPhone to go into standby mode. He reluctantly raced back into her hand, and she put the device in her pocket. “It’s almost like the rest of the world is right. Even if the rumors aren't true, there's no need to have a whole institution around it. That just makes it easier to cover up any abuse."

    Dorien’s brow furrowed momentarily, but he smiled through it. “That's a little assumptive, but not surprising. If you want, we could go grab dinner later and I'll explain to you how it actually is."

    “I don't think that's necessary, I'm pretty set in my opinion,” Odette said harshly.

    “Well, then how about just dinner?” He added a smile that she assumed was supposed to be charming, but something about it rubbed her entirely the wrong way. She was getting ready to chew him out for his involvement in such a deplorable establishment, and he was grinning at her like she was flirting with him. Not that she could pull off flirting even if she wanted to, but that wasn’t the point.

    “You're getting way ahead of yourself.”

    He held his hand over his heart, turning his head away dramatically as if he were offended. “Oh, we're back to the hard-to-get act? You really like to toy with my emotions, don't you?"

    She slowly sucked her teeth. The pleasantries of reconnecting with an old flame were fading very quickly. In fact, the sentiment was practically gone. All she wanted to do now was beam her water bottle at him. Perhaps she should have let her anger roll and decked him when he ran into her.

    "You know me too well."

    She had a much more nasty remark lined up, but they arrived at the gym before she could let it loose. She quickly decided that that was for the best. She certainly wasn’t one to shy away from confrontation, but she was focused on keeping herself in check for this class. She didn’t need to get so riled up over Dorien’s absolutely fucked views of the trade. At least, not now.

    She pushed the heavy double doors open and was met with the sight of some of her classmates sitting on the bleachers. The gym itself wasn’t what a standard school gym would look like. No basketball hoops, no volleyball nets--just a practice battle arena. The walls and ceiling were even padded with protection against stray projectiles. The bleachers themselves also had a protective barrier that could be activated whenever a showdown was going to occur. Truly, no expense was spared by the academy.

    “Huh. Seems standard,” Dorien commented. His voice had a posh inflection, which made Odette’s nerves prickle in disdain. Maybe getting a little riled up wouldn’t hurt.

    “Must be nice to be so rich that ‘state of the art’ is just ‘standard’ to you,” she cracked, her tone wavering on the line between reserved and downright biting. He appeared oblivious to her less-than-friendly demeanor.

    “I guess it just comes with the territory.”

    “Are you sure you’re not just a spoiled brat?” she queried as they walked across the vast space. This prompted another chuckle, this one a little louder.

    “Maybe?” he offered. That same attempt-at-charming smile made a comeback, and she began to wonder if he actually was in the mindset that this was flirting. That didn’t make any goddamn sense to her. Not that she was the flirting expert; quite the opposite, actually. But she wasn’t so emotionally unintelligent that she’d take rude banter as something in the same vein as courting. She somehow didn’t remember Dorien being so oblivious, but what did she know? She’d forgotten why she stopped liking him in the first place, so forgetting how he was as a person wasn’t entirely farfetched in comparison. People change in five years, don't they?

    A couple of the students already sitting there sent friendly waves and soft “hey’s” toward her as she trekked up the bleacher stairs to her usual bench. Dorien sat next to her and leaned back against the seats behind him, folding his arms behind his head.

    “So give me the rundown. How does it work here?” he asked.

    Odette diverted her attention toward digging through her bag for her empty pokeballs, which she shoved into her jogger's pockets. “It’s a battle class,” she said. “You battle. I would think it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

    He scoffed. “Yes, but what, no gimmick?” he said. She could hear the grin in his voice.

    She inhaled deeply and slowly turned her head to face him. As expected, he was flashing his teeth at her. She couldn’t help but notice how perfectly straight they were.

    “Every Friday, the professor picks two students to showcase a 3v3 battle,” she explained. “In case your servants didn’t remind you when you woke up this morning, today is Friday.”

    The intended insult flew right over his head. He seemed to show more interest in the idea of the showcase battle, judging by how his eyes brightened. He turned onto his side, fully facing her, and rested his cheek on his palm. “Oh, that sounds fun,” he said slyly. “What are the chances I’ll get grabbed today?”

    “I haven’t even been called. So I highly doubt it.” With that, she turned her head back toward her bag.

    “Oh, so maybe you’ll go? And I get to watch you battle it out with your little fairy and ghost friends?”

    She flinched. His voice had suddenly grown louder and...closer. As if it were right next to her ear.

    With her brows scrunched and a deep frown on her face, she turned toward him again, only to find that he’d leaned in close to her. Too close to her. Her cheek was mere centimeters from brushing his nose as she turned her head. Green eyes were narrowed in an all-too-sultry fashion, and his toothy smile had shrunk down to a smirk.

    Instinctively, she raised her hand and pressed her palm to his nose, forcing him backward and out of her personal space.

    “You can watch me from back there,” she said, emphasizing her last word as she pulled her hand away. “I’m not a fan of people getting so close to me, thank you.”

    She watched him tilt his head to the side, his expression growing sad. But it wasn’t any sort of sincere sadness. It was a mocking sadness. Like one somebody might give a farfetch’d for throwing a tantrum over their leek losing a leaf. A fire lit in her veins, and she grasped the strap of her backpack to refrain from backhanding him outright.

    “What?” he said, feigning a pout. “Come on, I figured we were doing flame rekindling here.” He exhaled deeply and leaned back into the bench behind him again. “Not to be so forthright after only re-acquainting myself with you ten minutes ago, but I liked our thing. I was hoping to talk about revisiting it, if I may be so blunt."

    Not on your goddamn life.

    Her grip on her backpack tightened. She was sure the skin on her knuckles would tear open, but she didn’t care. If she let go, his pretty little nose was going to break.

    Maliciously crafted words threatened to spew out, but the double doors opened again, and the remaining students, including Odette's Pokemon group, filed in with Mrs. Chuquete in tow. Mrs. Chuquete held her usual clipboard under her arm, and a baseball cap sat on her head of fluffy red hair.

    Odette exhaled the shallow breath she was holding, almost feeling relieved that the start of class would save her from the absolute trainwreck of a conversation she was having. It would also save her from the probable expulsion that would come with absolutely pummeling a new student half to death.

    “Huh, class starting?” Dorien commented like he was trying to fill the tense silence that had swelled between them.

    Yeah, no shit, she wanted to yell. She bit her tongue instead, just in time for Solene, Enora, Isaur, Ange, and Loïc to join her on the bleachers. Solene was the first to notice Dorien, and she nudged Odette frantically upon recognizing his face.

    "Hang on, is that--?" she whispered in shock.

    Odette stiffly shook her head and waved her off. She wasn't in the mood to explain right now.

    Breathe...keep it together.

    “Alright, settle down, trainers, Pokemon,” Mrs. Chuquete called, silencing the low chatter. “I’d like to get this started quickly so we have plenty of time to discuss and practice ourselves. I know we also have a new student in here today, so this’ll be a good chance for him to see how we do things here.”

    Dorien clicked his tongue in response to being acknowledged. It took everything in Odette not to growl at him.

    Mrs. Chuquete lifted the front page on her clipboard to look at whatever was under it before dropping it again. “So I’ll keep this quick. First up on the chopping block, Odette Cinq-Mars.”

    Odette’s heartbeat, which had already started to ring in her ears, picked up. She suddenly felt very glad she didn’t eat because she surely would have lost it at that point. Her skittish appetite did come in handy sometimes.

    If she weren’t so angry, she probably would have had a harder time recalling her team to their balls and getting up to walk to the front of the bleachers. But she happily took it as a chance to get away from Dorien.

    Mrs. Chuquete scanned her board for a moment before speaking again. “The slated opponent today was Muraoka Knowles, but she’s called in sick. So I'll give somebody a chance to volunteer before I move down the list.”

    Odette’s foot had just hit the arena floor when Mrs. Chuquete spoke. She stopped dead in her tracks, taking the moment to inhale a deep breath. Her eyes slipped shut as a grimace took hold of her features.

    For the love of fucking gods, she thought bitterly. She knew what was coming.

    “I’ll go!” she heard Dorien’s voice say.

    Odette had half a mind to grab somebody’s backpack and throw it clear across the room. She was trying so goddamn hard not to explode, and she couldn’t remember the last time it had been this difficult. Singing "Jellicle Songs" wouldn’t solve this dilemma.

    “Oh, the new student is eager, huh?” Mrs. Chuquete queried, raising her brow. Odette didn’t move from her spot, as she was too busy trying, and failing, to blink the red out of her eyes. She only returned to her senses when she felt a hand fall on her right shoulder.

    “Odette’s a friend of mine, so I’d never pass up a chance to battle her!” he said.

    She jerked her shoulder away from his grasp and craned her neck to glare at him. The cocky smile he returned put her on the verge of an anger-induced heart attack if she wasn’t at that point already. She stomped forward, out to the middle of the arena, to configure which of her Pokemon she was going to send out for the battle. Something to keep her hands and brain busy for the time being.

    “Fat chance,” she muttered to herself, shoving her hands into her pockets.

    “Oh, friendly rivalry? I like that,” Mrs. Chuquete said. “Dorien, was it?”

    “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I’m really looking forward to this class, even if I did show up a little late in the quarter. Hopefully, you’ll be the divine intervention I’m looking for in my training journey.” The way his voice inflected upward in such a playful fashion made Odette roll her eyes. That’s how he used to talk to their chemistry teacher too. Did she find it as annoying back then as she did now? Probably not, because that suave-speak had a huge hand in their straight A’s. But now? It sounded like mawile teeth on a chalkboard.

    She heard Mrs. Chuquete chuckle. “Flattery will get you nowhere, but I like your enthusiasm.” Despite the words she spoke, she sounded bashful. There was an almost unnoticeable waver in her voice, but Odette picked up easily. That seemed to be the same response he got every time.

    She shook her head to herself as she stopped on the left side of the battlefield. She withdrew the three balls from her left pocket; Loïc, Isaur, and Ange. Enora and Solene were in her right pocket. She had to think this over because she realized, in her rage, that she was in a precarious situation.

    One of the pluses of fighting a classmate was that she’d had the chance to observe them in previous classes. She could confidently say that she’d started to pick up on at least half the class's mannerisms whenever they battled, just from standing by and watching them work. She’d figured that she’d be lucky enough to get paired with somebody she’d observed closely by the time she was called for an exhibition. But no, there had to be a fluke, where she ended up battling the guy she’d never seen go at it once. It was a travesty because she could read Muraoka like a book. It would have been such a smooth victory.

    The thing that amplified this problem was Dorien’s preference for steel types. He also had fighting types, proving to be a better matchup. But, she was hung up on the fact that steel wiped half her team if she didn’t play her cards exactly right. The battle would be a 3v3, and she wasn’t sure if that would work for or against her. She had to clear her head and really think.

    An obvious choice would be to pick Solene as a lead, as she usually did. Psychic didn’t do much to steel, but steel wasn’t that much of a threat to psychic either. Plus, Solene could whip a fighting type easily. And with the way she'd always been arranging her astral shrine, with emphasis on attack resistance boosts on account of the ganlon berry offerings, Solene would have a nice edge on her ability to take hard hits, as usual.

    She calmed down a little, knowing that at least part of her usual strategy wasn’t contested.

    Another no-brainer pick was Ange. Fire being one of the only weaknesses of steel types, she’d be stupid not to send him in. He packed enough punch to take on whatever Dorien might throw at them unless he decided to send out a poliwhirl. Then that would be an issue. She’d have to hold her breath and hope he left that particular partner at home today. But, the liechi berry offerings should also further assist with his attack power, so his hits should lay on some hefty damage before they saw anything bad. Hopefully.

    That left slot three, which is where she found herself stumped. Should she risk Enora or Loïc for the fairy advantage against fighting? If Dorien decided to go primarily steel, though, it would be a rough time for both of them, even with the astral shrine in effect. No configuration would make that matchup any less dire. Isaur, similarly, also saw the same problem but didn’t have the same advantage with fighting.

    Odette had to wonder if they'd somehow have a harsher edge if she put some Arcean plates out on her shrine. Astral shrines only provided passive boosts and were by no means more useful than physical training, but it was good to consider what would prove the most advantageous for her battling. All the research she'd read stated that plates should be a staple for any astral shrine because of the level of power they held, but those fucking things gave her such bad headaches she couldn't be bothered. She'd been able to come up with a great power configuration using incense, whatever gems and gem shards she could get her hands on, and some orbs her mother had gotten ahold of for her, so she never saw the need. But she couldn't help but consider, in the face of what might be a pretty messy battle, some alternatives that might work in their favor in the future...

    She’d been lucky enough thus far to have only run into the steel types among rounded teams. An almost-specialized steel trainer was rough terrain she actively tried to avoid, at least until she could find another counter that would fit her team or a shrine configuration that made all her fairy types entirely immune to it, which was pretty much impossible. She’d tried to steer clear of the two steel trainers in her monotype class, but there was no backing out of this unless she wanted to see a hit to her grade. She definitely didn’t want to give Dorien that satisfaction, either. If she couldn’t backhand him herself, she’d do it through battle.

    Why was her head spinning so fast? She knew what she was doing. She'd battled people she'd never seen before; this shouldn't have been anything major to her. It was all normal. But the fact that it was Dorien...

    “Trainers! Ready yourselves!” Mrs. Chuquete called excitedly. “The first three pokemon you send out will be the only ones you can battle with. Choose wisely!”

    She hadn’t noticed that Dorien had trekked to his side of the arena. He spun three pokeballs in his left palm, tapping his foot as if he were waiting on her. When she finally caught sight of him, his smile widened.

    “Much luck to you, Odette,” he said mockingly. Her jaw clenched, and she pocketed the balls she was holding and grabbed hold of Solene’s.

    “Don’t need it,” she replied.

    “You know what to do! Battle to the best of your abilities!”

    Odette exhaled.

    “Begin!”

    “Come out to play, Excadrill. Swords Dance!” Dorien declared as he threw his ball forward. With a flash of light and a roar, Excadrill appeared.

    Cadriiiill!” it yelled. Odette hadn't had much exposure to excadrill, or ground types in general, so it was quite difficult for her to understand what it said. But, she couldn't focus too much on that. Dorien's callouts would need to keep her attention; not the potential language barrier.

    Excadrill crossed its arms over its chest and began to spin around while a soft glow took hold of its claws.

    “Solene, Reflect for incoming attacks,” she said simply as she tossed her ball out. Solene emerged in a beam of pink light.

    Of course,” Solene said, sounding serious.

    She clasped her hands together as if in prayer and held them to her lips. She began to mutter something incoherent, and a shroud of more pink light fell over her.

    “Now, Iron Head!” Dorien said.

    Odette watched as the dual type lowered into a crouch before propelling itself forward. In a split second, its head made contact with Solene’s stomach. The Gothitelle stumbled backward, grimacing, but she wasn’t fazed otherwise.

    “It’s close enough to Charm, go!” Odette said.

    Solene unclasped her hands and used them to blow a swift kiss. This sent a stream of pink mist into the Excadrill’s face, causing it to stumble. It shook its head violently, trying to ward off the fumes. But the damage had been done. It reopened its eyes with dilated pupils and stared in awe at the Gothitelle before it.

    Dorien gasped deeply. “Snap out of it, Excadrill! Iron Head again!”

    “Hold,” Odette instructed quickly.

    With slight hesitation, the Excadrill crouched backward again before launching into Solene’s stomach again. She trembled with the force of the attack but exhaled slowly before lifting her head.

    “Nothing I can't handle,” she said.

    “Good stuff, Sol,” Odette praised. She cut her gaze from Excadrill back to Dorien. He had that nasty little smirk on his face, but his brows had lowered in concentration.

    “Wear off that Reflect, don’t stop hitting.”

    Excadrill cooed in protest but quickly shook their head. The Charm had definitely done its job; as long as Solene kept her Reflect going, and Excadrill remained charmed, its attack power wouldn't be nearly as intense as normal.

    Just a bit longer, Odette thought.

    Excadrill flew forward again and went to town. Butting its head into Solene, slicing away at her skin with some hefty uses of X-Scissor. Solene took each hit like an attack dummy, progressively weakening but nowhere close to falling. She made no moves to attack back, allowing
    Excadrill to land hit after hit. Odette made no move to instruct her otherwise either. She kept her eyes on the opposing Pokemon, watching its every move.

    With a final punch, the Reflect barrier shattered, its glassy pieces of it falling to the ground before dissolving into a cloud of translucent dust and fading away. That was the punch that sent Solene sliding back into Odette. Odette caught her with ease and exchanged a look with her.

    I feel okay,” Solene said, despite sounding winded. "I can hold out, I promise."

    “I know you can; you're doing great,” Odette told her. Solene was wonderful at taking hits, and whether it was built resistance from their physical training or the little boosts from the shrine, it didn't matter. What mattered was the performance, and Solene was showing out fabulously. “I think we’ve backed them into a corner.”

    She shot a look back at Excadrill. It retreated back to Dorien’s side of the arena, panting heavily. She noticed that one of Dorien’s brows began to twitch, and this time, she let her own smirk take over her face. Was he frustrated already? Good.

    Solene nodded. “Agreed. They're quite annoyed."

    “One more, into our next phase,” Odette said, patting Solene on the shoulder. Solene nodded, then stomped forward again. She puffed her chest out and clasped her hands together once more.

    Let's go, we've got this!” Solene yelled.

    Dorien lightly shook his head, exhaling with a sharp edge. “She’s weak. You can knock her down. Final Iron Head!” he hollered.

    Odette slowly dove her hand back into her pocket, thumbing over Ange’s ball. She’d need to time this just right.

    Excadrill let out a roar. It crouched before running forward.

    “Solene, return!” Odette said suddenly.

    Solene was absorbed back into her pokeball, only to quickly be replaced by the chandelure.

    “No mercy, Ange!”

    Ange manifested just before Excadrill's head made contact. It cried out in pain before scrambling backward. A blue flame took hold of its head; no matter how much it tried to fan it out, it was no use.

    Gooooooooooood evening!” Ange shouted gleefully. He puffed out his cheeks, engulfing himself in a periwinkle flame that built until it shot forward and made direct contact with Excadrill’s face. It flew backward and hit the ground with a loud thud.

    Odette could hear a deep breath Dorien sucked in as gasps echoed from her onlooking classmates. The tension filled the arena as Excadrill stumbled back to its feet, blue fire spreading up its arm.

    “Can you still battle?” Dorien questioned evenly.

    “Ex...ca,” Excadrill replied, resting its hand on the burn. It glared intently at Ange, before dipping into another round of Swords Dance.

    Ange waved at the Excadrill before turning to look at Odette. “What're we doing?” he asked.

    “It’s already burned, so it won’t hesitate to come at you again. It's powering up, so watch yourself, but take it down as quickly as you can. We don't need to see anything else it can do.” she said.

    Ange nodded, then suddenly flew toward the mole Pokemon. Excadrill appeared to be caught off-guard by the sudden movement and dodged the oncoming blast of fire. They were soon trapped in a dance, Ange shooting flames left and right, while the Excadrill did what it could to avoid another burn. It was already struggling from the first one, and Odette knew it was only a matter of time before it couldn’t go on. Even if Ange couldn’t get another powerful hit, Excadrill was as good as out.

    She watched as Excadrill ceased in its dodging to stare Ange down. Ange held its gaze, rocking slightly from side to side, waiting for retaliation. It crouched before running.

    Iron Head. She recognized the pre-attack tic and settled to wait for the mole to jump for it.

    But, she was wrong.

    The ground began to rumble, and the force began to build intensity. Odette stared at the arena floor to find that fissures were beginning to form in the shiny finish.

    "Earthquake..." she muttered. "Earthquake!" she alerted Ange.

    Ange barely caught the warning before a pillar of rock shot from the floor. It would have pierced him, but he moved aside just in time.

    As Odette held her arms out to her sides to keep her balance, a building sense of frustration rose in her. Her observation had been wrong. The stupid mole had constantly crouched before running in for an Iron Head, but that one time came the ace.

    "Don't look so upset, Odie!" Dorien called to her over the intense rumble. "It just can't be helped that I'm one step ahead of you."

    Those words sent a chill up her spine. She didn't know why, but it sounded like he was...threatening her?

    That chill was snuffed out by an angry heat. She gritted her teeth as she pointed toward Excadrill, still building the quake's magnitude.

    "Shadow Ball! Shadow Ball, Shadow Ball, Shadow Ball!"

    Her voice cracked under the force of her screaming. Ange shot her a worried glance, but she didn't register it. Not through the red she was seeing.

    "Go. Now!"

    "I don't like when you yell at me like that," Ange whined. Nonetheless, he charged forward, dodging pillar after pillar as he conjured a ball of darkness within his tendrils. He'd made it halfway across the arena without a hit, and it looked like he had a clear shot.

    "But, I'm gonna win this," Ange declared as he reared back to shoot. "You two don't have anything on m--"

    Shk. Shk. Shk. Shk. SHK.


    Pillars upon pillars upon pillars. Shooting up from the ground, all entirely aimed at Ange. He had no chance to dodge any of them, and they all hit with such spot-on accuracy that it was unlike anything she had ever seen. This was only intensified by the shocked whispers echoing from the onlookers, which she could now hear because the rumbling had stopped entirely.

    "Holy shit!"

    "What magnitude was that? I've never seen such a dead aim!"

    With a sharp exhale, Ange's shadow ball dissolved, and he fell over, out cold.

    "A-Ange is down and unable to fight!" Mrs. Chuquete hollered. There was an air of shock in her voice that she didn't bother hiding.

    Odette stared blankly at Ange's fainted body. Her mind was spinning so fast that she could not keep up with it. She'd gone completely numb, trying to make sense of what she'd just witnessed.

    How did he...

    She forced herself to look at him. Their eyes met, and he smiled. He fucking smiled.

    But there was no light in his eyes. No crinkle in his cheeks. It was empty. It was downright bone-chilling how he could move his lips like that without it showing anywhere else on his face.

    And as soon as it formed, it morphed into a frown. A very prominent one at that.

    As if it were timed, Excadrill fell over. Its shallow breaths indicated it was in no condition to fight any longer.

    "E...Excadrill is down and unable to fight?" Mrs. Chuquete called. Her confusion matched Odette's.

    Odette hadn't known Earthquake to cause recoil damage like that. Then again, she hadn't seen such a powerful use of it like that before. Maybe once it reached such an intense magnitude, the 'mon got affected as well?

    Or, perhaps...

    In a swift motion, Dorien recalled Excadrill. He wordlessly pocketed the ball, then tossed out the next.

    “Conkeldurr, I have some fresh meat for you,” he said darkly as the large Pokemon manifested from its ball.

    What? Odette thought frantically.

    Conkeldurr stood there, drool dripping from its mouth and drilling to the ground. It scraped its feet against the polished floor, clanked its two rocks together, then charged.

    Odette didn't quite realize what that thing could have possibly been moving to attack until she realized that, in her haze, she hadn't recalled Ange.

    It was going for Ange. Ange was out. Why would it--?

    Without thinking, she pulled him back and threw out the first ball her hand landed on in her pocket.

    "Attack! I don't care what you do, just beat it the fuck up!"

    She pressed down on the release button. With a flash of light, Loïc manifested with his claws ready.

    "KkkkkkkkkYUUU!" he spat. There was no hesitation as he sprung forward and landed scratch after scratch on Conkeldurr. Loïc played as rough as he could--going for the face, the neck, the stomach. He zigged and zagged around Conkeldurr, going at a speed that made it hard for it to land a hit on him.

    Grinding her teeth and trying to steady her breathing, Odette watched the battle intently. Not who her first choice would have been, but it was a welcome one. It was an advantageous matchup. Why Dorien would send out a damn fighting type against her was beyond her frame of logic. With a team that was majorly made up of fairy types, and even one psychic, that was asking for a loss. Loïc clearly held the upper hand and moved much faster too. Conkeldurr was already starting to look really tired. The drool was coming in waves now, and it was blinking slowly--

    Wham!

    In a burst of speed Odette would have never expected from a conkeldurr, it whipped around to face Loïc and slammed one of its rocks down on top of him. The world stood still for a moment, and all that could be heard were gasps from the other students.

    "Loïc!" Odette screamed. Her lips curled back over her teeth, and she glared daggers at Dorien. "You motherfu--"

    A shadow shot out from under the stone. It looped up behind Conkeldurr, and a large clawed hand rose from it. With a heavy swipe, Conkeldurr flew into a wall with a loud crash. It hit the floor, unmoving, as Loïc rose up from the floor. His head was flopped over like it'd been broken, but he looked unscathed.

    "Conkeldurr is down and unable to fight!"

    "Okay!" Loïc squeaked. He scurried back toward Odette, who was quick to kneel down to his height. She held her hands out to him, and he sat right between them.

    "Good fucking gods," she said in a huff. "I thought he got you."

    Her breathing was rapid, she could hear her heartbeat in her ears, and she felt tears prickling the corners of her eyes. That was the most jarring thing--she wasn't a crier; she'd never been a crier. But the level of frustration she was feeling was something she couldn't quite contain. Nothing about this battle was making sense anymore.

    How was his Earthquake so powerful? Why did Conkeldurr go for Ange like that? Why did he even send out a conkeldurr in the first place?

    The battle was still going on, so she had no time to sit and dwell on it. She didn't feel in the right mindset to be either, with the way her anger meshed with her conscious thought, leaving her on the verge of damn tears. Absolutely pathetic.

    As she tried to reel herself in and get back into the game, her conversation with Noel decided to rear its head.

    The wealthy, plus shinies...sounds like some shiny trade bullshit.

    Dorien was in the shiny trade. Shinies were the ones showing up in sacrilege cases the most. Sacrilege had exploded onto the battle scene and had caused some Pokemon to do some...horrid things. Like eating their opponents and displaying unnatural levels of power.

    "Hm. Conkeldurr's one of my best 'mon. But, I suppose those type matchups do weigh in sometimes."

    Odette blinked a few times, keeping her eyes on Loïc.

    If Dorien were involved in the shiny trade, it wouldn't be farfetched to say he's had run-ins with sacrilege. In the case of what she'd just witnessed, it was almost certain he could be giving it to his Pokemon.

    "We fight?" Loïc asked.

    Odette allowed the thought to linger before she shook her head.

    "It's down to you and Solene. You're locked in because I threw you out, and Sol's already taken a slight beating. I need you to focus, alright?" she said firmly.

    Loïc averted his eyes for a split second, then looked back at her.

    "Pecha," he whispered.

    "I'll give you five pecha berries if you can one-shot Shadow Claw this next one," she said. "I know we've worked on it a lot, so I trust you can do it."

    Loïc hopped up and down a few times in joy before turning back toward the battle. Odette looked up in time to see Dorien pulling his last ball out of his jacket pocket. He popped it open, and with a loud roar, a ferrothorn took form.

    “Ferrothorn,” Dorien said. “Your turn."

    Ferrothorn didn't look particularly threatening. No drool, no signs of overpowering. At least from what she could see. But that still didn't make her feel any better. It was still a partial steel type. Not only could it take Loïc out, but it also wouldn't take much damage from Solene, and she was already in a damaged state.

    Odette needed to take this slow. She couldn't rush into an attack again because that was how she lost Ange.

    She stood up and sucked in a deep breath.

    "Heavy Slam," Dorien said coldly.

    "Substitute," Odette declared.

    Loïc reached under his cloak and withdrew a battered pokedoll, which he threw forward. As the doll hit the floor, a beam of purple light manifested between it and Loïc, and Ferrothorn reared up and slam down on it. It didn't budge.

    "Swords Dance," Odette said again.

    "Break that Substitute," Dorien urged.

    Ferrothorn flew forward with another slam as Loïc raised his hands and spun around. A light purple glow took over his tiny body, and he suddenly looked more energized.

    "Now Bulk Up," she said.

    She heard Dorien inhale sharply. "Ferrothorn, break the damn sub." He truly sounded frustrated.

    Good. It was his turn to be.

    Ferrothorn launched one more attack on the doll, and Loïc inhaled a loud breath. The glow that surrounded him got brighter just as the doll burst under the force of Ferrothorn's attack.

    "You better knock him out!" Dorien commanded. "Again!"

    "Shadow Claw, Loïc!" Odette yelled over him.

    Loïc charged forward, bringing up his shadowy hands, which gradually grew in size. Ferrothorn launched upward again, growling with the intent to win it all. As it fell back toward the ground, it rolled out of the way Loïc. He quickly righted himself and landed the clawed attack, and Ferrothorn skidded backward toward Dorien under the force of the hit.

    "Good shit, Loïc."

    "Iron Head," Dorien growled.

    Odette's blood ran cold, but she decided to ignore it for now. "Beat him back. You can do it."

    Ferrothorn drove itself forward without a warning, and Loïc did the same. Claws outstretched, Loïc managed to get the hit off. He performed a rapid maneuver, ducking under Ferrothorn's raised body, and slashed it again against the back.

    "Nice!" Odette cheered.

    Ferrothorn skidded backward, cringing through the damage. Just when it looked like it wouldn't continue, it flew forward again and retaliated with a violent headbutt that sent Loïc flying.

    Down and out.

    "Loïc is down and unable to fight!"

    Clearly, she'd celebrated too early. She'd known Loïc was most likely going down in that matchup, but she wasn't through yet.

    She shot a glare at Ferrothorn. It was panting. It was still cringing. Loïc had definitely dealt some damage to it. They were on the last legs.

    I'm not going to let you fucking win.

    She pulled Loïc back and sent Solene forward. Solene blinked a few times, looking surprised that she'd been called out again. She visibly stiffened when she saw Ferrothorn, then sent a frantic look back at Odette.

    "Wha--" she gasped. "What happ--"

    Odette shook her head, effectively silencing her. "Heal Pulse. Stay alert for incoming attacks."

    Solene paused, but she soon nodded. A pink glow immediately surrounded her, and she closed her eyes as she hung her head and began to mutter under her breath.

    "Knock Off," Dorien commanded.

    Odette bristled. "Watch it, Sol!"

    Solene's eyes snapped open, and she rolled aside. Ferrothorn bounced off the floor as it attempted to make contact, and it stumbled backward, unable to right itself due to how weak it had become.

    That was the opening.

    "Psychic! Don't hesitate!"

    Solene held her hands in front of her, and a ball of pink light manifested in her hands. In a single wave of her arms, the ball expanded into a beam and struck Ferrothorn, sending it back again. It shook off the attack, and in what looked to be a final burst of energy, it ran at Solene.

    "Psychic! One more time!"

    "Knock. Off!"

    Boom.

    The beam struck Ferrothorn. Solene was pushed backward. Both Pokemon were down.

    However, after the tensest couple of seconds Odette had felt in a very long time, Solene raised her head.

    Ferrothorn did not move.

    Battle over! The winner, by one Pokemon, is Odette!” Mrs. Chuquete said. Applause from the class followed.

    Odette let loose a shaky breath. She didn't realize she was trembling until she raised her hand to wipe sweat from her forehead. With the other, she recalled Solene.

    “Great battle, Odette!” Dorien said. “You're proof that type matchups are just a small part of the game, huh?"

    She cut her gaze to him just in time to see him sauntering over with a happy-go-lucky grin. As if nothing had happened. As if everything about that battle was perfectly normal.

    He held his hand out to shake, but she didn’t accept it. Instead, she stared him in the face. Scanning, hunting for remnants of that hostility. That darkness. But it was gone. He was back to cocky, spoiled smiles. Acting like everything was okay. Back to thinking they were probably still flirting.

    Odette turned, leaving him with his hand outstretched, and speed-walked back toward the bleachers.

    Absolutely remarkable work, you two,” Mrs. Chuquete said as Odette approached. “That might have been the most exciting battle I've seen in this class for a long time!"

    Odette brushed past her, ignoring the praise as she clamored up the bleachers to where she’d been sitting. She quickly shouldered her bag, then rushed back down, skipping steps as she went, before beelining for the doors. She avoided making eye contact with Dorien again as she passed him.

    “Odette! Where are you going?” Mrs. Chuquete yelled after her.

    “Bathroom. I’ll be back,” she replied, the words coming out in a rapid-fire slur. She was out in the hall after that.

    That wasn’t necessarily a lie. She was headed to the bathroom. But the latter part was still up in the air. She wasn’t sure if she could sit through the rest of the class with Dorien in there, knowing what she thought she knew.

    She was thankful to find that all the stalls were empty upon kicking open the door to the girl's room. She rushed to one of the sinks and threw her bag on the countertop. She then leaned against it, allowing her head to dangle and giving herself a chance to come down from wherever the hell her head was.

    She couldn’t even bring herself to bask in her victory. She was far too worked up about everything else that had happened. From the conversation beforehand to the battle itself, to how he was just...perfectly fine afterward. Well, as perfectly fine as he could be. There was something very wrong with him.

    He had to be drugging his 'mon. That wasn't paranoia, was it? It couldn't have been. There was something very wrong with those Pokemon, too.

    She lifted her head to stare at her reflection, watching herself take deep, steady breaths. Slowly but surely, her heart slowed, and her brain stopped spinning.

    Maybe she wouldn’t go back to class. It was her last one for the day, anyway. She could say she had a bout of sickness and had to go home. Chuquete had a soft spot for the illness stories, and Odette knew she could pull it off well.

    She also knew she didn’t want to be in there. She didn’t want to be in the building. Every fiber of her being was screaming at her to run.

    So, she supposed it would be a good time for her to visit her grandfather instead.
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 4 - She's Unabashedly Nosy
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu
    White Swan.jpg

    Chapter 4: She's Unabashedly Nosy
    CW: Strong Language
    This Chapter was NOT beta read, so please be gentle in your critiques! 😬

    The Lumiose City Police Department was a towering block of a building. Odette had been told countless times the structure was hundreds of years old, and it truthfully still looked the part. Same degraded gray bricks and mansard-style roofs bordered with stone druddigons that glared down upon anybody who dared draw near. A huge stone arch surrounded the front double doors, which opened and closed as people arrived and left. She brushed arms with maybe five or six people before actually going inside. She hoped her grandpa wouldn’t be too swamped to meet.

    As she eyed the enormous LCPD emblem etched into the shiny tiles of the front lobby, she briefly recalled how she used to skip laps around the perimeter of that same emblem when she was younger. She spent some of her time off from school here when her mother was too busy with professor work, and her nana was off coordinating Pokemon contests or coaching some poor soul in them. Bernard would bring her along, and she’d follow him around the office like a baby ducklett, watching him do his police business while he reminded her that the world wasn’t always so fine and dandy and why she needed to stay alert and observant.

    To make sure she was doubly aware, he’d enroll her in some peewee self-defense classes, the curriculum ranging from saying no to strangers and, if that didn’t work, how to break out of bindings or how to disarm an attacker. The classes got more intense as she got older, eventually tapering off into a gun defense class that landed her a permit to handle a concealed firearm. It was only then that she realized the master plan behind him bringing her along to his work as often as he did, and she supposed it made sense. The overprotective cop must ensure his granddaughter is equipped to handle anything nefarious.

    At the very least, she could say she wouldn’t be able to read the world as well as she did had she not spent so much time here. She owed him that much.

    ***
    “Look how big you’ve gotten!”

    “Same ol’ braids, huh?”

    “Good to see ya, Little Cinq-Mars!”

    You're still so small!"

    It was the same thing every time she visited, no matter how long it’d been. Bombardment of greetings from her grandpa's coworkers, human and Pokemon alike. All the “how’ve you been’s” and “you look great’s” came one after another as she walked through the lines of desks spread out through the third floor. She couldn’t help but notice that some of them still spoke to her like she was six, but she guessed that was just out of habit. She hadn’t grown a lot since then, anyway. Nonetheless, she flashed her typical half smile as she waved and engaged in slight small talk as she walked.

    As the chief of police, Bernard got his own office at the back of the space. The bulletproof window flashed his full name, and it was fitted with a heavy wood door that he could open and close as he pleased. Such a luxury in a place like this. For now, it stood open, and he was leaning on the door frame.

    “What a surprise,” he chuckled when she approached. Despite his bright smile and laugh, she could see the sleepiness on his face.

    “I’m full of them,” Odette said. She didn’t bother to wait for a response before going in for a hug, and Bernard didn’t hesitate to return it.

    “What brings you by here? I figured you’d still be in class at this time,” he said when he let her go.

    She shrugged. “Maybe I skipped,” she said. “Don’t arrest me.” She brushed past him and sat in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, throwing her bag and helmet into the empty one next to it. Her eyes then travelled to the corner, where Bernard’s trusted arcanine friend, Toulouse, lay curled up, fast asleep. He blew smoke out of his nose every exhale, indicating it was quite a deep sleep. She frowned nonetheless.

    “T didn’t come to kiss me. I’m sad,” she whined.

    Bernard watched her with a raised brow before shaking his head and nudging the door shut. “He’s dead tired, so I’m letting him rest. The lucky bugger,” he said as he trudged back to his seat. He had an abnormal sway in his step, which told her he was certainly on the verge of collapse. He threw himself down into the swivel chair, and a deep yawn escaped him.

    “I might be stating the obvious, but you look exhausted. You should go curl up with him.”

    Bernard began to rub his face, taking special care of his eyes. The bags that had started to form around them were practically screaming at her.

    “What gave it away?”

    She wanted to say so much but decided to keep her answer simple. “I really had to look you over, but I think it’s your gait.”

    He smiled to himself as he shook his head. “You got me.”

    Odette flashed her own smile before she dove her hands into her bag again. “I have something that will help, though.”

    “Seeing that helmet wakes me up enough,” Bernard said. “It terrifies me that you’re still driving around on that damn bike.”

    She scoffed to herself. She pulled a plastic bag containing snacks out and dropped it on his desk, hoping the sight of it would deter him from the lecture she knew was coming. He gave her some version of it every time he saw her helmet or even the motorcycle itself. People die on those things every day. I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about other drivers not seeing you. I’ll look into helping you get a car instead if that’s how you want to get around…

    “What’s scarier? Me driving a motorcycle or flying around on a Pokemon? The drop is much farther down if I were on a Pokemon, just saying.”

    “People die from falling off their Pokemon less than they do crashing bikes,” Bernard said pointedly.

    “Well, thank the gods I’ve never crashed.”

    With that, she began to empty the contents from the bag: two bottles of Moomoo milk and a large pack of Oreos. Bernard’s face lit up, as expected.

    “Can I tempt you not to lecture me with these?”

    He was already opening the box. “For now.”

    They each plucked a cookie from the box. Odette held hers between both hands, prepping to pull it open, and he did the same. They eyed one another, an air of friendly competitiveness starting to fill the office space.

    “One,” Odette said.

    “Two,” Bernard counted.

    “Three,” they said in unison before pulling the stacked cookies apart. They both eyed the pieces with the cream filling still squished against them. Odette frowned when she saw that this particular piece was very stingy on the filling.

    “Mine’s small,” she whined.

    “Mine takes up the whole thing,” Bernard grinned. He showed the cookie to her, and the filling circle indeed covered it almost entirely to the edge.

    “I win.” He then bit into it.

    Odette slumped against the back of her chair, taking a reluctant bite of hers. “Law enforcement’s luck,” she grumbled. “I’ll get you next time.”

    “Whatever you say,” Bernard said, opening his milk bottle and taking a sip from it. “So, are you going to tell me why you skipped class?”

    “I’m sticking it to the man and the establishment of education.”

    Bernard’s brow raised. “Sticking it to the man by leaving school and...visiting a police station?”

    Odette finished off her Oreo and leaned to grab another one. “I never said my logic wasn’t flawed, Grandpa.”

    He offered a half smile. “And the real reason?”

    “I had an exhibition in battle class today, and my opponent was...bad.”

    “So you won? That’s hardly a reason to skip, then.”

    She shook her head as she pulled the cookie apart. “No, it wasn’t like that.” She paused. “I mean, we did win, but when I say bad, I mean...bad bad. Like, you should lock him up downstairs bad.”

    She didn't remember him being so...threatening in secondary school. Or as insufferable. She knew people changed after graduating, and she supposed changing for the worse was always possible.

    Bernard leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. The look in his eyes signalled that had caught his interest. “That’s mildly concerning coming from you. Why is that?”

    She shoved the entire empty half of the cookie in her mouth, deciding to start poking the beartic. She couldn't come out and ask him about what she'd found out, but she could damn well start dropping some lines.

    “Well, for starters, his family’s in the shiny trade. That alone should get them thrown in prison.”

    Bernard rolled his eyes and rubbed his left temple. He didn't give away any implication that this information might have bothered him. He was too damn good at acting like nothing was wrong here. “I’m not entirely in disagreement there, Swanna,” he huffed. “Unfortunately, that would get me sued.”

    “Why’d you have to be a law enforcer instead of a lawmaker?” Odette groused.

    “Even if I were a lawmaker, I doubt I’d be able to do much,” he said. “The ones that have been in office have been trying to get the trade abolished since you were in Vienna’s stomach.”

    She pursed her lips in disdain. Twenty-two years of trying to get that establishment overturned, and nothing? And shiny involvement in the sacrilege crisis was getting swept under the rug? There were pieces here, and she couldn't make them fit.

    “Does that not concern you?” she asked.

    “Everything in this region concerns me, hun,” Bernard said solemnly. “But I’m only one person.”

    “Right,” she relented. “Your focus is on the sacrilege issue right now, anyway.”

    He sipped lazily from his milk bottle before another yawn sounded from him. “I take it you watched the news this morning.”

    “And read every article about it before that,” she corrected. “When are you supposed to go home and sleep? Nana’s going to wig out if you don’t.”

    “Hopefully, right after you leave. We have a little more debriefing, but I’ll be home to her before she knows it.”

    She cautiously began to work at the cap of her own milk bottle, considering how she wanted to piece together her next question. This time, she decided to tread a little closer to bluntness.

    “Anything the news isn’t telling us?” she asked.

    Bernard shot her a knowing yet warning look. “The news knows just as much as I do,” he said. “I’ll just be reiterating what’s been said if you start drilling me. And even if I did know certain profound things that haven't been disclosed yet, who said I could tell you?”

    She frowned. "That hasn't stopped you in the past," she muttered defiantly. "You told me about the new side effects they discovered. And about a few cases before they went public."

    “Let's not forget the nuance of those instances, though. I only chose to inform you of things because they were being told to the press not long after," he said sternly, holding up a finger. "Anything else? I have to stay tight-lipped, even to my precious, eager granddaughter."

    That was pretty much the expected response. What she'd found was far from little. She supposed it was worth a shot, but a shot that would inevitably miss. Scrubbing files hardly seemed like something they'd want to drop to the press any time soon, no matter the reason.

    With a heavy sigh, Bernard bowed his head. "Look, Swanna,” he said earnestly. He leaned over the desk, pushing some papers aside and setting down the bottle to fold his hands together. “There’s nothing even to say. Anything the press knows is stuff we know, and anything the press doesn’t know is stuff we’re still determining if it’s worth knowing. Which...isn’t much,” he explained. He then lowered his voice. “But that’s about all I have for you.”

    She'd be impressed with that performance if it didn't royally piss her off. He sat back and began to rub his temple again.

    “Why are you so interested in this anyway?”

    Odette mimicked his sitting stance. “Because it’s you,” she said. “You’re tired all the time, and you seem stressed.” At least that part was true.

    His eyes on her softened up a little. In fact, he even smiled again. Feeling a sense of bashfulness coming over her, Odette shrugged her shoulders and averted her gaze off to her left.

    “That aside, I wouldn’t be surprised if my opponent in class today was getting high with his Pokemon on sacrilege," she shot back, forcing the feeling to pass and keep the conversation going.

    The smile flew off Bernard’s face, and he held his hands up defensively. “And you didn’t start with that why?”

    “Well, it’s a hunch. Kind of. I saw something.”

    “What kind of hunch? What did you see?”

    She crossed her legs and began to twiddle her thumbs, taking a moment to recall the incident in as much detail as her brain would allow. Dorien’s words, his stances, his looks. He spoke in such a dark way. Like he meant everything that came out of his mouth. And how he smiled at her so soullessly, how the light drained from his eyes...everything about it screamed wrong. And that was on him alone.

    She couldn't very well tell Bernard she was also deducing that Dorien's involvement in the shiny trade was leading him to sacrilege, but she figured that would be enough for now.

    “It was...the way he stared at me when we were battling. And his Pokemon? He had an excadrill partner, and it was too powerful. It took Ange out in an Earthquake. It was so well aimed, it was scary. You can't fucking aim Earthquake like that. There's no magnitude high enough for that kind of control,” she explained. "Then, then, then, his conkeldurr--"

    "Odette--" Bernard tried to cut her off, but she kept talking.

    "He went straight for Ange, and Ange fainted. He wasn't fighting. Went straight for him, drooling. Dorien even said something about having fresh meat, and I didn't even know conkeldurr were fucking carnivores, I just--"

    "Odette."

    She stopped talking and glanced back at her grandfather. She took notice at the way his demeanor had changed. Eyes slightly narrowed, shoulders somewhat tense, hand on his computer keyboard. He was in his information-gathering mode, it seemed. It made her feel at least a little better that he was listening to her in the slightest, even though he'd cut her off.

    "Slow down," he said. "You sound frantic, and we don't think clearly when we're frantic."

    Odette exhaled sharply, slowing the gears in her head. "I'm slow. I'm calm."

    "I'm going to need a deeper breath than that."

    She obliged. He nodded and gestured for her to keep talking. "Alright. Continue."

    She was quiet for a moment to consider where to begin from. "You know how psychopaths are? How they can turn off and on?" she asked. "We started talking before class, and everything was fine. But he progressively got more and more off. Then during the battle, it was like an entire mood shift," she explained. She brought her finger up to her braid and began fiddling with it. Her eyes moved to Bernard's wall of plaques, and she began to look them over while she allowed herself to speak.

    "Like, something just shut off. His look was different, his voice was different. Different person. There were even points where it felt like he was trying to grate on me. Threaten me."

    She stopped talking, only to allow her words to stew in Bernard's brain for a second. When he didn't respond, she finally stared back at him. She was confident in her own show right there, and it seemed to be getting to him.

    “It's something I dwelled on a lot on my ride over. I know people are besting move power all the time, so maybe it's nothing but...” she trailed off. "It bothered me a little."

    "A little," Bernard said in a breath as he rested his chin in his hand, tapping his fingers against his cheek. It looked like he was truly considering her words, and the next thing she knew, he was logging into his computer.

    “What was this person’s name?”

    She cringed. “Dorien Bonhomme.”

    Bernard paused. It was quick, but a pause nonetheless. With a short huff, he pursed his lips questioningly. "Dorien? You mean that chemistry boy you were always hanging around with?"

    Odette's cringe didn't waver. "Yeah, that's him."

    Bernard nodded slowly. "Wondered what happened to him. Now I guess I understand."

    She watched him do some typing, clicking through every now and then. She watched as he bobbed his head, muttered to himself, and squinted. She couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing, but she had at least an inkling of an idea that he was looking into her concern.

    “Hm, well,” he said after a few minutes. “What you described does sound peculiar. Enough to warrant some concern in me. However, unless we catch Mr. Bonhomme with sacrilege in his possession, I can't do much with this for the moment. The most I can do is have somebody look into keeping an eye on him. You're free to do that as you wish, as long as you steer clear."

    She didn’t know why she was expecting a little more to come out of that, but she wasn’t sure what else there was there to do. There wasn’t much even the LCPD chief of police could do without a photo or video evidence of Dorien snorting sacrilege with his Pokemon pals in the bathroom. She supposed it was enough that Bernard was taking her claim even remotely seriously.

    “You still have your gun just in case, right?” he asked.

    Odette released a gruff breath. “Locked up under my bed, yeah.”

    “Well, it’s not going to do much there, is it?”

    “Considering I have a friend that will bite somebody’s head off if I flash him a pecha berry and tell him to, the gun seems sort of redundant.”

    Bernard flexed his lips, and Odette braced for a different lecture. Not one related to her motorcycle safety, but one related to her Pokemon safety. And this time, she wasn’t getting out of it.

    “And what will you do if you can’t get your pokeball out in time?”

    She stared at him with a deadpan expression. “We had the voice activation keys installed on them for that reason.”

    “And if they malfunction? And you have to reboot the ball? Or, gods forbid, something happens to your Pokemon once they’re out? Then what? I’d trust Toulouse in a pickle before anything else, but they train the force to use guns for a reason...”

    She waved her hand at him dismissively. “Yeah, yeah.”

    She then noticed that his expression had grown serious again and wasn’t letting up. She reluctantly sipped from her milk, biding her time before she had to speak again.

    “If you must know, I’m also keeping it locked up for the safety of my fellow Kalos citizens,” she said. She brought the bottle back to her mouth. “I’ve been flaring up a lot lately,” she muttered into the glass.

    His response was slow. “Should I be worried? Do we need to look into you going back to therapy?”

    She began to bite the rim of the bottle mindlessly. She counted the number of times she’d gotten mad at something in the past twenty-four hours.

    There were a couple of little things that happened at rehearsal yesterday, then the street racers. That was the biggest one of the day. Her Pokemon’s shenanigans when she got home were another small instance. Then just that morning, she’d missed a light on the way to school and beat her fist on her handlebar so hard that she almost broke her broken handle. Then there was the whole Dorien fiasco. She got really mad there. That would probably go down as the biggest one of the day. Then, she almost lost it on the guy in front of her at the poke center who was insisting the poor nurse didn’t heal his Pokemon all the way…

    So, a lot. There was a lot. About on the same level as what used to happen before...that thing happening.

    "I don't think any therapist has said anything I haven't already heard."

    "Well, repetition helps, you know. And meds are off the table..."

    That got a scoff out of her. "They were never on the table to begin with, Grandpa. My body's fucked up as it is." A pause. "I'm just fucked up as it is."

    She'd always been a quiet, well-behaved kid most of the time. But, when she exploded? The schoolyard fights and tantrums were abundant. It was troubling enough that it scared her mother and grandparents. Doctor visits chalked it up to anger management issues resulting from a certain hormone deficiency--the same hormone that left her so underdeveloped and somehow caused the mutation that left her with red eyes--as the doctors had put it. They put her on medication for a while, but all it did was exacerbate her health problems.

    "Honey, don't say that," Bernard sighed sympathetically. "You can't help the things you were born with."

    Bernard always did what he could to help keep her under control. She was always fine when she did things she liked, and she'd learned to play off his calm demeanor. That worked out for a while.

    "Sure, but we've seen the shit I do when I'm too pressed. You can only pin so much of that on a hormone problem," Odette grumbled.

    She remembered her last day of preschool, right before they moved out of Brackish Town. Some asshole kid in her class kicked a wild bidoof for walking off with the playground soccer ball, and she lost it on him for being so cruel. She'd only meant to twist his hand until he cried, but she couldn't control herself. She could still vividly remember how red her vision had gotten, and she snapped his finger in the heat of the moment.

    The school wanted her barred from attending future grades, that being the straw that broke the camerupt's back. It didn't matter then because her family was already in the process of moving out to the city.

    Nonetheless, she also remembered how hard she cried about it. She had never cried that hard. Ever.

    "Which is why I think it helps to talk to somebody, especially after what you've been through. It's helped in the past, has it not?"

    Bernard, Marieanne, and Vienna ultimately decided she needed help after the move. That led to years of visiting a psychiatrist every week, and it was that guidance that ultimately led her to take dance and, eventually, singing lessons. Ways to "hone her emotions" as it had been put in the sessions.

    Adding to the occasional trainer school, her tantrums faded into virtual obscurity. Once in a blue moon, she’d crack. But she never broke another person’s finger again.

    "I guess so," she said.

    Now that all of her extracurriculars had become a source of stress for her, it seemed her tantrums had returned for old times' sake. Taking up more trainer school was barely helping, and being on the sidelines of a performance was probably only making it worse. All because of that thing. That stupid thing.

    It was too much to ask for her to be okay, right?

    Maybe Bernard had a point. Maybe therapy would be the move again.

    She’d stopped going a few months ago because the thought of spending an hour discussing her feelings was giving her more anxiety than she currently needed to be piled on. She wasn't five anymore; she couldn't be coaxed into talking with snacks and a cool puzzle. Nowadays, she'd rather keep to herself.

    She shook her head. “But it’s not that bad right now,” she said. “I'm just saying. And I’m just playing it safe.”

    Bernard didn’t like that answer. Odette briefly thought he would let it go, but she knew better.

    “Are you sure? Is there something else bothering you? I told you if you just wanted to focus on trainer school for now, I would help you out. You didn’t have to take that job at the cent--”

    She held up a hand to silence him. “It’s not like that,” she said reassuringly. “I was making a subtle observation, and like a responsible gun owner, I’m dealing with it accordingly. And I’m fine with the way things are.”

    He sighed deeply. Very deeply. Which told Odette he still wasn’t convinced. She wasn’t necessarily shocked because the apple never fell far from the tree.

    “I’m still worried about you, Swanna,” he said. “I know you say you’re fine, and it has been over a year since everything happened, but...maybe you could try focusing on something completely new?” he suggested. “If trainer school isn’t helping, take time off. Quit your job. Go travel. Have an adventure in another region.”

    “I’m moving to Alola in three months, so that’s checked.”

    He narrowed his eyes at her. “Not what I meant. But fine.” He tapped his fingers against the desk. “Then quit your job and do an internship here. I’ll put you and your observational skills to work. You should just get away from performing arts for a while. Focus on something else.”

    She’d barely had enough time to start considering his words when somebody knocked at the closed door. She instinctively whipped her head around to face it as Bernard yelled, “It’s open!”

    The door swung open, and one of the younger cops shyly poked his head in.

    “Uh, sorry to bother you, chief. It’s not urgent, we just need you to come look at something real quick.”

    Odette exchanged looks with Bernard, and he stood up. “Hold that thought. I’ll be back in a second.”

    “No rush,” she said. She watched as they walked out the door, and Bernard pulled the door closed behind him, leaving her to the quietness of the confined space.

    Focus on something else, he’d said. Truthfully, he had a point.

    Her exposure therapy wasn’t doing her any favors. Training school was a temporary fix until she had to get up in front of the class and show off her skills. She’d only gotten away with it today because she was so pissed off at Dorien that she couldn’t see straight.

    She grabbed a couple more Oreos and tossed one in her mouth, not bothering to break it up into bites. Her eyes darted around the office, taking in all the familiar plaques, pictures, and posters Bernard had hung up all over the grey-blue walls. Pictures of him with his human squad, his Pokemon squad, some awards, and medals.

    Her eyes then fell back toward the desk, where he had his horde of family photos out and about for all to see. The one that appeared front and center was a photo of him, cleanly shaven, with no sign of gray in his black head of hair, carrying her as a toddler. She had his police hat on, but it was too big, so it dangled off the side of her head. It was his favorite out of all of them; he gushed about it whenever he could. Those were happier times before she became such a menace.

    She stared at it for a while, letting his words run laps around her brain. He’d suggested travelling, but with such a big move happening so soon, there was no point. Quitting her job at the point she was at seemed like a dick move regarding the rest of the cast. But if she was thinking in terms of herself and her own mentality, Bernard was right. Getting away from a performing arts setting would most likely be best, and taking on some mundane internship here didn’t seem like a--

    Her eyes travelled down to the papers on the desk that Bernard had pushed aside earlier. She straightened her posture to get a better look at them. She noticed a couple of sheets of copy paper, some printouts containing marked-up calendars, and an open envelope with what looked to be...a wax seal?

    Her brow furrowed. She peered over her shoulder at the closed door and then the window. The accordion blinds were shut so that nobody could see into the office. She glanced at Toulouse, who had barely moved since she sat down. He was the heaviest sleeping arcanine she’d ever met, and this time, she was thankful for that.

    She pursed her lips and stared back at the envelope. The longer she stared at that splotch of pink on the point of the open flap, the more she was positive it was a wax seal. Who the fuck closed their letters with wax seals nowadays? It seemed like such a waste of time.

    Nonetheless, when she was positive nobody was headed back, she quietly stood up and grabbed it. With the envelope now in her hands, it was clear that this wasn’t just a standard post office envelope. The paper was aged to a fine yellowish tint and felt thicker than most normal paper. She ran her fingers along the edge of it, flipping it over a few times in search of a return address. She was somewhat surprised to find there was none. Just the letter “B” printed in thick cursive on the front.

    She eventually examined the seal. It was still intact, with streaks of silver running through the pastel pink hue. The acronym “V.C.” was stamped into it. The flap of the letter was already open, so she pushed it up, only to see that the note the envelope housed had been haphazardly folded back inside. Her grandfather had already opened and read it, so she wouldn’t be tampering with much if she took a peek.

    Once again, she glanced back at the door, pausing to make sure nobody was about to walk in, then at Toulouse. She waited for him to blow another round of smoke out of his nose before pulling the letter out.

    Upon unfolding it, she was somewhat shocked to find that the note wasn’t written in elegant cursive or print. No, it looked like it had been typed out on a typewriter or something. She supposed she was somewhat grateful for that because she couldn’t read cursive to save her life.


    Bernard,
    Your and your men’s cooperation has proven most helpful. I have my best people stationed within our prime suspect's circles and have gathered far more insight into Team Enigma's happenings. Keep doing what you are doing with your efforts and the press, and we’ll be in touch before the next meeting.
    J.L. Ménétries

    Virtue Corp.


    The longer she stared at the words, the less it made sense. It was such a short note, yet there was so much throwing her for a loop. Cooperation? Suspects? Team Enigma? The press? Virtue Corp?

    She read it once, twice, three times, and she still couldn’t make it make sense. Certainly, it seemed like this correspondence had been happening for a while. She’d just intercepted a response of some sort, and she was suddenly dying to see what her grandfather had said in the first place. Hell, what if he was in the middle of writing back to this one? She stood up again and began digging through the pile of papers on the desk. Her search was fruitless, and she slammed herself back into the chair again.

    She cringed at the sound it made, and her gaze moved back to Toulouse. He whined in his sleep and slumped over onto his side, and that was that. She exhaled in relief.

    This was information she didn’t know she needed or even wanted. It was raising more questions than answers.

    Before she could even think twice about what she was doing, she had her phone out and was snapping a picture of the note.

    “Bzzzzzt! Taking pictures of letters? Bzzzzzt!” RotomPhone commented.

    “Shhhh!” she shushed harshly, pointing to the sleeping fire dog. “Send to Noel Massé.”

    “Woops, sorry! Bzzzzzt!” the phone said, mimicking a whisper. “Sending to Noel Massé.”

    She shoved the phone back into her bag and zipped it up for good measure. She went back to looking over the note, examining each and every letter, and even the paper itself. On the hunt for something else out of the ordinary, something else that would make this even more bizarre.

    The sound of the doorknob clicking snapped her back to reality.

    She scrambled to get the note back inside the envelope. It was haphazardly placed to start, so she wasn’t too worried about making it neat. She practically threw it back toward the area where she found it and shuffled a couple of papers around to make it look as close to how it’d been when she initially spotted it. Her butt was barely back in the chair when the door fully opened. She shoved two more Oreos in her mouth for good measure.

    “Yeah, don’t worry about it, I’ll sign off on that,” Bernard said from the door. Odette turned around to see that his hand was on the knob, he had the door open, but his entire body was facing the other direction. She took a couple of quiet breaths, hoping to slow her heartbeat.

    Somebody outside the office made a comment, and Bernard laughed to himself. “Good one,” he added before turning and nudging the door behind him.

    “Sorry,” he apologized. “Work stuff, you know?”

    She chewed casually, swallowing after a moment. “Hey, I interrupted you today. I don’t mind.”

    He sat back down and picked up a few more cookies for himself. “What was I saying before I left?” he asked. He paused to think, then his eyes lit up momentarily. “Oh, right.” He bit into a cookie and chewed it for a beat before swallowing it. “You. Finding something else to do with yourself. Keep your mind busy with other things.”

    My mind is certainly fucking busy right now, she thought dazedly.

    It was there that her backpack started vibrating.

    Bzzzt! Incoming call from Noel Massé!” the RotomPhone said. The material of the bag muffled it.

    Odette cursed internally, but she didn’t let that anger show.

    “Send to voicemail,” she said. RotomPhone stopped buzzing after that.

    Bernard eyed her thoughtfully. “You don’t have to hang up, pretend I’m not even here.”

    She shook her head almost too hard. “No, it’s alright. He knows I’m visiting you.”

    Once again, the backpack started buzzing again.

    Bzzzt! Incoming call from Noel Massé!”

    I’m going to kick his ass, she thought.

    Bernard smirked at her. “Well, it seems important enough that he’s willing to call anyway.”

    She rolled her eyes, deciding she needed to act fast.

    “Yeah, I told him we would meet for lunch after I got off school and visited you, but he’s so goddamn impatient,” she said, pushing the exasperated tone. “I’ll get out of your hair and go sate him. The faster I leave, the faster you can go home.”

    She stood. “Send to voicemail,” she said again as she shouldered her bag. Bernard stood too, and he went in for the hug first.

    “Think about what I said,” he told her as they embraced.

    “I will,” she said, sounding sincere. “You’re right. Getting my mind into a different place will be good for me.”

    That time, he appeared to buy her answer. He let her go, allowing her to grab her helmet. She walked toward the door, turning back for one final wave as she pulled it open.

    Bzzzt! Incoming call from Noel Massé!”

    “Bye, Grandpa,” she said.

    “Bye, Swanna.”

    She pulled the door shut behind her and had to stop herself from bolting for the elevator.
     
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    Chapter 5 - How Could This Possibly Be a Good Idea?
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu
    White Swan.jpg
    Chapter 5 - How Could This Possibly Be a Good Idea?
    CW: Strong Language
    This chapter was NOT beta read, so please be gentle on your critiques!

    The collective brightness of Noel’s four computer monitors seemed to overpower the light being emitted by the lamp next to his bed. Odette hung off the back of his ergonomic chair as her eyes locked on the words he’d managed to pull up.

    Virtue Corp is an organization dedicated to protecting and rehabilitating Pokemon that have been exposed to and otherwise harmed due to the disgraceful shiny trade. Our goal is not only to protect these mistreated Pokemon but to abolish the shiny trade as a whole.

    He fell back against his backrest with a dazed huff, and Odette slowly crossed her arms.

    “Well, there you have it. Official website and everything,” Noel said.

    She raised her hand to her cheek and began to scratch it pensively. “And nothing about J.L. Ménétries?” she asked for the third time since she’d gotten to his house.

    Noel exhaled gruffly and leaned back over his desk. He began to click through the rather elegantly crafted website. Odette noticed the accents of pastel pink that appeared against the sleek white background; it matched perfectly with the color of the wax seal.

    He pulled up the menu titled 'Our Main Staff' and scrolled through it hastily. The random set of names flew by, accompanied by walls of text that might have been these people’s life stories, but nothing that matched the name she’d seen at the end of the note.

    “I told you, nothing’s here. There isn’t even a person on here who has a name starting with a J,” he explained. “I know that doesn’t mean shit because a pseudonym could be anything, but you know…”

    He clicked on another area of the website and began to skim it over. “I couldn’t find anything about a ‘J.L.’ anywhere else. Nothing tied him to something like this. So as far as we know, the guy doesn’t exist.”

    “Right arm, or wing, red!”

    Odette and Noel turned to look at the far end of the room, next to the closet, where Enora, Isaur, and Solene were playing Twister with Noel’s partners, Elton, his talonflame partner Freddy, and his vullaby partner Ru. Solene, the leader she was, had taken to spinning the wheel and making the calls. The latter five were already twisted and turned all around each other. A series of groans fell out of them at the new instruction, right foot red apparently, and suddenly, Freddy lost his winging and fell flat on his face.

    Dammit!” he cried. Being friends with Noel for so long allowed Odette the time to come to understand his bird partners a lot easier.

    You're out, Freddy. Better luck next time,” Solene replied coolly.

    Odette was suddenly happy she’d taken Ange and Loïc home first. She learned the hard way that Freddy and Ange together always ended in something catching on fire, and Loïc playing Twister was just a disaster waiting to happen. The Monopoly fiasco from the night before was enough. Plus, Noel was scared of him as it was.

    “Come on, man! You had that,” Noel huffed.

    The sound of the door creaking open prompted them to turn toward it. Standing in the doorway was Noel’s father, carrying a tray with two full wine glasses.

    “Sorry to bother you two, but I bring refreshments!” he said gleefully as he sauntered into the room. Odette grabbed her allotted glass faster than she cared to admit. She didn’t care about the possible hangover that would plague her at rehearsal tomorrow. She needed that buzz in her system pronto, and she’d let future-her deal with the consequences.

    “The cherrim at the winery worked hard on this one, we just broke it out of the vault this morning!” Mr. Massé said.

    She chugged it in one gulp.

    “They did a good job,” she said through a deep exhale, setting the empty glass back on the tray. Noel giggled into his own cup.

    “You...know you’re supposed to sip it, right?” Mr. Massé said hesitantly.

    “She did,” Noel said. “It was just a big sip.”

    Mr. Massé opened his mouth to speak but decided whatever he had to say wasn’t worth it. He simply sighed. “Nevermind. Are you staying for dinner, darling?”

    “No, I couldn’t--” she started to say.

    “Not sure why I asked, yes you are,” he cut her off with a playful edge in his tone.

    Her expression fell into a deadpan. “I don't get a say?"

    "Well, we're not going to send you home empty-handed, adult or not! Dinner will be ready in forty-five minutes, I hope you like ratatouille.” He winked at her before turning on his heel and heading back out, pulling the door shut behind him.

    “Did he say dinner?” Isaur called in a strained voice. Her head was against a blue dot, and her arm was arched over Ru, touching a yellow dot. Of course, she’d still heard ‘ratatouille’ over all of that.

    “Forty-five minutes,” Odette repeated. “Focus on your game.” Gods knew she needed to focus on her own issue at hand herself. She had to sort out her thoughts before bringing her team into it.

    With a groan and already starting to feel an alcoholic fog forming in her lightweight brain, she dove face-first onto Noel’s unmade bed.

    “I’m going to scream,” she said, her voice muffled by a pillow. “I just wanted an easy day. Was that too much to ask?”

    “Oh, always,” Noel cracked. “Though you could have just not looked at the letter.”

    She turned her head to shoot him a look. “Can you look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t have looked at the letter?”

    Fuck no, baby, and I’d have torn apart the whole office looking for more,” he said, setting his glass down on his desk. “Because that was clearly an ongoing conversation. I’m absolutely quaking at the thought of all the juicy information we’re missing...”

    He suddenly threw his hands up triumphantly as another thought occurred to him. "And I'm just stoked as hell that I figured out the cops were skirting the press before this. I'm so good."

    Odette almost wished she had torn apart the office. But that surely would have woken Toulouse up. More importantly, she’d have had to explain to Bernard why his office looked like hitmonlee had raided it.

    “Well, you know what has to happen now,” Noel said darkly, leaning far back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. The sudden change in his tone made Odette force herself back into a sitting position.

    “No, you’re going to have to educate me,” she said.

    “Come on, Dee. Look at the facts here,” he said. He slid the chair over to the bed, stopping when his knees touched hers. “It has to be so much more than a crazy coincidence that all of this nonsense happened on the same day.”

    “I think it’s only a crazy coincidence.”

    “Hear me out, though.” He raised a finger. “You happen to run into Dorien, who's apparently in the fucking shiny trade. You never told us that; is that why you stopped hanging out?”

    “Yes,” she replied confidently, despite not feeling so. Noel was her best friend, but she somehow couldn't find the words to explain how she had forgotten that fact. "Didn't want to talk about it."

    Noel narrowed his eyes for a beat but let whatever thought had come to him go. “Shame because y'all would have made such a hot couple. Drugs and abusive trading methods aside, he's gorgeous."

    Odette swatted at him. “Continue, please.”

    Noel raised another finger. “He threatens you and your ‘mon in battle and freaks you out.”

    She pressed her lips together silently, and he took that as a sign to continue.

    “Then, you visit your grandpa, the chief of Kalos PD, the man headfirst in the sacrilege cases, only to find he’s in contact with some mysterious man who happens to be involved with an organization dedicated to shutting down the shiny trade, who pretty much admitted to Team Enigma existing.” He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, and held his hands out to his sides.

    "And also admitted they were warding the press off of something involving shinies, which confirms your find," Odette added in a monotone. He was treading dangerously close to having an extremely valid point.

    Exactly. They know some shit that they don’t want us to know,” he said.

    Her head had been spinning since she left Bernard’s office, and not even the wine stopped that. This wasn’t something that was just going to fade.

    “Look, I’m just saying. There’s some pieces here,” Noel insisted. “I think we can make them fit if we start mining for more.”

    She raised her brow at him. “Are you saying we should get involved?”

    He leaned back in his chair again, kicking his legs up to rest his sock-covered feet in her lap. “Nosy trainers get involved in police affairs all the time. Hell, the cops even enlist trainers for help once in a while. We wouldn’t necessarily be out of line.” He shrugged again before resting his arms behind his head. “We have a legit concern, we’re not getting answers, and now we have some pseudo-legit leads. I say we run with it.”

    Odette lowered her brows at him before pushing his feet off her lap. “You really should have been a detective. Or a hacker, at the very least.”

    He laughed airily. “And let my powerhouse voice and strong dancing legs go to waste? I see you’ve never heard of multitasking. Who says I can’t do both? I need my pretty sidekick to get started.”

    His jesting smile signaled a joke, but she knew him well enough to know there was a part of him that was serious. She’d only wanted to see an end to the crisis for her grandfather’s sake, but now it was very clear that he had a bigger foot in it all than he was letting on. That concerned her even more. And how much had they found out? J.L. Ménétries made it seem like they were right on Team Enigma’s trail, yet it was looking like nothing was changing as of late. As far as she could tell.

    Was it possible that the Virtue Corp was, in fact, in cahoots with Team Enigma? Were they working alongside each other for some strange reason? Were they stringing the cops along? Were the cops in on it?

    That thought made her stomach hurt.

    It had to be just a coincidence that Dorien had decided to pop back into her life on the same day. He and his no-good shiny trading ways, flaunting it all like it was nothing major. She allowed herself to think back to their battle once again. The feeling she got, how her entire body told her to vacate the premises, and how he spoke.

    But was that enough to run with? Her gut and her reads on people were usually not wrong…but even if she wanted to go with it, did she want to spend more time with Dorien just for the slightest chance he was possibly involved with sacrilege, and even worse, Team Enigma?

    I know you say you’re fine, and it has been almost a year since everything happened, but maybe you could try focusing on something completely new?

    She was certain this was not what Bernard had meant when he said that, but this was certainly pretty new. She thought back to his tired eyes, the way he’d fallen silent that one week, and how he so seamlessly lied to her face about what he knew.

    Her wary gaze cut over to her Pokemon, who were still quite caught up in their game. She could practically hear Solene and Enora screeching in her ears about how this was a bad idea. Isaur would most likely be all for it. Ange would simply go along with whatever, and she was still fairly certain all Loïc could consciously think about was pecha berries and crawling in the air ducts. She wasn’t exactly concerned about breaking the news to him.

    She decided, then and there, she didn’t care about the stern talking-to in-store by her oldest Pokemon friends. She needed something else to do, and really...perhaps this was it.

    Maybe it was the buzz, but she didn’t care at the moment.

    “Alright. I'm in. Need to run it by the crew, but I'm in.”

    ***​

    Sitting around the coffee table in her living room, Odette watched, unsurprisingly, as Solene got in her face.

    "Are you insane? You have to be insane. Please tell me you've fully lost it; it would be easier for me to swallow," she screamed frantically, grabbing Odette by her shoulders and shaking her.

    "You heard me," she replied. "I thought I was pretty clear."

    Solene's expression fell, and she settled back into her spot on the couch. Her jaw was clenched, and her stubby hands were balled into fists. The expected worrywart mode that Odette had anticipated since she resolved to discuss her decision with her team.

    "You're going to give me a premature heart attack," Solene said in a drawl, raising a hand to rub the side of her face. "I might be skittish, but I'm sure I don't have to lecture you about how dangerous this is?"

    "You don't have to tell me that you think it's a dangerous idea, I'm pretty damn aware of that."

    "So then why is it even on your mind?" Solene snapped back, whipping her head around to give Odette a wide-eyed look.

    "Because!" Odette retaliated, curling her fingers with the intensity of her words. "It's like I said, there's some shit happening here. You saw some of that battle, I showed you the picture of the note, and I told you what Grandpa said and what Noel and I found, there is something. Happening. In Kalos," she stressed. "And I want to figure out what it is."

    And she wanted to figure out where exactly her grandfather stood on it. If his lying had gotten a little too out of hand. She wouldn't say that out loud because she didn't want to speak it into existence, but the more she dwelled on it, her curiosity overshadowed her apprehension.

    "If not to uncover what's going on with Grandpa, then for my own head."

    "What about your temper? I can't imagine this is going to be good for that," Isaur interjected cooly, speaking between the bites she took from an apple. Odette paused to consider her words.

    "It's better my exploding anger be channeled into getting Dorien thrown in prison and figuring out what the fuck Grandpa's sitting on than going to work and thinking about...everything else," she said.

    She fell silent as her more intrusive thoughts started to seep in, but she quickly shook them off.

    That was exactly why she needed to do it. She wouldn't have time to dwell on the past if she were sleuthing; at the very least, her flaring anger could prove useful in keeping her determined. Somehow. Maybe.

    Probably.

    "I appreciate the concern, but I've made up my mind."

    Isaur appeared to accept the answer, judging by her shrug as she exchanged looks with Ange, who's eyes glowed with interest.

    "What would we be doing? Would we be able to do some cool espionage stuff?" Ange asked.

    "You'd come along with me. To wherever I went, with or without Dorien. You'd help me investigate and provide me with more physical backup if we had to fight. So, I suppose, probably."

    The flame on Ange's head flared up, and he clapped his tendrils together in excitement. "That sounds like fun! I'm in!" he gasped. Well, that was one.

    "I'm inclined to agree, I could use the excitement outside of apartment packing," Isaur agreed. She downed the rest of the apple, core and all, and held up a thumb. "I'm down."

    Two. The easy ones up for a change of pace.

    Solene was shocked that Isaur had agreed and flailed her arms in her direction. "You have got to be kidding me," she sputtered, earning her a shrug.

    "For once, no. She's got a point, I think I want to see where all of this leads," Isaur said, causing Solene to cover her eyes in disdain.

    It was there that Loïc scurried out from under the coffee table, the remnants of three pecha berry stems hanging in his shadowy hand. He proceeded to scuttle around, looking for a place to put them, and when he couldn't find one, he settled for hopping up onto the couch and settling into Odette's lap. Once there, he politely set them on her thigh.

    "Kyu," he declared, nuzzling down into her legs to get comfortable. Odette stared at him, unamused by the fruit remains staining her pants leg, but set a hand on his fake head nonetheless.

    "Thanks for that, Loïc. Appreciate it." She used her free hand to toss the stems onto the table. She'd grab them later. At least he was for it, but that was also expected.

    All was silent again as Solene and Enora had yet to vocalize their stance.

    "I should also note that I'm not going to force any of you into going along with this," Odette said. "I'm giving you the option, but I understand our creative differences. Don't be obliged to tag along on my account because it's settled, I'm doing this for me now. My brain. My head. My distraction. I'm armed and in a better headspace, and I will figure it out. Noel and his team will be coming along too, so I won't be alone even if you decide to back out. That's a promise. I know better."

    There was still no response until Odette felt Solene shift uncomfortably next to her. With a grouchy groan, she settled into the back cushion.

    "Fine. I will get on board," she huffed.

    An agreement. A reluctant one at that.

    "Are you sure?" Odette pressed. "I'm telling you, you can say no."

    Solene fell silent again as she wrung her hands together nervously.

    "Sol, I'm serious. Tell me what you're thinking."

    Solene looked to be deliberating with herself. Mulling something over in her head, trying to figure out a good response. Her brain gears were practically screaming. She squeezed her eyes shut at one point, inhaling the deepest breath she could muster, before nodding once.

    "No. I understand where you're coming from," she declared, sounding more determined than before. "I won't lie and say I'm not afraid, but I want to offer my help. And be a voice of reason, because gods know you four tend to be lacking there."

    Odette quirked a brow at the change in tone. "And you're sure?"

    A firm nod followed, and the gothitelle was met with approving, proud pats from Isaur. "Yes. This hits close to home for all of us. I will be of help."

    Odette couldn't argue with that, and her surge of confidence she wasn't going to refute. She liked when Solene remembered what she was capable of.

    "Alright. But just know if you lose your nerve, you can back out at any time."

    Solene gave a rough shake of her head. "None of that; not anymore."

    Odette couldn't help but smirk at the response. She then looked over at Enora, who had her eyes trained on the floor for most of the conversation. Her lips were pressed together into a taut line. She was disgruntled. And thinking hard about something.

    "I know we've already said it," Odette said softly, "but this definitely hits the closest home for you. These are shinies we're talking about, but I would understand why it would make you uncomfortable."

    Still nothing.

    "Enora?"

    "Well, if you're going to force me," she said sharply. She hopped off her cushion and walked toward Odette's bedroom. As she went, the tips of her tendrils were engulfed in a faint blue glow, which traveled to the pecha stems. They levitated off the coffee table, toward the kitchen, and into the sink.

    Odette sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. "Enora, come on," she called after her. "Don't be like that, I'm not forcing you to do anything! She paused. "And I was going to grab those!"

    The sound of the bedroom door shutting was the response.

    Enora wasn't on board, and Odette could have figured that out even if she hadn't spoken. So, then why the hell was she begrudgingly agreeing to come along?

    Odette pushed herself to stand. "Enora!" she shouted, walking toward the room. "If you have a thought, say it! I want you to tell me what's on your mind!"

    No answer.

    She ground her teeth together, trying to ward off any oncoming anger. Losing it here wouldn't make the conversation any better. This was rough territory.

    Odette had found Enora has an eevee, and aside from the moment they met in the alley next to Marieanne and Bernard's townhouse, Odette had no idea where Enora had come from and was never one to prod. Much like her, Enora wasn't one who liked to dwell too much on the past. That's where they got along.

    Odette couldn't help but wonder if this reluctance was stemming from that unknown past.

    Enora's refusal to speak wasn't giving her much to work with, so that was what she was going with. "Okay. Until you specifically ask to come along, I'm taking this as a hard no. You let me know when you're ready to talk about it."

    All was still silent on Enora's end. That was that.

    Pushing her bangs back, she trudged back over to the couch and fell back into it, taking a moment to shut her eyes, massage her temples, and collect herself. When she peered back out at her team's concerned gazes, she sighed.

    "It's just gonna be the five of us. But we got this."
     
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    Chapter 6 - Psychopath
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu
    White Swan.jpg
    Chapter 6 - Psychopath
    Special thanks to @HelloYellow17 for beta reading this for me!
    CW: Strong Language, Talk of Sexual Assault
    “God fucking dammit, Snooki. Can you be any drunker?”

    When it wasn’t Odette's team up to something weird or stupid, her mother always picked up the slack--when she was home, at least. She’d only been back in Kalos since Sunday night, and she was taking every possible moment after to enjoy her leisure time. Vienna Cinq-Mars wasn’t a subtle woman by any means—if she wanted to sit home all day and scream at her reality TV shows, that’s what she did. And if she didn’t want to wear pants while she was doing that…well, she didn’t.

    As Odette walked through from her bedroom to the kitchen, she scrunched her eyebrows at the sight of her mother cradling a bowl of nachos like a newly laid Pokemon egg while she yelled at the orange Unovans on their TV screen. At least she had the common decency to put on a pair of granny panties rather than of one of the thongs she managed to leave all over the house during laundry days.

    Vienna's longtime partner, Thea--a quiet and observant gardevoir--sat beside her, knitting and looking completely unfazed by everything happening around her. As she usually did.

    “You could at least watch something fulfilling, like a horror movie,” Odette commented.

    Or quite literally anything else,” Solene chirped. She shuffled over to the couch and sat down next to Thea. Ever the punctual one, she was already ready to go. She decided to pass the time by watching Thea with her needles. Isaur, Ange, Enora, and Loïc were still hanging out in their balls back in Odette's bedroom, so none of them were out and about to keep her company.

    “What’s more horrific than that spray tan? I swear, I got better color just climbing up the side of Coronet in the middle of a blizzard,” Vienna said. She then threw one of the chips in her mouth. “The Unovans really know what they’re doing with their TV.”

    “Agree to disagree," Odette said.

    She fanned her wet eyeliner as she pulled open the fridge. Her eyes fell on the last available water bottle, and she grabbed it in one quick motion. She hadn't even left for her outing with Dorien yet, and she already felt like she was going to explode.

    It had been a week since she had reluctantly approached him in class again and “apologized” for her foul attitude after their battle. She chalked it up to a bad rehearsal week, and he seemed more than willing to forgive her. When she offered that they “hang out after class,” he took every opportunity to treat her to extravagant excursions. Private jet flight from Lumiose to Gloire one day, a limousine ride to the movies the next. The plan for the day was a trip to a fancy restaurant on a private man-made island off the coast of Avignon Town, where apparently a cup of soup cost more than she made in an hour's work. She only knew that much because she'd searched up the menu out of morbid curiosity.

    She felt idiotic getting as dressed up as she was. It was already a pain in the ass to wake up every morning to straighten her hair and do her full seven-step skincare routine, but adding on a full face of makeup and a nude, loose-fitting cocktail dress that hadn't seen the light of day since her first college party somehow made it all harder.

    She didn't want to make herself look that good for Dorien; he didn't deserve to see her in such a state. However, since the restaurant they were going to seemed so high-end, she'd be cutting off her nose to spite her own face if she decided to roll up in a tracksuit instead. Prettying up was a necessary evil here. She'd have to deal with his stupid goo-goo eyes and try not to gouge them out in the process.

    She began chugging the water, hoping it would do something to ease her mind for the time being.

    “Easy there, you’re going to choke,” Vienna warned over the noise coming from the TV.

    Once she’d managed to down half of it, she relented. “That’s always the goal,” she said sarcastically.

    “You should really try training up your gag reflex then. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

    She could thank her lucky stars she wasn’t drinking at that moment because she’d have spit everything out.

    Maman,” she sputtered. “You’re disgusting.”

    “I'll say!” Solene said.

    "Gods almighty, Vienna, really?" Thea whined, sending a deadpan look toward Vienna, who snickered and covered her mouth.

    “Whoops.”

    Odette had to take a second to compose herself before she stormed back out to the living room. “I know it's not your thing, but you need something holy in your life. Church might be the answer," she jeered.

    "No, I've resigned myself to the fact that I am a filthy sinner. I've found that all religion is good for is furthering my studies," Vienna chided, waving her hand dismissively. "Besides, Arcean services stopped being interesting when you barfing into my lap became a staple of us visiting."

    They'd never been a religious family by any means. Vienna's specialty as a licensed Pokemon Professor had her dabbling in all walks of the occult sciences, so she was never one to focus on any one religion, and thankfully, didn't expect Odette to either.

    However, that never stopped them from attending a few holiday services at the local Arcean church back in the day. But, the visits always ended with Odette's embarrassing nausea spells and subsequent emergency sprints to the bathroom. It was like her boredom with the long, drawn-out services manifested into physical illness each and every time.

    Rolling her eyes, Odette crossed her arms. "Pardon me, not like I liked getting queasy every time we walked into that church. What, did they not teach you how to deal with children's vomit in teen mom school?"

    Vienna threw a few chips into her mouth and barely chewed them before snapping back. "Of course they did, but that doesn't mean it was fun."

    "
    Don't talk with your mouth full," Odette said.

    "I'm forty fucking years old, I can do whatever the hell I want."

    To that, Odette scoffed. "Forty years old with the mentality of an eighteen-year-old."

    “Yep, all mental growth stopped as soon as they cut your preemie butt out of me, snookums," Vienna agreed, raising a thumb.

    Odette wished she’d somehow grown some mental wall against Vienna’s out-of-pocket comments over the years. Something like that set them apart from other mother-daughter duos; Vienna liked to act more like an obnoxious older sister, and it didn’t help that she looked the part. People mistook them for siblings all the time. At forty years of age, she still managed to look like she was thirty-something.

    “I’ll say it again. You’re disgusting,” Odette said.

    "Well, I'll say that you're beautiful. You never dress like this," Vienna gushed.

    "Are you even listening to me?"

    "Mm, no. I'm too busy taking in the rare image of you in something that isn't a pair of fucking joggers."

    Odette rolled her eyes so far back that it triggered a headache. She downed the rest of her water as she trudged back to her bathroom, throwing the empty bottle in the trashcan next to the sink. "Just for that, I'm spending my next paycheck on more joggers."

    "Oh no, the humanity," Vienna laughed. "Why must you do us such a disservice and hide those dancer legs from the world?"

    Odette decided the best way to stop the harassment was to ignore it. She began digging through her makeup trunk, trying to figure out what lipstick she should bother slathering on. She wondered if it would even be worth the trouble. Her lips looked perfectly fine without it, thanks to the blessing of Vienna's big billowy lip genes. And she didn't want to give Dorien more reason to stare at her.

    "Hey Maman, do you have some chapstick anywhere?" she called.

    "Probably somewhere in my bathroom. Or under my bed. Or in my underwear drawer. Who knows, really? I'm always losing them," Vienna said.

    "Thanks, you're a real help."

    RotomPhone, sitting on the back of the toilet, suddenly began to ring, and her shoulders tensed at the sound of it.

    "Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Incoming call from Dorien 'Dickhead' Bonhomme!" he said, causing her to groan.

    "Fuck," she muttered. She slammed her makeup trunk closed and slipped on the heels she'd set next to the bathtub. "Incoming, Solene!" she yelled, grabbing her phone and trudging back to the living room.

    The gothitelle was already up at the door, holding Odette's purse.

    "Need this?" she asked.

    "Yep," Odette said, snatching the bag. "Let's get going."

    Vienna paused the TV and threw her arms up in the air triumphantly. "Have fun, my love!" she said. "I slipped a condom in your purse just in case. It's a heat-activated one, so it's supposed to make things superb."

    Thea's one good eye slipped shut, and she buried her face in her hand. "Vienna..."

    Vienna shrugged. "What, she's in the game, and I want to ensure she's safe and having a good time. What the hell is wrong with that?"

    If looks could kill, Vienna would have dropped dead under the intensity of the glare Odette sent her way. The mere thought of getting anywhere near Dorien was nauseating, but doing that? Even Solene looked disgusted.

    "Oh my fucking--goodbye," Odette screamed, yanking open the door and slamming it shut once she and Solene were out in the hallway.

    ***
    Another day, another private mode of transportation. A fucking yacht. She wasn't even as shocked as she'd been when she got onto his private jet earlier in the week. It was as if she was becoming desensitized to the sight of such extravagance.

    She and Solene stood outside on the ship's aft deck, watching Avignon Town shrink behind them.

    "There it goes," Solene said in a dejected whisper.

    "There it goes indeed," Odette muttered back. She kept her arms crossed tight over her chest, fiddling nervously with the loose fabric hanging off her arm. She only stopped when Dorien approached her, holding two glasses of white wine.

    "It's a bit of a ride out to the island," he said as he handed her one. "The place is only accessible by private boats and charters, so I hope you enjoy the trek."

    "You always know how to pamper me," she said with her painstakingly crafted half-smile. She resisted the urge to recoil when he slinked an arm around her waist and instead settled for drinking some of the wine. Something to keep herself in place.

    She wasn't expecting him to kiss her on the cheek, but she nearly choked on her sip when he did.

    "Anything for you, Doll," he said tenderly.

    If that was going to be the new thing, she suddenly regretted not packing a bottle of face wash in her purse. Or a can of bleach.

    “My brother and I went to eat here months ago, but there was a waiting list of six months. Which is, unfortunately, pretty standard,” Dorien explained, swishing some white wine around in his glass. He then sipped from it. “I wonder, did you know this place even existed? You seem like the kind of person who’d frequent more...smaller scale joints, hm?”

    The backhanded comment left her gritting her teeth. Still, she chuckled.

    "No, I had no idea there was even a private island in Avignon,” Odette said sweetly. Years of acting classes did wonders in pulling off innocent facades. "But I trust you know all the good spots and will keep me educated, yeah?"

    A goofy grin passed over his lips, and his eyes drooped smugly.

    “Do you even have to ask? I'd show you the world if you'd let me," he declared, lightly bumping his forehead against hers. It would have been such a romantic line had it come from literally anybody else.

    ***​

    The restaurant itself was as gaudy as she expected. Every patron was dressed to the nines, even their Pokemon partners, all sitting around extravagant marble columns, diamond chandeliers, and pretty stone waterfalls built into the walls. The chatter was low, with the occasional sound of glasses clinking, wine being poured, and silverware tapping against plates. Odette felt like she would get charged a fee for just standing there and breathing.

    They got their table relatively fast, and it wasn't long before Dorien launched another story about what he and his rich family and friends did in their spare time. It was really hard for her to keep up when she only wanted to shove a champagne flute down his throat.

    "Have you ever been jet skiing before?" he asked her.

    "Once, in Sinnoh. Part of a research expedition with my maman; her team went looking for jellicent, and they brought me along because I begged," she explained. "I think I was like...ten."

    "Oh, that's fun," Dorien said teasingly. "Quaint. Nothing ever beats the jet skis we had in Paldea. They fit right into the yacht, and we were free to come and go as we pleased. But your excursion sounds neat too."

    Exca,” Excadrill said. Odette had never heard any Pokemon sound pompous, even when she couldn't understand its language, but she supposed there was a first time for everything. When not battling with its crazy, strengthened Earthquake, Excadrill looked and sounded like any rich person's Pokemon partner.

    She swallowed the urge to glare at him and hid it behind a loving grin, which she accentuated by thoughtfully resting her cheek in her palm. She forced out an airy mix of a scoff and a chuckle, hoping it would be enough to mask any disdain wafting off of her.

    "It was a long time ago, so I'd love to go again," she said dreamily.

    "Say when, and I'll make arrangements," Dorien said.

    "You're going to spoil me, Dory."

    "That's the point. I imagine you haven't been spoiled enough, and I certainly want to change that."

    Odette could barely hear the small growl that rose out of Solene. She nudged her under the table.

    The complimentary bread she’d been munching on started to come back up. She casually rubbed her chest, coaxing it back down into her stomach. Barfing in a high-end restaurant like this was hardly “lying low.” She already felt out of place wearing her department store dress while it seemed every person and Pokemon around her was wearing designer attire. Even Excadrill was wearing a damn Dior jacket. She’d have asked Solene to put something nice on if she'd known.

    “I'm looking forward to it. This week has been wonderful so far,” she purred. She picked up her glass of mineral water and sipped it, hoping to bide her time before she had to engage in more talk. She was mildly concerned when she didn’t hear a response and shot a glance at him. He’d yet to move, still gazing at her with that droopy-eyed look. It made her skin crawl.

    She wished he’d just come out and say what he was thinking so she wouldn’t have to continue being looked at like this. Gods knew Solene was certainly over it.

    A florges approached the table, two of the entrees balanced on her hands while the other two levitated off to her sides. She bowed politely like she had every time she came back to wait on them.

    Here you are,” she said, setting down the plates of food. She clasped her hands together and nodded again. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked.

    Dorien began setting his napkin in his lap while Excadrill mimicked him. “No, ma’am, we’re all set,” he said, and Odette was somewhat shocked he'd understood her. She didn't expect him to be familiar with how fairy types spoke.

    The florges grinned broadly before hovering off to her next task, leaving Odette to gaze down at her food. She’d gone out of her way to get one of the cheapest things on the menu out of pure spite. She’d been very tempted by the beef bourguignon, but surely Dorien wanted her to spend his money. She wouldn't have ordered anything if she weren’t as hungry as she was. Instead, she opted for a mere chicken Caprese salad.

    Dorien eyed it over his lobster meal and raised a brow. “That’s really all you’re going to eat?” he asked. “Even Solene got more than you.”

    Odette looked at Solene, then down at her coq au vin. Solene stuck out her lower lip before grabbing a fork and stabbing one of the chunks of meat with it. She began to eat, and Odette shrugged her shoulders.

    “I’m not that hungry,” she said. “But I guess Sol is.”

    Dorien pursed his lips. “Are you trying to watch your figure?”

    Odette’s eye started to twitch, and she had to claw into the tablecloth to get a grip on herself. She could see Solene tense up out of the corner of her eye.

    “I actually think my figure's fine, don't you think?” The words physically hurt to say.

    What difference does it make?” Solene said stiffly, and Odette nudged her again.

    Dorien chuckled and held up his hands defensively. “Oh, you don’t have to ask me. The dance lessons did you very well in the curves department.”

    Her eyes cut to his neck. The collar of his pressed shirt and jacket didn’t cover it entirely. There was just enough exposed skin to allow an easy chokehold.

    Behave, Dorien. We're in public," she teased, swatting a hand toward him as she put all her energy into a shrill, bashful chuckle.

    “Well, with your figure, I can’t help but look.”

    It was amazing. He really thought he was being suave and flirtatious. She had to wonder if he listened to himself when he spoke. Maybe if he did, he’d realize he sounded like a douchebag. Or maybe not. Odette had started to realize that his head was so far up his ass that it was probably hard to see or hear anything else.

    When she didn’t immediately respond, he clicked his tongue, removed his napkin from his lap, and stood up. He motioned for Excadrill to follow him.

    “We’re going to go wash up. Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone!” he said with a smile.

    The smile she forced might have been too fake, but she played it off by politely waving as he walked off. When she was positive both were out of earshot, she brought her hands to her face and exhaled deeply.

    “I'm going to fry his synapses,” Solene hissed.

    “I know, Sol, I know,” Odette said. “Imagine how I feel.”

    Solene took another bite of her food. "Well, we wouldn't be in this mess if you didn't come up with such reckless ideas.

    Odette pulled her face from her hands and shot a look at the gothitelle. “How many times are you going to tell me you think this is dangerous? I think I’m well aware by now. You decided to come along, so stop nagging me about it."

    “I said I was coming along to be the voice of reason. I'm simply doing my job,” she said with a shrug.

    Odette groaned and brought her hand back to her face. She squeezed the bridge of her nose, hoping to ward off the headache that had manifested. There, she felt her mock-designer purse start vibrating on the back of her chair. She nearly jumped out of her skin to get to it, hurriedly pulling open the zipper to steal a look at the caller ID.

    Bzzzt! Incoming call from Noel Massé!” RotomPhone said as she read her friend’s name on the screen. She answered it before she held it to her ear.

    Noel,” she said in a breathless whisper. She brought a hand up to cover her mouth for good measure. “You need to come be a buffer. I’m going to stab him.”

    A snicker on the other end. “We already decided that my tagging along would defeat the purpose of this.”

    “I know, but holy fucking shit, this is the worst it’s been all week. It’s like he’s evolving into a bigger scumbag whenever he opens his mouth.”

    “So what you’re telling me is he’s a Pokemon?” Noel queried.

    “That’s an insult to every Pokemon,” Odette snapped. She noticed Solene glance at her from the corner of her eye, but decided to ignore it.

    “Nothing new?” he said, a little more deflated this time.

    Odette shook her head. “No. But he definitely thinks we're dating.” Saying it out loud, even quietly, made her shudder.

    Noel was silent for a moment, possibly contemplating the statement. “You could capitalize on that. Play gold digger for a bit and wipe him clean of his money before he dies.”

    “Pretty sure that only works if he’s seventy years older than me,” she said flatly.

    “Well, you can hope he has some terminal illness you don’t know about. Or pray a grimer tries to crawl into his mouth while he’s sleeping.”

    Odette laughed at the image of Dorien choking on that particular poison type before shaking her head again. “No amount of money in the world would be worth that,” she said. She paused to consider her next words. “I’m starting to wonder if it’s worth it.”

    She had the acting down to a T, sure. She could titter at his misogynistic passes and put on the doe eyes while he talked to her about the new million-dollar car he just bought, but every time she did so, the anger would start to build. She'd gotten the hang of swallowing it down, but she'd only been at it for what, a week? And she was already exhausted. How long could she hold up before it all became too much?

    Noel sighed. “We’re playing the long game here, and it’s only been a few days.”

    She pursed her lips. He was right, as much as she didn’t want to admit it. She’d gone into this knowing Dorien wasn’t going to come out and say anything alarming, but she supposed she didn’t fully consider how long it would actually take. It was true that it hadn't been long, but she also hadn't been prepared for how excruciating the days would be.

    At the very least, it kept her mind off everything else. So, she supposed she was getting something out of it. Besides, her maman and grandparents didn’t raise a quitter. She could stick it out.

    “Hopefully, he says something sooner rather than later,” she sighed.

    She felt a couple of hasty taps on her shoulder and glanced over to see Solene pointing toward the bathroom. Dorien and Excadrill were returning but had momentarily stopped at another table to talk with the diners.

    Odette’s posture stiffened. “Okay, okay, gotta go, talk later,” she said quickly. She barely heard Noel’s response before hanging up and tossing the phone back into her bag. She’d just hung it back on her chair when Dorien and Excadrill sat back down.

    “Sorry, sorry. Saw some friends and had to say hello,” he said.

    “Took you long enough,” Odette replied, lacing a whine around her tone. "I really did start to miss you."

    Dorien's eyes lit up momentarily, and he reached out and took hold of her hand as he poked his lower lip out. She made a mental note to scrub her fingers with a Clorox wipe later.

    "You're so cute," he said. "Come, let's eat."

    Odette pulled her hand away faster than she planned and went straight into her salad while Dorien started his meal. Much to her relief, that prevented any extra conversation from happening. They were all so caught up in their food that nothing was said for five minutes. It was bliss.

    “So,” Dorien said after he finished a bite. He politely brought his napkin to his lips and dabbed them off. “I have something I want to ask you.”

    Odette suppressed a groan. She swallowed whatever she had before exchanging quick looks with Solene. “What would that be?”

    Dorien smirked, and she felt the sting of a metaphorical Ice Beam rock her chest.

    “Nothing major,” he said. “I just had a slight concern.”

    “Why, because you’re hanging out with a commoner?” she asked jokingly, raising her brow.

    He chuckled, almost...darkly. She kept up her smug smile but began to kick off her high-heeled shoes in case her instinct to run came back in full force. She felt it bubbling in the back of her head.

    “Well, as you know, I come from a lot of money,” he said. He reached out, took hold of her hand again, and began intertwining his fingers with hers. A bleach bath might be in order after the Clorox wipe.

    “My father raised my brothers and me to protect that fortune, so naturally, when I start seeing somebody new, I do my research.”

    She couldn't help but narrow her eyes as they darted from their locked hands to his face. Where the hell was he going with this? She grabbed her near-empty glass of water and began to drink again to keep her other hand busy, and Dorien must have taken that as a sign to keep going.

    “I wanted to ask you about the manslaughter case you were involved in last year.”

    Odette choked on her next gulp and began to cough violently. She wrenched her hand away from him as she slammed her cup back down, then lowered her head to avoid drawing attention to herself.

    “Well, I guess it was more of a self-defense killing, considering the victim raped you, right? So that makes you the victim, I suppose...”

    The mixture of pure shock from his questions and her water going down the wrong pipe made it impossible to stop coughing. She was certain she would choke to death with this asshole and his mole watching until suddenly, her throat loosened up. The next thing she knew, she could breathe again.

    Odette sucked in a couple of greedy breaths to refill her shriveled lungs. She looked back over to Solene, seeing that her hands were engulfed in her signature pink glow. Odette didn’t even have time to thank her because of the anger exploding from the spot on her back. She had half a mind to flip the table right then and there.

    Stop,” she said, loud enough to turn a few heads. So much for holding out for much longer. But she didn't care now. Fuck lying low when she was in the presence of such audacity.

    “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve,” she menaced. “Seriously, you thought that was something I would want to discuss with you?”

    Dorien held up his hands, but it looked more like he was going through the motions of being startled. Like he was doing it to save face, though Odette was positive that he didn’t care about that. He wouldn’t have asked about something like that or even gone as far as to look it up in the first place if he wasn’t trying to get under her skin. There was no way.

    “I see you’re upset.” His emphasis on that last word prompted a chill to run down her spine, but she was far too mad to acknowledge it.

    She started to drink the rest of her water for her own sake. She needed to calm down before she did something too rash. Her mind, despite the angry fog, was flooding with questions.

    Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why did he do that? Why is he going there? Why does he need to know that?

    She hadn’t felt this exposed since the story dropped. Since she heard people accusing her of doing what she did out of jealousy, out of anger. Even with the overwhelming support she received from the other students at the school, some thought she just did it for attention. And his family. Gods, his fucking family. She couldn’t deal with the scrutiny, and now here she was, dealing with that same thing from the very person she probably despised just as much as him.

    Dorien continued, apparently unfazed. “I apologize, but it’s not every day you read that your date killed her drama professor in near cold blood.”

    Her grip on her glass tightened.

    “What was his name? Jordan Deschamps?” he asked.

    Crack.

    The glass shattered in her hand, shards falling into her lap and on the floor. She could feel some of the shards digging into her skin, and saw crimson start to stream from the wounds, but she felt no pain. All she could feel was the heat of her rage.

    “Ma’am are you okay?!” a passing waiter yelped. The sentret walking with him chirped in alarm. “Sen! Tret! Sen!

    Odette couldn’t find the words to respond. She finally regained feeling in her hand and flexed it, allowing the heavier glass shards stuck in her skin to dislodge themselves. Solene quickly grabbed her wrist and pressed her napkin to the wounds to slow the bleeding.

    Odette? Are you alright?” Solene said frantically.

    It was only then that the pain of the gashes started to register. Other waiters, waitresses, and their accompanying partners started crowding around the table. Their questions slurred together in her foggy mind; several more forced “are you okay’s?” managed to break through. One of the workers, who she assumed to be the manager or something of the sort, was phoning for a first aid kit over the headpiece he was wearing.

    Through all of that, she peered back over at Dorien. She wished she could say she was surprised that she couldn’t find a lick of remorse on his face, but she was far from that. His eyes had gone dark, and she recognized that threatening hostility from class just those few days before.

    The fight or flight senses were kicking in again, but they were truly at odds this time. She both wanted to bolt from the restaurant and make him bleed too.

    But, as soon as the manager approached him, that malicious look was replaced with a worried frown. He said something about being shocked, about how he wasn’t sure what happened, but also how they most likely wouldn’t need to call an ambulance. The manager looked relieved by that, then said something else about a free meal. At least, that’s what it sounded like. Dorien glanced down at the diamond-encrusted watch on his wrist, and she couldn’t pick up on much else after that.

    “I’m good,” she finally said. “We’ll take the check. I want to go home.”

    “Ma’am, at least let us wrap the wound up for your travels, okay?” said a waitress. The chansey standing next to her nodded in agreement.

    She shook her head and shrugged. “Fine. But I’m okay. Really.”

    ***​

    “I really am sorry. I didn’t think a glass would shatter in your hand.”

    She refused to look at him. She refused to give him any more of her time. She was over it.

    Instead, she zeroed in on the throbbing in her bandaged hand to keep herself from punching him as she stormed to the opposite end of the yacht. She very well could have punched him. It'd be so easy. The only other people on the ship were the captain and the sparse staff. Nobody was around, so nobody would see her swinging at him.

    It'd be so easy.

    “C’mon, Odie, talk to me.”

    She leaned over a railing on whatever deck she'd come upon, focusing her attention on the passing waves. Perhaps she could find a life jacket and throw herself overboard. She'd take the displeasure and possible dangers of swimming home over having to share a private charter with Dorien for the forty-five minutes it would take them to get back to the mainland. It'd probably be worth it.

    Why did he have to drop such a question on her when there was no other way to get away from him? She had no choice but to get back on the boat. She had no choice but to be in close proximity to him after that. She couldn't help but feel like something about it was planned, which only caused her to seethe more.

    She would rather not,” Solene said, standing stiffly at Odette's side, serving as the much-needed buffer. She kept her hand on Odette’s arm, ready to jump into action if necessary.

    “You know, the ride would be easier if you put Solene back in her ball,” Dorien said tentatively. "We can talk about this more privately."

    “I think she’s fine where she is,” Odette said, not turning to look at him.

    You, on the other hand, should walk away,” Solene added.

    She heard Dorien sigh and step closer. “C’mon, sweetheart, I didn’t mean any harm. It was a genuine concern.”

    “Yep, you just kept rubbing salt in the wound, you fucking psychopath.”

    He was silent for a while. She hoped he'd stay that way until they pulled back into the shipyard. Then she could call a taxi and be rid of him.

    She'd deal with the "I told you so's" from Solene and Enora; she'd be able to shake that off easily. But being asked about her rape? Not so much.

    “I’m sorry,” he said dejectedly. “I clearly got very carried away.” His tone was remorseful, and she'd think he was sincere if she didn’t know any better.

    “I think it’s a lot more than that, but whatever helps you sleep on your bed of roses at night.”

    She turned away and stormed to another area, only stopping when she found a sofa to sit on. Perhaps it wouldn't be a major loss if she threw him overboard. No life jacket, no nothing. Just left him to the elements. Played stupid and claimed inebriation. Cut her losses and called it a day.

    There were far too many ways for that to go wrong, but at least the mental image of him toppling into the ocean gave her some humorous reprieve from her pulsing anger and the throb in her palm.

    Her reprieve was short-lived, because Dorien came bounding around the corner. Solene tensed and eyed him closely, and Odette could see her hands beginning to glow.

    "Dorien, go the fuck away," Odette growled. "I don't have anything to fucking say to you, and I don't have interest in hearing what you have to say either. Stay the fuck away from us, or it's not going to end well for you."

    Dorien sighed deeply, then checked his watch. She had half a mind to rip it off his wrist and beam it at his head.

    "Did you hear me? Are you fucking deaf? I don't care that it's your boat, I want to be away from you. Piss off."

    “I did say the ride would be easier if you’d put her back in her ball. Hopefully, I have enough.”

    She opened her mouth to say something but was caught entirely off guard when she got a fist full of some red dust in her face. It started to sting as soon as it made contact with her eyes.

    What the fu--”

    A violent cough cut her off. She could hear Solene coughing too, but could not open her eyes to get a good look at her. She didn’t have enough time to let herself be mad that this guy had just pepper sprayed her because her brain was going into emergency mode.

    Need milk, need water...stop coughing, stop inhaling it in...need to get away, now.

    “1:30 to 2:47,” she heard Dorien say.

    The expletives began to well up in her throat, but it was far too busy constricting, trying to ward off the effects of the dust. She found the slightest bit of solace in feeling Solene’s hand on her arm, but the fact that she couldn’t see or help her was causing panic to set in.

    She regained control of her body and realized she'd fallen to her hands and knees. If she could crawl along, find the captain...maybe there was a life raft she could use to get off the yacht, even out in the middle of the water...

    No sooner had the thought set in did the effects of the vapor vanish. The stinging in her eyes ceased, and her throat opened. The panic vanished, and Odette was suddenly in a daze, wondering briefly where she was. Something had just happened, but she couldn't put her finger on what. She felt like she'd had too much to drink...had she? Where was she? Right, Dorien’s boat. They were returning from the private island restaurant. She looked over at Solene, who was darting her head around tiredly.

    She then looked to Dorien, who was kneeling down next to her. The concern was clear in his gaze.

    “Are you alright?” he asked. “I had no idea you were such lightweights, or I wouldn’t have ordered that much wine. You seemed fine leaving the restaurant but got really lightheaded just now.”

    Right. That's what happened. Getting overzealous on the drinks and then getting on a rocking boat was hardly a good idea. Odette’s temples throbbed, and she reached up to massage them. A sharp pain radiated from her palm, and she recoiled from getting a good look at the bloodied bandage.

    “When did I--” she started to ask.

    “You broke a glass, remember? You tried to pick it up and cut yourself really badly. They wrapped you up before we left.”

    She thought about it for a second and was relieved to find that she indeed remembered. Whatever wine she had hadn't shot her memory of the day entirely. Anger surged from her back again. How could she have been so stupid? Breaking fancy glassware was hardly laying low.

    She shook her head abruptly. “Sorry. I know better than to drink that much during the day.”

    Goodness, what were we thinking...” Solene slurred in agreement.

    “Well, we'll be home soon. In the meantime, you two can lie down if you need to. There are places to sleep on the lower deck," he assured her, helping her back to her feet and easing her onto the couch. Odette used her free hand to pull Solene to sit next to her.

    "Yeah," she said dazedly. "I should try to sleep this off."

    ***
    As the car turned down Gigavolt Way and came to stop in front of her apartment complex, Odette felt a sense of relief. She craved the comfort of her own bed. Not before a good shower, of course.

    "Finally," she groaned, picking her head off Dorien's shoulder. He'd insisted she put it there when they got in the car, and being so inebriated, she had to push herself extra hard to stay in character. And, as much as she hated to admit it, his shoulder was far comfier than the window.

    The door unlocked, and she stared at it for a long while before pushing it open. Her body felt light as she stepped out of the car, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt...dread. Like there was something wrong. Of course, that had to be Dorien’s doing. She could never feel at ease when she was near him.

    She pushed the door shut behind her once she was sure she had Solene's ball in her bag, but the window rolled down before she could walk away.

    “Do you need me to walk you up?" Dorien asked.

    She suddenly felt a little soberer and whipped around to face him. No, he and Vienna could not cross paths. He had no business coming into her safe haven, either. "No, don't worry about it. I'll get myself there."

    "Are you sure?"

    "Positive. You've done enough for me, I'm a big girl," she insisted. She hoped she didn't sound too direct, but judging by the warm smile he sent back to her, there was nothing to worry about.

    "Alright, fine. But, before I forget, I need to give this to you,” Dorien said as he leaned on the sill. He produced a yellow envelope and held it out to her.

    “There’s a big social gala happening this weekend, and I’d like you to come,” he said. “That’s your invite. I don’t expect you to know anybody there, so you’re more than welcome to bring a plus one if it would make you more comfortable. But you’ll still be going as my date.”

    The possessiveness behind that ‘my’ made her skin crawl. She eyed him, trying not to let her disgust show on her face, before snatching the envelope away.

    “Can't wait,” she said.

    A half smile crossed Dorien’s face. “Kiss goodbye?” he asked, reaching out to her.

    She swallowed down a drunken bald-faced laugh while she shoved the envelope into her purse. But that drunken bald-faced laugh quickly melted into something that caused her stomach to ache.

    You're acting. It's a stage kiss. You've done these before.

    She inhaled a deep, readying breath, then took his hand. He pulled her close to the door and planted a sweet peck on her lips. Well, it would have been sweet if it didn't taste like fucking acid to her. She was grateful that he didn't do anything more than that.

    "Go get some rest, Doll. I'll see you later." He ran a loving finger across her cheek while he spoke before retreating back into the car and rolling up the window. He was speeding off around the corner after that.

    For some reason, even though he was gone and she'd gotten the date over, something still felt wrong. She decided to tell herself it was just the booze.

    ***​

    Through her inebriated haze, Odette was at least satisfied to see that Vienna had clothed herself. Her hair was sopping wet from a fresh shower, and her face was coated in a gray clay mask. Thea was at the table reading something.

    "Oh, hi! You're home early," Vienna said. "I guess you didn't use my present."

    "I'll kill you," Odette said dazedly, kicking off her heels next to the door. She grabbed Solene's ball out of her bag and opened it, allowing Solene to wobble over to the couch and throw herself onto it. Still sobering herself up, it looked like.

    “Awwww, come on now, I’m just busting your balls,” Vienna whined, twirling a lock of her curly hair around her finger. She then stood and held her hands out before her, beckoning for a hug.

    “Give maman some sugar.”

    “Just because you said it like that, no.”

    Vienna stepped toward her. “Pleeeeassseee? I missed my little red-eye so much.”

    Odette stared at her for a long while. She ultimately decided she couldn't say no and stepped over to lay her ringing head on Vienna's shoulder. The tension left her body when she felt her mother's fingers rub over the back of her neck. In the face of what some might call their “unconventional relationship,” Vienna somehow always knew what she needed. She was a good mum. A lunatic but still a good mum.

    “Whatsa matter? You look more disgruntled than usual,” Vienna asked, letting her go. "Let me guess. Wine?"

    “Too much wine,” Odette huffed, picking her head back up.

    Vienna chuckled. “Can’t believe I birthed such a lightweight. I wish--” As she spoke, her eyes traveled down toward the floor. Her words abruptly stopped, and she reached down and grabbed Odette’s bandaged hand.

    “Oh, that’s--”

    Vienna furrowed her brow as she examined her palm. “What happened?”

    “Yeah, that...” Odette yanked her hand away and began to caress it herself. “Glass broke; cut myself trying to clean it. Nothing deep enough for stitches. Just needs to be re-bandaged.”

    Vienna’s gaze became a little more intense, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “According to whom?”

    Odette didn’t immediately have an answer for that. She had to close her eyes and think long and hard about why she was so sure.

    “One of the first aid chansies at the restaurant,” she recalled. It sounded right. “I trust their judgment.” Mostly because the thought of having to get stitches sent a chill down her back that matched the ones Dorien gave her. No, thank you.

    Vienna paused to consider the statement, then chuckled. “Jeez, honey, if you needed a stress ball so badly, all you had to do was ask. I keep twenty in my desk at the lab.”

    Odette let out a sardonic laugh as she leaned against the dining table. “I'm good, but thank you for the offer."

    “So, what's the deal? He doesn't do it for you?” Vienna wondered.

    Odette flared her nostrils. “I wouldn't say that," she lied. She wasn't quite sure how to word herself here. As much as she wanted to vent about what was happening, she'd promised to keep this under wraps. The less Vienna knew meant, the less she could tell Bernard, and the less she would get caught in the act of...whatever it was she had gotten herself into.

    "It’s just...I don't know. Don't want to move too fast, you know?"

    The fact that she was talking about this, even as an act, hurt.

    “Good on you!" Vienna praised. "I could have learned a thing or two from somebody like you. Would have saved me from people like your sperm donor."

    Odette’s nose crinkled in a grimace, as it always did when Vienna decided it would be a good idea to bring up her unknown father. “Well, anybody could have told you that messing around with someone twice your age was bad.”

    “They did. I didn't listen,” Vienna said, shrugging. “But, how can I be regretful when I got your cute face out of it?” She reached out and squeezed Odette’s cheeks for good measure. “Red eyes and all.”

    She let go and went toward the kitchen, where she dug around in the fridge for gods knew what. Odette silently watched her and let her head start to the right itself. She glanced over at Solene, who was on the verge of sleep. It actually made Odette more sleepy, too.

    “I’m going to take a shower,” she announced.

    “Left a lot of hot water. Don’t drown, love ya!” Vienna called.

    She hobbled over to her bathroom door. Certainly, the hot water would bring her back entirely and allow her to adequately examine the day's events. Though, she wasn’t sure what was there to pick apart. Aside from her shitty luck with glassware, it was remarkably uneventful. At least from what she could recall. She really knew better than to drink that much, especially in the presence of such a problematic person.

    What were she and Solene thinking? Last she remembered, Solene didn't even like most alcohol.

    However, she did manage to snag an invite to another place. He’d called it a gala, which undoubtedly meant many people would be there. A perfect opportunity to perhaps see past Dorien and look to his colleagues instead. She could even bring Noel to be a buffer if she needed it.

    “Hey, maman?” she said. “This is probably a long shot, but do you have any designer-brand dresses I can borrow?”

    She heard a cabinet slam and a chip bag crinkled. “Yeah, I stole a few from your nana. I don't know what'll fit you, but we can go through it later.”

    Odette smiled and wearily pushed open the door, looking forward to the end of such an obnoxious day.
     
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    Chapter 7 - Something's Rotten in Kalos
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu
    White Swan.jpg

    Chapter 7 - Something's Rotten in Kalos
    CW: Strong Language, Discussion of Sex, Noncon Kiss
    This chapter was written over a four-hour hospital stint and a series of antibiotic-fueled nights, and has not been beta-read. Therefore, it's a little chaotic and probably extremely long-winded! Feel free to tear it up or be nice!

    “Smell that? That’s the sweet scent of extravagance,” Noel said, adjusting his tuxedo coat. Freddy sat idly on his shoulders, observing the glitz and glamour of the event.

    “Somebody lives here,” Odette said. She had to remind herself that this was just the designated party room. There was actually an entire estate attached to this room. The crystal chandelier hanging over the dance floor and table seating area had to be the size of her entire apartment, and that alone filled her with a sense of inadequacy she didn’t think was possible.

    Yeah this is all neat and stuff, but when's dinner?” Isaur said dully. Her stomach growled, and she rubbed at it.

    “I told you there would be food. Make like the ice-type you are and chill,” Odette scoffed.

    “You think the tablecloths on those tables over there are flammable?” Freddy chirped, flapping his wings.

    Behave,” Noel said, raising his right arm, which was clothed in his custom-made falconry glove. The black leather had been lined with glimmering gold piping, and there were crystals embedded into each one of the knuckles.

    “Normally, I'm all for you acting chaotic, but tonight's not the night," Noel said as Freddy lifted off his head and hovered down to land on his forearm.

    “Buzzkill,” Freddy said, deflated. "But I'm with Isaur. Are there at least any finger foods?"

    Noel pursed his lips and then began to look around the immediate area. Odette followed his eyes questioningly for a moment before her gaze caught on a sprawling and almost imposing-looking sweets table. Two humans and two quagsire in waiter vests were handing out plates of finger foods. It was then she noticed several other quagsire and humans sauntering around with plates of odd looking hors d'oeuvres.

    She pointed. "There's some snacks over there for you. You've clearly--"

    Isaur and Freddy were halfway to the table before she'd even finished her thought.

    "No, guys, I totally wasn't going to recommend we stay together," Noel scoffed, dropping his arm.

    "Bringing Isaur to a place with endless food for a detective mission probably wasn't my smartest move," Odette mumbled. With a shallow breath, she tightened her arm around Noel’s and felt him return the favor.

    Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the guests, their Pokemon, and whatever it was they were doing. She had to stop and stare at the amount of shiny Pokemon she saw before her. They were known to be rare, but from a cursory glance, you'd think they were a dime a dozen. Even so, there were a lot fewer than she would have anticipated seeing.

    Nonetheless, "bizarre" wasn’t a strong enough word to describe it, but it was one of the only ones that made sense. Frustrating also came to mind too. How many of those Pokemon were caught rather than purchased through the stupid trade? Probably not a lot, and that thought alone was enough to make her grind her teeth.

    “What is this, a shiny trade social?” Odette asked herself.

    The cocktail hour had only started about ten minutes ago, but already there were hundreds of people standing around in their little groups of friends, drinks and finger foods in hand, laughing and carrying on about gods knew what. On a whim, she began to scan the crowd for a sign of Dorien’s styled brown hair and felt momentary relief when she couldn’t spot him. It wouldn’t be long before he came sauntering along, but she needed more time to mentally prepare herself before that happened. For now, all she focused on were the present shinies.

    The more she looked, the more it became clear to her that they looked, well, ragged. Long faces, smiles few and far between. Most of them just lingered at their owner's heels, looking miserable while doing so.

    Remorse filled her to the brim as thoughts of the rumors of abuse and mistreatment filled her head. Dorien's insistence that they wanted to be in the trade willingly seemed like an overexaggerated fib.

    Why don't they fight back if they look so upset? she thought hopelessly.

    The sound of breaking glass drew her attention far off to her right. She could clearly see a young man in a waiter vest kneeling down and staring wide-eyed at the tray of drinks spilled all over the polished marble floor. Standing over him was a woman in a flowing yellow gown, a shiny ponyta at her side. Odette watched the woman's painted lips curl over her teeth, and she kicked a shard of glass aside, making the poor waiter flinch.

    "Watch it," she spat, waving her Chanel clutch at him. "These are Louboutins! Don't soil what you can't afford!"

    As the waiter sputtered out an apology, Odette turned her attention to the ponyta. The horse watched on with despondent eyes. Its head was slightly lowered like it was somehow waiting for the woman's wrath to turn on it next. Even its ears were flat, a telltale sign that it was not having a good time. At all.

    Odette then realized--not only were the Pokemon being bought and sold like property but they were perpetually stuck in the presence of wealthy brats like that woman. That would run anybody ragged on its own.

    She wanted so badly to go over there and help the waiter clean up. But, when she saw nobody moving to do the same, she was forced to brush that idea aside. She was already entering the room at a disadvantage, and she didn't need to make things harder for herself by putting herself out in a way the regulars weren't. It stung, but she'd have to endure it and deal with the karma that followed.

    At the very least, if she wasn't convinced to get to the bottom of this before, she certainly did now.

    “Well, I will say this,” Noel spoke, taking her attention away from the disturbing scene. “For a couple of flat dwellers, we clean up nicely.”

    That she could agree with. Noel looked absolutely fantastic in his tuxedo, and the red carnation he had pinned to his lapel simply pulled the whole look together. Not to mention, the flower's hue matched the color of her Ralph Lurantis dress, the one gown in her mother’s small closet of higher-end clothes that actually slipped up around her butt.

    The dress was form-fitting, deep red, and didn’t suit her style whatsoever. She felt somewhat exposed in something so tight, but at the very least, it seemed like she’d adequately dressed this time around. So, she decided she’d suck it up for the next couple of hours, and sink all her focus into trying to find some answers to her questions.

    “If we can get our hands on some champagne, maybe we’ll feel like we’re part of the club,” Odette cracked, nodding her head toward a nearby table. There were flutes of the golden liquid lined up in expertly spaced rows for anybody to take if they were to walk by. She'd have to watch herself lest she got too drunk again in Dorien's presence. However, one glass wouldn't hurt.

    “You had me at champagne,” Noel replied, leading her over to it before he was even finished speaking. He grabbed two and handed one to her before holding his out as if seeking a toast.

    “To our debut into high society. Let’s see what the fuck happens tonight,” he said. Odette merely nodded and tapped her cup to his. They sipped together before continuing onward into the room.

    “So,” Odette started. “I know you said you wanted to stick together, but maybe we should follow our 'mon's leads and split up?"

    Noel was quiet for a moment as he sipped. He cleared his throat. "Probably, yes. You should probably go find your boyfriend first,” he suggested. “Surely, he'll be hanging around all the suspicious parties, right?”

    Odette shuddered to herself. “I’m positive. But I feel like venturing outside the realm of Bonhomme will give us a broader scope. I mean, look at these Pokemon. They look miserable."

    “Maybe we should use our collective sex appeal and go straight for seduction,” Noel suggested with a giggle as he drank more. Odette shot a glare at him.

    “Not my jam, but you have fun with that,” she said.

    Noel started to nudge her playfully when a loud gasp hit her ears. Noel heard it too, and began to dart his eyes around, looking for the source. It came in the form of a middle-aged woman, who rushed right up to Noel with her purple-hued audino in tow. Its eyes were downcast, so Odette couldn't get a good look at its face. Audino were normally very happy Pokemon, so seeing one so reserved and upset looking added to how disheartening this all was.

    “Oh my goodness,” the middle-aged woman said. “Are you Noel Massé?”

    Noel blinked rapidly, evidently caught quite off-guard by the question. “Yes,” he said tentatively. He returned his bearings quickly because his lips spread into a suave smile. “How can I help you?”

    “I knew it was you!” she said. She grabbed his hand and began to shake it eagerly. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt you, but I’m Lissette Archamault. I watch a lot of shows at the Lumiose center, and I just wanted to say that I’m a huge fan of yours! You were fantastic in Cabaret, and I’m so excited for Purrloins!

    Noel was very obviously flattered by the introduction, but he seemed particularly caught by this woman’s name. Or, at least, that's what Odette was certainly stuck on. An entire part of the theater was dubbed “The Lisette Archamault Wing” to honor this woman and her frequent and obscenely generous donations to the institution.

    “Wow, I’m so honored!” Noel said. He was absolutely brimming with excitement, and Odette bit her tongue to keep from giggling. Seeing him get so worked up was really a fun thing to witness. A little beacon of light in this room of disguised darkness they'd just entered.

    “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to introduce you to my husband and a couple of our friends,” the woman said. “My husband could talk your ear off about the original run of Purrloins, it’s his absolute favorite.” She paused. “Unless this is a bad time, I’d hate to pull you away from your gorgeous date.”

    Noel hurriedly held up his hands, sputtering over his words. “No, no! Hold that thought, please!”

    He turned, grabbed Odette by her wrist, and pulled her a couple of feet away. When he was sure they were out of earshot, he turned to her and immediately clasped his hands together.

    So,” he started politely. “I know we’re playing detective right now, but--”

    Odette shook her head jokingly. “Go. Maybe she’ll tell you something juicy while her husband chats you up about your Mistoffelees.”

    His eyes lit up, but they quickly dimmed with concern. “Are you sure? I know this is not exactly--”

    “You can still play detective while you try to convince rich theater patrons to further your acting career,” she said. “I’ll just go find my boyfriend in the meantime.” The words felt like battery acid on her lips, but that wasn’t the main point.

    Noel exhaled deeply, grabbed her cheeks, and planted a long kiss on her forehead. “Keep your phone on.”

    “Of course.”

    She watched him rush back over to the rich lady and lock arms with her. He shook hands with the quiet audino before they walked off. Career advancement surely was not the reason they were here, but Odette wasn’t going to be the one to hold him back from it.

    She was beaming at the fact that such an esteemed and frequent guest of the center recognized him and even called herself a fan. Noel’s talents had been pretty acclaimed since he broke out onto the scene not too long ago, but witnessing something like that, no matter the place, was pretty nice. It meant he was getting somewhere, and it meant there was still a lot in store for him. She was a very proud friend.

    On the other hand, she felt momentarily offended that she also hadn’t been recognized like that. Sure, she’d been called ‘gorgeous,’ but that didn’t hold a candle to being told one has a fan. But there was nothing more to expect. She didn’t step out onstage with Noel. She stuck herself behind the curtain, where she thought she’d thrive just as well.

    It wasn’t working out that way, though. The part of her that wanted to be the next Diantha was aching, but that unshakeable sense of stage fright was too much to overcome.

    It was simply too hard to be okay.

    She grimaced to herself as the smell of cigarette smoke flew past her nose. Upon slightly turning her head, she was jarred by the realization she had mindlessly wandered into the designated smoking area. Seeing all of the apparent socialites standing around, fraternizing over the cancer sticks wasn’t necessarily an out-of-place thing. Kalosians just loved their damn cigarettes.

    Her eyes roved from one redhead in a sparkling green dress to a robust-looking man in a standard black tux. He released a bellowing laugh, and the men around him also began laughing. She scoffed to herself.

    Something’s fu--

    “Well, something’s damn funny, isn’t it?”

    The crack had come out of the one person standing closest to her. He was leaning over the barricading fence that separated this higher level from the dining area, his hands clasped together lightly. His head was turned in the direction of the laughing man so that all Odette could see was the back of his silver-grey head of hair and the snom sitting on his shoulder. She couldn’t help but notice his suit too. It was a striking slate grey, nearly matching his hair color.

    He turned his head, giving Odette a good look at his profile. A cleanly shaven and defined jawline, topped by a delicate nose. A smoking cigarette hung from between his teeth, and he moved a hand to grasp it between two fingers.

    “Maybe he realized he weighs as much as his net worth,” Odette said. She hadn’t planned to say it as loud as she did, and she only realized her mistake when the man started quietly chuckling. Odette took a long, slow sip of her drink, hoping that was going to be the end of the interaction. She felt out of place as it was, but part of her figured that making fun of a regular was a bad move.

    “Congratulations, that might be the funniest joke I’ve heard all night,” he said as he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth.

    "Om! Silly!” the snom squeaked. Learning how Isaur spoke had gotten her relatively familiar with ice type language, but not enough to where she could fully grasp everything the snom had said.

    She side-eyed the man before fully turning back to face him, seeing he was now looking at her. With a frontal view, it was entirely clear to her that he was...

    Wow.

    If a god was specifically in charge of designing humans, they took care of him. She could see just how strikingly blue his eyes were. She didn’t even think eyes could get to that shade of blue.

    She blinked slowly at him as if trying to ward off a mirage. His smile wavered, and she caught him looking her up and down. She felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over her, and she cleared her throat and turned her eyes away from him.

    “That’s unfortunate to hear, I wasn't even trying,” she said, then sipped her champagne.

    There were a couple of seconds of silence. Assuming the man had just decided to ignore her, she let relief fill her core.

    “I'm going to come right out and ask instead of wondering for the rest of the night,” he suddenly said. "If you don't mind me inquiring, are you wearing high heels?"

    The frown took over her lips before she even had a chance to register the question. "If you don't mind me inquiring, is that your natural hair color?" she shot back.

    "Mm, no," he replied, not missing a beat. "It's Wella 050."

    She wasn't entirely expecting him to answer seriously. Now, the ball was back in her court. She released a loud, relenting sigh.

    "Yes. Stilettos might I add." She paused as she furrowed her brow. "Why?"

    He took another puff, this time taking time to exhale the smoke. "Curiosity. I figured I had nothing to lose by asking."

    "What if I'd decided to kick you?"

    He smiled crookedly and shrugged. "I guess I'll spend the night in the hospital, then." He was awfully chipper about that thought.

    "Are you always this forthright with strangers?"

    Another shrug from him. “Some people tell me I'm too blunt for my own good, and I don't necessarily disagree. I'd call it my fatal flaw,” he said. He reached over a nearby ashtray and dabbed his cigarette. He then held it up as if gesturing to it.

    “Can I offer you one as an apology?”

    She was almost insulted. “Pass. Smoking is a singer’s death wish.”

    Provided you still sang publicly, she thought bitterly.

    He raised a brow as those bright blue eyes filled with minute confusion. “You’re in the designated smoking area,” he retaliated smoothly. He inhaled another puff before blowing the smoke out in her direction. “I figured that's what you were here for. No need for the snootiness.”

    Odette fanned the smoke away lazily. She noticed the aroma also had a tinge of fruitiness to it. She assumed that was coming off his natural breath, which was...nice? No, it wasn’t. Blowing smoke in somebody’s face like that was a rude thing to do. She felt a twang of anger and tightened her grip on her drink.

    “Just stating a fact,” she said stiffly.

    "Well, if you must know, they lace these particular sticks with pecha berries, so it actually eliminates lung buildup entirely.”

    Ah, so that explained the fruity smell. She flexed the corners of her lips, trying to suppress the buildup of a sarcastic remark. It didn’t quite work. “Well, if my mimikyu partner ever decides to take up smoking, I’ll be sure to pick those up at the chemist. He's got a pecha obsession.”

    A smirk caressed his lips as he turned his whole body to face her, leaning his hand on the fence. He fished in his inner jacket pocket, then withdrew an unmarked cigarette carton.

    “This one little package will run you about €3,000. So good luck with that.”

    Silly! Ommmmmmm, expensive.”

    Odette’s eyes narrowed, and that prickle started to intensify. She was allowed to make fun of herself for being poor in comparison to most of the people in this room, but who was this guy and his bug to assume she couldn’t afford a €3,000 pack of cigarettes?

    “What makes you think I don’t have that chunk of change sitting in my trust fund?”

    Another exhalation of smoke from him. He reached up and scratched the snom on its head. The gesture was so damn cute, and the urge to swoon broke through her desire to punch him in the chest. The conflicting emotions startled her.

    What’s wrong with you?

    “Because most of the spoiled brats here would be too scared to insult one another out loud,” he scoffed. “They prefer to do it the old-fashioned way--behind each other’s backs. Which leads me to believe you’re not one of the spoiled brats.”

    That...wasn’t the answer she was expecting. Her guard began to fall back down to size, and the anger started to fade.

    “Plus, I’ve never seen your face before, so I was partially running on an assumption on that end,” he added sheepishly.

    “...right,” she said.

    His snarky grin turned friendly as he held his hand out. “Let me start over. I’m Clovis,” he introduced himself. “And this is Powdered Sugar.” He nodded toward his tiny friend, and it beamed as if it had just been given an esteemed award.

    Hi there, friend!

    Odette didn’t fully realize how attracted she was to tall hot men and their cute small partners until that moment.

    Okay, okay, she thought. Get a fucking grip.

    She eyed him for a split second, taking that time to pull her thoughts back together. She then approached and took a firm hold of his hand.

    “Odette,” she replied. She figured leaning on the railing next to him would be okay. He didn’t protest, instead just returning his attention to his smoke.

    "So, Odette," Clovis began. "What's a non-brat like you doing at a gathering like this?"

    "Oh, you know, the usual," she replied. "Talking about the loads of money I keep under my bed and the six sports cars I never drive I keep in my garage."

    That got a snicker out of him. It was a tinkly little noise that intensified the odd warmth in her chest. "You only have six? That's unfortunate. I was talking to someone who had ten."

    "Damn. I need to step my game up, then."

    "I'm not much of a car person, honestly," Clovis said. He took another drag, burning the cigarette close to its end. "I'm far more into fashion. I feel that's always the better investment. Though, I'm sure you know that. You must have paid a fortune for that dress."

    "Oh, you think I had to pay for this myself?" Odette queried, dramatically holding her hand over her chest. "Please. This is a custom Ralph Lurantis. He makes all my dresses personally, free of charge."

    "No kidding," he gasped, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he bluffed his shock. "I've been bugging that old bat to custom make me a suit for years. How the hell did you manage?"

    "With my stellar charisma, how else?"

    "Shit, and here I am settling for a measly store-bought Comme De Garchomp set. You're in the big leagues."

    "Too bad these lovely knockoff Jimmy Chinchou heels don't bring me up to the height requirement for the big leagues."

    More chuckles. Louder ones. “Are you sure I can’t offer you a cigarette?” he asked as he put the butt of his out on the ashtray. "I do owe you an apology. Knockoff Jimmy Chinchou's are nothing to scoff at."

    “As much as I appreciate the gesture, do you want to watch me choke to death?”

    He rolled his eyes, flipping the carton open. He pulled out two of the sticks, biting down on one and handing the other to her. “Don’t be so dramatic. One won’t kill your singing lungs. Besides, don’t you know all the best singers smoke everything under the sun?”

    “And look where a lot of them are now,” she sneered, taking it with a hesitant twitch of her fingers. She took a moment to down what was left of her champagne. Unsure of what to do with the glass, she set it on an ashtray. Clovis didn't move to chastise her for it, so she supposed it was okay.

    “I’ve never ingested smoke that wasn’t being emitted by a chandelure," she admitted.

    Clovis had suddenly produced a lighter. When she looked up, his cigarette was already lit, and he was holding the artificial flame out to her. She bit down on her own, and he held the flame up to the tip.

    “Pretend it’s a straw for a second, so the tobacco lights,” he explained. “Don’t inhale yet; just suck.”

    Something of a dirty joke looped around her frontal lobe, and she gnawed into the cigarette's tip until she forgot about it. She did as she was instructed, and soon the cancer stick was ignited.

    “Okay, now you want to inhale just a little. You don’t want to overload yourself on the first drag,” Clovis continued as he pocketed the lighter.

    She took a slow, shallow breath. She could feel the smoke going into her mouth and snaking down her throat while a fruity, flowery flavor spread over her palate. It wasn’t the nasty processed pecha flavoring chemist companies like to put in their medicines, it legitimately tasted like there were real pecha berries in the cigarette. She supposed with a €3,000 price tag, she shouldn’t have expected much less.

    She felt a tickle start to form in her throat and took that as a sign to exhale. She didn’t want to push it, lest she actually break out into a coughing fit, and she didn’t want to embarrass herself much more in front of him. She removed the cigarette from her mouth and breathed out slowly, watching as the berry smoke swirled up to mesh with the giant nicotine cloud floating overhead.

    Clovis raised his brows, impressed. “And you said you were going to choke to death. Look at you.”

    “Fast learner, I know.”

    He nodded in approval before taking a long drag from his stick. His mouth went slack, and some smoke began seeping out. He inhaled it back through his nose before it could get too far, then blew it out altogether. Odette had to turn her head away to hide the pink that had started forming on her face again. She’d never thought of smoking as something attractive, but dear gods...

    Get. A. Fucking. Grip.

    “So. Chandelure? Mimikyu? I take it you’re a ghost-type trainer?” he queried.

    She jumped at the sound of the question. “Oh,” she said quickly. “Sort of. More a general magical-type specialist,” she told him. “So ghosts, a fairy, a psychic…”

    That seemed to pique his interest because he leaned a little closer to her. “Wait, that’s neat,” he said. There was a sense of mild excitement in his tone. “I don’t know a lot of full magical-type trainers. What’s your team? Do you keep an astral shrine?”

    Odette felt all the air deflate from her head. This was getting to be a little much. She’d had maybe one or two crushes before, but nothing like this. “Ah, w-ell,” she stammered. “Yeah, I do. It took a while to configure, but I've been happy with the output. And I have a chandelure, a mimikyu, a gothitelle, a sylveon, and a--”

    She felt something cold barrel into the back of her legs. “Odette, look at what I fucking found!” it said.

    She peered down to see Isaur with a plate full of hors d'oeuvres. Her cheeks were full of something, so much so she could barely speak. But she was beaming nonetheless.

    Odette stared at her for a moment, then laughed. “Oh, hey, foodie. Where’s Freddy?”

    “Hell if I know, he ran off for some server,” Isaur said, shrugging. She shoved something that looked like the remains of a chicken kebab in her mouth. Odette was shocked she even had room for it.

    Well, the answer wasn't helpful. Hopefully, Freddy had found Noel wherever he was.

    “As I was saying, I have froslass partner as well. This is Isaur,” Odette gestured to her partner and peered back at Clovis but was momentarily shocked to find him kneeling down to Isaur’s height. His eyes sparkled with interest.

    “Why didn’t you start with that?” he said. He outstretched a friendly hand to the froslass, who looked confused.

    “Good evening, Isaur. I’m Clovis. I do hope you’re enjoying yourself,” he greeted.

    Om! Om frosslass!” Snom squeaked.

    Isaur took a second to stare at him. Something of a giggle fell out of her, and she floated over and grabbed hold of his fingers with her free hand.

    Oh, I am for sure,” she purred. "You're quite the gentleman."

    “I try sometimes,” Clovis said with a nod and a charming grin. He shook her hand, then released it and stood up. Still giggling, Isaur floated back behind Odette’s legs, where she sat down and poked her head out shyly. Isaur wasn’t a shy Pokemon by any means, so seeing her reduced to a laughing mess like that was bizarre. It seemed he was having a similar effect on both of them.

    “Let me guess,” Odette said incredulously. “Ice-type trainer?”

    “Was it obvious?” Clovis asked.

    “The snom partner, the silver hair, the blue eyes, the way you schmoozed a froslass. I can see it,” Odette said coyly, bringing the cigarette back to her mouth.

    He held his hands out to his sides bashfully. “Read me like a book," he said sarcastically.

    "One of my many hidden talents," she said, the confidence clear in her voice. "Are you from Snowbelle?"

    Clovis shook his head. “No, actually,” he said. “I just figure skated competitively for--" He caught himself, then cleared his throat. Panic flashed in his eyes for a short moment, gone as quickly as it appeared. She might have missed it if she wasn’t staring right at him.

    “Actually, that’s not important,” he said easily as if trying to brush it off.

    She didn’t peg him as an artistic type, especially not one to engage in a dance-based activity. But hearing that caused the astronomically sized crush she had to grow. She suddenly had so many more questions. However, it was clear he didn’t want to discuss it, so she decided it would be best not to press.

    Maybe he was trying to...hide his age? Was he older than he looked? She tried not to frown at the thought. Instead, she attempted to find the words to fill the sudden gap in their conversation and almost panicked when nothing came to mind. But, she needn’t have bothered.

    “Hey, LeClair!”

    Good things couldn’t last, could they? She felt like she’d been on cloud nine while she was alone with this man and was immediately shot down to hell at the sound of Dorien’s voice. He emerged at Clovis's side no sooner had his words carried through the smoking area.

    “Hey, Bonhomme,” Clovis said cooly. Odette watched in silent horror as Dorien eagerly raised a closed fist, and the two touched knuckles.

    They were...friends?

    Dorien leaned against Clovis’s shoulder. “I see you've already met my date," he said. Odette very nearly threw up.

    "Your date?" Clovis repeated.

    "Yes! This is the guest I invited, remember?” Dorien asked. “I told you about her yesterday.”

    Oh!" Clovis said excitedly, some realization hitting him. He turned and pointed at her with the cigarette. "You’re the one who beat his ass at the Pokemon school."

    Odette forced a smile and heard Isaur wheeze into a snicker. “Yep. That was me,” she said.

    Clovis took a long drag, barely able to hold down his laughter. “Well, I’m not entirely shocked by that,” he said after pulling it out of his mouth. His voice sounded strained until he exhaled the smoke directly into Dorien’s face. “He sucks.”

    Dorien began to cough, but it gave way to some light laughs as he fanned the gas away. But Odette couldn’t help but notice how forced it sounded.

    “Not only are you a liar, but your words mean nothing considering you train ice types,” Dorien commented. Surely, he meant it jokingly, but an edge to his tone made it sound serious. Clovis's grin morphed into something more wicked.

    “You say that, and yet,” he said, shrugging his shoulders in an exaggerated fashion. “How many times have I beaten you?"

    Dorien sucked in a deep breath, and Odette noticed his jaw clench. “Don't act all high and mighty, I've bested you many times. Remember, I still have the type advantage.”

    “Which means it stings more when I win, huh,” Clovis said. That grin didn’t falter, even as he brought the cigarette back to his mouth. “Let me know when you want to admit you’re salty about it.”

    “Me? Admit I’m salty? That’s not a gentlemanly thing to do,” Dorien said politely.

    “It wouldn’t be the first thing about you that isn’t gentlemanly, sweet cheeks.” A pause, and he clamped Dorien on the shoulder. “Just kidding, you’re a chip off the old block.”

    "Oh, you’re so full of it. I could say the same about you!”

    Their respective smiles were growing nastier by the minute. After a couple of long, almost excruciating seconds of silence, Clovis suddenly reached over and snuffed out the half-smoked cigarette on the ashtray.

    Maybe they weren’t friends.

    “Well, that’s enough back-and-forth for me. I should go make my rounds,” he declared. He reached up and patted Dorien twice on the cheek. “I’ll catch you at dinner, salty man. If you see Denis, Adam, Lionel, or Colin, tell them I said hello.”

    Odette's ears perked at the names, but she couldn't speak before Dorien did.

    "Will do, you damn jokester.”

    From the way Dorien jaw remained clenched and the way Clovis's brow twitched, it was all too obvious to her that it there was bad blood there, and neither one of them wanted to acknowledge it.

    Clovis then approached Odette. Before she could do anything, he planted a friendly kiss on each of her cheeks. She returned the gesture shakily, praying to the gods he wouldn’t feel how fast she was heating up.

    “It was a pleasure meeting you, Odette."

    “Don't forget me!” Isaur said affectionately, eagerly floating up to Clovis's face.

    He smiled warmly at her, and the two of them exchanged friendly cheek kisses as well.

    "How could I? It was a pleasure meeting you too, Isaur." he said.

    Snomm!” Powdered Sugar said gleefully.

    Clovis walked off without another word, shoving his hands in his pockets as he went. Odette waited for a second before turning around to watch him go, and boy…she wished she had a photographic memory.

    “Your face is a little red, are you getting a fever?”

    She flinched and turned to see Dorien leaning his head far too close to her shoulder. She had half a mind to scream in his face. Instead, she sucked her teeth and brought the lit cigarette to her lips, where she chomped down on the tip of it.

    “Hm. Must be the smoke,” she muttered, forcing herself to ignore the urge to sidestep away. She heard Isaur grumble to herself unintelligibly.

    “I was going to introduce you guys at dinner, but I guess this works too,” Dorien laughed. “He gave you one of his cigs, that definitely means you made a good impression.”

    She hated to admit it, but she eagerly whipped her head toward him. “You can tell?”

    “Sure, yeah,” Dorien said. “We’re best friends, I know him very well.”

    She couldn’t help but raise a brow. “You’re best friends?”

    Dorien cleared his throat as he curled his arm around her waist. “Oh, yes. Super close,” he said. "We rib each other, but it's all in good fun."

    The doubt she felt was astronomical.

    “If there’s anybody you want to be friendly with, it’s Clovis LeClair. He might be one of the richest people in the building tonight. Worth billions,” Dorien added.

    Of fucking course he is, she thought.

    “He’s richer than you? I love to hear it,” she said, allowing the slightest bit of edge to peek out.

    “The LeClairs are involved in multiple business ventures around the world, so of course, that’s more lucrative than dealing in the shiny trade of one region.” He said it like he'd had that line rehearsed. Was that something he talked about frequently?

    And more humane, she thought. She wanted to say it out loud. Instead, she just nodded along.

    "But enough about me," Dorien continued. He stepped in front of her, moving his hands to her hips while he eyed her hungrily. She could barely hear a growl from Isaur and had half a mind to growl herself. His hands on her hips felt slimy.

    She felt slimy for letting them stay there.

    "That dress looks absolutely scrumptious on you. Did you wear that for me?" he asked, clutching onto the fabric while his lips formed a lustful smile. Odette suddenly wanted to put out the lit cigarette on his eyeball.

    "How'd you know?" she said in a drawl, turning her head to look up at him. She stuck the cancer stick back between her lips and took another drag, maintaining her half-lidded eye contact as she did. That appeared to send him into a frenzy because he inhaled sharply as he placed his forehead against hers. She could smell the mint on his breath and whatever expensive cologne he'd dabbed behind his ears, and it caused some bile to rise in her throat. Isaur moved at her feet, and she extended her leg ever-so-slightly to bar the froslass from doing anything rash.

    "You're playing a dangerous game, looking at me like that," Dorien said in a sultry purr. "Especially wearing that, my god. I'm almost jealous that everybody gets to see you in it. But I love showing you off."

    "Mm," she responded, pressing her lips together tightly as she spun the cigarette in her fingers. It'd be so easy to just put it out on his face. His cheek was right fucking there.

    "Good to know you like it that much. I'll keep that in mind." And by that, she meant she would have Ange burn the dress when she got home. She'd buy her maman a new one someday to make up for it.

    Thankfully, Dorien pulled his head back and began to eye her again. He pursed his lips in a quizzical fashion before talking. "Normally, I don't like that color, actually. But on you? Mama mia." He paused to think for a second, then offered a playful grin. "That's a musical, right? See, I know a thing or two about Broadway."

    Gods, she wanted to stab him.

    "I'm so proud of you," she said. She had more to say, but somebody cleared their throat, and they sounded very close. She looked over her shoulder to see Noel standing with Freddy on his gloved arm. The bird was holding a glass of water in his beak, and Odette locked eyes with him. Freddy nodded once as if gesturing to the glass.

    “Man, Dee, smoking? I’m disappointed in you," Noel chastised, shaking his head.

    “Oh, Noel!” Dorien gasped, loosening his hold on Odette. “Odie didn’t tell me you and your partner were coming too. Colin's walking around somewhere; I'm sure he'd love to see you.”

    Panic surged within Noel's eyes. However, he didn't let his smile waver. “Oh, wonderful," he said strongly. "Dee here really likes to keep important things like that to herself, I guess."

    Odette now realized she heard right. She didn't know who Lionel was, but Colin, Adam, and Denis were old schoolmates, ones she wasn't expecting to see here. Though they were always hanging around that clique of rich kids, so perhaps it wasn't that shocking. What was it with the good-looking rich boys and such a fucked up institution? Was there something about it that gave them perfect teeth and pretty eyes?

    Noel was playing it cool, but Odette could see he looked a little pained, as he always did when anybody brought up his ex-boyfriends...especially when it involved actually seeing them. He and Colin weren't together very long, since Noel and anything "long-term" and "romantic" never went together. And he liked to keep it that way.

    Still, Odette took the awkward conversation as an opportunity to wriggle out of Dorien's arms, desperate to get her hands on that water. She approached Noel, and Freddy extended his neck to give her the glass.

    "Thank you," she mouthed as she began to sip it. She didn't realize how much anger she was withholding until the water went down her throat. It replenished the energy she'd lost to playing a bimbo and keeping herself from throwing a table through one of the windows.

    Noel stepped around her and held his free hand out to Dorien, who took it without hesitation. Moving along with the conversation, it seemed.

    “How have you been? Haven't seen you since graduation,” Dorien said. “I hear you’re doing great things at the performing arts center.”

    Noel giggled bashfully. Well, fake bashfully. That certainly wasn’t his real shy laugh. “Naturally, just living my own dream,” he said whimsically as Freddy fluttered his wings. Now feeling more awake, Odette was taken aback when she watched her friend’s bright smile turn lustful.

    “But let's be real here,” he said in a borderline whisper. “I could be doing great things to you if you’d give me the chance, Bonhomme.”

    Noel brought Dorien’s hand to his lips without warning and placed a long, firm kiss on it. He didn’t stop until Dorien jerked his hand back.

    Odette’s absolute disgust turned to unbridled humor when she saw sweat forming on Dorien’s brow. He was doing a horrible job in masking his uncomfortableness with the situation, what with the way he gritted his teeth through his forced smile and rubbed at his hand as if he’d just been bitten by a parasect.

    Isaur began to snicker, and Odette nudged her roughly to shut her up. She sipped the rest of the water to keep herself from laughing too.

    "Noel, leave him alone," she whined, straining herself to keep up an annoyed tone.

    “L-isten,” Dorien stammered. “I don’t go that way. I’ve never been into that. I can find Colin if you're looking for a hookup, but I'm taken.”

    Noel blinked a few times, then cocked his head to the side innocently. Questioningly. He then exchanged looks with Freddy, who looked equally as confused. “Really? No side flings? I totally thought you at least went both ways.”

    "Noel!" Odette gasped, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. He met her eye, and she could see the mischievous shine in his. "Come on, I told you we were kind of a thing now."

    Noel feigned shock really well. "Ohhhhhhhh," he said. "It's like...official official. Got it. I'm sorry, I must have missed the memo."

    "Yeah, I suppose telling you while you were drunk wasn't my smartest choice," Odette sighed, proud of how regretful she sounded. It felt like a nice improvised touch.

    Dorien’s expression fell. He dropped his hands to his sides before tucking them behind his back. He inhaled deeply as if trying to compose himself.

    “That's right. Official official," he breathed. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I need to excuse myself. I think my father’s business partner is calling me, so I'll leave you two to it for a bit."

    Without warning, he sidestepped back around Noel and looped his arm around Odette's waist, pulling her into his chest. He leaned in and planted a deep, heavy kiss on her lips. The gesture's absolute abruptness instinctively caused Odette to suck in her lips, and she positioned herself to bash him over the head with her water glass.

    Stage kiss, stage kiss, stage kiss, you're acting. This is fake.

    She exhaled sharply, allowing herself to fall into the kiss numbly. She stalled all conscious thought while coaxing all tenseness from her body, trying to mimic coming down from the surprise. When she felt heavy again, she rested the hand holding the cigarette on Dorien's shoulder. He finally pulled away after what seemed like an hour, now wearing a triumphant smile over his lipstick-stained lips.

    "I'll come back and get you in a bit, Doll," he said, thumbing the corner of his mouth. He then lowered his voice to a whisper. "Hope that was official enough."

    He released her and shot a glare over his shoulder at Noel before storming off.

    Odette kept her eyes locked on the floor, blinking every so often. She could feel the cigarette in her fingers and the cold glass against her palm. Her lips were still sizzling where Dorien had left his mark. She could feel Isaur patting her on the cheek. Slowly but surely, she was restarting herself.

    "Blink twice if you need a breath mint. Blink once if you're going to throw up," Noel urged, placing a hand on her shoulder.

    She took a long time to register what he was saying. She felt dizzy, but her stomach had settled enough to where she was sure she wouldn't vomit.

    She gave Noel two long, hard blinks.

    Noel nodded, then jolted his gloved arm, prompting Freddy to hover over to the ashtray. Noel then reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a pack of Altoids. He flicked the pack open and handed it to her.

    That was enough to pull her the rest of the way out of her haze. She dropped the cigarette and lunged for the metal box. She snatched up four of the white tablets and threw them into her mouth without thinking twice about it. Her body deflated again, and she hung her head in a mixture of exhaustion and an onslaught bout of shame.

    "Damn, he really thinks you're dating," Noel scoffed, leaning down to pick the cigarette up. Odette took that opening to smack him on the back. Isaur also followed by wordlessly punching him in the shoulder.

    "Yeah, no shit, honey," she said in a huff. "Why the fuck did you do that?"

    She really should have been livid, but the look on Dorien's face was far too funny.

    "Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwww-ch," he whined. "I'm sorry, I figured you needed the laugh, and I didn't think he was gonna do that. Are you okay?" he asked as he stood upright. He tossed the cigarette into an ashtray before rubbing where he'd been hit on his arm.

    With a couple of timed breaths, it was safe to say that she wouldn't explode. She was damn near ready to crack his skull open. But no. She got it; she was in control.

    The kiss was fake. She was acting. She could control herself. She was in control. She could have stopped that if she wanted to, and she knew that.

    She knew that...

    "I'm good. His reaction was worth it, and that's unfortunately not the first time he's kissed me," she said in disgust. "Are you okay? He said 'Colin,' and you looked like you were going to shrivel up."

    Noel pressed his lips into a flat line, adjusted his coat, and pushed through a partially forced, yet snarky, smile. "A little bit. But I'll be fine. I don't want any old affairs raining on my parade right now."

    She supposed she could accept that answer. For now. She had other things she wanted to ask, anyway.

    “Do you really think Dorien's got a thing for men?”

    Noel scoffed. “No. I happen to know that the best way to get under any heterosexual misogynist's skin is to question their straightness. Though I did have a bit of a crush on him back in the day, sorry about it.”

    I've always said your tastes are ass,” Freddy commented flatly.

    Odette nodded slowly, taking time to realize she found the remark funny. She snickered once, turning her head to exchange a look with Isaur.

    “You’re a little shit,” Odette said back to Noel. She straightened her posture and began to rub her temple. "You couldn’t have picked a better time to show up, but don't fucking do that again."

    "Yes ma'am, sorry ma'am," he replied.

    "So, where did your fans take you?”

    Noel offered a half smile as he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a handful of folded napkins and business cards. At least he wasn't pressing anymore on what had just happened.

    There had to be about four slips of paper in his hand, and Odette wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at until she snatched a card and looked at it. It was indeed a standard business card, but a handwritten number and a note were on the back.

    555-8910, personal phone
    Call me ♡

    She raised a brow at him. “What the hell is wrong with you? What happened to getting juicy information?”

    “I can mine for info and window shop at the same time,” Noel said. “You wouldn’t believe how many of these trust fund boomers will pay out the ass to enjoy themselves thoroughly, you know?”

    “I didn’t know you were trying to be a sugar baby now.”

    Noel snatched the card away from her. “That college tuition debt isn’t going to pay itself.” He pointed to the card. “This guy? Owns the Battle Maison in Kiloude. He’s fucking rolling in it.”

    Odette blinked a few times to mask her puzzlement. “Noel, isn’t he like fifty? And married?”

    "Like I said, ass taste!" Freddy said.

    All she got in response to that was a wink. She knew it wouldn’t be worth getting into it with him; nothing would stop him from his flings. She supposed she had no room to get on his ass, considering she’d just spent several minutes trying to talk to a guy who was leaps and bounds outside her socioeconomic standing and then kissed the guy she wanted to strangle.

    I was in control. Could have stopped if I wanted.

    Shaking off that thought, she wondered how Noel made it seem so easy. They’d barely been separated for 20 minutes, and he had managed to get his hands on the feelings of not one but possibly four men. As questionable of a talent as it might have been, she couldn’t help but be impressed by it. And for once, envious. She’d have loved to have walked away from that conversation with Clovis with his contact in her hand, but she was just royally incapable of imposing such a request on him.

    Noel wrapped his arm around her shoulders and began to lead her out of the smoking area.

    “Look at it like this. Sex is the best way to get somebody talking. I'm sure letting Dorien mack on you is doing wonders."

    "I'm whittling away at him, for sure," she said confidently. However, whether she was assuring Noel or herself was hard to tell.

    "Also, since when the fuck do you smoke? I know you’re taking a break from using your chops, but jeez.”

    She shook her head. “Somebody offered, and I couldn’t say no.”


    ***​

    Dinner time rolled around rather quickly. Odette and Noel had spent so much time scrounging around, trying their best to mingle in with the crowd, that they’d barely noticed people moving to sit at the formally set tables until Dorien came and found them. It looked like he had recovered from his moment of awkwardness because he acted as if nothing had happened. He directed them to his table, which was already seated with humans, but no Pokemon.

    Odette quickly noticed that most of the guests returned their Pokemon to their balls as they went to sit. It wasn’t enough for her to warrant doing that with Isaur, especially with Dorien being as handsy as he was, but it struck her as peculiar. Most of the patrons at that fancy restaurant had their 'mons out, so why not here?

    “Everyone,” Dorien said when they approached. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “This is my date, Odette, her partner Isaur, my old schoolmate Noel, and Freddy! They’ll be sitting with us tonight, so please be nice. I'm sure some of you already know them, actually."

    Odette gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to twist his arm off of her. However, he let her go just in time for his friends to stand and greet them.

    “My goodness, your lips look fantastic,” one woman said. “Are they natural, or do you get them done? My last plastic surgeon retired, so I’m in the market for a new one.”

    Odette stared at her for a long while, trying to gauge how to answer. “Uh,” she stammered, blinking rapidly as she tried to come up with an answer that would make sense. "They're...natural. But my nana goes to Baby-Doll Eyes Cosmetic Surgery Center in Brackish Town. Rants and raves about it," she said. And that wasn't a lie. Marieanne went for yearly Botox appointments. Odette could barely make a difference after each appointment because she looked fine for her age, but if it made her happy, she wasn't one to judge. Needles in the face sounded like absolute hell, though.

    The woman beamed. "Oh, I'll look into that. Thank you!"

    Odette managed a grin and a nod. She wanted to go sit, but not before the mini Lansat Prep reunion.

    "Well, I'll be damned; never thought I'd see Odette Cinq-Mars in a dress again," Denis greeted. He looked the same, yet far different than he had in school. Still tall, still muscular, still an overall tank. Still very pretty. Though, not so much anymore, now that she knew he was standing by and watching the nefarious crap happen.

    Still, she made herself smile. "Hey Denis," she greeted. "Long time no see. You look great."

    "Not compared to you," he purred as they exchanged polite cheek kisses. She decided just to let it roll.

    Adam was a little more pleasant. For what a playboy he was, he also seemed to know when to keep his mouth in check. He didn't do much more besides the standard cheek-kiss greeting and a compliment.

    "Red's a good color on you," he said with a friendly grin.

    Next to her, Noel was reacquainting himself with Colin, who already had him in an iron hug.

    "It's been so long! How have you been?" Colin said happily, swaying through his embrace. Odette could see Noel trying his best to hide his cringe and barely managing to hang on.

    "I'm fantastic. It's great to see you, Colin," Noel said through his partially-distressed smile. When they finally pulled away from one another, Noel nodded happily but still looked ultimately relieved to be free. As Colin approached Odette to say hello, Noel sent her an aggrieved look, which she struggled not to laugh at as she exchanged another round of hugs and cheek kisses.

    Dorien also introduced her to Lionel, the last name she didn't recognize. He looked roughly her age, and as good-looking as he was, she didn't recognize his face.

    "This is Lionel," Dorien said. "He didn't go to Lansat with us, but he's been one of my longest friends."

    Lionel didn't hesitate to grab her hand and kiss it firmly. "How'd I go so long without meeting you?" he questioned flirtatiously. Odette bristled, pressing her lips together to form something of a startled grin.

    "I--" she stammered. For once, Dorien was out to save her because he aggressively pulled Lionel back and patted him on the shoulder.

    "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. You'll scare her off," he warned, causing Lionel to shrug.

    "I'm just giving credit where it's due. Good pick, Dory."

    It took every ounce of nerve Odette had not to flip the table in front of her.

    Several chairs were still open at their table, and she quickly sat down in one, with Noel to her right. Freddy took the one next to him right before Colin could snatch it. Dorien attempted to grab the empty chair on Odette's other side, but Isaur slipped into it as he pulled it out. Odette swallowed her relieved sigh and grabbed the set glass of water near her plate. She took a long, drawn-out gulp from it.

    “Too slow, kiddo,” she taunted.

    Dorien stared at her for a long moment before shrugging and moving to the empty chair next to Freddy. “Fine, fine. Who am I to separate Pokemon and trainer?” he huffed.

    “Good on you, Isaur,” Noel said quietly, covering his mouth to hide his amusement.

    “Oh shucks, table’s already filling up.”

    The sound of Clovis’s voice caused Odette to cough on her sip, and she forced what was already in her mouth down before turning to see him approaching, snom still on his shoulder. A greeting made it to the tip of her tongue, but she needn’t have bothered. Everyone else was up greeting him before he’d even made it all the way over. They were polite to her and Noel, but they appeared to be extra nice to Clovis, with the way they showered him with joyous hugs and firm handshakes and cheek kisses.

    “There’s always room for you, Clovis!” Colin said.

    “You’re far too kind,” Clovis replied. “I can't ask you all to move for me, though.”

    Snom!” Powdered Sugar said.

    “Nonsense!” Dorien called eagerly. He gestured to the last empty chair next to him. “Plenty of room to sit next to me.”

    Yes! Yes! I saved you a spot!” Isaur said suddenly. She moved to sit on Odette’s backrest, then gestured to the now-empty seat. Odette watched in silent embarrassment as Clovis smiled broadly and stepped over.

    “Fancy seeing you here, Isaur. But I couldn’t possibly take your seat,” he said.

    Isaur shook her head. “Definitely not mine. It's all yours if you want it,” she insisted.

    Clovis snickered, then shot a look at Dorien. He shrugged. “This chair’s closer. Maybe next time?”

    “Come now, you’d rather sit next to somebody you just met?” Dorien said. Odette was sure he was trying to be taunting, but it somehow sounded more like a warning. Regardless of what it actually was, Clovis didn’t appear to care.

    “Don’t be jealous that she’s the new hotness and you’re the old busted,” he said pointedly.

    The table erupted into light snickering, and with that, he sat. Odette eyed him, then cut her eyes to Isaur just in time to watch her land into the empty chair next to an unamused-looking Dorien. She looked positively proud of herself, and Odette wasn’t sure if she was thankful or mortified. Isaur playing wingwoman for her was uncharted territory.

    “I hope you don’t mind me displacing your Pokemon,” Clovis said abashedly over the laughs.

    “No, no. I think she was glad to move.”

    She heard Noel clear his throat, effectively earning her and Clovis’s attention. Noel reached his hand over to the newcomer, flashing his teeth.

    “Hi, I don’t think we met. I’m Noel,” he said quickly. Clovis was ever-gracious and shook his hand happily.

    “Pleasure to meet you.”

    “You know Odette, huh?” Noel asked.

    Clovis nodded. “Sure, we had a smoke break just a little ago.”

    Noel cocked his head to the side. “No kidding! She’s not really much of a smoker.”

    “Well, she did pick it up pretty fast.”

    “Yep,” Odette said quickly. “Like I told him, I’m a fast learner.”

    “And couldn’t say no?” Noel queried under his breath. Odette kicked him under the table, and he winced. But it got him to stop talking. All he offered in response was a wry grin as he slumped back in his seat.

    The next thing Odette knew, everybody was chattering amongst themselves. Now that the greetings and formalities were out of the way, there was nothing else left to do but talk some more until the food was brought out. Noel didn’t seem to have trouble entering into conversation, but Odette found herself alone with her short-circuiting brain, unsure what to do. Actually, that was a lie. She knew what she wanted to do but wasn’t sure how.

    “So, what else are you quick at learning?” Clovis spoke.

    Well, that just saved her from having to strike up the conversation first. She nearly fell out of her chair when she met his blue eyes again.

    “Pardon?” she said.

    “Magical-type specialist, singer, good at reading...are those the only things you have under your belt, or are you more in-depth than that?” he pressed.

    She opened her mouth to speak but found it difficult to form the words. What was there to her? She hadn’t been asked to “talk about herself” since the icebreaker the Purrloins! cast did on the first day of rehearsals. “I...dance?” she said. “Danced,” she corrected after a beat.

    He straightened his posture. His eyes lit up in a way that showed her he was now extremely invested in the subject at hand. “Let me guess, ballroom? No, wait,” he said before squinting. “Ballet. You have the face of a ballet dancer.”

    She didn’t mean to roll her eyes as hard as she did, but it just happened that way. “Just not the height or figure,” she said.

    “I think short girls pas de deux the best,” he chuckled.

    She wasn’t sure when the hell she swallowed a cutiefly, but the one in her stomach was flying in violent circles.

    “I was more into hip-hop, actually. Afro dance is my favorite.”

    Clovis scrunched his brows, and that little smirk of his became agog. The fact that she was managing to hold his interest like this was becoming thrilling. “Very interesting. I never ventured much past private ballet lessons.”

    “Absolutely lame,” she scoffed, picking up her glass of water again. “You don’t know how to dance until you can throw the stiff rules out the window and just move.”

    Clovis looked like he had some quick remark, but he was interrupted by a shrill beeping that seemed to be coming out of his suit. His calm and collected demeanor quickly morphed into something more rigged and aggravated, and he sighed heavily. He reached into the same pocket where he’d kept the carton of cigarettes and pulled out a cell phone--the newest Applin brand phone, no fucking less--which was blinking with an incoming call. He didn’t try to conceal it, so Odette got a perfect view of the caller ID before he pressed the ignore button.

    Jocelyn (DO NOT ANSWER)

    Odette averted her eyes away as he set the phone face down on the table. She drank some more to mask the curiosity that she so desperately wanted to show. It wasn’t any of her business, but she definitely had some questions.

    Clovis began rubbing his face as if warding off whatever aggravation had just overcome him. He sighed again before turning to face her. “Sorry, where were we?”

    “I was calling you lame.”

    That smirk returned with frightful ease. If she hadn’t just witnessed his slip into annoyance firsthand, she’d have never known it happened at all. “Right, because you think--”

    The phone rang again, and just like that, he was aggravated once more. He picked it up, only to be met with the same caller ID. He muttered a stream of curse words under his breath, then began to look around almost frantically.

    “Okay, you know what--” he said. Odette watched as his eyes landed on the beautiful table centerpiece. It was a fantastic arrangement of real burgundy dahlias and scabiosas in a tall crystalline vase. Clovis stood, pushed aside the flowers, and dropped the phone into the water. It landed with a subtle splash, earning the attention of everyone at the table.

    Clovis adjusted his coat, then sat back down. He pointed to Powdered Sugar. “Remind me that’s there before we leave. Or don’t.”

    Okay!"

    “Wow, Clovis, do you know what the power button is?” Adam asked.

    “I sure do, but I like this arrangement better,” Clovis replied.

    “Did one of your many suitors get ahold of your number?” Dorien said, wiggling his eyebrows for dramatic effect.

    Odette’s eyes widened despite herself. Suitors? She should have expected that much—surely she wasn’t the only girl in the room eyeing him. He was the whole package. Gorgeous, seemingly with a personality of substance. The money was just a damn plus.

    When she actually cleared her head, she finally registered the biting tone in Dorien’s words. A tone she’d expect from a jealous party, one trying to get under somebody else’s skin. She shot him a questioning look. He locked eyes with her, then blew her a kiss.

    Dickhead, she thought, sending back an obliged smile. His contact name in her phone proved truer and truer every time they interacted.

    Clovis abruptly paused. His eyebrow twitched as he raised his gaze. “You say that…like I have girls lining up at my door?”

    The clear confusion in his tone was enough to calm her nerves.

    Dorien shrugged. “Do you not? I’d figure that much from a man of your wealth.”

    “Try figuring out other things instead, okay? I know it's hard, but I believe in you.”

    Dorien sighed deeply. “Well, if you’re that desperate to get rid of your phone, why not get a little training off on that snom and have him freeze it?” Dorien said.

    “I think I’d be better off having him freeze your lips shut,” Clovis snapped in a scoff, not missing a beat.

    “Oooooom!” Powdered Sugar snapped.

    "Easy boys," Denis chortled. “I get that you’re hangry, but no need to take it out on each other.”

    Clovis sucked his teeth. “Oh, relax, it’s just a bit. I’d never actually do it.”

    “He’s like my older brother. I have to harass him here and there,” Dorien said through an exhale, throwing his arms out to his sides.

    “Naturally,” Clovis agreed.

    Odette wanted to groan. Even if it was fake, watching the man she hated and the man she was trying to shmooze act so buddy-buddy was difficult.

    "Well. Taking bets on what’s for dinner tonight,” Lionel said. Another round of conversations began, and Clovis turned his attention back on her.

    "Sorry. Sometimes our back-and-forths get a little out of hand," he said. Odette had no issue picking up on the aggravation in his voice that he was undoubtedly trying to hide.

    "Seems in line for a sibling-like relationship, yeah?" she asked. “How’d you meet?”

    Clovis bobbed his head from side to side, pursing his lips pensively. "Another gathering like this. A couple of years back. His family wanted to befriend mine, and vice versa. The rest is history.”

    She nodded. “Oh, so it was more of a…political thing?”

    A snicker from him. “Things always start political here. Everyone’s trying to get around, make connections, yadda yadda yadda.”

    She watched as he averted his eyes over his shoulder, then leaned in closer to her. "That’s also how you pick up on the bones in everyone’s closets," he whispered.

    Odette rested her cheek in her palm. She didn’t need to act like she was interested because she genuinely wanted to hear where this was going. The hot billionaire with all the dirt? 'Jackpot' wasn’t a strong enough word.

    “Are you going to elaborate on that, or are you just taunting me?”

    She half-expected him to blow her off, even though he had brought it up, but he looked to be hunting for an answer. “Hm, well,” he started. "Since you're fraternizing with a Bonhomme and his pals, you should be somewhat in the know."

    She didn't like how he said that, but that was the least of her concerns.

    Clovis began to scan the room, and Odette instinctively followed his gaze in anticipation. She watched him discreetly point at a woman sitting at a table right next to them.

    “Lydia Auclair. She runs a successful vegan bakery company and gained popularity for how good her products taste. But, she somehow neglects to tell her customers that she makes a lot of them with vanilluxe milk because it just 'tastes the best.' Humanely sourced from the Pokemon-Trainer Work Program, of course, but I doubt the vegans she sells to would care enough about that,” he said. He paused again, hunting down another victim. He wheezed to himself as he pointed all the way across the dance floor toward a buff-looking man sitting with a woman on each side.

    “Enzo Barbeau. Spends all of his money on high-end hookers, all while his finance company is on the verge of bankruptcy.”

    His finger traveled to another man. An older one sitting next to a lady who was obviously his wife. However, neither one of them looked thrilled to be in such close proximity to one another.

    “And Burke Agard,” he said. Owns the Battle Maison in Kiloude. Absolutely gay, and his wife Camille knows he has several boy toys on the side to suit that need. She just doesn’t want to deal with losing money in the inevitable divorce, so she pretends she doesn’t know.”

    Odette stifled a laugh into her hand, thinking back to Noel’s stash of phone numbers. “You know what,” she said. “Somehow, I think I knew that one.”

    Clovis opened his mouth to speak again but was cut off by the sound of a mic being tapped. It echoed through the room, effectively silencing everybody and alerting them to a woman clad in a beige tea-length gown standing in the center of the dance floor.

    “Good evening, everybody!” she said. “We hope you’re enjoying the festivities and your dinner!”

    There was some light applause and cheering, and the woman waited for it to die down before going on.

    “But now, it is time to commence tonight’s slated exhibition battle. We have, of course, selected two contestants from tonight’s guest list to take part with their brand-new Pokemon,” she explained. More, louder cheers were earned from that.

    “So please, give a warm welcome to Mr. and Mrs. Patenaude!”

    A well-dressed man and woman, presumably the called-upon Patenaudes, stood from their table opposite the dance floor. Mrs. Patenaude wore a floor-length satin orange gown. It was tight fitting, really accentuating her features...save for the fact it was an atrocious color.

    “Orange really only looks good on a charmander, doesn’t it?” Odette heard Clovis mumble. She started to wonder if he was reading her mind. She sure hoped not, as that would be a level of embarrassment she’d never be able to overcome.

    She focused in on Mr. Patenaude, noticing how he wore a bow that matched the woman’s dress. They locked arms with each other as they sauntered to the middle of the floor, and the applause soon subsided. The couple smiled broadly, clearly looking forward to the battle they were about to engage in. She had to wonder if they did this often...actually, she had to wonder if married couples really battled each other often in general? Was that a thing that couples did to show affection? She couldn’t really recall any times she’d seen her grandparents battle, but then again, neither of them were really battle-oriented trainers…

    She was truly clueless. How could she be sitting here, rolling in a primary school grade crush, and not even knowing the basics of what romantic relationships require?

    Odette was removed from her intrusive thoughts by the emcee speaking again. She gestured happily to the couple as she regarded the crowd.

    “As I said, this will be an exhibition match between our previously selected contestants. We ask that all guests, Pokemon, and humans alike, remain seated at their tables until the battle ends. No interference should be necessary,” she explained. “We also ask that you please enjoy the show! This shall be a fantastic treat for all of us.”

    More applause sounded. Odette exchanged dubious looks with Noel as she quietly put her hands together.

    “Mr. and Mrs. Patenaude, you may take your positions. I will call the start of the match,” the emcee said. The couple gazed at each other lovingly before exchanging a small kiss. They then walked to the opposite ends of the floor. As they moved, walls of light shot up from the perimeter of it, stretching the length to the ceiling before fading away.

    “I guess they use this as an arena a lot,” Noel said. “My poor ass can’t keep up.”

    Odette smirked as she watched the opponents withdraw their respective pokeballs, each one of them grinning with anticipation. Mrs. Patenaude took it upon herself to stick her leg out from the slit in her dress skirt, and she bounced on the heel of her Jimmy Chinchou shoe. Mr. Patenaude adjusted his coat as he stared at his wife, looking...flirty. Odette wondered if this was some sort of foreplay for them. Like a kink. Could battling be a kink? That somehow sounded gross, especially with so many people watching. Then again, voyeurism was also a kink.

    She felt more of her brain cells starting to die off. She’d never thought so hard about the ins and outs of romance and sex in her entire twenty-two years of existence, at least in regard to herself. But, leave it to one head of luscious silver hair to change that.

    The couple’s collective anticipation seemed to expand and take hold of the entire room. It was amazing how fast everyone fell silent, waiting with bated breath for the battle to commence. Odette had never witnessed such an atmosphere surrounding a mere exhibition battle.. For all she knew, it was staged down to the movement. Still, hopefully, it’d be enough to take her mind out of the gutter for the time being.

    The emcee raised her hand. “Trainers ready!” she called. She then paused, seemingly for dramatic effect. “Begin!”

    Their Pokemon were out in the field before the emcee had jogged to safety. Mrs. Patenaude sent forth a bright green scizor, while her husband used a dark green malamar. Odette supposed she should have expected them to be shiny, but she still felt surprised seeing them. Being in the presence of so many shiny Pokemon still felt so bizarre.

    Sciiiii,” Scizor drawled.

    Mal,” Malamar said in a low voice.

    All of Odette’s surprise faded out and was replaced with intense concern.

    Both of those Pokemon...looked so tired. More tired-looking than any other Pokemon she'd seen tonight.

    Malamar were known to squint a lot, but Mr. Patenaude’s malamar was blinking like it was running on thirty minutes of sleep. Meanwhile, the scizor looked as if it was going to topple over at any moment. It wobbled as its feet hit the ground.

    With narrowed eyes, she shot another look back at Noel. He was wearing an intense frown, and his arms were crossed over his chest.

    "What the fuck?" she mouthed.

    "I don't know," Noel responded.

    There wasn’t much else to say, so she forced herself to look back at the battle. Did they both...forget to heal their Pokemon before coming into the battle? Were they both just stupid?

    “Scizor, use Agility!” Mrs. Patenaude cheered.

    “Malamar, Brutal Swing!” Mr. Patenaude declared.

    Scizor put its pincers together, concentrating. As it did that, Malamar sprang forward. Well, sprang was a strong word. It looked more like a slow, discombobulated trot. A faint glow took hold of its tendrils as it reared back to swing at Scizor.

    Maaaaaaal,” it squeaked.

    Sciiii.”

    Malamar swung, and Scizor tried to use its newfound speed to get out of the way. However, it lost its footing and fell over. Malamar missed entirely, and the weight of its swing also caused it to fall over. Neither one made any moves to get up after that.

    Was...was that it?

    Odette knit her brows, waiting for the emcee to call it. Several seconds passed, and nothing. Were they waiting to see if they would get back up? Odette began to feel her anger creeping up again because this was just fucking cruel. Is this really what the wealthy liked to do? Send exhausted, barely healed Pokemon out into battle to watch them flail around and struggle? What kind of sick--

    “Oh darn! They’re still a little tired,” Mrs. Patenaude said sheepishly.

    “Well, then, let's just cut to the chase, shall we?” Mr. Patenaude responded.

    They withdrew their tired Pokemon with such synchronicity it was a little unnerving. Mr. Patenaude then withdrew another ball from his coat pocket. Squinting through her glasses, Odette could not determine what kind of ball it was. It was pitch black, but the button was bright red. It blinked as if beckoning to be pressed. Mrs. Patenaude revealed her other leg, where the same kind of ball was strapped to her thigh. She grabbed it and held it up.

    “We shall!” she shouted.

    Mrs. Patenaude pressed the blinking button on her ball, and it opened with a puff of thick black smoke. As the questionable gas seeped from the ball, she brought her thumb to her mouth and bit down hard enough to draw blood.

    “I lend you my blood, Hiruition!” she said. As she spoke, something shot from the ball. It moved to the middle of the playing field, as a beam of red formed around the incision she’d made on her thumb. It met the apparition, causing it to explode into a corporeal form.

    It was as large as a gyarados, if not bigger, and had a similar body type...no, maybe it looked more like a dragonair? It slithered through the air like one, but it was too fat to be a dragonair, or gyarados...besides, neither one of those Pokemon had a proboscis like that one did. This thing looked more like a leech than anything else. It had a set of dark eyes that Odette could barely make out against its dark purple skin. Its tail end faded off into smoke, in the same way the outer edges of a gastly did.

    Odette’s hand began to cramp from how hard she was grasping the tablecloth. She felt something grab her thigh and turned to see Noel’s eyes about to bug out of his head. She couldn’t look at him for too long because she had entirely fixated on trying to figure out just what the fuck this thing was. She’d studied up on her Pokemon species, she was sure she knew a lot of them, and she was even more sure she’d have studied something about a giant leech Pokemon. A giant leech Pokemon that apparently...had something to do with trainers' blood?

    She was so confused that she barely registered the thunderous cheering that had erupted around her. Everyone at her table...hell, everyone at every table seemed to be up on their feet, cheering for this...thing.

    Out of morbid curiosity, she looked over at Clovis. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or even more confused to find that he had not moved. The joking smirk he’d had on while they were bantering over their water was replaced by a blatantly unamused frown.

    “Odette, what the hell is that?” Noel said, causing Odette to turn her attention toward him. He had to lean over and speak directly into her ear to talk clearly over the cheers.

    What the hell?” Freddy said.

    “I--” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t even--”

    She couldn’t form the words before Mr. Patenaude opened his own ball. In a similar show of nicking his thumb and opening the ball, another Pokemon took form. A grotesque fish. Or at least, it seemed like a fish. It had fins and beady fish eyes, but it also had a mouth full of horrifically sharp teeth, and it was far bigger than a fish needed to be. Maybe slightly smaller than a copperajah. Slightly.

    A black goopy substance dripped from between its teeth and reeked of rotting meat. That somehow wasn’t even the most strikingly odd part of it, though. What stood out the most was the single antennae hanging from its head. It dangled in front of its face and ended in a bright red bulb. The bulb emitted an orb of light that surrounded the Pokemon entirely.

    “Lophious, we fight!” Mr. Patenaude hollered through the cheers. “Scald!”

    The red glow around lophious intensified, and the goo in its mouth began to illuminate as well. It brightened until it began to smoke up. That rotting stench filled the room, causing everyone to cover their noses. It then spat the goo at the other Pokemon, causing it to cry out in a way that Odette had never heard a Pokemon scream before.

    It was unnatural. She’d even go as far as to call it demonic.

    “Don’t take that, Hiruition! Bite down hard!” Mrs. Patenaude hollered.

    The leech regained itself from the attack and wasted no time flying forward. It moved with such frightening speed and accuracy that Odette felt nervous just sitting there on the sidelines. Its proboscis opened, revealing a rounded pattern of teeth, which sunk into the middle of the fish Pokemon’s head. It screamed and thrashed with a level of aggression that would normally cause a battle to be officially halted, but the emcee didn’t call anything. It just went on like it was supposed to be normal.

    At some point, the Pokemon were just allowed to go at it. Biting, hitting, and strangling each other. The couple would call out moves every now and then that Odette recognized, but it seemed they were mostly set on letting those two things rip each other apart. She was barely paying attention at that point because she was still racking her brain for an explanation.

    Hiruition...lophious, she repeated in her head over and over again, hoping it would somehow uncover any bit of knowledge she might have buried over the years. When nothing came up, she just grew more frustrated. It didn’t help that the cacophony of roars from the giant Pokemon and the onlookers, not to mention the terrible stench of sulfur, were doing a fantastic job of further clouding her judgment.

    Though, she wasn’t sure what actual judgment there was to cloud. She’d never seen or heard of any of those Pokemon.

    She numbly watched the two alien things exchange hit after hit. Normally, she ate battles up, looking for things to nitpick, praise, and perhaps compare to her own tactics. But, she could do none of that here. She could only watch in wide-eyed shock.

    “Hydro Pump!” Mr. Patenaude demanded. Lophious geared up before spitting a beam of high-pressure water at hiruition.

    “Evade it, then Tackle!” Mrs. Patenaude said. Hiruition effortlessly looped around the beam before whipping its tail at lophious, sending it flying toward the ground. The crowd's cheers intensified when Lophious failed to get back up, and the red light faded from around it.

    “Lophious is down and unable to fight!” The emcee bellowed over her microphone. “The winner is Mrs. Patenaude and her hiruition!”

    Mrs. Patenaude basked in her victory as she and her husband withdrew their Pokemon. They met again in the middle of the battlefield and embraced, smiling and laughing. Like this was a normal thing for them. They locked hands and waved to the onlookers before striding back to their table.

    “And that concludes tonight's exhibition. We do hope you had a wonderful time. Please, enjoy the rest of your dinner, and try not to mind the smell too much!” The emcee said. A final round of cheers carried through the room before slowly but surely dying back down as waiters fanned out around the room, carrying trays upon trays of the entrees. Meanwhile, some pidgeots flew down from doors in the ceiling and began to fan the battle fumes out the windows, which opened automatically for them.

    Even as her spread of rich-looking lobster tail and vegetables was set in front of her, Odette couldn’t bring herself to attempt to eat. She’d entirely lost her appetite. Nothing in her brain could help her make sense of what she just saw, so she zoned in on the conversation happening around her.

    “A hiruition? How lucky!”

    “Do you think they could produce another if they tried hard enough? I bet the malamar could hold it.”

    “So strong, I hope to coax one out of my own.”

    What the fuck were they talking about?

    She was clearly an odd one out here; they were all talking like they’d practically expected this to happen. Her gaze traveled to Dorien, where he was engaged in seemingly deep thought with the person sitting next to him. She could barely hear him, so she looked back to Clovis, who was staring at his watch now.

    “Clovis, what--” she started to ask.

    “Bullshit, that’s what,” he grumbled, almost too low for her to hear. Nonetheless, Odette could pick up the raw anger that coated the words. She didn’t notice Noel was listening in until he leaned over her to get closer.

    “What do you mean?” he asked, almost too frantically. “What are they talking about?”

    Clovis exhaled a hard breath and threw his napkin on the table. He stood up and pushed his chair in before leaning down toward them. He got so close Odette thought their noses would touch, and she jerked backward out of habit. He spoke quietly as if he were trying to ensure she was the only one who could hear him. The look in his eyes was deadly serious, and it made her blood run cold.

    “A word of advice: walk out of here while you still can. What you just saw was a disgusting show of greed that you’d be better off not getting involved in. ”

    With that, his expression smoothed. A beaming grin curved over his lips, a convincing one that caused his now-shining eyes to crinkle up ever so slightly. A stark contrast from that dead, hard stare that was on her not even seconds before. It was a little unnerving just how good he was at switching himself off and on like that, but Odette's brain was too busy reeling to really dwell on it.

    Clovis cleared his throat, alerting everyone's attention. “Well, friends, it was fantastic fraternizing with you all, but I have an early meeting tomorrow, and it’s already—“

    He reached into his coat pocket, then frowned as his eyes fell to the phone, still submerged in the vase.

    "Om phone? Om oommm," Powdered Sugar said.

    "I see that,” he huffed. He then leaned over and started trying to dig the device out.

    “Aw, come on! Leaving so soon?” Dorien whined.

    “Duty calls, and you smell bad,” Clovis replied as he freed the phone from its aquatic trap. He shook it off, his face crinkling in annoyance as he did, before shoving back into its apparent main home in his pocket.

    "Ha, ha, so funny," Dorien said flatly. "You have a good night then, LeClair."

    Clovis offered another bright grin, then waved. "Back at you, Bonhomme. Good evening, all."

    “Goodnight, friends!” Powdered Sugar said in unison.

    He then turned and made way for the exit. Odette watched him go, numbly taking note of the moderately rushed skip in his step.

    She blinked rapidly, trying to tame her buzzing brain. She then exchanged looks with Noel. His mouth was also slightly agape, as usual, when he found himself at a loss for words.

    What the fuck?

    Her eyes traveled to Noel’s dinner, and she noticed he hadn’t touched his food either. Looking down at the table, Isaur and Freddy's meals also remained untouched. It was good to see they were all on the same page here.

    “Disgusting show of greed that we’re better off not getting involved with,” she repeated in a whisper.

    “How do—“ Noel slowly started to speak, but he cut himself off and turned his head away. No sooner had that happened, Odette felt a presence sink itself into the spot where Clovis had been sitting and turned to see Dorien’s gross grinning face.

    “So, what’d you think?” he asked.

    “I'm...impressed?" She didn't mean for it to come out as a question, and she silently cursed herself for it.

    He grinned as he put his arm around her shoulders and leaned into her. “Have you ever seen Pokemon like that before?”

    Part of her wanted to say yes to get around the condescending explanation that was about to come her way. But she couldn’t do that. Maybe Dorien would prove to be useful and give her something she could dwell on instead of an eerie warning.

    “No,” she said sweetly. “What were they? They were kinda scary looking.”

    He answered by placing some pecks on her cheek. "Not to worry, gorgeous. I'd have protected you if they got too close."

    Get over yourself, she wanted to say.

    He thumbed her cheek in the same spot he'd just kissed, his eyes flicking from hers to her lips. She wanted so desperately to push him away. She could if she wanted to, but not if she wanted answers.

    Control. You have it.

    “I can’t really get into specifics right now because you’re new here,” he said. “But you should know there’s more where that came from.”

    This caused her eyes widened a smidge. “There’s more of those things?”

    “As I said, no specifics. Just trust that I can get my hands on some very powerful ‘mons for you. That is if you stick around and see how it all works,” he explained. “Plus, I can always put in a good word for my date.”

    "You would do that for me?" She fluttered her eyelashes for good measure. She needed to sell the doe-eyed bimbo look here. "I'm not rich, though. I don't think I can afford--"

    "Shh, shh, shh," Dorien hushed, pulling back and taking both of her hands in his. He brought them to his mouth and began to kiss her knuckles. "None of that. You don't need to worry about any of that. Besides, you have a shiny, which is the hardest part." With that, he smiled lovingly. "You keep in mind that I would do absolutely anything for you, okay? Trust the process."

    A chill ran up her back, and she made herself giggle shyly. "Okay, Dory. If you say so."

    She’d come here hoping to find some answers and instead ended up with way more than she bargained for. Trust the process? Those Pokemon?

    Something smelled rotten, and it wasn’t the lingering stench from the battle.
     
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    Chapter 8 - Reading is Essential
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu

    White Swan.jpg
    Chapter 8: Reading is Essential
    Strong Language, Horny Protagonist, Brief Discussion of STD's, Brief Discussion of a Rapist
    The week had gone by in a blur. A blur of excessive note-taking, staying up until the wee hours of the morning wasting away at computer screens, and a series of pleasant thoughts of Clovis smiling at her. Noel had volunteered to take on digging into more about shiny Pokemon, while he all but forced her to start looking into the LeClair family.

    Sitting in the dressing room under the Lumiose Center, she was going through her ten pages of chicken scratch for the third time that morning. Rehearsal didn’t start for another thirty minutes, Acadia hadn’t gotten in yet, and Noel decided to neglect to tell her that he was leaving his flat early that morning. She’d texted him at every stoplight until she reached the center. No response.

    Noel wasn’t one to wake up before eleven, so she found it a little odd. However he was a late sleeper, but he was never late to work, no matter what. If he were in any trouble, she’d know at the start of rehearsal. For now, she decided to dedicate her working brain function to deciphering her findings again while trying to ward off the intrusive thoughts that ran laps in her mind whenever Clovis’s name crossed her vision.

    She wondered if her grandfather got worked up whenever he had to research a lead. Daydreamed about them, thought a lot about how pretty their eyes were, and--

    Her grip on her papers tightened as a hard grimace crossed her face. She was damn glad there was nobody else in the dressing room--she'd been sure to check before sitting down--because she didn’t need anybody to bear witness to how red her face was. The sweat forming on her brow caused her glasses to begin fogging, and she tore them off her face to wipe them clean on her jacket.

    “You’re stupid,” she said as she pushed them back over her nose. She then jostled the packet as if alerting her whole body to the fact that it needed to focus.

    Clovis LeClair, the son of billionaire Charles LeClair, owner of the Clair De Lune group, which was made up of more than four hundred different companies based in multiple regions around the world. Most of them were centered around humans and Pokemon working together humanely to get things done in an orderly and, as they put it, “the old-fashioned green and clean way.” They dedicated their companies to making sure Pokemon were treated fairly and humanely. It was truly a noble cause.

    Charles had a large family. He married once to the love of his life, and they had eleven fucking kids. Odette couldn’t imagine one woman popping out that many babies. Likewise, she also couldn’t imagine having that many human siblings. Growing up with Solene, Enora, Ange, and Isaur was plenty.

    She’d gone out of her way to find all the LeClair siblings' names and ages. The youngest was about nine, and Clovis was twenty-four, about to be twenty-five. Odette was pleased that his and her age difference wasn’t harsh.

    Most of the LeClair kids, save for the youngster, were somehow involved in Clair De Lune. Clovis, however, was peculiar. He had the highest net worth out of all of them for his involvement in developing some algorithm that had a hand in optimizing and even revolutionizing data management. She didn't really understand what any of that meant because her brain could compute fuck all regarding numbers and business talk, but she supposed it was impressive.

    But the weird part was that he’d never been seen in public until semi-recently. Over the past couple of years, more or less. That was the part that got her. He hardly seemed like a shut-in, flying under the radar and working behind the scenes for twenty-something years while daddy raked in big money.

    She supposed she knew a thing or two about acting a part, but it seemed he knew it too well. She’d found him standing alone in the smoking section, sure. However, he was at least somewhat eager to start a conversation, if only to ask her an obnoxious question about her height. She didn’t know any shut-in who’d have even attempted something like that. They’d have merely kept to themselves.

    Plus, he pretty much admitted to gathering dirt on people, which meant he got around. He spoke to who he could, maybe eavesdropped here and there, maybe even asked point blank. He was blunt enough to question her height, so he must have been ballsy enough to ask somebody if they were hiring expensive hookers. And honestly, they’d probably answer him. The folks at her dinner table were ready to give up their seats for him, so it didn’t seem far off to assume that much.

    He had a pull in that room that she wouldn't expect a multi-year shut-in to possess, even after an extended time out and about.

    Then again, she had to consider that perhaps that pull had something to do with his status. Clearly, the LeClair family wasn’t anything to scoff at, so others were probably doing the same. Schmoozing the eldest son of one of Kalos’s richest families seemed like an obviously good political maneuver to attempt.

    However, none of that did anything to distract the big thing on her mind: how could he have skated competitively if he hadn’t been seen in public for so long?

    She’d scoured the internet, trying to find some record of his competitions--score sheets, videos, anything--and came up with nothing. So, was it a lie? Or, maybe it...had just been wiped? Cops could mess with public access case files, so maybe a billionaire could have information pulled from the world wide web. The question was, why?

    She grazed her thumb over the notation she’d made in the margins regarding this information that didn’t add up. If she ever met him again, she’d have to find a polite way to press. Was it something he wasn’t proud of, or was it something more? Maybe he had the information pulled to keep it from coming up for people like her, who spent days trying to research him. Because surely he had his fair share of stalkers. Was he still trying to fly under the radar despite being so out in the open? Maybe he was part of a scandal and wanted to cover all traces of it from whoever went sleuthing on him?

    If he wanted to hide it so badly, why bring it up?

    She was starting to think it was a slip-up on his end. The fear she'd seen in his eyes after he said it suggested that he hadn't meant to bring it up. That, of course, posed more questions. But it made the most sense right now. Maybe it was a scandal...

    Gods, her head hurt. Thinking about him, all the information, and how he’d so effortlessly switched faces. From his warning, cold stare to that fake-yet-real smile as he said goodbye. Even the way he looked aggravated when Jocelyn called before switching back to the smug smirk like it was nothing. He did it with such scary ease. Like he’d been trained to do it.

    Was it like her case, where she was good at switching faces for a given situation? Or, on a scarier thought, he was more like Dorien? That wasn’t something she initially considered, but it was a possibility, as much as she detested it. She didn’t need another raging psycho in her life, especially one so pretty.

    Speaking of Jocelyn and Dorien’s quips about that call, Odette definitely didn’t leave that stone unturned. As much as she wanted to. But her obnoxiously prevalent feelings got the best of her.

    She’d tried to find something on a possible girlfriend or, even worse, a fiance or wife. Nothing came up. As far as these information sites were concerned, Clovis was a single man. So, Dorien really was blowing smoke. But she had to wonder why Clovis had a ‘Jocelyn’ calling him and why he was so annoyed by it. An aggravating secretary? A bodyguard? His old nanny? Did nannies even raise him?

    She sighed deeply and leaned her head against the wall she was up against.

    Is this how psycho-stalker girlfriends feel?

    She needed to get a handle on all of these feelings she was having. They were best kept bottled up with the rest of her emotions because they had no business clouding her head when she tried so hard to think rationally.

    Her bag began to buzz, and she could hear the muffled voice of RotomPhone trying to speak to her. The front pocket jostled, signaling it was trying to get out, so she reached over and unzipped it. It hovered out and flew up to her face.

    Bzzzt! Such a nice nap, ruined!” he complained. “I’m trying to recover here! I need my health sleeps!”

    “I think you look wonderfully healthy, actually," she said. "Your rehab's going great. The techs at maman's lab will be stoked."

    "Yes, bzzzzzzzt, but I am sleepy right now and would like to get back to that."

    “Tell me what’s up, and I'll oblige," she chuckled.

    “Incoming texts from ‘Lansat Twerk Team.’ Bzzzt!” it replied.

    Odette set down her notes next to her and grasped the phone, punching in her passcode and navigating to her texting app, where she found that her one and only group chat was indeed blowing up.

    _______________________________________________________​

    Noel Massé
    DEE R U IN THE DRESSING ROOM???????? (づ ՞ਊ ՞ )づ SOS

    Noel Massé
    FUCK ME WRONG CHAT(ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

    Basille Tremaux
    >Be Noel
    >Be good with tech
    >Still cant fucking read his phone

    Noel Massé
    i hope u get crabs (´ ᴗ`✿)

    Basille Tremaux
    I hope you find god /s

    Claude Renaudin
    mmm a crab dinner sounds great rn

    Noemie Massé
    Thank!! You all!! For waking me up!! FROM MY DAMN NAP!!!

    _______________________________________________________​

    Odette took a moment to decide how she wanted to respond to this. She was momentarily thankful to hear from Noel but then supposed that some virtual shenanigans from her displaced friend group would temporarily distract her from her headache. Though, she was wondering what he was so frantic about. Probably whatever thing he’d gotten up so early for. Was it some new information?

    She typed up a response and pressed send.
    _______________________________________________________​

    Odette Cinq-Mars
    Yeah, in the dressing room @Noel

    Basille Tremaux
    HEY DEE remember to smile at least once today 🖤

    Claude Renaudin
    💙smile dee

    Noemie Massé
    💕Smile Dee!!!!

    Basille Tremaux
    Hey Nono if youre trying to take a nap theres this new thing called putting your phone on silent

    Noemie Massé
    STFU!! I also hope you get crabs!!

    Acadia Vaugeois
    Didn’t know it was “Wish Pubic Lice on Your Friends” day. Also, smile Dee 💝💝💝

    Claude Renaudin
    that can be every day if we really put our hearts to it.

    _______________________________________________________

    After years of a close-knit group friendship, she could honestly say that she never knew what to expect when she opened the chat. It got a snicker out of her and even a sense of ease. It was a welcome feeling after the past few days.

    _______________________________________________________​

    Odette Cinq-Mars
    You're all going to give me a cavity 🙂


    Basille Tremaux
    Brush your teeth then fivehead 😘

    _______________________________________________________​

    She heard the door to the dressing room slam open. It echoed through the empty space, causing her to flinch. She scrambled to shove her notes back into her backpack but didn’t get very far before Noel suddenly bounded in front of her.

    “Found you,” he said, panting. Sweat trickled down his red face, and he could barely get the words out.

    She set RotomPhone back in her front pocket. “Back to your nap, drama ‘mon.”

    Bzzt! Don’t mind if I do!”

    She zipped the pocket, then turned to stare incredulously at Noel. “Dude, this is the girl’s room,” she said.

    Noel threw his duffel bag down and doubled over, placing his hands on his knees as he leveled his breathing. “Who cares? Nobody's in here, right?" He lowered his voice to ask that

    "Made sure of it."

    "Well then. I’ve given every woman in this cast dating and sex advice; I have an honorary pass," Noel said, swatting his hand dismissively at her.

    Odette scoffed. “Right, because we give out passes.”

    Noel was able to pull himself together before peering back up at her. His brow was raised, and he wore an accusing frown. “You’re talking an awful lot for somebody I’ve seen naked like eighty fucking times.”

    “What’s your problem? Where’d you sprint from?” she asked, ignoring the quip. There was really no use in arguing with him. “Thanks for telling me you were leaving early, by the way.”

    He straightened his posture and placed his hands against his lower back, leaning backward until a crack emanated from his spine. “Yeah, sorry,” he said through a deep exhale. “Woke up earlier than usual to fly to the library when it opened. Phone’s been on silent until about five minutes ago."

    “Wow, you know how to read? I'd have never guessed from the way you can't seem to read your phone,” she teased, feigning innocence by sticking out her lower lip. She snickered as he shot an unamused glance at her.

    “I can read very well, actually,” he said, pointing at her nose.

    He abruptly fell to his knees, unzipped his bag, and began digging through it frantically. Curious, Odette hopped off the counter and stepped over to him, leaning over to get a better look at what he was looking for. She didn’t see much before he whipped out a rather weathered-looking hardcover book. The sudden movement caused her to stumble back. Her eyes caught on the faded words on the front cover.


    Pokemon of an Old Past


    “A crusty book about the old times?” Odette asked sarcastically. “Case solved. We can stop now.”

    “Alright Miss Ma’am, I have no issue turning my ass around and bringing it back since you wanna be like that,” Noel chastised as he stood up.

    She rolled her eyes. "Show me what you found, please."

    He started flipping through the book. She watched him intently, noting how careful he was with each turn of the page. From where she was standing, she could see the dated yellowish hue each of them had and even noticed that some were ripped and torn toward the edges. She grimaced at the sight.

    “Did you take that out of the damn archives or something?”

    “I sure did,” Noel replied quickly. “This book was pulled from public checkout because of how decrepit it is. But, I put in a favor with my friend down there. She let me take it for the day because their copy machine wasn’t working.”

    Already, she had so many questions. “Gals in different locales?” she started, earning a hearty laugh from him.

    “Actually, Bernadette from choir. But sure, that mantra works too.” As he spoke, he began frowning at the book, which he was still flipping through. “Gods, I should have used a damn bookmark...what page was it again?”

    With another roll of her eyes, Odette sighed. “So why did you need Bernadette from choir to let you take home an old book because the copy machine wasn’t working?”

    Noel didn’t respond that time. Instead, his eyes lit up, and he held the open book to his chest, pressing his lips together in what looked to be anticipation. The sheer excited look in his eye was enough to get her to drop her doubt. She cocked her head, arching a brow.

    “Noel? What’d you find?”

    “So, in my research this week, I wasn’t coming up with much that wasn’t damn obvious. Pretty much just wiki pages about shiny coloring variations and research notes that didn’t provide anything interesting.” He paused, apparently for dramatic effect. “But,” he said, “I started searching for more analog sources and ended up in the library directory.”

    “Alright, that’s why you were at the library,” she said impatiently, snapping her fingers. “Where’s this going?”

    Noel inhaled deeply. “Shockingly or not, I thought the library didn’t have jack shit either...until I found this.”

    He held the book out to her.

    “There is a single page in this book that mentions shinies, and it’s fucking damning. Read it.”

    Her gaze slowly traveled between the book and Noel’s eager face. She carefully reached out and took it, slowly turning it in her hands so she could make out the words. Now that it was in her grasp, she could feel how aged it was. The bound leather cover, which surely used to feel smooth to the touch, now felt rough and almost dusty against her fingers. The words on the page were starting to fade in some areas, but she could still easily read them.

    Nothing truly caught her eye until she’d made it down to the last paragraph, where she saw mention of oddly colored Pokemon. Surely, it meant shinies. That was where she actually started to read.


    It was once said that these Pokemon of odd coloring had the ability to harbor and spawn Pokemon of a different power--grotesque creatures that found their abilities in the sanguinity of their hosts.


    She frowned pensively.

    “Put it together, smarty pants,” Noel urged.

    The gears were already turning. So much so that her ears started ringing. “Harbor and spawn Pokemon of a different power…” she read, talking under her breath. “Sanguinity means blood…”

    Hiruition and lophious...those two Pokemon, never seen them before...Mr. and Mrs. Patenaude cut themselves when they brought them out...right? And they were grotesque, super grotesque...

    She closed her eyes, trying to get further into the moments before, during, and after that damned battle.

    The malamar and the scizor were shiny...people were talking about them ‘holding another’? Those poor ‘mon were tired, too...what’d their trainers say about that? Didn’t seem to care...harbor and spawn...harbor and spawn...harbor and spawn...Dorien...saying things about getting his hands on ‘very powerful Pokemon’ for me. Dorien’s in the shiny trade, they seemed to all somehow be in the shiny trade, they all had them…they all had shinies.

    They were all there to watch whatever that malamar and scizor had harbored and spawned? To perhaps see...what their own shinies could harbor and spawn?


    Her eyes snapped open, immediately meeting Noel’s intense stare. She blinked a few times, trying to parse how she would say what she wanted to say out loud.

    “The shiny trade probably exists because traders know shinies can...make those things, on top of the fact that they're fucking money machines,” she finally said, eyes wide. She raised a hand to hook it into her hair. “Or, try...they're money machines in the first place because they can make those things? The bottom line is Dorien knows that. They all. Fucking. Know that.”

    “Ding, ding, ding!” Noel said in triumph, holding his hands above his head victoriously.

    Odette slammed the book shut and set it down next to her backpack. She then brought both hands to cover her face, exhaling sharply as she gave her head a moment to calm down. Though, no way was happening.

    “Does that play into Team Enigma, though? Does that play into sacrilege? What about Virtue Corp?”

    “It definitely does,” Noel said. Odette moved her hands down to her cheeks and peered over at him just as he began wiping some sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket.

    “Think about it. Sacrilege is traveling around the top one percent, and the top one percent are engaging in the shiny trade.” He peeled off his jacket as he spoke, letting it fall to the floor. He then started to pace back and forth, crossing his arms over his chest. His brows had furrowed, and Odette noticed that vein on his head starting to pop out, a telltale sign he was thinking hard.

    “Then we have those public case file discrepancies specifically writing out shiny involvement in sacrilege-related problems, and we can be pretty confident those are tied into the cops warding off the press for Virtue Corp.”

    Odette considered his words, and when she was sure she agreed, she nodded. “Okay, yes.” But she frowned as she thought more about it. “However, it doesn’t fully explain the discrepancies. What does sacrilege have to do with those Pokemon we saw, and what’s the point of covering shiny involvement up? Is sacrilege keeping them at bay? Or something?”

    Noel pointed back toward her. “That’s where I’m stumped. That answer has to lie in Virtue Corp, because they’re driving that boat,” he said. “But I think that an organization dedicated to abolishing the shiny trade would want to blow something like this out of the water, not cover it up...whatever it is they’re trying to cover up by tweaking case files like they are. Shit, we don't even know their intentions. They could be just as fucked up as Enigma but much better at fronting as the good guys."

    A heavy silence filled the space between them. Odette retreated back into her head to hopefully try to make better sense of these findings. She needed to get her thoughts in a line before she got too overwhelmed. She reached for her notes on the LeClair family and pulled out the last page of the packet, which had only been a quarter of the way filled. She dug into the front pocket of her bag, careful not to jostle RotomPhone, and retrieved a lone pen, which she uncapped with her teeth before beginning to scribble with it.

    • Shiny trade exists because traders know shinies can spawn the weird Pokemon. Hoarding from the public??? Explains why it won’t be abolished despite overwhelming support for it????? Maybe.
    • Sacrilege going around top one percent, who engage in trade--connected to the case discrepancies, but we don’t know why? Virtue Corp's wants it covered up. Still don’t know why.

    A thought suddenly occurred to her as she was writing. She remembered the note she’d found on Bernard’s desk again and how J.L. Ménétries had mentioned something about being in their "prime suspect's circles" with “ties” to Team Enigma. If Virtue Corp were dedicated to abolishing the shiny trade, they’d surely know a thing or two about it and how it’s navigated...

    She wrote the words down before she even registered what she was thinking.

    • PRIME SUSPECT'S CIRCLES = SHINY TRADE???? TEAM ENIGMA IN SHINY TRADE?????
    • IF VIRTUE CORP BAD, THEY'RE WORKING TOGETHER???? SOMEHOW?????

    “Yeah, I'm definitely with you on that,” Noel suddenly spoke, causing her to flinch. She’d been so caught up in getting her thoughts down that she hadn’t noticed that he was looking over her shoulder. She craned her neck to look at him.

    Noel began to poke his lower lip quizzically. “The note you found pretty much confirmed Team Enigma’s existence and outed Virtue Corp as the brains behind fudging records. They could definitely know Team Enigma is involved in the trade,” he rationalized. “But I’m still stuck on the why. If Team Enigma is in on the shiny trade, an org like Virtue Corp would deeeeefintiely want that outed, right? Provided we are assuming they are the good guys and not, y'know, playing us like fools. 'Cause then, yeah. Maybe they are working together. Or they're rivals."

    She nodded again. “You would think a good-aligned Virtue Corp would want all of this outed,” she said tentatively. However, she had to look at this from all possible angles.

    “If we're going on the good guy path, what if they’re trying to keep all of this under wraps to lessen the possible reaction?” she asked. “There’s so much negative press around the shiny trade and Team Enigma’s possible whereabouts and involvement in the crisis. Putting the two together would cause a social explosion if people found out. Especially if my hypothesis that the wealthy are purposely hoarding those Pokemon is correct.”

    “Point taken,” Noel said slowly. The more he considered it, the more he appeared to go along. “Something like this dropping on the general public would start a damn riot,” he added. “But I imagine the riots would be even bigger if they found out that things were being hidden from them, you know? Is that a risk the police, or even a good-aligned Virtue Corp, would take? Having a conspiracy like this on their backs?”

    She pressed her lips together. “I don't know. Can't put much past people with an obscene amount of money and positions of power,” she muttered. "On the other hand, if they are just as bad as Enigma, I could see why there's no tattling. Keep it to themselves, so nobody is aware of what's actually going on. But if they're rivals, why not? Same reason?"

    Noel nodded. "You know how, like...organized crime gangs won't go to the cops about each other? I imagine it's the same deal here if that is the case."

    "Right," she agreed.

    “I did want to say, steering back onto the good guy route," Noel continued, "we could also consider that they’re keeping it under wraps because they’re also clueless.” He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his leggings, turning on his heel to begin pacing again. He walked back and forth between her and a nearby bench a few times before talking again.

    “Like, maybe they know Team Enigma’s involved, but to what extent? And how does this drug play into everything? Rich humans and their Pokemon are dying, but how is that bridged to the trade? How is it bridged to those Pokemon?”

    Odette could only shrug. “We don’t know.”

    “And it’s possible they don’t either,” Noel said. “Granted, we are running on a shit ton of hypotheticals here; we’re not some big organization. So maybe I’m comparing bluk berries to cheri berries...”

    "Even if they aren't good, that could still apply," Odette said. "Fronting as this good guy organization to get in with the cops to find out more about their rival. And shit."

    She sincerely hoped her Bernard wasn't getting played. She also sincerely hoped he wasn't fully aware of what was happening. She wouldn't know how to respond if she learned her own grandfather was helping perpetuate criminal organizations just because they had money and weird Pokemon. If he even knew about the latter.

    Suddenly her headache was back.

    "Gods, I fucking hate this," Noel laughed bitterly.

    Another round of silence swelled between them. It seemed that they were coming down from their frantic Q and A.

    “In regards to your hypothesis,” Noel spoke again, calmly this time, “that would explain why I had such a hard time finding information about shinies that wasn’t glaringly obvious.” He pointed to the book on the counter. “That was literally the only thing I read, both on the internet and in the library, that spoke of a legend like that.”

    “What did you search up to find the book, then?” Odette asked.

    He chuckled for a moment. “Ancient Pokemon,” Noel said. “I started getting this idea that they were some crazy old fossil ‘mon and decided to go that route.”

    Odette turned her head and stared at the book for a long while. “Are you saying you think the rich tried to wipe knowledge of those things from public access?”

    “I’m sure a bunch of millionaires banding together could make something like that happen,” Noel said in a huff. “I’d bet that book's saving grace was referring to shinies as ‘odd colored Pokemon’ instead of just ‘shiny.’ Though, I think they’d at least be a little more thorough if they tried to wipe records.”

    “Nobody’s perfect, not even rich people. Or weird, nefarious organizations,” Odette said.

    "Gods, and we're just talking about the organizations themselves," Noel added, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We haven't even touched on those fucking Pokemon. What they are, how they work, the types..."

    "Those things were powered up with blood. Never seen that before in my fucking life."

    "Would your mum know anything about that? Blood-powered Pokemon nobody's heard of before? Seems right up the alley of a magical-type professor's knowledge."

    That had crossed her mind at some point while she looked for things about the LeClairs. She couldn't ask outright lest she let Vienna in on what they were up to, and that was still not something she was keen on doing, especially at the point they were at.

    "If she did know anything about it, she never let me in on it," she said. "Spent that whole battle trying to remember if she had, but no."

    "Anything specifically about shiny Pokemon? Surely anything weird would have come up after you brought Enora in."

    Enora had been on Odette's mind all week, too. Aside from her still-standing reluctance to be involved, now that Odette had witnessed other shiny Pokemon seemingly being used to spawn those things, she was more determined than ever to get to the bottom of it. Enora hadn't said much when Odette told her about it. A couple of dubious looks and a comment or two, but she'd lost herself in thought not long after. She either didn't believe it or it bothered her too much to say much more. Either way, Odette hadn't wanted to press too much. It was a lot for anyone to chew on.

    She could still vividly see how tired that malamar and that scizor had been and how their owners paraded them out and about anyway, not giving a single fuck about their well-being or what summoning those blood Pokemon might have done to them. It was haunting enough to witness, and it probably bothered a shiny like Enora to hear about it.

    That had to go hand in hand with why they just let it happen to them. Something was keeping them from protesting the treatment. Something was keeping them from fighting back.

    But, that wouldn't happen to Enora. However it happened. Odette wouldn't let it.

    "She never told me anything we haven't already uncovered. Nothing about blood magic Pokemon ever came up."

    Noel didn’t respond to that. Instead, he wandered toward her and leaned against the counter next to her. He released a long yawn as he dipped his chin against his chest.

    “I’m exhausted. I don’t want to rehearse today,” he said. And she didn’t blame him. The day had barely started, and she wanted to nap. She wasn’t sure how she could concentrate on calling cues and making sure props were where they were supposed to be when she had all of this nonsense swirling around in her head.

    “Did you find anything interesting about your smoking buddy?”

    She’d gotten so caught up in putting together the pieces around what Noel had found that she’d totally forgotten what she was looking for in her notes about the LeClair family. She reached back into her bag and pulled out the rest of the packet, and put it back together with the other sheet she’d just written on. Noel eyed it, and his brows raised.

    “Look at you, detective,” he said, impressed.

    “I wouldn't go that far. This is just the research phase,’” she said, flipping through the pages. “I think I know everything there is to know about him, but I still have some--”

    She cut herself off, immediately sinking into another frenzy of internal questioning. She’d been trying to figure out the connections between the shiny trade, Team Enigma, and Virtue Corp, that she had forgotten she had a whole lead here to factor in too. And now that she was looking at it again…

    Pressing her lips together, she turned back to the page where she’d noted the figure skating disconnect. The marginal note and her excessive question marks. Cases could be rewritten, records about Pokemon could be pulled, and she had been certain that one billionaire could mess with records regarding their whereabouts in a sport. But she couldn’t find the reason.

    “What do ya have, Watson?” Noel pressed.

    She began shaking her head. “I’m not sure yet...just some things not adding up. Everything I read had Clovis LeClair pegged as a shut-in, but he started telling me he was a competitive figure skater while I spoke to him.”

    Noel appeared taken aback by this. “Him? A shut-in? I'd never read him as an antisocial type.”

    Well, at the very least, she knew she wasn’t nuts for thinking that herself. “That’s what I said, too,” she said. “The last thing an antisocial person is doing is competing in something. And even if he did, I couldn’t find anything about it. I thought he might have been involved in something bad, but I'm not quite sure yet.”

    “Man, these rich people really like yanking their shit off the internet, huh?” Noel groused. “I wish things were that easy.”

    She ignored him to keep tunneling into this. Her eyes roved frantically over the papers as she mentally listed her observations.

    She could conceivably believe that he was once a functioning, sociable person who partook in the activity. Then, something could have happened that drove him indoors, leading him to want to pull down all traces of his involvement in the activity. Again, a scandal.

    Actually, that hit way too close to home. It rang eerily similar to the issues she was having with herself. Before she could allow herself to become bitter, she continued paving this mental path. She couldn’t stop just yet and needed to keep this rational and not let her feelings get in the way.

    “Hypothetically speaking,” she spoke in a low voice, “if Virtue Corp is in their 'prime suspect's circle'--presumably the trade--that means they have undercover parties stationed around...” she trailed off.

    Clovis had very clearly been upset by the battle. It showed in how he watched it and looked at her as he warned her to get up and leave. He’d done that in a manner that assured only she would hear, just to turn around and act as if nothing was wrong as he told everybody goodbye. Not to mention, Clair De Lune was set on the humane treatment of Pokemon, too.

    That would align with an organization allegedly set on bringing down the trade, right?

    That could also help explain the figure skating disconnect. Recluse or not, that was a slip-up.

    She’d heard a couple of stories of the cops at the LCPD getting too comfortable in their roles while undercover and accidentally letting something slip. Nobody was perfect, not even a rich person. It would also be a jump, but she was at least finding more ground.

    “I am fully grasping at straws here," she started, "but what are the chances Clovis could be an undercover party with Virtue Corp? Regardless of the alignment?"

    Noel took a beat to mull it over before grimacing.

    “No shot,” he said, shaking his head. He reached over, took the papers out of her hand, and began to skim them himself. “If he was actually undercover, what reason would he have to warn you like he did? That seems risky as hell. You could tell Dorien what he said, and the next thing he knows, his cover’s compromised. You might be reading too much into some misspoken words. I'd sooner believe he's some rich guy who fucked up over something and put his money toward making it all go away.”

    “He really panicked over those misspoken words,” she said.

    He began to rub his eyes tiredly. “Of course he did, but an undercover party could be anybody. It could have been our old classmates. It could have been the chick who asked if you had lip fillers.” He cut himself off with a wheezing laugh. “Which was hysterical, by the way.”

    “Yeah, real comical,” Odette sighed, a tinge of annoyance in her voice.

    “Hell, if we really want to go deeper into that route, it could be Dorien.”

    She raised a concerned brow, her gaze on him becoming dubious. “Yeah, shiny trade Dorien just being a double agent for Enigma and Virtue Corp. I could see it," she said sarcastically.

    “Not everything functions at face value, Dee. But, realistically, Clovis could be some pretty rich man who thought you were pretty and decided he didn’t want to see you get involved in...whatever this is,” he said. "You should also move the rose-colored glasses off your eyes and consider that maybe he did something really bad. Like, I'm not sure what goes on in the figure skating scene, but..." he trailed off.

    Odette knew where Noel's head was going, and she grimaced. She'd been trying not to go that far, but if there was a chance Clovis was covering up a scandal, what was the probability that it was something of a--

    Nope. Do not, she told herself. She'd cross that bridge if they found themselves there.

    She thought her head hurt before, but now it was ridiculous. She understood where Noel was coming from, but she still had some contradictions biting at her.

    “But him wanting to see me not get involved would most likely mean he doesn’t like being involved himself,” she said. “But he switched. He threw me the warning, then went back to acting like nothing was wrong. If you don’t like it, why act?” She began to scratch her cheek. “Saving face?”

    “He told you a thing or two about getting in with other powerful families,” Noel said. “He could warn you, then pretend like nothing happened to cover his ass. And again, you're a hot girl. If he's previously gotten in trouble for--"

    "Noel," Odette said loudly. "He doesn't...he doesn't..."

    Her heartbeat rang in her ears. The force against her chest caused an ache that paired nicely with the panic drying out her mouth. The sudden cold sweat that broke out all over her body was just the cherry on top.

    STOP.

    "He doesn't give me Deschamps feelings." She strained herself to speak. That name burned to say. It poked the lasting mental wounds the owner had left behind. "I knew from the get-go Deschamps was a creep. Clovis doesn't hit those buttons."

    Despite how hard it was to get out, she was firm. She knew "creep alarm bells" didn't always equate to someone capable of doing that to her again, but she trusted her gut well enough to believe her stance for now.

    Noel nodded in understanding, holding his hands up defensively. "I get you, and that's promising. I trust your intuition, but I'm just trying to play it safe."

    And he was right to be doing so. She knew that deep down.

    "I'm watching out for you this time. The chances might be slim, but I want to be careful. And even if he isn't that bad, if he is with Virtue Corp, we don't know their overall alignment."

    She sighed slowly and heavily, keeping her eyes trained on him as she brought herself back up. She couldn't fault him. As much as she was trying not to let her crush cloud her judgment, that seemed to be happening, gut feelings or not.

    "I know. And you're right," she said. "I'm sorry. I'm just...trying to cover the bases myself."

    "I hear you. And I'm here to help with that."

    A single firm nod was the only answer he was getting. She wanted to keep going and stop dwelling on the past.

    Regardless of his reason or where Virtue Corps stands, you're right. It strikes me as a risky maneuver; I could whistleblow him either way,” she said. She released a deep breath as she realized the counter to that. “But at least if he was just a regular rich person, he has the in to say ‘what the hell is she talking about?’ and make me look dumb for accusing him.”

    She let out another deep, loud breath. Noel did the same.

    “I think two possible things are going on here,” she said. “Clovis could have figure skated before he decided he wanted to be a shut-in, then somehow had all of his participation taken down so nobody could ever find out about it. Perhaps due to something really bad,” she said. She closed her eyes to allow her apprehension to pass. “Or, he’s undercover and absolutely slipped up. And in realizing he slipped up, he decided that shooting me a warning would be a route to go.”

    She turned to look Noel in the eye again. “I’m living by your line for this. Not everything functions at face value. At least not until we can stop leaning on hypotheticals.”

    “You got me there,” he said.

    The door to the dressing room swung open. Odette flinched again, and she saw Noel jolt as well. Nothing like a loud noise to break them out of their trance.

    “Noel, I better not find you here. That’s illegal,” Acadia’s voice echoed through the room.

    They exchanged looks, and both began to giggle despite themselves. Odette figured she was so fried that she couldn’t do much more than laugh.

    “Busted,” she said quietly.

    “Hey,” Noel said with a shrug. “If she kills me, at least I can say I helped put together the corner pieces before I died."
     
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    Chapter 9 - Are You Actually In Control?
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu
    WSBS HelloYellow Commish.jpg
    Chapter 9: Are You Actually In Control?
    Cover by @HelloYellow17 🤍
    CW: Strong Language, Light Blood, discussion of Pokemon trafficking
    This chapter has not been beta read. I also suck at writing battles, so pls be gentle <3

    The shade of the weeping willows was not enough to stop the angry heat Odette was feeling. Her garish and floppy derby hat wasn't helping, either.

    Having Enora at her feet only made it all worse.

    It was barely twenty-three degrees outside, and she still felt like she was going to break into a harsh sweat, all from the heat of the anger bubbling in her back. Despite this, she hung off of Dorien, smiling back at the dead stares from the top one percent. Once in a while, she'd gaze off over the garden, past the stark white gazebos they were standing around, and over to the neatly kept rosebushes that bordered the gravel paths through the garden. At least those were nice to look at.

    "What a darling sylveon! We don't see many of the eons around here," a woman said. "Is she for sale today?"

    "I don't plan to sell her," Odette said quickly, resisting the urge to curse the bitch out. She pushed through an airy laugh like she'd observed some of the other socialites doing as they spoke.

    "That's a shame. Sylveons, espeons, and umbreons are really difficult to find. They don't evolve with stones, you know?" the woman said, swishing her wine around in its glass. "What evolution coercion service did you use to get her to evolve? I've never seen one successfully put out a sylveon!"

    Odette started blinking. She must have looked like a deerling in headlights because she had no idea what the woman was talking about.

    "I..." she stuttered. "This might be a silly question, but what's a coercion service?"

    The woman placed a hand over her heart. "Oh, my apologies, sweetheart. You're new around here," she said. "They're services that evolve some of our lovely Pokemon who don't do so with stones and other knickknacks. To fetch a higher price and whatnot!"

    She gasped. "Wow, things like that exist? I went out of my way to get her to evolve myself!"

    Odette was acutely aware of Enora's presence at her side, and it physically pained her to allow herself to say those words. Why Enora suddenly decided to come along to this particular outing, she wouldn't say. But it made putting on her act that much harder.

    That's all it is. It's an act.

    A convincing one at that because some of the patrons began to laugh.

    "That's impressive. Are you sure she isn't for sale? I'm very interested," that same woman said.

    Odette started to shake her head more aggressively than she meant to. She instinctively extended her leg slightly, trying to metaphorically block this lady from looking at Enora like she was something to covet. "No, I think I'm going to pass."

    "I'd give you €1.5 billion for her."

    "Well, I'd do €2 billion!" somebody else chimed in almost immediately as if they were waiting for a price to get thrown out.

    Before Odette knew it, various numbers were being screamed at her, monetary amounts she never thought she'd have directed at her in her lifetime. Women raised their comically tiny parasols, and the men tipped their bowler hats and waved their decorative canes. The commotion caused a sense of panic to swell within her, and she was suddenly conflicted about what to do. She needed to stand her ground but didn't want to subject Enora to the horror. Odette wanted to pick her up, run, and never look back. She wasn't ready for this; she didn't think Enora was ready for this.

    But she couldn't do that. They were way too deep. And Enora had decided to come today, and there was no backing out.

    So, she did what her character would do. She shyly leaned into Dorien and grabbed hold of his jacket.

    "Alright, alright," Dorien said, looping his arm around her shoulders and raising his other hand. This effectively ended the yelling as the present patrons silenced themselves to listen to him. "She's already made it clear she's not selling, so let's not overwhelm her, okay?"

    As quickly as the crowd had piped up, they retreated back into themselves, going back to eyeing Enora like she was something to eat. It was hardly a preferable change, but one that Odette would make herself stomach for now. If anything, she was more shocked to hear Dorien acting like a decent human being.

    "So sorry, Dorien. We don't want to scare her off," that woman said again.

    "Really, not this one. You make such a beautiful couple," a man said.

    She heard Dorien chuckle, and he reached up and caressed her cheek with his thumb. As much as she wanted to retreat, she fully leaned into it but couldn't quite look him in the eye. So, she did something repulsive--she turned her head into his hand and planted a soft kiss on his palm. Maybe he'd accept it as a thank you because she wouldn't say it out loud.

    "I really am lucky, aren't I?" he asked. There was a purr in his voice that made her absolutely ill. "Odette was hands down the prettiest girl in our school. But she wouldn't let anybody near her, not even me."

    "Wow, a heartbreaker, huh?" somebody commented.

    "I was just never really into dating in high school," Odette laughed, looking over at him and bearing the friendliest smile she could muster.

    Dorien chuckled again. "She really just has high standards, so of course, she decided that I was worth the time."

    "When's the wedding?" another asked jokingly.

    Dorien shrugged. "Soon, I hope. I'd be able to die happy if I could call this pretty thing my wife."

    Lighthearted laughs traveled around the group again, but Odette couldn't even fake a grin for that. Hearing the word 'wife' fall out of Dorien's mouth, in her regard, unearthed feelings in her stomach that couldn't be adequately described. She'd start by saying she was just downright disturbed. Even if they really were dating, they'd only been at it for a couple of weeks. Was that really where his head was?

    She inhaled deeply, trying to ward off the tickle in her back. Focus. She needed to focus. "Don't get ahead of yourself, I just turned twenty-two," she warned, letting the seriousness leak into her tone. But, she smacked him playfully on the chest and reeled herself back. "Though every day with him feels like a breath of fresh air. Even if we haven't been together that long, I could maybe anticipate a wedding relatively soon."

    She exhausted herself just speaking that one sentence. It was becoming unbearable.

    "Oh, I love young love!" a man piped up. "You're both in your prime, though. No better time to start thinking about building your family. Every big fortune needs an heir."

    "And you'd both make such beautiful babies, my gods," somebody else interjected.

    She wanted to scream. She wanted to scream so goddamn loud.

    I. Am in. Control, she had to keep repeating to herself. This is an act, and it's not real. You are playing a part.

    Odette began to paw at her throat and released a couple of timed coughs. She found it harder and harder to hold herself up the longer she suppressed the anger that was churning within her. "I'm a little hoarse," she said. "I need a drink."

    Dorien smiled broadly. "Of course," he said. He held his free hand out to the group. "If you'll excuse us."

    Odette turned around as soon as he loosened his grip on her and took a couple of long strides away from him. She wasn't sure where she was going, but as long as she could get some distance between her and that gods-awful conversation, she didn't care. She stopped next to a standalone table inhabited by a few others. They were speaking so loud that she was able to pick up on their conversation.

    "€10.4 million for the spinda?"

    "I'll do €10.7 million. You won't find these markings on any ol' spinda."

    The longer she'd been here, the more she understood what was happening.

    When she looked around, she saw hundreds more shinies than she had at the gala. As she made her rounds with Dorien upon arriving, she'd bore witness to numerous impromptu auctions, just like the one right next to her. The gala was a social event, but this was a group auction.

    Fucking deplorable, she thought.

    "You really thought any of this was smart?" Enora groused quietly as she sat down next to Odette's feet.

    "Don't start with me, I already know that--"

    She was cut off by Dorien catching up to her. He locked his arms with her and placed a hand on hers. As if he were somehow concerned about her well-being.

    "Sorry about that. Traders tend to get a little excited," he said. He sounded as sincere as he had when he calmed everyone down. As he spoke, a man in a vest sauntered by with a tray of white wine, and Dorien held a hand out to snap at him.

    "Two here, good sir," he said. The waiter stopped and presented the tray, and Dorien plucked two of the glasses from it, handing the second one to Odette. She took it but didn't bother to take a sip. She hardly felt like putting alcohol in her system here would be a good idea.

    She felt on higher alert than she had the last time, especially now that she was here parading Enora around. What she really wanted was a glass of water. Something for the rage, the tiredness.

    "Oh, I'm sorry, are you a wine drinker, Enora?" Dorien asked. Odette watched as Enora shot him a dirty look.

    "No. Ladies do not get inebriated," she said stiffly.

    "Enora doesn't have a taste for alcohol," Odette said. "None of my partners do. Except for Isaur, but she's just a foodie."

    Saying that out loud made her furrow her brow. None of her partners were drinkers, except for Isaur.

    Huh...

    Dorien shrugged before sipping from his glass. "Suit yourself, but this is the good stuff. You won't find this wine at any old tea party."

    That's what they were calling this one, a tea party. A garden tea party. Before, it was a gala, and now it was a tea party. Instead of a grand ballroom, they conversed in a vast, exquisitely-kept garden. Fountains were buried among rows and rows of expertly trimmed flower bushes and towering trees. Of course, this place looked picturesque. According to what Odette had read about it, it was kept almost entirely by roserades, roselias, and budews. It was normally open to the public and was a stomping ground for ambitious trainers. But today, the whole area had been rented out for this event.

    The gathering itself was being held right on the banks of the giant, yet very charming lake, sitting smack in the middle of the flora. It looked like the scene had been pulled from A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of Grande Jatte down to the socialites in their vintage tea dresses, suits, stupid little parasols, and fancy hats. Such beautiful scenery, tarnished by the sound of exchanging prices and the sight of Pokemon who just looked defeated as they followed their owners around.

    A swell of laughter erupted from a group nearby, and Odette turned her head abruptly. Naturally, Noel stood in the middle as he raised his half-empty champagne glass, clinking it with an elderly woman standing next to him, beaming as if he'd just told a clever joke. He held Ru in a baby harness, strapped to his stomach. The bird was in the middle of downing what looked to be a cupcake.

    It was good to see that at least Noel and his partner were having a nice time with the top-donor friends they'd made. She hoped he was getting some good information in that little circle because, at this point, she wanted nothing more than to head home.

    But, they were in deep. She had people bidding on Enora, and Noel had a crowd. As uncomfortable as it felt, it was a good spot. If they left now, there was a chance they forfeited their standing, and they certainly couldn't afford that now.

    Besides, they'd been there for almost two hours, and Odette had yet to see even a glimpse of silver hair...

    "Do you know where I could find some water?" she asked.

    Dorien stopped in his sip before nodding his head toward the bar that had been set up under one of the larger white gazebos.

    "They'll certainly have some at the bar," he said. "Is the wine too much, Doll?"

    "It must be. I feel like I'm going to vomit," she said. She didn't need to lie about that part.

    Dorien sighed deeply. "Well, that's no good," he said, sticking out his lower lip. "Why don't you and Enora head up there, and I'll meet you in a bit? I have to go find the other boys; they're around here somewhere."

    She definitely liked that suggestion. Time away from him was time well spent. He'd barely left her alone since they'd arrived, and if she was going to continue swallowing her rage, she'd need a break. Especially after that conversation.

    "I'm okay with that," she said. She went ahead and pecked him on the cheek to ensure he wouldn't sweep her off into an unwanted kiss again. Gross, but the lesser of the two evils. He chuckled, then tapped her on the nose affectionately. He walked off after that, and Odette waited several seconds before turning on the heels of her character shoes, hiking up her dress with her free hand, and speed-walking to the bar.

    "What do you think you are trying to accomplish here, Odette?" Enora hissed at her feet. "All you are doing is digging yourself into a nefarious situation that you are not knowledgeable enough to get out of on your own."

    "I already told you," Odette replied in a louder whisper. She was panting heavily now, and the corners of her vision were starting to blur. She needed to get to a chair and sit down. "I'm not dropping this until we figure out what the fuck we saw. If you didn't want to get involved, then you shouldn't have asked me to bring you. If you wanted to tell me what a bad idea you thought this was, you had plenty of time to do that safe, at home. This is definitely not the place for you to be riding my dick."

    Odette already felt on edge. She'd nearly sunk into a panic when Enora requested to accompany her out without really specifying why she'd had the change of heart. Having her there, nagging her about how stupid her efforts were, really wasn't helping anything. All it was really doing was frustrating her, and frustration never led to anything good.

    "I needed to see it for myself. And now I am firm on the idea that we should not be here," Enora said as they made it to the bar. Odette threw herself onto one of the stools and sat down with the wine glass. Enora hopped up onto the empty one next to her.

    Taking a cautious look around, Odette could see that the area was mostly empty, and even the single bartender was busy with other matters at the other end of the bar. She took the opportunity to hunch down to Enora's eye level, despite the sleepiness that weighed her body down.

    "I get it, Enora," she said. "But believe me, if you saw what Isaur and I saw last week, you'd get it."

    Enora returned her look with a similar level of intensity like she had no intention of backing down from her stance. Odette believed that much too because there was no swaying Enora from anything unless she put the work into it. But, if there was ever a time for Enora and her to be on the same page, it was now. She needed her to understand.

    "I know you've been quiet about it since I told you what I was doing--what the team's doing," she continued, "but now that you're sitting here, looking at the other shinies around you, you need to talk to me. You can't ask to come along then get mad I brought you. If you have something to say, now's the damn time. Clearly, you wanted to see what was happening, or you'd have kept to yourself as you have been, right?"

    After a long beat, Enora reluctantly turned her head, looking over the other attendees and their Pokemon. Odette followed her gaze and once again took the time to observe them.

    A majority of them looked tired. Maybe not as tired as that malamar and that scizor had looked, but a lot of them walked with noticeably sluggish weight in their step. More noticeably, most exuded an aura of reluctance. They trailed behind their owners with gaits that made it clear they wanted to be anywhere else but there. Smiles were sparse, and cheerful mannerisms were even sparser.

    "It's exactly what Isaur and I told you," she said. "From what we understand, some evil shit came out of those other Pokemon, and we have reason to believe that's happening to all the shinies here. Grandpa might know something about it, and Dorien definitely knows something about it, but we know nothing. And we're trying to change that."

    Odette could see Enora's ears sinking lower and lower the more she spoke.

    "I admittedly don't know what your hangup is. I know you don't like the danger aspect, but you won't tell me anything. I know this hits close to home for you, but I only know that from an assumptive level," she said. "Have you witnessed--"

    Behind them, some cheers rang out. Odette and Enora turned around to see two people, a man, and a woman, shaking hands. At the woman's feet were a shiny plusle and minun, both holding onto each other. Those two didn't look sad, though. They looked scared.

    The man gestured to them, and the minun shook its head. The woman spoke, and they both shook their heads at that time. The man rolled his eyes, and the woman handed him a pokeball. He called the minun back into the ball, pocketed it as he waved to the woman, then turned and walked off as if he'd just bought a jug of milk.

    The plusle began to hobble after the man, but didn't get very far before the woman stepped in front of it. It stared off after the man, and Odette watched as its expression melted from one of anxiety to one of sheer anger.

    Before she knew it, it was sparking up. Finally, a display of defiance. Odette involuntarily perked up.

    But, the sparks died down as soon as they appeared, and the plusle slumped down to its knees, winded. The woman watched, disdained, as she pulled a device out of her pocket to examine it. It looked like a small radio, and Odette recognized it almost immediately. The police used it on rampaging Pokemon to calm them down and keep them from using their moves in a fit of their fury.

    A fucking dampener. That explained so fucking much. Of course, these psychos would be walking around with devices to keep their bought trophies from fighting back. That was why none of them did; they must have known better. She had to wonder if they worked on the monstrous Pokemon too, but was far to stuck on the heartbreaking scene to think too much on it.

    Odette wasn't a crier, but fuck...that sobered her up from her anger haze really fast.

    Her eyes widened, and she turned back around and sat her arms on the counter. She could see out of the corner of her eye that Enora did the same. They didn't speak to each other for a while.

    "My gods..." Enora whispered after gods knew how much time had passed.

    "Do you get it now? You'd want somebody to do something about it if that was you, right?" Odette said in agreement. Enora nodded once in solidarity.

    More silence swelled between them. At that point, Enora's ears had gone totally slack, and she slowly aimed her eyes toward the ground.

    "You're shiny. And I don't know much about where you came from before you joined my team. But if this is too deep for you, I want you to know that you can tell me. Please."

    "I..." she muttered. For a moment, it looked like she wouldn't finish her thought, but she steeled herself with a breath.

    "I do not want to see you get hurt again. Watching what happened to you last year was unbearable, and I do not want anyone to have the opening to make you sink that low ever again." She fell silent to rub her cheek awkwardly. "And I am afraid we're dealing with parties who might make that happen if they could."

    With an inward gasp, Odette bristled. Tension filled her shoulders, and she recoiled backward.

    "This isn't...like that," she said. Her heartbeat picked up speed, and she could hear it in her ears.

    "What happened with Deschamps was...unfortunate. But...this isn't like that. I'm paying attention. Noel's with me. I'm sure to have one of you with me at all times now, too."

    "But then think upon what you are asking of all of us. You might be certain you will not get hurt, but what of me? Or Isaur, or Solene? Or Ange or Loïc?" Enora asked, finally looking up at her again. The intensity of her look caused Odette to catch her breath in her throat. Her internal rage and sorrow cocktail was quickly replaced by guilt.

    "I'm sorry," she said. "I really am...so sorry."

    Finally, she figured knew why Enora was so reluctant. She really was asking so much of her.

    It was one thing to play undercover cop for busting a drug ring, but they had since realized they were dealing with a much bigger problem. Trafficked Pokemon, being bounced around because they can create those demonic Pokemon. It had to have something to do with the drugs yet, but they weren't sure what.

    Odette was asking Enora--and her entire team--to put themselves in a situation they might get hurt. Put themselves in a place where Pokemon were being harmed right in front of them, and just sit back and watch it happen, while perhaps risking becoming part of it. There was even a chance of Odette herself getting harmed through all this, while simultaneously forcing them to bear witness to that as well. Again.

    The anxiety she felt whenever Dorien wrapped his arms around her, kissed her, or looked at her like he wanted to take her was astronomical. It matched her feelings as those socialites stared at Enora during that uncalled-for bid. Of course, she swallowed it down. She knew she was playing a part, and none of it was real...at least, that's what she told herself. She told herself it was worth having to deal with the unwanted affection and the attention on her shiny Pokemon to be able to get to the bottom of what was happening here. She could do that. But to ask Enora herself to do it too? And her team? That was a different story, and in the fervor of her efforts, she'd grown blind to it.

    "I am asking...a lot of you," she said. "And I am just so sorry. That's why I wanted to talk about this, but I'm so caught up in my own head and not really thinking about what might be going through yours. Or Isaur's. Or Ange's. Or Solene's. Hell, even Loïc's."

    For the first time since they arrived, Enora smiled. It caused Odette to grin, and they chuckled with each other. It was a much-needed break from the heavy.

    "But," Odette continued, bringing them back to the topic at hand. "I am really invested in this. More invested than I probably have any business being. Because it's Grandpa, you know? And, that plusle, that minun, the malamar, the scizor...it's all of them too," she said as she gestured behind her, out toward the other despaired shinies.

    It wasn't an immediate reaction, but Enora soon nodded.

    "And we've found so much already. I can't really afford to forfeit all the time I've sunk into this yet, as much as you don't want to hear it. Things are nefarious, but I don't feel like I'm in danger. Yet."

    Enora didn't respond that time.

    "So, how about this," she offered. "If things start getting bad. If Dorien gets too handsy, somebody pulls out a gun, or somebody, like, dies...I'll pull out. Wipe my hands clean, forget it happened." She dusted her hands off and held them out to her sides. "That's me, though. I already told you this, but I don't want to make you do something you're that reluctant--"

    The bartender finally approached, cleaning out a shot glass, effectively cutting her off.

    "Can I get you two anything?" he asked.

    Odette sighed. "Sparkling water."

    "The same, sir," Enora added.

    The bartender nodded and walked off to get it. About a minute of silence later, another presence moved up next to Odette's right side.

    "I'll have what she's having," he called to the bartender as he sat down. Odette nearly jumped out of her skin because she immediately recognized the distinct scent of pecha smoke.

    She cut her gaze to the right and expectantly found that head of silver and pair of bright blue eyes she'd been hunting for. Heat traveled to her face as Clovis looked back at her with a bright smile, even as he held a lit cigarette between his teeth.

    "Fancy seeing you here," he greeted. "I hope you don't mind if I rain on your secluded parade."

    She blinked rapidly, hoping that would somehow allow her to come up with a quick response. "I don't mind at all," she said. "I hate to disappoint, though. I'm sticking to non-alcoholic drinks today."

    Clovis stifled a laugh as he waved at her dismissively. "Cheers to that," he said. "By the way, that is a lovely color on you."

    She peered back down at the frilly pale pink dress she'd dawned on just before her eyes traveled to the pressed pink shirt he wore. There was a neatly folded handkerchief of the same color in his breast pocket; a nice touch. He also wore a pair of bright white pants that were being held up with matching suspender straps, a single ultra ball fixed to the left strap. The white bowtie wrapped the whole ensemble up perfectly--practically a gift bow asking to be pulled open.

    Gods...

    He looked absolutely adorable, in the most gorgeous type of way. And it only made it better than that pink shirt was somehow almost the same hue as her dress.

    Stop. You can't even trust him yet, you don't know what his fucking deal is. Keep it together.

    "Let me guess. Versace?" he asked. A hint of mischief flashed in his eyes as he reached up and grasped his cancer stick between his fingers. She legitimately smiled for the first time that day before rolling her eyes.

    "No, my secondary school costume stash cleanout," she replied. "From our production of Hairspray. Dorien said 'tea party' and I figured I had nothing else that suited the scene."

    He nodded approvingly as he inhaled a drag from the cigarette. "Well, if you don't mind my boldness, you certainly look dashing again."

    Her mind was swimming. Again? Did that mean he thought she looked fine the first time they met? Shit, how did he even remember her from that? Even if they had talked for a while and had dinner together, how many people did this guy talk to a day? A week? How would he have remembered her unless he made a conscious effort to?

    Then again, he tried to warn her not to come back. So, perhaps he was looking for her as a result of that?

    Stop being a fucking moron!

    The bartender returned with three glasses of sparkling water and sat them down. Clovis picked his up, nodding in thanks to the man, before quirking a brow at the latter two drinks.

    "Thirsty?" he queried. It was there that Enora put her paws up on the counter and peered at him over Odette's shoulder.

    "No, that one would be mine," she said.

    Odette could see the sheer shock that came over Clovis's face, even as she grabbed her own glass and began chugging it. The immediate relief she felt from the bubbly hydration was well worth the wait. She'd nearly finished the drink entirely before setting it down again.

    "Right," she said sheepishly. "I brought somebody new today. This is my friend, Enora. Enora, this is Clovis."

    "Charmed, I'm sure," Enora said dubiously.

    "I guess I forgot to mention she was, uh...shiny. She joined my team willingly, though. I found her digging through my dumpster."

    Hopefully, he wouldn't get the wrong idea.

    It was a long while before Clovis spoke again. He was evidently too busy cutting his eyes back and forth between Odette and Enora. Odette could practically hear his brain working, and she nearly cringed. She watched him pull the cigarette out of his mouth and drink from his glass.

    "Funny," he said just after he swallowed his gulp. "I could have sworn by our conversation that you wouldn't get involved with something like this."

    Fuck, she thought angrily.

    She held up a defensive hand. "I'm not."

    He set his glass down and then leaned his cheek on his hand. "Oh, really? How have your bids been today, then?"

    "Haven't hosted any, and I don't plan to."

    He flexed the corners of his lips, mulling the words over. He put the cigarette back in his mouth and took another drag before blowing the smoke up toward the gazebo ceiling.

    "I was a tad shocked to see you here after my warning the other night, but now it's starting to make some more sense to me," he muttered.

    The anger she'd managed to wade through previously was starting to flare back up again. She wasn't quite sure why, though. She knew where his head was, and it, of course, made sense. She supposed she was getting so upset because she couldn't bear the thought of this man she liked so much viewing her in such a negative light. Right?

    This...this is real bullshit.

    "Whatever you're thinking, I can assure you it's not true," she said as evenly as she could manage.

    "What do you think I'm thinking?" He quirked a brow again. This time, it was a tad bit more serious.

    "Commoner trainer who got incredibly lucky wants to figure out how to push that luck. Rest assured, it's not like that," she shot back.

    "Quit it with the insolence, you have misunderstood the intent here!" Enora yipped. The suddenness of her outburst caused Odette to turn around to face her. Enora now wore a look of determination--like she also wanted to make it clear that Clovis's current assumptions were wrong.

    "Then, what's your angle? It all seems pretty straightforward."

    A nasty glare fell over her features as she looked back over at him. Her angered lips detached from her brain and began to run before she could think it over. "I could ask you the same thing, Clovis. What's a shut-in like you doing figure skate--"

    She wanted to cover her mouth. She wanted to stop herself from asking such a pointed question like that. However, she needn't have bothered. Hands covered her mouth before she could finish talking, but they weren't hers.

    It all happened so fast. She was talking, and the next thing she knew, Clovis was almost entirely out of his chair, lunging forward to press his hands over her mouth. She wasn't sure when he'd grabbed the handkerchief, but it was dangling between his fingers as he held it over her lips.

    She blinked once, twice, three times before angling her eyes up toward him. He stared down at her with that same panic he held in his eyes when he'd accidentally dropped that hint on her the first time. This time, however, it was lingering.

    He looked over toward a man who happened to be walking by and smiled. "No worries, she just cut her lip a little bit," he assured. The guy seemed to accept that explanation because he walked off. As he left, Clovis's expression morphed back into that same panicked look as he sat down and removed one hand from her mouth.

    "Take the handkerchief," he said in a whisper. But, what struck her is that he said it in Galarian. She considered it before doing as he instructed. He sighed in what sounded to be relief as he removed his other hand and sat back down.

    "Great, you understood," he said. Those words were in Galarian too.

    She narrowed her eyes at him. "My Galarian is pretty good," she said, following his lead with the language switch. She didn't quite like how thick her accent sounded around the words, but she knew she could speak it well. "I'm also really good at not letting my screw-ups show on my face."

    He laughed, though it sounded rather rancorous. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and snuffed it out on an ashtray that happened to be on the counter. He then chugged what was left of his water before slamming the glass back down. He clearly did it more aggressively than he intended because the 'BANG' that rang out made him flinch.

    "Gods," he seethed through clenched teeth. "I know better. I really do know better."

    "Undercover cops have blown their cover for less," she said quietly before lowering the handkerchief to her lap.

    "I'm sure you would know, Miss Cinq-Mars. Your grandfather has been on the police force for years."

    Her stomach dropped. The silence that followed compelled him to keep talking.

    "Since you clarified that you did your research, I thought I'd return the favor."

    She brought her hand to her face and began to scratch her cheek as she turned to lean her elbows on the bar. From the corner of her eye, she could see Clovis do the same.

    She wondered how she should word her next question. She knew what a search for her name would bring up and wondered what exactly he found. If he was anywhere as thorough as she was…

    "And?" she asked.

    He released a huff as he began to tap his fingers on the granite. "The subject matter was less than savory, and I can bet my fortune it's not something you want to discuss with me."

    She knew for sure she wasn't breathing normally at this point. She felt Enora place her paw on her hand and sent her a quiet nod.

    "How'd you even research me without my last name?" she asked. "Did you ask Dorien for it?"

    He didn't immediately respond, but when he did, he was quite sharp with his tone. "Hell no. Didn't want to pique his interest in my affairs. I had a name, and a face, and I knew you danced. It was a process of elimination, but I had the resources to figure it out," he explained.

    She supposed with a billion dollars on hand, it was just that easy. She wanted to be upset, but how could she when she had a literal packet of information on him in her backpack? But why would he research her at all? Was it because he knew his slip-up and wanted to know how to keep her from squealing?

    For some reason, she felt as if she was up shit's creek without a paddle. How was she supposed to maneuver this?

    "I know you're supposed to be a shut-in who's helping your dad Charles run the Clair De Lune group. You also have a lot of fucking siblings," she said.

    He hummed to himself for a while, then scoffed. "Just to correct you from earlier, I'm not a cop," he said.

    "Right, you're actually a figure skater," she responded, barely loud enough to be heard.

    She heard him exhale sharply. "Anything else?"

    Yes. Yes. Yes.

    "Any scandals I should know about?"

    The look he gave her was perturbed. "No?" he replied. "Define scandals?"

    "What do you think I mean by scandals?"

    His brows remained knit as he continued staring at her. He eventually tilted his head.

    "Are you asking if I'm a predator?"

    "Well, are you?"

    He exhaled sharply, eyes momentarily bugging out of his head in a state of disbelief. For a moment, it almost looked as if he'd whip her with a violent tongue-lashing. But just before his expression could become too intense, a sense of...understanding seemed to pass over his features.

    "I respect the nerve to ask," he said. He spoke more calmly than she anticipated he would. The look he trained on her now was intense, but she held it, relentlessly hunting for any indication he might not have been speaking truthfully. "But rest assured, I wouldn't dream of being so," he paused briefly, trying to find the right word, "disgusting. If there's one thing I can promise you, it's that."

    His eyes were as unyielding as his words. It felt like he was speaking to her with a sense of urgency at that moment. Like he wanted her to know that he was definitely telling the truth.

    Somehow, that made her feel better. Just a little. It probably wasn't the best approach, but she needed to know.

    "If you're done with the accusations, I'm going to ask you again," he said after a beat of silence. There was a new sternness in his tone that made her blood run cold. "What's your angle?"

    She racked her brain for how she felt she could answer this. From her conversation with Noel just several days before, she'd had her share of hypotheses, and she'd been solely convinced that Clovis had something to do with Virtue Corp, and his alignment banked on where Virtue Corp stood. She didn't have much to run with on that account, but it seemed likely, given the other pieces they'd put together.

    Of course, there was still the chance that he was simply a rich person who vehemently opposed the shiny trade, somehow. However, given that he'd gone out of his way to research her knowing he said something he shouldn't have said, her first hypothesis was looking more and more probable. If he was trying to hide an aspect of his past, there's no way he'd go as far as to internet stalk her too. If it were her, she'd deny it. Clovis apparently had more to hide, and that was all too clear.

    But the biggest question stood: was Virtue Corp on their side, or were they more aligned with Team Enigma?

    She didn't have time to think about it. She had to act fast. Answer fast.

    "Figuring out what the fuck the shiny trade is. And where sacrilege is coming from," she said. Maybe she could appeal to the fact that they were on the same page concerning their hate for this institution.

    He leaned back and crossed his arms, ducking his chin toward his chest as if he were sinking into deep thought. She decided that it'd be a good idea for her to wrap her thoughts up, lest she accidentally say too much.

    "So whatever you're thinking? It's wrong. My intentions are good."

    And she hoped she was on the right track.

    He didn't move or give any acknowledgment of her words. At least, not until a snicker jolted his shoulders. Shaking his head, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. In a couple of motions, he seemed to have it down to a science, the stick was lit between his teeth. He then shot a look not at her but at Enora. He then gazed out over the garden, and Odette followed his look. Her eyes fell back on the woman who split up the plusle and minun, and she had half a mind to walk over there and punch her square in the jaw. The level of heartlessness was astronomical, she still couldn't fathom it.

    "I believe you," Clovis suddenly declared, turning back around and resting his arms on the table.

    Odette shot a look at him. "You do?" There was no goddamn way it was that easy.

    "You are certain of that?" Enora chimed in.

    With a few nods, he met her gaze as he exhaled some smoke. "I'm sure you've seen it. All these mini-auctions?" he asked. "Just the other day, at another one of these parties, I watched a man auction off a phantump to somebody. He later pulled out a pumpkaboo and the thing had no idea where her friend went. The look on her face when she realized was just--" he raised his hand to cut himself off and shook his head despairingly. "It's fucking haunting."

    "I just watched someone split up a plusle and minun pair," Odette said numbly. His mannerisms and words looked promising to her. "One of them tried to fight back, and they have...fucking dampeners?"

    Clovis exhaled sharply, and he took a deep drag. "Yeah, they do that. Wouldn't be able to keep such a strong hold on their 'mon without them," he said. "The people here do not care about their Pokemon. They care about the money that comes in from the trade, and..."

    "...the things that come out of them."

    Clovis sent her a hard, piercing look. "Sort of, yes." Another drag from the cigarette. He'd sucked it down almost halfway. "The point I'm trying to make," he said as he exhaled. He opened his mouth to continue but shook his head as he moved his gaze to Enora.

    "Do you even want to be here?" he asked. "Be honest. With me and yourself."

    Odette also looked over to the sylveon, both eager to hear that answer and to hide her surprise. Asking Enora directly what she was feeling? Nobody aside from Dorien's fake self had done that, and Clovis appeared dead set on hearing an answer, judging by the way he stared Enora down.

    Enora's ears drooped for a moment, and her shoulders tensed as she realized she was in the spotlight again. She averted her eyes away, and just when Odette thought she would remain silent, she spoke.

    "I do," Enora said sternly. "Where my partner goes, I go."

    It was Odette's turn to widen her eyes, and Enora turned to meet her gaze.

    She nodded again. Firmly. Absolutely.

    She was in.

    "I might disagree with her decisions sometimes, but I trust Odette with my life, and that will never change. She would do the same for me."

    Odette resisted the urge to throw her arms around Enora, instead settling to place her hand on her head.

    "Somebody kept asking me if I'd be willing to sell her earlier," she explained. "It made me ill."

    "Indeed,"
    Enora said.

    "Well," Clovis said. "I stand corrected. No shiny Pokemon would choose to be here like this unless they really cared." Another drag from the cigarette. "And you wouldn't be repulsed by the idea of selling her like a stock unless you cared for her too."

    Odette shared one last look with her trusted partner, who looked far less tense.

    "Are you sure?" she mouthed.

    "Yes. I am with you."

    Odette anxiety subsided, and she felt significantly less screwed than she had just a few minutes before.

    "I believe you. And...I apologize for jumping a gun," Clovis spoke.

    She shrugged and shook her head, trying to appear as if she were mostly unfazed. "No harm done."

    The pained smile he gave her said otherwise, and she understood why.

    "Since we seem to be on the same page, though...do you trust me enough to answer some questions?" she pressed.

    Clovis sighed very deeply at that. "Surely. I have some myself," he said. "And I propose we answer each other's questions sooner rather than later. But not here." He looked over his shoulder, and she decided to do the same.

    "So, may I request that we put a pin in this?" he queried.

    Her heartbeat picked up with a mixture of excitement and shock. But, she kept herself together. "I don't think I have a choice. I share your sentiment that this isn't the place," she said. "Though, how do I know you won't play dumb if I try to run you down again?"

    She heard him suck his teeth as he turned his head to face her again and took that as an invitation to look at him as well. His eyes were aimed down at the table. Thinking again, most likely.

    "Do you have your phone on you?" As Clovis spoke, he was digging into his pocket again. He withdrew the same Applin phone he'd dunked in the vase at the gala. The thing had to have been waterproof because he clicked it on, and it appeared to be working.

    "Uh, yeah," Odette said. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and withdrew her own phone. She'd barely gotten it out before Clovis abruptly handed her his. She could see that he'd gone ahead and opened the 'New Contact' menu on it.

    "Quickly now," he said.

    It might have been a mix of that dumb girl crush and the sheer shock that he was so willing to exchange contacts, but she didn't stall a single second. She snatched the device and punched in her number and name, probably a little more eagerly than she intended to. Upon saving it, she gave it back to him. Clovis tapped the screen several times, and RotomPhone buzzed a second later.

    "Bzzt! New text from New Contact: Clovis LeClair!" he said.

    "There," Clovis said. "Now you have my number and a written confirmation that we've spoken."

    He stood and placed the phone back in his pocket. "We'll be in touch." He switched back to speaking Kalosian, and he went ahead and bowed to her.

    "It was a pleasure speaking again, Miss Cinq-Mars. I must make my rounds now, but I'll keep my eye out for you. Keep the handkerchief."

    He winked, then walked into the nearby crowd as if nothing had happened. She watched him go, blinking as if she were again watching some sort of mirage fade from view. She exchanged shocked looks with Enora before fumbling to unlock her phone to view the message.


    On this day, 1/20/20, Clovis LeClair and Odette Cinq-Mars spoke at a tea party. Clovis and Odette promised to answer each other's questions at a later date.

    She read the message over and over again. When he said written proof, he really meant it.

    "What do you make of that interaction?" Enora asked.

    "I don't know," Odette said. "I think that worked out. But I'll believe it when I see it."

    "I am inclined to agree."

    She nodded. "Yeah, we definitely should go find them. Noel is going to flip out."

    She still wasn't quite sure how to feel about the interaction that just went down. She'd need some time to dissect it, but she felt good about it for now. Her warm feelings for him aside, what just happened felt trustworthy to her now. If he were trying to evade her, he might not have even offered his phone for her number in the first place.

    So many questions, but not enough answers. But, at least, she could cling to the hope that she'd get them answered. She also felt proud of herself for managing to snag his number. Of course, it wasn't the way she hoped, but she'd call it a win, all things considered.

    "...I am sorry for raising my voice there," Enora said sheepishly. "But I was getting quite heated in the moment, I could not help myself."

    Odette frowned, then scratched the sylveon behind the ear again. "It's okay. As I said, I think that worked out."

    "But do you trust him? He struck me as rather sincere, but I would tread carefully."

    "For now, I want to believe he can be of some assistance. There are too many factors pointing to him being at least somewhat truthful, and that's more than what we have now."

    That was one thing she at least momentarily didn't have to fret about. The other issue at hand, though...

    She sent Enora a wary look. "Are you sure about this? I don't want you to feel compelled to take part in this if you don't want to. That almost defeats the point, you know?"

    Enora pawed her ear in a quick swipe before firmly shaking her head. She sat tall and puffed out her chest. "I have made up my mind, Odette. I am here now, and will be until we drop this," she announced. Odette couldn't help but smile at the display. That time, she allowed herself to go in for the hug.

    "I mean it, though. You can cry 'uncle' whenever you want, and I won't blame you," Odette said quietly. "For real, okay?"

    "Yes. I appreciate that, but it is not necessary."

    Odette released her hold and sat back, feeling just slightly more triumphant. A welcome sensation gave the day she had so far.

    "Let's go find Noel, then."

    ***​

    Odette weaved along the gravel trails. She'd wanted to walk by the lake, but many people seemed to be down there blatantly ignoring the "Beware of Gyarados!" signs positioned all around the perimeter. None of them appeared to care, though. She wondered if there had ever been an attack at a gathering like this. Trainers frequented those waters a lot, but did the gyarados go after people on land?

    Her mind began to wander as she started to imagine herself in a situation of an attack, and her gaze traveled over to Enora, who was in front of her, walking along with Ru on her back. It'd been a while since she'd been involved in a battle with a wild Pokemon, but she supposed it wouldn't be anything she couldn't handle.

    "Well. Your impulsivity paid off. Now you're in with the billionaire," Noel said, snapping her back to reality. She looked over at him as he handed her back her phone, an approving look on his face.

    She shrugged as she took it, sliding it into her pocket next to Clovis's handkerchief. "He just started to piss me off, and I ran my mouth."

    "And you stumped him enough to get him to admit it, at least indirectly. This is big," Noel said.

    Another couple who happened to be taking a walk around the bushes too walked by, sending her and Noel polite nods as they went. She returned the gesture and only responded when she was sure they'd gone out of earshot.

    "It's something. I'm still thinking about how this is supposed to go down," she said under her breath.

    "From what I've seen in the movies, he's going to invite you to an empty, abandoned warehouse for a party," Noel said as he ran his hands through his slicked-back hair.

    "That's not funny," Odette breathed. "And for your information, he seemed pretty offended I even insinuated he was a predator."

    "Well, that's promising coming out of you. Regardless, wherever he invites you to, you're going to bring Enora and me right?"

    At the sound of her name, Enora turned around and smiled. Ru chirped as well.

    "I definitely wouldn't want to leave you out of the fun," she snapped. Especially now that Enora was at least tentatively on board. "And I'm obviously not dumb enough to walk off with a virtual stranger when we're investigating something criminal. Playing it safe and covering the bases."

    She looked over her shoulder, ensuring they were still far from others as she spoke. The more they freely talked about this, the more anxious she felt herself becoming. Any one of these present snobs could have been listening in.

    "Just making sure your formal police academy training wasn't for naught," Noel snickered, kicking a rock aside. His shoe scraped against the gravel, kicking some dust up in the process.

    Odette kept her eyes peeled on the distant crowd, and she narrowed them as if that would somehow allow her to see better through the glasses on her face. She eventually caught sight of Dorien standing with Denis, Colin, Adam, and Lionel. As if fate wanted to tell her to go fuck herself, their eyes locked as soon as she noticed him, and he waved excitedly at her.

    The smile she formed was bitter as she lazily returned it. Noel noticed her waving and followed her eyes. Upon noticing Dorien, he also began to wave, which was enough to get it to stop. Dorien abruptly dropped his hand and turned to converse with one of the other men. Colin, on the other hand, began to wave, thus prompting Noel to stop.

    "Gods, not you," Noel groused.

    "Why are you so mean to him? I mean, not that it matters because he's here," Odette mused, "but I didn't remember him being an ass to you."

    "He wasn't," Noel said, something far more solemn caressing his tone. "He's an absolute sweetheart, the shiny trade shit aside. This is why I need to be assertive and clear that I'm not interested."

    Odette's brow quirked. She knew Noel had his "commitment issues," but something about that seemed...extreme. But she had no room to be skeptical. She was no dating expert. Whatever worked for Noel would work for her.

    "I'm more concerned with your man not liking me. I seem to have done a good job on that front," he smirked.

    "Lucky you," Odette said. "Maybe you won't get invited to our wedding."

    Eyes wide, Noel whipped back around to face her. "Who said anything about a wedding?"

    "Oh, you didn't hear? Apparently, it's something he's thinking about. He'd be able to 'die happy' if he could call me his wife," she said sharply.

    "Hell no," Noel spat. "You and I are getting married for the tax benefits before I let you meet that bitch at the end of the aisle."

    That got a laugh out of her, and she absolutely needed it. She leaned her head against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his. "My knight in shining armor," she said, feigning a shrill voice. He chuckled and took that as an invitation to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

    "I wonder how Denis is dealing with those flagrant ass comments. I think it'd be funny to see them go at it," Noel snickered.

    She furrowed her brow, picking her head off his shoulder to peer up at him. "Why would Dorien and Denis go at it?"

    Noel sent her a playfully puzzled look. "Denis had a thing for you, didn't he? Some jealous fighting between rich boys might make this more bearable."

    "What the hell are you going on about? Denis never had a thing for me," she scoffed, confused. Noel looked positively taken aback. Like he was about to shake some sense into her.

    "He asked you out twice."

    "Huh?" She felt she would have recalled something like that, yet she was drawing blanks. "If he did, I definitely don't remember."

    "Really? I could have sworn he did," Noel said. He seemed to relent because he shook his head in defeat. "But maybe I'm all screwed up by this sleuthing shit. Or you're just cold and are good at putting that shit out of your head."

    "I do classify myself as pretty chilly."

    I wouldn't forget that, she assured herself. But it was starting to feel like a false statement. Forgetting about Dorien's occupation, and now apparently forgetting Denis of all people had also had a thing for her? Did she really put that much of her secondary school days out of her head?

    "What does it matter, though? They're both off the table. If your faith and reads on the silver delphox ring true, he's the one," Noel said.

    That was something better to think about. "Really, now?"

    Noel began to shake his head. "If he's not lying, he was hella forthright with the flirting. He looked at you like he would melt when we sat down for dinner the other night. When I said he thought you were pretty, I wasn't busting your balls."

    "What are you going on about now?"

    "See, this is why we're friends, Dee." He pinched her nose with his free hand, causing her to thrash her head to shake him off. "You pick up on everything but the flirting, and that's where I'm holding your slack."

    Her expression didn't change. "Again, I ask. What the fuck are you going on about now?"

    Noel dramatically rolled his eyes. "He was flirting with you so goddamn hard at the table, I'm surprised even you didn't notice," he said through a laugh. "If he weren't such a scary fucking enigma, I'd have asked for his number on your behalf."

    This was news to her. While Noel certainly had a point, flirting was not her forte, she never once got the vibe that him talking to her was him trying to flirt. They were just...talking about her dancing. And he was telling her about things he knew about the wealthy, perhaps things he probably shouldn't have told a stranger such as herself…

    Gods, was that flirting? Maybe it wasn't shocking she'd forgotten being asked out twice, this was clearly not her forte. And for all she knew, he was a part of a villainous organization...

    Her face had morphed into a more contemplative expression, and Noel laughed heartily. He wriggled his arm out of her grasp and moved behind her, setting his hands on her shoulders to give her a half-hearted massage.

    "Sweet, sweet, summer child Odette," he sang. She reached back and smacked him on his wrist.

    "I don't do this dating thing, ass," she said. "Especially not now."

    "Nothing's stopping you from window shopping, and you can't go wrong with the richest guy in the garden," Noel suggested. "Despite what we may or may not know about him. Ignorance is bliss sometimes."

    While she listened to him talk, her eyes started to wander again. She didn't dare look back in the direction she saw Dorien and the other Lansat boys, lest she unintentionally beckoned them over. Instead, she was hunting for silver again. She thanked her lucky stars Clovis had decided to dye his hair such a ridiculous color because she found him easily among the sea of blonde, brunette, and black.

    He was standing by a couple of other men, smoking yet another cigarette. His mouth moved as if he were talking, and his lips slowly but surely began to morph into a smile as his shoulders started to shake.

    Gods, he even made laughing look dreamy. She didn't even know what the hell was so funny, and she felt the urge to giggle with him.

    "I mean, fuck. Look at him," Noel said. "Honestly, once we figure him out, I bet I could make him have a bisexual awakening if I tried hard enough."

    "I thought you said I could have him?"

    "That's why I said bisexual instead of gay. We can share."

    Odette formed a joking comeback but was interrupted by a shrill roar coming from the lake, followed by some surprised gasps and screams. She looked at Noel before rushing around the rosebush she was standing next to get a view of the lake. The sight of a gyarados rearing its head up out of the water, close to the bank, and near a group of people. Some of them scrambled back, but others actually lingered close. There was a distinct sound of laughter in the air now.

    "So much for beware of the gyarados," Noel said, an air of disgust in his voice. "Bet they're going to make their poor shinies fight."

    Odette had gotten a similar thought, and she didn't like the prospects of that. If any of the present shinies were as tired as the malamar and scizor had been, that wouldn't end well.

    A man stepped forward from the small crowd. Heavyset, bald, suit didn't look like it fit well. He raised what she thought was a pokeball, and brought his thumb to his face.

    "Desmocula, let's have some fun!" he shouted. The ball opened in a pop of maroon light, and he bit down on his thumb in the same manner Odette had seen Mr. and Mrs. Patenaude do during their battle.

    "No fucking way," Noel said. He took the words right out of her mouth.

    In another otherworldly show, a demonic Pokemon reared its head. This one didn't look like a fish or a leech. This one closely resembled a bat. Its ears were bigger than its head, and its fangs, dripping with a black substance, protruded from its jaw. Its wings were long, sporting a deep black color. They almost reminded Odette of a cape a vampire would wear. As soon as the monster had fully formed, it launched itself at the gyarados, with a shriek that made her flinch.

    "W-what is that?" Enora queried. Her voice broke, most likely from the sheer bombshell she was witnessing. Even Ru looked surprised.

    "Remember those Pokemon Isaur and I told you about?" Odette said. "Safe to assume that's one."

    The heavyset man wasn't even calling out any moves. He was letting the horrific bat go to town on the serpent. They were matched in size, but it looked like Desmocula was faster. Every time the gyarados tried to whip it with its tail or go in for a bite, the bat was one step ahead. It zipped and zig-zagged around, landing violent nip after heavy slap, and it wasn't long before the gyarados as wobbling in exhaustion.

    "Why not record it? You should have filmed the last ones you saw too!" Ru squeaked, pointing toward the fight. Noel bristled at the words.

    "Good point," he said. He scrambled for his phone. "Why didn't we film the ones we saw before?"

    It was an immediate lightbulb moment, and Odette dug into her pocket for her own phone. She'd been too shocked the first time to think of anything but the battle she was witnessing, but now, with a little more clearness, why wouldn't she try to film it? She wasn't sure what she could do with it, but she'd figure that out later. It was damning evidence as long as she didn't make it obvious what she was up to. Surely the wealthy had a "no cameras allowed" rule regarding these things, considering what a secret it is.

    "That's weird," Noel said, tapping his phone screen aggressively. "It's telling me my camera app's disabled here."

    Odette frowned as she powered on her phone. She didn't put it past Noel to overuse his phone memory, so that had to be the problem. Luckily, she barely used her camera, so she had plenty of room. She tapped on the app, and positioned herself to start filming by angling herself behind Noel so nobody directly to his left could see her.

    "Bzzzzzt. Sorry, Odette. Camera's not working," RotomPhone said.

    "What? What do you mean?" she asked. "I have no memory usage. How is it not working?

    "Bzzzzzzzzzzzzt. Dunno! I can't pull it up. Something's blocking me from accessing it. Bzzzzt!"

    Her mouth gaped as she returned attention to the one-sided battle. The gyarados looked like a ragdoll now, but Desmocula was still going at it.

    "That doesn't make any sense."

    She tried to dwell on it some more, but her focus sunk into the battle upon noticing that the gyarados fell completely limp. A knockout.

    Wait...no. The bat wasn't stopping. The gyarados was not fighting back, and Desmocula was still ripping into it.

    "Stop," she muttered, somehow hoping that would end the battle. "It's done. What are you doing?"

    Nothing happened. The "battle" continued, and blood began filling the water. What made it worse was that she could hear the heavyset man laughing.

    "Keep it up, Desmocula! No mercy!"

    "Mercy's gone, he's killing it," Odette said loudly. Her lower back started to prickle, and it picked up intensity faster than it usually did. She looked at Noel, who just looked clueless. He was as lost on what to do as she was.

    Desmocula went in for another attack, and in a swift bite, it tore off one of the gyarados' whiskers. It didn't even flinch.

    She couldn't take it anymore. She'd been walking around despondent Pokemon all day and witnessing the worst of the worst of mankind. She could no longer sit by and watch this happen. Her anger was bubbling over into a violent froth.

    Before considering her options, she was already halfway toward the bank.

    "Stop! It fainted! You're done!" she bellowed, stomping up to the overweight man. He apparently didn't hear her because he looked surprised when she got to him and grabbed him by the fabric of his sleeve.

    "Call that thing back," she seethed. "You're gonna kill it!"

    "Bah!" the man spat, swatting at her. "Get away, little one. You don't know what you're fuckin' talkin' about. One less gyarados won't kill anybody, ya know?"

    He turned back around, and Odette's vision swam. Without a moment's hesitation, she lunged for the Pokeball in his hand.

    "Hey!" he yelped. "I said keep back!"

    He wrestled with her, and Odette discovered that there was indeed strength between all that fat. In a single push, he sent her stumbling backward. The force of her head and back hitting the grass knocked the wind out of her, and she coughed violently.

    "I should press charges for harassment, you fuckin' bitch. Let me do my thing, and you crawl back from where ya came and do yours."

    He stomped back to watch the fight, leaving Odette struggling to recollect herself.

    She'd been trying so hard all day to keep it together. She'd been trying so hard to keep herself in control. She dealt with kissing Dorien, discussing marriage with him, getting lectured by Clovis, and watching the shiny trade function. The day had been hell on earth, and she'd managed to keep herself under control and act the part just to find just a smidge of information.

    All of that was out the window now. As she pushed herself to sit up, all she could see was red. She reached for a rock.

    I'll fucking teach you to push me.

    She forced herself to stand and reared back to peg it right at the back of his bald head. However, she was stopped from doing so by that same demonic screech.

    "AAAHREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

    She looked back up to see the abomination flying back toward the bank. It had left the gyarados floating lifeless on the lake. It landed with a harsh 'thump' on the grass, and the man extended his arms and flexed the pokeball toward it.

    "Desmocula, return--"

    The man was cut off by the twisted bat pushing him aside, sending him flying to the side. Odette watched in a mix of surprise and delight as he rolled away. However, the surprise and delight were short-lived when she looked back toward the Pokemon and saw it glaring toxic daggers at her. Tarry saliva drilled to the ground as Desmocula crouched low, growling dangerously.

    Odette tensed, her anger subsiding and morphing into fear. That fear grew in size as the demon took a step toward her. Instinctively, she stepped backward, dropping the rock, and that was apparently the only invite Desmocula needed. With a hiss, it lunged.

    It all happened in an instant. As the giant bat terror flew toward her, an intense ringing filled her ears, quickly becoming so deafening that she could hear nothing else--not the snarl of Desmocula, or the screams of the onlookers. All sound was absorbed in the ringing, and she could do nothing but cover her head.

    Then, it was like something had taken over. Pure, undiluted fury--unlike she'd ever felt before--engulfed her whole being, and she suddenly felt like she was on fire. But the fire was...empowering? She suddenly felt energized, strong, and almost...good?

    However, this will wasn't her own. Her conscious thoughts still managed to break through.

    What's happening? What's happening? Stop ringing! Brace!

    While all she wanted to do was cover her head, something invisible compelled her to stand upright and look this thing in the face. As she stood upright and opened her eyes, she found that she could only see from her right, as the left had gone dark.

    ...what the fuck is happ--

    Her thoughts and the ringing were abruptly interrupted by her own voice.

    B̴̨̭̓̋̃Ī̸̱̮̙̝̘͂̚͜Ţ̸̮̱̽̊C̴͖̭̙̱̓̏͠H̸̠̑͝,̷̤͍̈͊̒̓̏͝ ̶͖̭̝̺̖̒̅̐͜Į̸̖̣͍̞̩̓͗̓̅͠ ̸̦̬͂H̸͕̙̓͑̓̉̒͝Ö̵̧̩́͝P̵̤̎̓͆̆È̴̡̲̻̰̼ ̷̰͍̠͔̝̻̏̃̓͐͑̚T̵̟͚̞͌̽͌Ḩ̸͔̭̗̺̂̽̒̓͝E̵̛̹͂ ̷͕̣̥̀͒̏͝ͅF̶̥̳͕̆͊̿̑͛̌Ų̷̤̭̏̊̉̚͜͝Ç̶̼̦̱͈͈̆̋̋K̸͔̺͚̦͚̯̋̆͗̇ ̶͔̬̮͓̊̏̊͛̉Y̷̩͚͛̊̎͒͝Ò̴̱ͅƯ̴̠̐́̽̉ ̸̬̬̻̼͈̉͂D̷̯͍͍̜͇̐̍͑̆͜͠O̷̗̒̈́̈́!̷̪̯͒͛́ ̶̧͇̭͖͌͐̅B̷̢̧̺̣̟̓͂̋̈̋͘I̸̞͍͍̔T̵͚̖̅E̴̢͉͕̭̯͌̉͝ ̵̦͓͚̬̉͂͜M̸̢̛̭̮̲̟͒̿̂Y̷͕͎͘͜ ̶̡͎͔̖̝̪͗͌̌̒̋V̴̧̘̩̙̑͛̊͛͝Ĕ̵̲̝̩̫̮̈̂̓̾̊S̵̮̜̉̒͒̈́̓̀͜͜Ṡ̷͎̥͕Ę̶̀̈́̈́͋̾L̷̜͈͇̩̗̱͋̌̅̋̚,̴̨̠̦͛̄̑̽͐͜ ̷̦͚̩̪̙͐͊̎S̷̡͕͕̟̋̆Ȩ̴͕̪͙́̾̕E̶̞͚̙̓͛͛̚ͅ ̸̘͇́̇̈́̍̐̀W̶͖̏́̒͋̍Ḣ̴̡̘̭̓͆́̏̚ͅA̷̪̝͋T̷̡̲̤͎͌́ ̷̢̪̗̏͊̓͒ͅͅF̸̺̜̋̒U̵̡̧̘̟͋̈́̓͊̾͘C̵̡̗̰̘̫͛͜K̸̦̉̆͘I̸̘͈͋N̷̬̲̬̅̍̋̃͑͝G̴͈̙̤̲̊̃͘ ̴̢̝͔̘͉̣̑̑͝H̵̪̙͙͓͖̍͋̓͗̃A̵͓̬͔͕͌͐̌P̶̺͂͌͐̓̊̕P̷̧̻̎̽͛͊̍Ę̶̥̦̲̠̦̀N̵̻̖̮͌̂̊͘̚S̷̝͖̖͋̿!̴̛̩͍

    Desmocula winced in pain and fell onto its side, writhing and barking as if it were being attacked. It whined in agony as it scrambled back onto all-fours, scurried back toward the heavyset man, then disappeared into the pokeball he'd dropped in a flash of maroon light.

    The silence that now lingered was tense. The ringing had gone, and Odette was left with the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears and her breathing picking up intensity. Her eyes remained locked on that pokeball as she searched her brain for an explanation of what had just happened.

    That...was her voice. But it wasn't. It sounded like her, but it sounded distorted. Like it was being broadcasted through a weak radio station. Even more so, what had that done to that Pokemon?

    Blinking, she very quickly became aware of how heavy she felt. She felt like she wasn't getting enough air, and her head quickly fogged up. She could also feel tears streaming down her face on the left side. When had she started crying?

    She was panting now, and her legs began to wobble. Nonetheless, she still found the energy to raise her hand to her cheek and hastily wipe the tears away. But, as she moved her hand away from her face, she saw a speck of deep red. She examined her hand and found her fingers coated in blood.

    Everything went black after that.

    ***​

    "O? Dee? Hey, come on back! Follow the sound of my voice!"

    "Step back, give her some air. Somebody get her some water!

    "On it."

    "Odette? Please wake up, I am right here."

    Odette groaned, and she tried to force her eyes open as she rocked her head from side to side. She felt the grass rustle beneath her as she did and a set of hands on her cheeks, lightly patting her back to consciousness.

    "That's it! Hey buddy. Open your eyes and look at me." That was definitely Noel. She could barely make out his silhouette as her eyes adjusted to the light. With a few blinks, she could see his worried yet smiling face.

    "Welcome back to the land of the living, madlad," he laughed. "You scared me."

    "Noel...what...?"

    "You fainted. That Pokemon lunged at you, and you passed out," he explained. He ran his finger over her cheekbone. "Don't know when the hell it cut you in the damn eye, though."

    She continued to blink the involuntary sleep away, bringing her hand to her face to rub her eyes. She was startled yet again to find more blood coming from her left, and it was enough to get her to sit up on her own.

    "Easy, easy. Go slow, give your brain a second to recuperate."

    A hand fell against her lower back, and turning her head in the direction it felt like it was coming from, she saw it was none other than Clovis. He grinned nervously when their eyes met, gripping her shoulder with his other hand.

    "Hi, there," he greeted. "Do you know who I am?"

    She nodded dazedly. "You're Clovis. I'm Odette. We're in a garden," she said flatly.

    He pursed his lips, looking somewhat impressed. "Alright, that's a fantastic sign."

    "Thank goodness, I was getting worried!"

    Odette moved her attention to Enora, who had crawled into her lap and stared up at her with worried eyes. Odette placed a hand on her head and thumbed her forehead. "I'm awake. I'm awake. Not going anywhere..."

    She trailed off just in time for Dorien to jog up, holding a full glass of water. He kneeled in front of her.

    "Good, good, you're sitting up. Here, drink," he said, panting. He held the water out to her, and she took it steadily, carefully. She wanted to ensure she'd regained full motor function before she went about snatching things from people.

    She wordlessly chugged the water, which did wonders in restoring her to her usual headspace. She no longer felt clouded and tired and instead felt like she could stand. So, she did.

    "Whoa, are you sure this is a good idea?" Noel asked, holding his arms out to catch her if she fell. She only stumbled but caught her balance rather quickly.

    "I'm good," Odette assured him as she nodded to herself. That was very far from the truth regarding her mental state, but she at least felt like she could drive her motorcycle home now, and that's all she wanted to do. She wanted to get out of here and away from whatever she just bore witness to.

    What did I do?

    "I think we can go now. I'm ready to go."

    "No shot you're operating a bike after just fainting. I'll go call us a Lyft, and we'll come back and get the motorcycle tomorrow," Noel insisted.

    "I can drive you home if you'd like?" Dorien offered.

    Noel shot him a playfully rancorous grin. "Thaaaaaanks, sweetie, but I think we're good. I got this."

    At least Noel could offhandedly curve Dorien without much consequence. It must have been nice.

    Clovis interjected into the exchange by raising his hand. "I get free ride share, actually. Let me call it for you," he offered.

    Noel looked at him thoughtfully, then clapped his hands together. "I'll take you up on that, good sir."

    "My phone's charging at the bar, come on," Clovis said, motioning for Noel to follow him back toward the bar. As they walked away, Odette could hear Clovis telling people to clear out. Odette had been so caught up in her own head that she didn't even notice that there had been a semi-large crowd of patrons gathered around, including the more familiar faces, and they began to dissipate upon Clovis's insistence. That only left her alone with Dorien, and she huffed to herself. She couldn't make any remarks before he had his arms around her.

    "Sorry, I--" she started to say.

    "Odette," he cut her off.

    The raw tension in his voice was jarring. She stiffened her shoulders with a start, and her tired expression turned to something more concerned as she looked up at him. She was jarred for the second time around upon seeing how wildly he was staring at her. His eyes were shining with a harsh mix of seriousness and that malice he seemed to have on standby. It might have been the lasting effects of fainting, or the confusion from what just happened, but she felt an immediate sense of panic.

    "Dorien, what are you--?" she tried to ask, leaning away from him, but he jolted her back toward him.

    "I need you to tell me how you just did that," he said.

    She lowered her brows. There was absolutely no way for her to correctly compute that question because it made no sense to her. "How I did what? What are you talking about? Fainting?"

    "No, no, no, no," he said. He sounded like he was on the verge of yelling. "How you hurt Desmocula. How did you do that? You need to tell me."

    This was the first time her flight-or-fight senses came to full fruition. Her brain settled on fight because she couldn't run with him on her like this.

    "What are you going on about?" she said frantically, leaning her full body weight backward and digging her heel into the ground, allowing herself leverage to push him off of her. However, he was adamant that he not let her go because his grip on her hips tightened. So much so that it actually hurt.

    "Don't lie to me. I saw what you did," he said. "I won't tell anybody. You need to talk to me about it."

    Her breathing picked up speed, and with whatever might she could muster, she pushed him off. "Stop grabbing me like that," she yelled.

    "Keep your hands off of her!" Enora barked simultaneously.

    "Yeah!" Ru chimed in.

    It was the volume of her voice that finally caused him to let go. When they parted, Enora moved into the space between them and began to arch her back ferociously, now dead set on attacking if need be. Ru followed at her tail, fanning out her small wings for added threat. Not long after, Clovis and Noel come jogging back over. Clovis walked toward Dorien first before looking over at Odette.

    "What's going on here?" he asked. "Are we good?'

    Dorien huffed, then adjusted his coat. That frantic expression flew off his face, only to be replaced with one of concern. It was that damn easy for him. "All is fine. I think she's still a little confused."

    "Confused about what?" Noel inquired, walking up next to Odette and slinging his arm around her shoulders.

    Meanwhile, Odette parted her lips to scream an insult but found she wasn't getting enough air anymore. As her breathing sped up, it seemed her lungs shrunk. She was quickly reduced to a panting mess, and whatever heat she'd felt in that moment of strength against Desmocula was long gone. Now, she just felt cold.

    "Hey, are you okay?" Clovis asked. He walked up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder again, and Dorien was at his heels.

    "Wait, she's pale," Dorien said, his voice rising. "Doll, are you okay? Do you need more water?"

    The words formed in her head, but she couldn't speak. She could only focus on breathing. She felt she might suffocate if she stopped for any reason.

    Why is this happening now? she thought as some newfound panic began to set in. This is the last thing that needs to happen now, no, no no, I need to be focused...

    In a flash of movement, Noel was now in front of her. He ran his hands over her shoulders, trying to generate warmth. "Dee has a history of hypotension. This is one hundred percent an episode; somebody needs to call an ambulance," he instructed calmly.

    "Wait, hypotension is...low blood pressure? You can have low blood pressure episodes?" Dorien wondered.

    "Yes. Call the fucking paramedics," Noel raised his voice.

    "Cancelling the ride, calling," Clovis said. He had his phone in his hand now, and with a few timed taps, he was holding it to his ear.

    She wanted to focus on him and his silver hair, but her vision fogged along with her head, and she suddenly couldn't stand it anymore. She lowered herself to the ground, aided by Noel and soon Enora and Ru, when she got closer to the grass.

    "You're good. All's good," Noel said, still rubbing her shoulders. He was beaming at her, but his eyes weren't crinkled with the smile. "Focus on your breathing, keep your eyes on me, alright?"

    Her blood pressure had always been an issue, but bad drops like this were few and far between. Why an episode started now, she'd never know. Karma for not helping that waiter the other night?

    Or...what if it had something to do with that voice she'd just heard? That voice that was hers but wasn't. The way it was the thing that scared that Pokemon off. The way Dorien wanted so badly to know what it was when she didn't even know herself.

    She was by no means looking forward to the ambulance ride she was in for, and she definitely wasn't looking forward to the IV drip that undoubtedly had her name on it by now.

    But, if it got her the hell away from Dorien for the time being, at least until she could think clearly, she'd suck it up.
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 10 - She's Unabashedly Nosy...and Sick
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu
    WSBS HelloYellow Commish.jpg
    Chapter 10: She's Unabashedly Nosy...and Sick
    Cover by @HelloYellow17 🤍
    CW: Strong Language
    “Do you have any sixes?” Acadia asked.

    “Go fish,” Noel replied.

    Acadia clicked her tongue as she dove her hand into the haphazard card pile scattered around the coffee table. She was careful as she picked up a card because Enora was curled up under the glass, sound asleep.

    Odette laughed hoarsely from her spot on the couch. She sniffled as she nuzzled into her blanket, adjusting her head against her pillow. “You’ve been looking for a six this whole game.”

    “Noel, there’s no way you haven’t gotten a six by now,” Acadia said.

    “I don’t know what to tell you, sis,” he snickered. “Try asking around.”

    On either side of him, Ange and Elton sat with their own cards in hand.

    “Ask Odette, I bet she has one,” Ange declared.

    “I’m trying to take a six specifically from Noel. I’m giving Odette a break because she’s sick,” Acadia announced.

    “How thoughtful,” Odette said flatly.

    As she spoke, thunder shook the townhouse, and everyone in the living room looked toward the window. It was absolutely pouring outside, and there was no indication that it would let up anytime soon.

    “Hope nobody was planning on going anywhere today,” Noel said.

    “I was hoping to go for a jog, actually,” Odette said jokingly.

    “Right, right. And I'm the Queen of Galar,” Acadia shot back, a half-grin tugging at her lips. “How are you feeling?”

    That was a loaded question. Ever since she’d been discharged from the hospital two days ago, she’d had so much on her mind she could barely see straight. Of course, as luck would have it, the hospital cleared her as okay to go home the day she’d arrived, but she contracted a fever that same night. She felt so ill, she couldn’t think about anything but how bad she felt.

    Bernard and Marieanne, ever the worrywarts in regard to her health, insisted she stay with them, as Vienna had run out on an emergency research retreat and wouldn't be home quickly enough. So, Odette had spent the last 48 hours in their guest bedroom bed, groaning loudly and sleeping.

    “The same,” she answered. “No worse, no better.”

    “We’ll take that,” Noel said. “Your turn Ange.”

    Before Ange could ask for his card, footsteps sounded from the hallway leading to the kitchen. Marieanne emerged, decked out in a full apron and grasping a thermometer. She was done up with a full face of makeup, even though she didn't have work today, but that wasn't necessarily out of character. She always needed to "look her best," as she insisted.

    Solene was at her heels, grasping the handle of a wooden spoon, which happened to be in Isaur’s mouth. As they stopped, Solene glared at Isaur as she wiggled the spoon. The froslass didn’t budge.

    “Aaaaaaalright, temperature check time, Swanna,” Marieanne said, stepping around the coffee table and over to the couch. She sat down on the edge of it and stuck the thermometer into Odette’s ear. She held it there until it beeped, then examined the result. A frown crossed her lips, and she exhaled sharply.

    “This damn thing won’t break. Still a hundred and two. You poor baby.”

    “Maybe soup will help,” Odette suggested, closing her eyes.

    Marieanne gave a nod. “Came out to say it should be ready in 30 minutes or so, so I hope you kiddos are hungry.”

    “Thaaaaaaanks Mama Marieanne,” Noel and Acadia said in unison.

    “Anything for you kids,” she beamed. A thought then occurred to her, and she turned back to Odette. “Oh! By the way, before I forget. Two things. First, where's Loïc? I haven’t seen him all day.”

    Ange snickered loudly and had to bury his face in his cards to keep his volume down. Odette sent him a look before rolling her eyes.

    “Do you have a vent system?” she asked.

    “Yeah, I thought you knew that,” Marieanne said.

    Odette didn’t verbally respond. Instead, she just held her hands out to her sides. Luckily, Marieanne understood, and she just huffed.

    “Should have guessed. Alright, second thing. Have you seen the kitchen phone? Can't find the stupid thing anywhere."

    “Nana, this is the first time I’ve left the guest room in two days,” Odette said.

    Dammit, Bernard," she groaned. "He never puts the phones back. He's in for it after that damn work call.”

    Despite her brief bout of aggravation, Marieanne clapped her hands together, then stood up. “Alright, that’s all from me. Don’t let me interrupt your game. I’m gonna go…clean something. Storms like this make me antsy.”

    Marieanne made her way back toward the kitchen and motioned for Solene and Isaur to follow. Solene had to yank Isaur along by the spoon, but they all soon disappeared down that hall.

    “Shit, they still have a landline? Boomers,” Noel giggled, flipping through his cards.

    Acadia lowered her brows and shot him an unamused glance. “I still have a landline.”

    “Yeah, well, you’re a boomer in a twenty-something’s body. That’s not necessarily shocking.”

    Acadia reeled her hand back and landed a sound smack on Noel’s bare shoulder. He flinched on contact, then began to rub his now-inflamed skin. “Ma’am, do you know what a damn joke is?”

    While Odette was in no condition to be bantering at full energy with her friends, it was nice to have them here to keep her company. She had Marieanne and Bernard around, but being that she’d already missed a few days of rehearsal, witnessing the Noel versus Acadia spats made it feel like she wasn’t fully out of the loop.

    As she thought about that, she pushed the blanket off her lap and swung her legs to the floor. Cautiously, she stood, allowing herself to regain her balance slowly.

    “Oh, going on that jog?” Noel queried.

    “Yes, to the bathroom. Unless you want me to pee all over the couch.”

    “Well, you’re sick. You can do whatever you want when you’re sick. The world’s your cloyster.”

    “I don’t think urinating on a couch is part of that,” Acadia said, cringing.

    Odette shook her head before she hobbled her way toward the foyer bathroom. As she finished up her business and tiredly washed her hands, she found herself eyeing her reflection in the mirror. She really took in her pallor complexion and tired eyes.

    “Gods, I look like hot garbage,” she said.

    Skrtskrtskrtskrtskrtskrtskrt.

    She knit her brows together, turning to look over her shoulder for the source of the noise. It sounded distant initially, but the longer she listened, the closer it got. She craned her neck to look up at the ceiling, then the wall, where her gaze caught on a vent grate. Upon seeing it, her shoulders deflated, and she pressed her lips together, forming a knowing expression.

    A few seconds after she looked at the grate, it popped open, and Loïc reared his rambunctious fake head.

    “Loïc,” she said, sounding stern even with the hoarseness in her voice. “Just because we’re not at home, and I’m sick, doesn’t mean you’re suddenly allowed to crawl in the fucking vents.”

    “Kyyuuuu.”

    He hopped out of the opening and floated down to the floor. Upon landing, he whipped around to stare up at her. There was something about him that felt different. His eyes were bright, and he was pulsing up and down in his spot. He actually looked rather excited.

    “What were you even doing up there?” She felt minutely curious about what had him in such a good mood. Normally, he didn’t get like that unless he smelled pecha.

    She began to feel lightheaded from standing, so she decided it’d be a good idea to get down on his level. She slowly sank to the floor and leaned against the cabinet.

    “Look,” Loïc chirped.

    In a small shadowy wave, his hands manifested. He reached one under his cloak and withdrew none other than the MIA kitchen phone. Odette took one look at it, then glared at him.

    “Very funny,” she exhaled. “I hope you know you made Nana mad at Grandpa.”

    Loïc quickly shook his head and used one of his hands to press down on the “answer” button.

    Instead of a dial tone, like she was expecting to hear, she heard talking. Bernard talking.

    Narrowing her eyes, she slowly picked the phone up and held it to her ear.

    “I just don’t understand the sudden concern. It-it doesn't make sense to me.”

    “There’s a variety of things that have happened that have caused us to become quite worried.”

    Clovis.

    That was Clovis’s voice.

    Her breath hitched, and she cut her gaze back down to Loïc. His fake tail was wagging happily, like that of a gleeful yamper.

    "You sneaky sonofabitch," she mouthed at him. And here she'd been, thinking the only things on his mind were berries and hiding the Monopoly pieces around the house.

    Loïc jostled his head in response.

    An abundance of thanks was in store, but she gestured for him to come over. Loïc didn’t hesitate to scurry up her torso and perch himself on her shoulder to listen in as well.

    “Let me get this straight. She decided to research you, and she had a questionable run-in with a blood type. Do those things warrant Virtue Corps’ full eyes and ears?"

    "Blood-type?" she mouthed, hoping that would commit the term to her wavering memory. What the hell did that mean? What even was her blood type? She hadn't bothered visiting the doctor for a while before her recent episode and that wasn't something she bothered to commit to memory. O-something, maybe...

    That couldn't have been what they were talking about, though. Bernard said it like it was a Pokemon typing. Blood type. It sounded absolutely absurd until she dwelled on it a little more.

    Those grotesque Pokemon. All three times she'd seen them summoned, their owners...trainers? Owners? She didn't know what to call it anymore. Their owners always bit their thumbs to draw blood. That seemed to be the thing that powered them up. Or made them spawn altogether?

    Furrowing her brow, she scratched her cheek pensively. Is that what they were? Is that why she'd never heard of them? Were they just a whole new type?

    More importantly, what the hell did they have to do with shinies and running them absolutely ragged? And how long had Bernard known about them?

    What did that have to do with the voice she heard?

    At that moment, thunder rocked the building again. She cringed at the noise and yanked the phone away from her ear to cover it with her hand. Loïc even darted his hand over, too. When she was sure it had passed, she started listening again.

    “If you want my honest opinion? Yes. Given that uncanny resemblance we spoke about before, among the other things, these happenings are just a little too nefarious for us just to let slip by," Clovis had just started speaking.

    "And can you confirm it had nothing to do with Enora?"

    What?

    "
    Enora was nowhere near her when it happened. Then again, I wasn't close enough to see what happened, either. But, desmocula fled, and she just...fell. Cut her cheek too, I guess?"

    "She didn't have a cut on her cheek."

    Silence swelled on the line, and it made her nervous. She held her breath, even though she wanted to yell out.

    WHAT?

    It was eventually broken by Clovis sighing.

    "I don't know. I don't know what to tell you right now," he said. "It happened so fast, and we don't have enough information. That's all I have until I can talk to her. Maybe get some of our people to talk to her."

    "You told me we wouldn't get to that point if you could prove she wasn't involved in this in the way you thought."

    “I really am sorry, Bernard. I honestly thought I had this laid out, but I was wrong."

    “I told you she wouldn’t get involved in the trade, not Odette,” Bernard said angrily. “She loves her partners to death, and they love her.”

    Yes, tell him that. Let him hear it. The thought managed to break through every other thing rattling around in her head.

    “And I see that now,” Clovis replied apologetically. "But now we've uncovered something big--"

    "I know it's bigger. I know you can't tell me what it is right now. What I do know is I wish you'd just left her alone."

    "And let this fall unnoticed?"

    More silence. A very long, drawn-out sigh followed. "No. I know you didn't have a choice. I just--"

    "I understand, Bernard," Clovis said.

    "She's gone through so much in the last year, and I--"

    "You don't need to explain it to me, sir. I get it."

    Odette shifted uncomfortably in her spot, saying an internal prayer that that conversation would drop. She felt like she would have to hang up if it didn't.

    "Let's start over," Bernard said. "Tell me again, slower this time, what happened leading up to her fainting."

    “I had tried to bait something out of her. That was the whole point of my warning in the first place; sow doubt and bait her into admitting what she was actually up to when and if I saw her again. But all I got was that she caught my slip and read into it, just as I feared.”

    She narrowed her eyes at nothing. That fucking scoundrel. It was bait? He was baiting her? Well, she supposed she couldn't be too bitter at that. He evidently got a lot more than he bargained for in that conversation, which she decided was enough to sate her pettiness.

    “That’s Odette. If she finds something that doesn’t make sense, she’ll look into it herself,” Bernard said, though it sounded more like a warning than a statement. “What does she know? How much about you does she know?"

    There wasn’t an immediate answer. Clovis must have been thinking of how to respond. “She was very conservative in telling me that much. And I didn’t press because it would have been risky, and I’ve put myself in a weird spot as it is,” he started. “But it’s like I told you, she’s trying to get to the bottom of the sacrilege and shiny trade issue. She didn’t say why though. However, judging by her verbiage, she knows the connection between the two." He sighed gruffly, sounding aggravated. "See, we wouldn't fucking be here if I weren't such an idiot."

    “You just panicked,” Bernard said sympathetically. “It happens to the best of us.”

    “I’m not one of ‘us,’ Bernard. We talked about this. I just got a little too...overzealous talking to her.” The annoyance was clear-cut behind his words. “I fucked up."

    “And that’s not like you. You’re normally on top of it, but nobody’s perfect. You’re lucky it was so small, and you have the status to combat it if need be.”

    A rancorous laugh. “I don’t know what happened. Odette’s just--”

    “Off-limits,” Bernard asserted. His words fired like bullets.

    Odette bristled. "Odette's just what?" she mouthed as she pulled the phone away from her ear to stare at it incredulously. "Odette's. Just. Fucking. What?"

    She exhaled in frustration, masking her intense desire to scream into the phone, and held it back to her ear.

    “Right,” Clovis grumbled after what was most likely a long pause. “How is she? I heard that the shock wore off before they even made it to the hospital.”

    Short and sweet, Grandpa, she begged internally. Please, please, please do not elaborate too much. You've done enough; spare me.

    “It’s happened before,” Bernard huffed. “She’s had issues with her blood pressure since she was little. Sometimes it dips, and sometimes it gets really bad. Then, it clears up, and she’s sick for a few days afterward.”

    She stifled a groan and resisted the urge to bang her already throbbing head against the cabinet. The feeling of embarrassment was building up within her at an alarming rate. Did he really need to know all of this? Did Clovis really need to be made aware of her health problems? If she'd had things her way, she probably would have never told him. It just wasn't a conversation that needed to be had.

    “And you said this happens a lot?”

    “I said it used to happen a lot,” Bernard recalled. “A couple of times a month when she was younger. Not always to the point where she needed to be hospitalized, but often enough to where it was concerning. It’s not as frequent now, though. This is this first bout in…months, I’d say.”

    Gods, she wanted to tell Bernard to shut up. It was bad enough that she'd fainted in front of Clovis, but now he knew the extent of why it happened in the first place. Would something like that be considered a turn-off?

    Her thoughts were getting out of hand, sick or not.

    Focus.

    “Uh huh,” Clovis said tentatively. “Noted.”

    Her stomach dropped. Why did he say it like that? What was there to make a note of? "Be careful around this girl, she might pass out on me"? Forget yelling and screaming; she wanted to break the fucking phone.

    She didn't really know why she felt so aggravated about the conversation. It wasn't like she had a chance with Clovis in the first place, especially with him thinking she was dating Dorien. Or, maybe he knew she was faking it? Maybe that would be something he asked her about. That had to have been a turn-off, seeing somebody so convincingly act in love when they were very much not...

    Fo-cus.

    Bernard gave a very gruff sigh. “She’s had enough scrutiny to last her the rest of her life. She doesn’t need anymore.”

    “I understand, Chief, but this is out of fear for her safety and not out of a desire to scrutinize her,” Clovis said earnestly. “Thankfully, our hypothesis about her trying to get involved in the trade was wrong, but now, the way things have been playing out, I am extremely concerned, as is everyone else.”

    “So then, what’s the next move?” Bernard asked.

    “She has questions for me, and I for her,” Clovis said, his tone direct. “I’ll have to reach out sometime after she recovers from her illness to schedule a meeting, but I plan to gauge how much she’s found out and, well...answer her honestly.”

    At least she heard straight from the source that she wouldn't get bogus answers when they spoke. That did something to ease her racing brain, if only for now.

    “I sound like a broken record. I hate this. I didn't want her involved,” Bernard said darkly.

    “It’s a little too late for that,” Clovis said, matching his mood. “She seems to be diving into this on her own accord. At least now, Virtue Corp can back her up if she needs it.”

    “I cannot have her getting hurt. Not after--”

    Bernard,” Clovis said, cutting him off again. “You have my word. I will do whatever is in my power to ensure nothing happens to her from here on out. And, I’m sure you know this, but Odette seems quite sharp if you don't mind me being frank,” he said, chuckling as the words came out of his mouth. “Regardless, I will be over her shoulder every step of the way, and if things start to look too risky, we’ll pull her. That’s my promise to you.”

    “...make sure Noel’s with her too. It would make me feel better to know she’s not diving into these events alone. I’m sure Noel had something to do with it if she's informed. He’s savvy himself,” Bernard said reluctantly.

    Clovis chuckled again. “We’re one step ahead of you on that, sir."

    “And...if it can be helped, I don’t want her to know about my involvement thus far. At least, not now,” Bernard added.

    “The best I can do is hope she hasn’t dug that deep, then,” Clovis noted half-jokingly.

    Odette cringed.

    A louder sigh from Bernard. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “Well, my wife’s almost done with dinner, so I should go.”

    “Of course. We’ll keep in touch, and I’ll let you know when I plan to reach out to Odette.”

    “Please do. Have a good evening, Clovis.”

    “You as well, Chief.”

    Click.

    Odette exhaled the breath she didn’t know she was holding as she hung up. She leaned her head back against the cabinet, holding her hand to her burning forehead.

    “What the fuck did I just listen to?” she whispered. “Holy shit.”

    “Important,” Loïc said.

    With a single nod, Odette half-laughed. She turned her head to look at the mimikyu, whose eyes shone triumphantly.

    “You’re right. Extremely important,” she said. “Gods, I owe you an absurd amount of pecha berries for this.”
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 11 - Roses Have Thorns
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu

    White Swan.jpg
    Chapter 11: Roses Have Thorns
    Shoutout to Espy for temperature reading this for me 🤍
    CWs: Strong Language
    Odette didn’t realize she had zoned out until she was jolted from her haze by a disturbance on the stage. Her eyes were quick to lock on the left entrance, just in time to catch a couple of dancers tripping and stumbling over each other as they collectively tried to wrestle their way past some props. Props that shouldn’t have been in the way in the first place.

    Abruptly sitting up in her chair, Odette frantically flipped through her clipboard as her eyes shot between the stage and her notes. She scrambled for her pen but soon found that she’d misplaced it.

    Those fucking light posts. They were supposed to be on the other side, and she had cleared the scene to start.

    “Gods dammit…” she said under her breath. She could see Ange leaning over from the chair next to hers to peer at the notes as well.

    “You okay?” he whispered. Odette could only reply with a quiet, exasperated whine.

    As a few dancers hit the floor, Martin held up his hand as Odette buried her face into her own with a quiet groan.

    “Stop! Stop,” he shouted over the music. The orchestra came to a haphazard halt, and some concerned murmurs began to travel from those onstage.

    “What’s the problem now, why are we falling?” he asked.

    “There’s some set pieces blocking the way out,” somebody called back. It caused Odette to coil into herself slightly. Why? Why did her stagehands have no idea where things went until she rode their asses about it? They had one fucking job.

    Then again, so did she: keeping all things onstage running smoothly. And she wasn’t keeping up. With all the week's revelations banging around in her post-sickness head, there was no room to commit any of the immediate rehearsal to mind, and she was paying the price for it.

    Better own up to it than try to stop existing. The embarrassment would pass faster.

    Cringing, she raised one of her hands. She kept her eyes shut, so she wouldn’t have to immediately face the annoyed looks that were undoubtedly about to be sent her way.

    “My fault,” she said stiffly. “I cleared the scene; totally didn’t realize those set pieces were on the wrong side. That’s on me.”

    After a second of prepping, she raised her head to meet Martin's eyes. She was somewhat thankful to see that his gaze was teetering more on the sympathetic side, but just barely. This had to have been her fourth faux pas of the day, so that was far more grace than she anticipated. The other times were her just not paying attention to the scene or calling for a blackout at the wrong time. Here, people could have actually gotten hurt.

    Of course, she had the ‘I was in the ER’ card to play, but that would run dry rather quickly at the rate she was going.

    “They’re supposed to be stage right,” she said, trying to confirm she knew where everything was supposed to be. His expression didn’t change too much.

    “Are you sure you’re feeling better, Odette?” he asked.

    Despite her efforts to keep her expression neutral, she couldn’t stop pressing her lips together. “Yes,” she said evenly. Perhaps that was true on a physical scale, but mentally? Well, she wouldn’t get into that. “I wouldn’t have come back yet if I wasn’t.”

    “She's right, she really is fine! I helped break her fever myself” Ange said for good measure.

    Martin sighed. “I am all for giving you the benefit of the doubt right now, but I know you’re better than this. I need you to step up your game because these things cannot happen at the point we’re at.”

    She exhaled as silently as she could before nodding once in agreement. “I understand, sir. I’ll get it together.”

    She wasn’t sure how confident she was in that sentiment. But, thankfully, the conversation ended there. Attention went back to restarting the scene, with those pieces moving to where they were supposed to be. As everyone returned to their spots onstage, Odette caught sight of Noel sauntering back to his place. Before he made it offstage, he looked out into the house of empty seats and at her. Her shoulders deflated as their eyes met, and he motioned his hands over his chest.

    “Breathe,” he mouthed.

    All she could do was shrug. She wished it were that simple. At the very least, she’d managed to make it through that reprimand with most of her psyche still intact.

    “I gotta admit, you do look a little out of it. How about a massage?” Ange asked tentatively. He floated up behind her and landed his tendrils on her shoulders, where he began to rub at them gingerly. Some soothing heat carried from his touch, causing Odette to lean her head back blissfully.

    “I don’t think this is going to do much to make me concentrate better, but you have the touch of an angel,” she said.

    “You should also try to concentrate more of focusing,” Ange hummed.

    “And how would you propose I do that?”

    She didn’t get an answer. In fact, she felt Ange’s hands leave her skin entirely. She picked her head up and peered over her shoulder to find that he’d disappeared. She slowly began to look around, and no sooner had she turned to look over her other shoulder did she find the ghost poking his head up from behind a chair four rows back. The flame on his head brightened as he held up her missing pen.

    “Look what I found!” he called triumphantly. The previous conversation had seemingly left his mind because now all he appeared to be concerned about was balancing the found pen on his lips.

    Odette decided it would be best not to call out the irony. Ange having an emotional outburst right now was the last thing she needed. “Wow. Wonder how that got all the way over there?”

    She didn’t get the answer to her rhetorical question before the music started up again. As she took another leveling breath, she zeroed in on what was going on onstage again. The scene played out, and soon Noel made his way back onstage for his part. His voice carried clearly through the house, and instinctively, she started humming along with the tune as she settled back into her backrest. She felt Ange’s presence manifest next to her again but was too engrossed in the performance to acknowledge him.

    “His manner is vague and aloof,” Noel sang. He held the same conviction he normally did. “You would think there was nobody shyer, but his voice has been heard on the roof—”

    He paused, not normally a spot one would do so in the song. The silence stretched on and on and on, and Noel suddenly became stiff. It soon became very apparent to Odette what was happening.

    “When he curled up by the fire,” she muttered to herself as her face scrunched into another cringe.

    “Stop.”

    Again, the music ceased. Martin sighed again. This time, it sounded borderline angry.

    “When he curled up by the fire,” he said with a groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The tension deflated from Noel’s shoulders, and he bowed his head apologetically.

    “Right,” Noel said with an embarrassed smile. “I knew that.”

    “I thought you knew that,” Martin said dubiously. “But this is the third time today you’ve missed that line. What is going on with you all?”

    Odette could see the momentary grimace that creased Noel’s face. It quickly faded out, replaced by a sheepish smile.

    “Didn’t sleep well last night,” he said.

    “Well, how about we take our first break early today so everyone can screw their heads on tighter. Be back in fifteen.”

    The mass dispersion happened all at once, and even though the other actors, extras, and crew crowded to get off the stage, Odette watched as Noel hung his head for a beat before looking over at her again. She took that as an invitation to go to him, leaving Ange to fret with the pen alone for the time being.

    “Shyer rhymes with—” she began when they met up backstage.

    “Fire,” Noel finished raising his hands toward her. “I know. I know. I’m getting torn up by the lyricist enough today.”

    Her gaze on him softened. Looking at him up close, it was apparent that he was very much in distress. His brows were knit so tightly she was certain a wrinkle would be left behind, and his jaw was clenched. A cursory glance downward also confirmed that his right hand was balled into a white-knuckled fist, which was the absolute tell.

    “A lot on your mind?” she asked.

    “What was your first clue?”

    She sighed deeply, then turned on her heel to walk deeper into the backstage area. She didn’t bother to motion for Noel to follow her because he wordlessly fell into step at her side. She soon stopped in a hallway that led to the practice rooms, which seemed mostly empty, so she settled for leaning against one of the walls and sliding down to sit. Noel took to doing the same thing right across from her.

    They stared at each other in silence for a long, long while. Odette couldn’t read minds, but she could tell by the way Noel occasionally moved his eyes up to the ceiling that he was, at the very least, trying to mull through some stuff in his mind.

    “Penny for your thoughts,” she said quietly.

    “Have you heard anything?”

    She pursed her lips as she zeroed in on the silent phone in her pocket.

    “From who?”

    “Who do you think?”

    Well, that was an easy answer. Clovis apparently kept his word on contacting her after her recovery because she hadn’t heard from him the entire week she sat home trying to sweat out that fever. No amount of phone babysitting and girlishly praying willed him to send her a text. Surely Bernard had told him that the fever had broken two days ago.

    But there still hadn’t been any notification from him. Not even a “Hi, just making sure you still have this number saved.” She’d have much rather had Clovis endlessly fretting over her than who actually was.

    She felt RotomPhone vibrate and couldn’t help but groan. She fished it out and was as dismayed as she was unsurprised to see yet another text from Dorien. The third one since she woke up that morning and maybe the thousandth that week.


    I hope you’re having a good day so far! I have a little something headed to you that’ll hopefully make you smile 💝


    She ground her teeth together. Somehow, that only made her want to go home more because gods only knew what that meant. Even as her annoyance and dread skyrocketed, she stuck to the same routine she’d kept with to keep him at bay: five words and an emoticon. That’s all she had the energy for.


    I’ll be on the lookout :smile:


    “Crickets,” she said dismissively as she pushed send.

    Silence followed. Surely this wasn’t the place to be discussing such matters. It was dangerous enough that they’d gone at it in the dressing room—one never knew where there were prying eyes or ears. Hell, considering their cameras had mysteriously stopped working when one of those blood ‘mon appeared, anything could have been possible. The impossible seemed to be at play anyway.

    Clovis and Bernard knew each other. Clovis pretty much confirmed in that conversation that he was working with Virtue Corp. Virtue Corp was concerned about her because apparently they simply hadn’t been before. How long were they “investigating” her in the first place?

    Judging by Bernard’s reaction, it was at least a little while. It had something to do with an “uncanny resemblance” Clovis mentioned, whatever the absolute fuck that meant. And perhaps Enora, though that seemed a lot less jarring, given how the apparent initial thought was that she wanted involvement in the shiny trade.

    But, still. What had Bernard meant when he asked if the strange encounter had something to do with Enora? The more she dwelled on that throughout the week, the more the potential answers bothered her.

    That book had said that shinies spawned those grotesque Pokemon—the blood types, as they were referred to on the call. They seemed to be coming out of only shinies, which is why the poor things were being bought and sold in the first place. She was certain of that, despite Clovis being a little dodgy in confirming so. She’d seen enough to know. But that being said…

    Was it possible that Enora could create one of those things? Could it have been Enora that caused that voice and desmocula to flee?

    Nothing about that made sense, though. Enora was nowhere near her when the encounter occurred. Not to mention, the voice she’d heard was her own, granted a quite distorted version of it. It had the same inflection and a similar vocabulary choice too. Even if there was a way for Enora to produce something like that, there’s no way she’d use such vile language. Enora was a sassy little thing, but she was no potty mouth.

    But, if it wasn’t Enora, then what was it? More importantly, what did Dorien want with it so badly? He clearly knew something had happened. He was practically manic over it. Fuck, did he cause it? How would that have even worked?

    She exhaled gruffly, much louder than she intended to. It caused Noel to jolt a little.

    “Penny for your thoughts,” he said.

    Odette wanted to laugh. Some form of a rancorous smirk tilted her lips as she scratched her cheek. “I need an ibuprofen for this headache.”

    “Seconded,” he scoffed.

    Odette opened her mouth to speak again but was interrupted by the sound of manic approaching footsteps. They managed to echo over the sound of the rest of the cast and crew still lingering backstage for the break. Odette cut her eyes up just in time to see Acadia and her signature scowling face rounding the corner into the hallway they were sitting in.

    “Oh goody, I was wondering where you went,” Odette said flatly, stretching her arms above her head.

    “And I was wondering what the hell is up with you guys today,” Acadia snapped back. She looked at Noel before flailing her arms out to her side. Noel merely returned it with a weak grin.

    “Don’t smile at me like that!” she said. “We’ve only run your part two trillion times since secondary school, so how the hell are you tripping up over words?”

    Odette bit down on her tongue, resisting the dual urge to tell her to lay off him and to start laughing at the absurdity of the lecture. Oh, if only Acadia knew…

    Actually. It was best if Acadia didn’t know. She was the kind of person who, if she thought any of them were doing something too dangerous, would alert a higher power about it.

    Odette felt a brief pang of guilt at the sudden decision. She wasn’t somebody who liked keeping her close friends out of things this major, but…considering the gravity of the situation and considering there was a lot she and Noel didn’t know as it was, it was most likely the safest option. For now. It wasn’t like Acadia was into any sleuthing shit; she barely had the patience to complete a simple 100-piece puzzle.

    Noel shrugged. “What, I’m not allowed to have a bad day? Like I didn’t catch you sickling your feet during your aerials the other day?”

    Acadia stammered over her next words before she sucked in a shallow breath. She then shot a look back at Odette, who was still stretching.

    “And you? I thought you had the prop placement down-packed. Are you still feeling out of it? I told you you probably should have stayed home another day.”

    Odette sent Noel a very quick side-glance, which she wasn’t entirely sure he returned. Without missing a beat, she lowered her arms and crossed them over her chest.

    “I was up late talking to Dorien. That's it,” she grumbled.

    Acadia scoffed and crossed her arms as well, leaning against the wall. “And here I thought you guys were just taking some battle classes together.”

    Odette ran her tongue over her teeth as she tilted her head away. Maybe it was a mistake mentioning that much to her at all.

    She had done her best to keep Dorien’s name away from Vienna and Bernard so far but had felt that it would be much harder omitting that information from Acadia. Odette saw Acadia almost every day, and Acadia had known Dorien personally. So, she decided it would be okay to bring it up, but sparsely. However, she was starting to feel some regret over that decision now.

    “Yeah, well. Things happen, you know?”

    The dubious pause Acadia responded with was expected, but she was evidently ready to move on. A stern glare was suddenly sent to Noel. “Then what’s your excuse, mister?”

    “I’ve been really stuck on this mystery podcast about the sacrilege crisis. Stayed up until 1 last night listening,” Noel said quickly. “For your information, I am very—”

    Acadia suddenly held up her hands as if telling him to stop talking. “Really, you’re not doing yourself any favors trying to stick your nose in that whole thing. Drug epidemics aren’t anything theatre workers could handle, right?”

    Odette couldn’t help but glance over at Noel again, and at that time, he certainly exchanged the look with her.

    “Well, that doesn’t mean it isn’t interesting,” Noel said sassily, waving his hand for added effect.

    Acadia waved her hands in an exasperated fashion just before she turned on her heel to head off to gods knew where. “Get it together, guys. So don’t keep wasting time. Don’t make me mum you both harder,” she called over her shoulder.

    “Believe me, we’re working on it,” Noel called back, cupping his hand over his mouth as he leaned over to watch her go. Odette also craned her head to look over her shoulder, keeping her eye on the back of Acadia’s head until she disappeared around another corner.

    When she was gone, she heard Noel sigh and watched him slump against the wall. She also felt some tension leave her as she leaned her head back.

    “That didn’t feel too good,” Noel said in a borderline whine.

    “No, but it was necessary,” Odette replied in a quieter voice as she eyed the divots in the ceiling. “I definitely don’t think this is something she needs to know about right now. Same goes for Noemie and Claude and Basille.”

    When she didn’t get an immediate response, she picked her head back up, now catching Noel looking a little more contemplative.

    “You haven’t told Noemie have you?” she pressed. If there were one person she wouldn’t put past Noel to spill everything to, it was his twin sister. They were so thick the thieves were jealous.

    Now it was Noel’s turn to roll his eyes. “No,” he said reluctantly. “Mostly because I don’t know how she’d react. She’d either want to help or call mum and dad to have them lock me up.”

    “Not sure how much her loudmouth self could help all the way from Galar,” Odette said doubtfully.

    “I’m a loudmouth and do just fine.”

    “You’re a loudmouth who at least knows how to regulate it.”

    Another round of silence swelled between them. It wasn’t until Noel sighed for the final time that it broke.

    “You’re right, though. Better it’s just us for the time being.”

    ***​

    The remainder of practice leading up to lunch passed in another blur. Odette could honestly say, even as she sat down among her normal group, that she didn’t have much of a clue of what had gone down in the past few hours. She couldn’t confidently say that she didn’t royally screw up again because nothing stirred her from that autopilot state. Nonetheless, it felt nice to finally turn it off and have a prolonged break to just…sit and close her eyes.

    As she leaned her head back onto her backpack and folded her hands behind her head, she heard Acadia suck her teeth.

    “If there were ever a time for you not to skip lunch, it would be the week following a visit to the ER. After just insisting you haven't had any hypotension issues for a while,” she said earnestly as she took a spoonful of soup out of the thermos she was holding. "

    “And if there were ever a time for my appetite to still be jacked, it would be the days following a fever,” Odette snapped back. "I’ve been snacking today, so you can’t say I haven’t put anything in my stomach.”

    That wasn’t necessarily a lie. She’d forced some sort of granola bar down her throat just before leaving her house, anticipating a day of a fleeing appetite. It was indeed for the sake of her recovering health, though. And physically, all was well. Acadia didn’t need to worry about that.

    “Besides, if she doesn't eat, it's more for me,” Ange said as he dug into the chesto berry salad that Solene had packed for him. At least he was eating.

    Acadia shook her head in annoyance just before swallowing another bite of her soup. “I sound like a broken record, so perhaps I shouldn’t bother,” she grumbled.

    “Obviously, Dee just has a penchant for going hungry,” Noel joked as he sat down beside Acadia, a goofy smile on his face as he leaned into her ear. It prompted her to swat him away.

    “Yes, that’s exactly it,” Odette scoffed as she allowed her eyes to slip shut, dead set on dozing off if possible. Gods knew a nap would certainly do her some good. A break from rehearsal, and more importantly, her thoughts.

    “How’s the moving going? Hopefully, staying up late to talk with your rich boy toy isn’t affecting your ability to pack your glassware,” Acadia jabbed.

    “Solene, Isaur, and Enora have that handled,” Odette shot back, waving her hand dismissively.

    Though she was quick to respond, the question truly did get her thinking. She hadn’t actually thought about her big move much in weeks—there was simply no room for it in her head, and there probably wouldn’t be any time soon. Granted, they were still over two months out, but surely packing was a long process. It was best to get a move on it now either way because that time would pass like nothing. But with all of her mental energy wrapped up in figuring out what the actual fuck she’d gotten herself into wasn’t really allowing her any leftovers to put toward getting some boxes together…

    She wasn’t sure what stressed her more as that thought occurred to her: the fact that she was moving to a whole new region in two months, or the fact that she and Noel only had two months to get to the bottom of their pressing problem. What could she even do from halfway across the world? Gods, what if Dorien followed her there? What if she never saw Clovis again? That was a sad thought.

    “Hey, is Odette out here?”

    The sound of her name caused her to jolt. With a couple of slow blinks, she leaned over onto her elbow and looked over her shoulder, taking a cursory glance around to find who was looking for her.

    “She is,” she said. “Why?”

    Her gaze caught on one of the lead actresses—she played Grizabella in the production--who looked like she’d just jogged from somewhere from the way she was panting. A teasing smirk crossed her face as Odette met her gaze, and she pointed over her shoulder.

    “You miiiiiight want to head on out to the lobby. I think you either have a secret admirer or a lover who’s head over heels for you.” She winked for good measure.

    Joking hoots travelled around from the immediate cast members that were sitting around her. It was all meant to be a good thing, but the way Odette’s heart took a nosedive down into her stomach said otherwise.

    What the fuck did Dorien send her?

    She didn’t hesitate to vault herself off the edge of the stage and up one of the aisles toward the doors out of the auditorium. She didn’t bother to see who planned to follow her because that didn’t matter.

    The lobby was expansive—ornately decorated, with shiny tile floors, clean red carpets that led up the stairs toward the mezzanine seats, and an enormous crystal chandelier overhead. The giant bush of roses, fit with an equally as giant pink ursaring toy and a bouquet of heart-shaped balloons, that had been unceremoniously left by the will-call windows, looked extremely tacky against the décor. Odette figured it was the ‘I Love Odette,’ which had been spelled out with white roses against the red, that really did it in.

    Odette stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of it and instinctively felt her lips curl over her teeth. A cacophony of snickers and mushy-sounding "awwwww’s" were quick to follow, and only then did she realize that a chunk of her castmates had followed her out.

    “Since when did you have a boyfriend, Odette?” somebody asked in a laugh.

    “Or girlfriend,” another voice interjected. “I totally see it, honestly.”

    “That is sooooooo stinkin’ cute; what a goal!”

    Odette let the words wash over her but didn’t do much to commit them to mind. She was swimming in her reddening vision. She hadn’t realized she’d clenched her fists until she felt a hand on her shoulder. The suddenness of it caused her to flinch, and with a sharp breath, she shied away and sent a violent look toward whoever dared to try and touch her when she was sinking into anger. The look, however, significantly softened when she saw it was just Acadia.

    “Dee, holy hell. Is that from Dorien?” she asked incredulously. “I thought you guys were just talking, but I didn’t realize it was like that.”

    Neither did I, Odette thought bitterly as she blinked away the rest of her malicious look.

    “He knows how to surprise me,” she said. She didn’t intend for it to come out as flat as it did, but it was much harder to fake it when he wasn’t around.

    Swallowing down her urge to yell an expletive, she built up the nerve to approach the lavish gift. The closer she got to it, the sicker she felt. She began to say a silent prayer to herself as she eyed the greeting card that was attached to the Ursaring plushie’s neck, somehow willing that the surprise was actually from Clovis and this was just the billionaire's way of confessing one's undying love for—


    My dearest Odette,

    I hope this adequately conveys how sorry I am for yelling at you the other day, and how much I care for you. I’m glad you’re feeling better, and I’m excited to see you soon.

    All my love,

    Dorien


    Her vision swam again, and it took everything in her not to tear the card to shreds. She aimed her eyes up at the bush as a whole, suddenly registering that it was somehow taller than her—not that she was tall to begin with, but anything taller than 5 feet might have been too damn much for a flower gift like this. But, she supposed a fresh rose bush was something Dorien could afford without giving it a second thought.

    Did he think this was somehow supposed to glaze over how he’d acted in the garden? How he’d raised his voice and grabbed her? Above all, why did he feel the need to do this while she was at work? He had to have known something like this was impractical, yet he went through with it anyway.

    It felt like an attempt at marking territory. The thought made her shudder involuntarily.

    He clearly wanted everyone to know who the gift was for and that it was meant to be perceived as an act of love, an act of apology for acting so audaciously. The reactions of her castmates were exactly what he was going for. Perhaps he’d picked up on her degrading responses and decided the best course of action was to put her on the spot like this. Maybe it was meant to be spiteful or petty, or maybe she was reading into it too much.

    Either way, it fucking infuriated her.

    “How are you gonna get that home, girl?” somebody else called. Some lighthearted snickers followed. Even as she sunk lower into her rage, she could tell that the comments and laughs weren’t meant to be malicious…but they felt that way.

    “I guess that’s why she’s so out of it today?”

    That caused her to tense up, and her grip on the card tightened. It creased in her grasp, but she couldn’t have given less of a shit. She tried to breathe through it, but the corners of her vision clouded at an unbelievably fast rate. If she stood there any longer, she would tear the flowers into mulch.

    She slammed the card back down into the crook of the plushie’s neck before storming off toward the door leading to the backstage area. She didn’t bother to go back through the doors that led back into the house; none of those nosy natu’s needed to see the face she was making. Or hear how labored her breathing had gotten.

    She stormed down the hallway, following its sharp turns and bare concrete walls, until she could hear the sparse voices of the other cast members on lunch. With a couple more calculated turns, she found herself at the door to the women’s dressing room, and she didn’t hesitate to barge her way inside.

    When she didn’t immediately hear the sound of a shower running, a toilet flushing, or tittering voices going back and forth, she screamed.

    It was guttural; it tore through her throat with such an animalistic force that Odette could only contain herself by grabbing one of the shower stall curtains and tearing it clear off the wall bar and all. As they collectively clattered to the floor, she arched over and grabbed hold of her head as if that would somehow alleviate the undiluted rage pulsing through her brain.

    Easy. Easy. Keep it together.

    Repeating that phrase a few times caused the intensity of her emotions to die down, and with a shallow breath, she slowly straightened her posture and abruptly shoved her hands into her pockets. Her fingers went to work tugging at the loose pieces of thread and fabric, only loose because of other episodes similar to this one. However, even if she was ruining the internal parts of her clothes, at least she was keeping her hands busy.

    Easy.

    Easy.

    Here, you are a hundred percent in control.


    She cracked her eyes open, immediately catching sight of the torn curtain and displaced rod on the floor. That was enough to prompt her to close them again and shake her head apologetically.

    “Fuck me,” she muttered.

    She walked back toward the sinks, where she and Noel had spent a good 20 minutes passing their findings back and forth just several days before. The dressing room had been empty then, and she certainly hoped it was now.

    She pressed her back against the nearby wall-length mirror and slid down to the floor, resting her forehead against her bent knees as she willed herself to regulate her breathing. Her exhaustion was imminent, and she wanted to do her best to fight it off. She could just take a quick sip of water from the sink, but she didn’t have it in her to stand up right now. Plus, she was still trying to keep her hands busy. She wasn’t sure if she could trust herself yet to let them go, lest she needlessly butcher another stall.

    “Odeeeeeetttttte...”

    Odette sighed deeply as she raised her head. Her tired eyes met Ange’s slightly worried ones. She was entirely unfazed to see he was just inches from her face. In fact, she welcomed his comforting warmth.

    “Sorry. Did I freak you out?”

    Ange thought for a beat before shaking his head. He didn’t say anything as he sank down to the floor next to her. She took that as an invitation to lean back against the mirror.

    “Was it from Dorien?” Ange asked after a few more seconds of quiet.

    Odette took a while to respond. “Yeah, it was.”

    Another pause. “I can burn it if you want.”

    That time, she laughed. It was very much needed. “I’d let you burn it if neither of us would get arrested for arson.” She rubbed the side of her face as she groaned tiredly. “Besides, I’ve already trashed the showers.”

    Ange peered back toward the line of stalls, blinking a couple of times as he did. He said nothing more as he floated off toward them, disappearing just down the row. Odette watched him go and only quirked a brow when she heard the sound of light metal scraping against the floor.

    “Ange, what are you doing?” she called.

    Her question was met with a creaking noise, like the sound of rubber being rubbed aggressively against a hard surface, followed by a couple of low thumps. Ange distinctly grumbled to himself before the sound of a plastic curtain rustling became all she could hear.

    “Ange?” she called again, bracing herself to stand up. She needn’t have bothered, though.

    The chandelure suddenly appeared in front of her again, and this time, he was wearing the fallen shower curtain like a cape. As for the rod, he held it up as if it were some sort of staff. He puckered his lips in a pompous fashion, and his eyes drooped to match.

    “I am the king of the women's dressing room,” he said, deepening the sound of his voice as if he were trying to do an imitation. "And I declare that you're not allowed to be upset anymore. Smiles only."

    Odette’s brows remained lower as she watched him, but it wasn’t very long before a half-smile broke across her lips. She settled her cheek into her palm as she began to shake her head at him.

    “You know, if you really wanted to dress up like a king, we have actual king costumes in costume storage,” she chuckled.

    Ange abruptly stopped his acting to glare at her. It wasn’t anything malicious. More playful than anything. She held her hands up defensively nonetheless.

    “I’m just saying; it might be slightly more helpful if we could get that thing back on the wall.”

    Ange puckered his lips in thought, and the fire blazing from his head suddenly flared up with an idea. He dove back down the row of stalls, and at that time, Odette forced herself to stand to follow him. More sounds of rubber scraping against tile and plastic material rustling filled her ears as she trudged over, grabbing onto whatever walls and benches she could to ensure she wouldn’t fall back over from her oncoming drowsiness.

    “Okay, look, I did it!” Ange finally cheered, just in time for Odette to round the corner and see what he was up to.

    He had indeed gotten the curtain rod wedged back between the two stall walls, but he’d done it at a very evident angle. As for the curtain, it was wrapped in a neat bow around the center of the rod.

    “Ta-da!” Ange said happily, gesturing to it with an excited wave of his tendrils.

    Odette stared at his handiwork for a long while, contemplating how to respond. She was both minutely annoyed and extremely impressed with his bow-tying skills. She decided to lean more into the latter feeling, as she both appreciated his attempts to cheer her up, and she was in no mood to deal with him crying because she asked him to take it down.

    “Very nice,” she said, sending him a gentle grin. Ange beamed, jubilantly swaying from side to side. His clear happiness was enough to fill her with a sense of calm she so desperately needed right now. Water would have been nice too.

    As that thought occurred to her, she turned back for the sinks. She quickly stumbled in front of one and flicked it on, holding her mouth under it so she could get a solid sip from the stream coming out of the faucet. With only a few gulps, she felt the mental fog starting to clear, and her energy returning.
    .
    Then, RotomPhone buzzed in her pocket, and all that calmness fell out the window.

    “Fucking–” she seethed.

    She pulled away from the sink, aggressively wiping the excess water off her lips. “What the hell does it say now?” she asked in a raised voice.

    The phone morphed in her pocket and quickly hovered up in front of her.

    “Bzzzt! New text message from Clovis LeClair!” RotomPhone said.

    Her breath immediately got caught in her throat, and she was left coughing and gasping over herself like a bumbling moron.

    “Uh oh, bzzzzzt, I probably should have braced you for that. Bzzzt, sorry! ” RotomPhone said apologetically. A pixelated sweatdrop came into view on the screen.

    “Odette? Do you need CPR?” Ange asked frantically over her wheezing.

    “I’m good. I’m of sound body and mind,” Odette insisted between jagged breaths as she tried to ease her throat. She held up an assuring finger with one hand as she patted herself on the chest with her other. When she was sure she was at least somewhat coherent, she held her hand out RotomPhone.

    “Let’s see,” she said.

    The phone floated down into her hand, and Odette quickly pulled up her messaging screen. To a potent mixture of her shock and absolute glee, she felt her stomach do a somersault at the sight of his name, bolded in her inbox with the ‘unread’ indicator next to it. She beheld it for a while before allowing herself to click on it.


    Good afternoon Miss Cinq-Mars. I apologize if I'm catching you at a bad time, but please let me know when you’ll be available to speak today. I hope you’re feeling much better this week and that everything is well.


    She reread the message once, twice, twelve times. Sure, he had asked Bernard how she was doing, but now he was actually sending her well wishes. Was this real? Was she dreaming?

    No. Wait. It was merely business. He’d said he planned to reach out when she was feeling better, and she was feeling better. To an extent. They were going to set up a time to talk, and there was nothing romantic about it.

    FOCUS. FOCUS. FOCUS.

    She typed out her response faster than she thought she was able to.


    I’m at work right now, but we’re having lunch. I can talk for a few minutes 😁


    She was about to send it when she stopped herself. Was the smiley face too much? They were just two acquaintances trying to set up a date to discuss confidential information, so why the hell would she bother sending a smiley face?

    But on the other hand, would he think she was being too stiff if she didn’t? They seemed to have a repertoire of joking around whenever they came face to face…at least, she judged that much from the two times they’d talked in person, so perhaps it wouldn’t be that out of place?

    She felt a bead of sweat forming on her forehead. When the fuck did texting become so hard?

    After a few seconds of the most intense self-deliberation she had ever suffered, she erased the emoticon and sent the message. The regret was instant, but she worked herself through it. They were just two acquaintances setting up a time to have an acquaintance-esque discussion. It was fine.

    Something better to worry about instead of the thorny roses in the lobby.
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 11.5 - Bow
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu
    White Swan.jpg
    Chapter 11.5 - Bow

    CW: Strong Language, Strip Club Setting, Drug Usage, Talk of Sex, Talk of Sexual Assault, Thoughts of Abuse, Stalker-like Behavior, Thoughts of Murder
    Hey all! Welcome to the first "Bonus Chapter." I had this chapter idea after hyperfixating on a certain linked song, and decided to write it out as a way to get into a particular character's head and perhaps reveal more about this plot along the way. Please keep in mind that there is a lot of uh...pretty gross discussion in this chapter that might make some readers very uncomfortable. It is not imperative to the plot of the story that you read this, so please don't feel inclined to do so if any of the above content warnings cause squicky feelings. Nothing major happens here, but some details might raise some questions and/or answer some.

    If you do end up reading on, please enjoy! (Or not 🤡)

    Strip clubs didn’t really do it for him anymore.

    Even as he sat in the VIP room, surrounded by top-shelf wines and champagnes and perhaps some of the wealthiest men in Kalos, he wondered why he still bothered. He was all for boisterous settings, but surely other clubs in the area would be willing to accommodate them and their dealings. Plenty of players in the sacrilege distribution owned clubs, so perhaps they didn’t need to frequent just this one. No matter how much the owner bought.

    He tightened his grip on the tube of Earl Gray scented lip balm that he was mindlessly twirling between his fingers and held it longingly to his lips. He finally allowed himself to zone back in on his surroundings as his ear caught on some intense laughter just off to his right. It managed to break through the rumbling bass of the club speakers, so clearly, something was funny.

    Squinting through the cloud of cigarette smoke and blinking light from the colored spotlights overhead, he barely made out the image of Lionel, Adam, and Colin sitting on the nearby sectional and just fraternizing with a bevy of ladies who might as well have been naked.

    Adam was in the middle of getting yet another lap dance, and he was more into it than the first three. Lionel had two of them in his lap, and Colin looked more interested in eyeing the other men that were standing around. He supposed nothing really had changed since secondary school. Adam was still horny, and Colin was still as gay as they came. Lionel went to a different school, but it’s safe to assume he was as much of a playboy then as he was now.

    At least the general consensus so far was that everyone was having a good time. Though, he had to wonder how any of these men could have fun at a club spouting such lies.

    This place boasted of employing “the most beautiful women in Kalos,” but he couldn’t get behind that sentiment. He simply couldn’t understand the appeal of these pasty-wearing bimbos with nails long enough to castrate a man in one swipe. How did they manage to clean themselves, anyway? There was nothing sanitary about it; there couldn’t be. And even if they managed to be squeaky clean hygienically, none held a candle to her.

    Because she was perfect. Too perfect, apparently.

    He sighed deeply into the plastic of the lip balm tube as he allowed his eyes to slip shut. This keepsake had long lost its scent of her, but it still brought him a sense of comfort to know that there was a time when she applied its contents to her beautiful lips on the daily. Perhaps that was how she kept them in such pristine condition–-he always had to wonder how somebody managed to have such flawless lips like that.

    Such flawless, kissable lips. These strippers could never.

    He flipped the tube between his fingers once more until he could see where she’d hastily scribbled out her initials, marking it as her own at one point. He’d never known anybody to care so much about their lip balm that they were willing to brand it; that meant she misplaced them quite often…or had them stolen.

    He almost felt guilty at that thought, being that he hadn’t hesitated to swipe it when she accidentally dropped her backpack in the hallway that one day. All of her possessions spilled out onto the floor, and everything was there for pickings as he helped her gather everything back up. He remembered how annoyed she was and how he had to bite his tongue to keep from smiling over the jackpot he’d hit.

    He settled for the lip balm on that occasion; not as disposable as the pencil she used to tap against her cheek in chemistry but not as desirable as the sports bra she apparently kept on hand for her dance practices after school. It was a happy medium.

    Besides, taking somebody's undergarments would have been too weird, even if it did smell entirely of her. He would never stoop himself that low.

    The memory caused him to roll his eyes, even as he thumbed the fading Sharpie ink.

    OHC. OHC. OHC. OHC.

    Yes, it was very certain. She was perfect. He knew that, and it was clear at this point that even Mr. Lambourne knew that.

    As the thought occurred to him, that familiar spot in the nape of his neck began to tingle. He resisted scoffing as the forsaken devil on his shoulder filled his head with more nonsense.

    You truly are infatuated with the object of His Majesty’s affections, you know? I wonder why that is?

    He clenched his jaw as if that would somehow will Inviderus to stop talking. As usual, it didn’t.

    All of his attention is on her when it should be on you. How could you love something so deeply when that’s the case?

    He was suddenly grinding his teeth. He was acutely aware that he might damage his veneers, but when his emotions were at war with Envy, none of that really mattered, did it?

    But, Inviderus, as always, had a point. How could he still harbor such intense feelings of love toward the very thing that kept Mr. Lambourne busy all the time? All His Majesty ever wanted to know about was what she had said or what she was doing–-not anything his loyal subjects were up to, ever.

    That was the part that infuriated him. That part made him want to wrap his fingers around her damn neck and squeeze until she stopped breathing.

    In thinking about that, he was certain that that might be more effective in getting Venira to rear her head than he had been doing. Just getting aggressive in battle or talking her ear off about touchy subjects wasn't enough, and the latter had even cost him some of his Vice Dust. Only the first-degree strain, but it was a loss nonetheless. He really needed to watch how much he used on her. She'd taken enough of it as it was.

    But she had too good of a grip on herself, and it was making things so much more difficult. He supposed he should have suspected that of somebody who literally killed their rapist seconds after the act occurred--she had to have gone completely zen to get over something like that.

    He really did not want to harm her physically. He couldn’t physically harm her; he was barred from it after the last time. That was against the mission. But…he was slowly running out of options. And losing his patience.

    The closest he seemed to have gotten to success so far was when she confronted the battle at the garden, and he hadn’t even been there to witness it fully. He was still kicking himself for it and how he’d acted after the fact.

    Impulsively, he reached into his pants pocket with his free hand, withdrew his phone, and navigated to the texting thread he had with her. He scrolled back through all of their recent messages, skimming over her short and sometimes curt responses for perhaps the twentieth time that day. She was a sparse texter as it was, but this was getting out of hand.

    She had to be upset with him, right? Or was it because she was still recovering from her ER visit? Maybe that was it.

    Fuck.

    He knew better. He really knew better.

    He couldn’t afford to lose out on her like this for more reasons than one. He relished in all the moments he could kiss her, hug her, and run his fingers through her hair. Not to mention, Mr. Lambourne wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if he failed this. Probably to the point of stripping him of his title.

    Maybe if he actually succeeded in recapturing Venira, Mr. Lambourne would drop the infatuation with her and start paying attention more attention to him, and that way, he could stop wallowing in this deep-set desire to slit her fucking throat. The conflicting emotions were absolutely nauseating, and he was getting to the point where he didn’t quite know what to do with himself anymore.

    The sheer Envy he felt over just downright perfect she managed to be. Why couldn’t he be like that? God, she didn’t even know Mr. Lambourne existed, and yet

    Perhaps he could hit her just once. Release some tension and maybe, just maybe, lure Venira out. Kill two birds with one stone. Besides, a smack wouldn’t break skin. It would just leave a welt; one that would most likely heal in a day as long as he was careful with how hard he went for it. It wouldn’t be that awful, right?

    She was a strong girl. She’d be fine. He might even let her hit him back to call it even. He could get away with it if it meant success. He could convince Mr. Lambourne of that. Nothing else was working, and it was all he could do!

    Yes, that had the potential to slide, right?

    Right?

    Wrong. So wrong.

    That would be awful. He could just imagine the hurt in her eyes and hear her screaming at him for beating on her. And he couldn’t imagine Mr. Lambourne letting him get away with that unscathed. Alive, maybe, if he turned up with Venira, but certainly not unscathed. What was the warning again?

    If you personally mess with a single hair on her head without my firm approval, I'll make sure yours is removed from your neck.

    No, that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t afford to harm her himself, not after past events.

    But…god, it felt like she deserved it at least a little bit. Perfection shouldn’t be allowed to exist if it wasn’t on him.

    He swore he could hear Inviderus chuckling as he wrapped his fingers around the lip balm. He felt it begin to bend against the white-knuckled grip he now had on it, and he was certain it would snap against the force. Maybe that was a good thing.

    “Dorien.”

    With a deep breath, Dorien released all the tension from his body. He was supposed to be here, having a good time, and doing what he needed to be doing. Not reminiscing over things he could worry about when he returned to the ship.

    He blinked a few times before turning his head to meet Denis’s familiar droopy-eyed gaze. Dorien hadn’t even heard him come over. He wasn’t quite sure where he’d been either.

    “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head once as he pocketed the balm. “What do you want?”

    Denis raised a brow, then nodded his head toward the briefcase that was sitting at Dorien’s feet. “Figured that was obvious,” he said.

    Dorien pressed his lips together and nodded once. Yes, that was the real reason they’d all gathered here as it was. That was the focus and nothing more.

    He reached down, picked the case off the floor, and set it on the coffee table just in front of him. He needed to move some half-empty glasses and plates aside first but found just enough room to set it flat. He held his thumb to the lock, and the thing unlocked with a familiar beep and buzz. He carefully pushed it open and fanned out the smaller display shelves that were so neatly tucked away.

    It really was a splendid sight. Vials upon vials of fresh sacrilege, ready for the pickings. Ready for selling off. With the crowd he was with, a full case like this would be gone before the night's end.

    But that didn’t matter either.

    Even though he consistently returned to Mr. Lambourne with empty cases, the man cared less and less. The only thing on His Majesty’s mind as of late was her. Dorien had started to wonder why he still bothered with this when he had other bigger issues to be tending to.

    His eyes travelled between the vials, quickly reading off the strain labels. Greed, Sloth, Lust, Gluttony, Pride, Envy…

    He caught himself on one of the “Pride” vials, and without a second of thought, he reached out and grabbed one. He popped off the protective seal and downed it in a single motion.

    That was why he was still bothered. As long as he made and sold it, he had full access to a fresh pull daily. That was worth it.

    “Gods, you’re crazy,” Denis said in awe. “I have to crystalize mine and snort it. It tastes too bad to drink straight.”

    Dorien shuddered as the last of the sweetest liquid traveled down his throat. Sure, he could crystalize it, or he could take it intravenously. Hell, he could even drop it into his eyes. But all of that took too long. He could deal with the moment of discomfort if it meant he didn’t have to take an extra step.

    “Well, it doesn’t help that your preference is Lust. That shit’s bitter enough to curdle your blood,” he said, screwing the top back on the vial and sticking it back into its cell on the shelf. “Unless you’re eyeing something different tonight.”

    Denis crossed his arms as he inhaled a deep, contemplative breath. “I think,” he began, “I’m in an Envious mood.”

    Dorien reached for one of the Envy vials. “Of course, my output is the best of them all,” he joked as he handed it over. Denis was quick to snatch the drug away and left Dorien with a wad of cash in his palm. He didn’t bother to count it because they’d made this exchange enough times to have it down to a science.

    From there, it went as normal. His comrades sauntered over and made their buys. Even some of the strippers indulged themselves in a purchase or two, and soon most of the room was engaged in some form of ingestion of it, along with the excess drinking and smoking. Nobody had their Pokemon out, so it was apparent that no drug-induced battles would occur. But it still managed to feel like just another night, regardless.

    Dorien looked bored as he fell back against the couch again and watched all the debauchery develop, waiting for the Pride to start burning in his blood. Some much-needed warmth against the chill of his warring emotions.

    He slowly kicked the briefcase closed again with the tip of his Balenciaga shoe when a presence sunk itself into the space next to him on the loveseat. He arched a brow as he met the eyes of one of the dancers. She was undoubtedly Sinnohan and managed to set herself apart from the other girls by being the only one wearing pasties instead of an actual top. She certainly had the body to pull it off, and from how she smiled at him, it was obvious that she knew that too.

    “Can I help you?” Dorien asked, offering her remnants of a half-smirk.

    “I guess I should be asking you that,” she answered. Her Kalosian was surprisingly good. “You’re bumming me out just sitting here by your lonesome.”

    He chuckled and playfully rolled his eyes, pushing himself to sit up so he could face her more directly. “Nothing’s really catching my eye at the moment, so I figured I’d just observe.”

    The woman pursed her painted lips thoughtfully, but that look quickly became something more mischievous as she scooted closer. Dorien caught the immediate wind of her floral-smelling perfume and allowed his eyes to fall shut.

    If Odette didn’t exist in the world, perhaps he might have been the slightest bit tempted by this one.

    Actually, fuck that. He was a good-looking guy who caught the attention of anybody who walked past him. He could stand to indulge himself in that a little bit. This girl was beautiful, he was beautiful, and it just worked. Granted, she was no Odette, but Odette wasn’t here.

    There it is, he thought as that familiar, Prideful warmth exploded within his core. He’d only taken one vial, so he wasn’t expecting anything major to happen this time around. The increased sense of hubris was plenty for the time being, and he definitely felt like he needed it.

    “Maybe I can change that?” she said suggestively, leaning her face closer to his. The lasting aroma of Lust was evident on her tongue, and Dorien couldn’t help but chuckle as he opened his eyes again.

    “You seem confident in your ability to do so.”

    She took that as an invitation to crawl into his lap, and he didn’t do anything to stop her. He simply rested his hand against the small of her bare back and leaned backward to take in her looks and the attention he was so dead set on giving him. Attention he certainly deserved, that was for damn sure. Yes, it was nice.

    Sure, some people might have called him an asshole for letting another woman crawl on him while he had a loving girlfriend at home by herself. But this was only for the moment. Besides, maybe if Odette had quenched him once in a while, he wouldn’t feel the need to do something like this. He supposed he understood her reservations, what with her past sexual trauma, but they’d been dating for over a month, and nothing had come of it. She never invited him inside, and she never took him up on his offers to go home with him after their dates.

    Honestly, this was her doing. He loved her, but fuck, he needed some reprieve from how she made him feel in the loins. He could justify letting another girl get on him for that reason. There wasn’t anything wrong with it if he was just thinking about Odette the entire time anyway.

    He resisted the urge to cringe at that collective train of thought. Pride made him feel good, but sometimes it made him feel too good.

    “I don’t see you stopping me,” the Sinnohan girl giggled.

    Dorien quickly stitched together some witty remark but was interrupted by the obnoxious noise of the beaded curtains being pulled back. He looked over, expecting yet another round of strippers, but was even less enthused by who it ended up being.

    That guy always stuck out like a sore thumb, even when people weren’t bending to his every beck and call. With his garish silver hair and bright blue eyes...

    “Hellooooooo, am I interrupting anything?” Clovis called, alerting everyone's attention to him. The hoots and hollers of delight were quick to follow, and soon he was being showered with handshakes and pats on the shoulder and even being offered some drinks already. He hadn’t even been there 10 seconds, and even some of the strippers themselves were starting to slink over.

    “Mmm, a late arrival. That doesn’t happen often with you guys,” the Sinnohan girl purred. Dorien felt a growl bubble in his throat.

    What the fuck was it about that heir to the LeClair fortune that drew everyone to him like a magnet? There was their entire social circle and even Mr. Lambourne himself.

    Why does everyone bother with him when I’m already here? he thought.

    Careful, Inviderus warned with a chuckle.

    Dorien huffed to himself and shook his head once. “He’s one for grand entrances,” he said somewhat bitterly. With a polite wave of his hand, she crawled back off of him, and he stood to adjust his coat. He put on his best smirk and sauntered to his so-called best friend.

    “Clovis,” Dorien called. “Better late than never. I thought you didn’t do strip clubs?”

    Clovis finished up a handshake he was giving to somebody else before holding his hands out to his sides as he slowly approached. “I don’t. But I still felt the need to show some face.”

    He held his hand out, and Dorien didn’t hesitate to take it in a firm grip. Their standard greeting. Just friendly enough. For now.

    “Glad to have you,” Dorien said as he resisted the urge to grit his teeth. “You’re just in time for the good stuff.”

    “Oh, you mean watching Adam get lap dances? Seems like adequate entertainment,” Clovis jabbed. The men in immediate earshot erupted into light snickers, and Dorien watched as Adam shook his head in disagreement.

    “Piss off, LeClair,” he shot back with an equal amount of jest in his voice. He hugged the girl straddling him a little closer, causing her to giggle as he held his half-empty glass up. “Maybe it’d do you some good to indulge yourself, too. You spent so much time cooped up in your house, so gods know you’re bad at getting your dick wet by anything that isn’t your right hand.”

    Clovis laughed heartily and shook his head as he made his way over to the counter lined with their purchased beverages.

    “I’m good,” he declared as he grasped the neck of a gin bottle. He picked up an empty glass with another and poured his drink, which he immediately downed in one gulp. He paused, scrunching his face through the evident burn, before exhaling sharply. “Just here for the drinks. Besides, I’m a lefty.”

    “I bet I could convince you,” Lionel said suggestively. “I’ll send you an extra special lap dance later on.”

    “And I’ll pay off whatever debt she might have to have her refrain from touching me,” Clovis said. He poured himself another round and replaced the bottle back in the spot he found it before walking over to an empty couch in the seating area. He didn’t hesitate to throw himself onto it and kick his legs up.

    “That’s no fun,” Lionel whined.

    “Well, you don’t understand the concept of not liking sexual encounters,” he said just before taking another slow sip of the gin.

    “Mm, nope,” Adam replied. “I can’t imagine that.”

    “You’re talking an awful lot for someone who was a fellow Lust hoarder for a while,” Denis interjected as he threw himself down into a lone chair.

    “Crazy concept, I was taking it to combat that. Even crazier concept, it didn’t work,” Clovis shot back.

    “Why don’t you try it one more time and spend a night with me? Maybe that’ll get your gears going,” Colin said through a sultry smirk.

    Dorien rolled his eyes. “Subtle,” he said, leaning over against the back of the couch just behind Colin.

    “Please,” Clovis snickered. “I think all you’ll do is further remind me how asexual I truly am, high or not.”

    “But have you ever been with a real man?” Colin questioned, sticking out his lower lip.

    At that, Clovis immediately downed his drink. “I’ve been with plenty of ‘real’ men. Let's be honest with ourselves here; you’d barely rank on that totem pole.”

    “I bet you’d retract that statement once you saw my totem pole.”

    Clovis’s expression became something more deadpan, and he shifted his weight slightly to reach into his jacket pocket. He fished out a pack of cigarettes–-the pecha ones he really liked to invest in, no doubt–-and a lighter.

    “Nice one, didn’t see that coming,” he grumbled while he flipped the carton open and took one of the sticks between his teeth. It was lit with a flick of the lighter, and he shoved everything back where he got it from.

    “That’s not the only thing you could see coming,” Colin hummed.

    “God, what are you, twelve?” Dorien finally scoffed, smacking him lightly on the back of the head. Colin rubbed at the contact site and shot him a juvenile-looking glare.

    “Now I remember why I hate talking to you all,” Clovis said through a rancorous chuckle. “If I wanted to indulge in locker room discussion, I’d go back to my old boarding school.”

    “Wow, they had boarding schools in the dark ages?” Adam asked sweetly.

    “I wouldn’t know, but your maman would.” Clovis had his eyes closed now, and his hands were folded behind his head. Clearly, none of this banter was much effort for him.

    “Funny, my mum’s younger than you,” Adam spat.

    “Yeah, she told me while she was in my bed last night.”

    Low hoots echoed through the space, and Adam scoffed as he shifted his position under the woman still sitting on him. “Asexual, by the way.”

    “Guess there’s still some Lust left in me,” Clovis chortled, reaching up and pulling the cigarette out of his mouth. He exhaled quickly before biting down on it once again.

    “Come on, I’m sure I could screw some sense into you if you let me,” Colin whined. “Give me the benefit of the doubt, good lookin’.”

    “Darn, if I had a dime for every time I heard that, I’d be the world’s first trillionaire.”

    “Now, now, gentlemen,” Dorien said, gesturing to the briefcase on the table, hoping to end the excruciating conversation. “I have plenty of Lust left on me tonight. It could do you some good to give it another go, yeah? Or something else?”

    Clovis took a long breath from the cigarette as he opened his eyes again. His exhale was just as long, and he tiredly eyed the smoke as it drifted up toward the spinning disco ball hanging from the ceiling.

    “You know, trying to tickle my addictive tendencies is hardly a friendly approach,” he chided.

    “No, but it’s definitely a healthy business practice,” Dorien snickered. “Especially regarding one of my best customers.”

    That time, Clovis rolled his eyes. “I’ve bought it for myself, yes, but I’m not always the only one taking it. Have to split it with the team. And I’m kind of on a break from it for now.”

    Dorien exhaled quietly, resisting the sudden urge to go after him with one of the empty bottles on the counter. It was that ‘best customer’ status that got Mr. Lambourne interested in him in the first place.

    First Odette, and now Clovis. It was infuriating.

    Dorien couldn’t do anything to Odette immediately, but he could fully consider strangling Clovis. Perhaps it was the Pride talking, but he couldn’t bring himself to contest it. Two people taking most, if not all, of his mentor’s energy was two too fucking many.

    Why did His Majesty want Clovis? What could he possibly need with Clovis aside from his money? Sure, he was good-looking, he could be suave when he wanted to, and he spoke his mind. But what did Mr. Lambourne need with that? It’s not like he had any more Sin Titles to appoint.

    Unless he was planning on demoting one of them. Probably Lust. With how often Clovis used to buy that strain, maybe His Majesty was eyeing a potential replacement. Not that Dorien was a fan of who beheld Lust, but Clovis wasn't much better.

    Or, perhaps, he was eyeing a replacement for Dorien himself.

    It wasn’t certain, and probably a result of his high, but the prospects of it were enough to make Dorien wary. Mr. Lambourne switched moods at the drop of a hat--because he could--and that had to have crossed his mind once or twice. Especially after Dorien recklessly used his third-degree Vice Dust on Odette at the graduation party...and Mr. Lambourne didn't forget things like that. Even if it did work in their favor, it still had to be in the back of his mind.

    Why else would he be so adamant that Dorien also get ahold of Clovis physically? They already had a chunk of the LeClair’s money, so what more was needed?

    No, no, no. Dorien could hone his focus on Odette, but he’d do everything he could to ensure Mr. Lambourne and Clovis never met eyes. That couldn’t happen. That wouldn’t happen. Clovis already had so much at the tip of his fucking fingers, even after being out of the public eye for so long, and the idea of him taking the one thing Dorien had going for himself was just—

    Yes. Perhaps a dead Clovis was a better Clovis. Dorien was tired of playing nice with him, even if it was under Mr. Lambourne's orders, and even if it was to keep tabs on what he was doing. It was evident that the feeling was mutual, so what was the point? Better with one of them dead and not having to deal with it. It would give Dorien one less thing to keep track of.

    But, Mr. Lambourne probably wouldn't be happy if Clovis's body turned up somewhere. The press would be all over it for sure, and it'd be a mess Team Enigma would have to clean up instead of putting all of their focus on the more important matters at hand. His Majesty would throw a fit over that.

    Overall, it wasn't worth it. Dorien would have to use his brain and watch himself. Keep Clovis at arm's length and play nice, while ensuring he never got to Mr. Lambourne.

    “I mean, have you seen his girlfriend?” Lionel asked incredulously. “I’m sorry, Dorien. I don’t even know what you’re doing here. You could be at home fucking that instead.”

    Dorien snapped out of his angry haze at the sound of his name being dropped. Was that ridiculous sex conversation still going on? Good grief. “I’m sorry, fucking what?”

    “Your girlfriend,” Lionel repeated. “What’s her name again?”

    “Odette,” Colin answered. “Like Swanna Lake. Odette Cinq-Mars.”

    “Pretentious ass name,” Lionel said dismissively. “But she’s hot as fuck, so whatever, I guess.” He threw his head back against the couch and laughed to himself. “Like, her ass? My gods, dude, you’re fucking lucky.”

    Truer words had never been spoken, but that didn’t mean they needed to be said by another man. And who the hell was he to call her “pretentious”? Dorien forced a laugh as he held up a slightly defensive hand.

    “Maybe don’t stare at her ass when I bring her around.” He said it like a partial warning.

    “I can’t really help it, though. I never knew short girls could be built like that. I bet she fits on you just right,” Lionel taunted.

    Now he was getting mad. Dorien leaned down to hover his chin over Lionel’s head and stared down at him with every bit of malice he could muster. “Is that really what you think about when you have two women in your lap? You’re not a very gracious host, are you?”

    Lionel sputtered into perplexed giggles, but he didn’t turn around as he released his hold on the girls and motioned for them to stand up. They exchanged wary looks before getting up and moving to whoever else was standing by. He crossed his legs and craned his neck to look up at Dorien.

    “Dude, I’m just complimenting your pick; don’t get it so twisted. She’s hot, that’s all I was getting at.”

    “Then just say ‘she’s hot’ and leave it at that.”

    “Don’t worry about it,” Adam said. The stripper that had been dancing on him had also walked off, giving him plenty of room to lean over and clamp Lionel on the shoulder. “Dory’s been like that since secondary school. He got snippy with anybody who talked gross about her.”

    “It was cute,” Colin mused. “I told Noel about it, and he wanted to get them together badly.”

    Dorien huffed loudly and smacked Colin again. “If you would kindly leave my personal affairs out of your post-nut conversations with your ex, I’d appreciate it.”

    “Owwww-uh!” Colin groaned, grabbing his head once more. “I was doing you a fucking favor, man! Noel was, like, her best friend, so I figured it was a no-brainer. Plus, it was forever ago…”

    And all Dorien got out of that was Noel thinking he was gay and embarrassing him in front of Odette. But he already had enough on his mind, so he wouldn’t go there.

    “I had a crush on her myself in secondary school. Didn't get very far, though. She was such a prig,” Denis suddenly said as he held his drink to his lips. He opened his mouth to continue, but something of a dubious chuckle made its way out before the words did. “How is she now, Dory? I'm sure she’s way more broken in after what happened, right? Was it worth waiting around for her prude ass to open up?”

    Some remnants of chatter sounded, but Dorien couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. Those words did nothing more than send his blood pressure through the ceiling. It was probably also the Pride at work, but that most likely would have happened even if he wasn’t drugged up.

    “I know you took some Envy tonight, but it’s really not a good look on you,” Dorien snapped, trying his best to refrain from hauling off and punching Denis right then and there. He didn’t do a very good job because he stepped out from around the couch without thinking too much about it. “You asked her out—twice, might I add—and she said no. It was five, no...six years ago, so move the fuck on.”

    Of course, Odette wouldn't remember that. But Dorien did, and he sure as hell wouldn't forget it.

    Denis scoffed loudly and finally took his sip. “What, that wasn’t meant to be an insult, I was asking. You showed up at Lansat and kinda pulled the chair out from under me, so excuse me for being a little curious.”

    Now Dorien was standing in front of him, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he tapped his foot on the ground. Some movement to keep him busy, so he didn’t start a fistfight outright.

    “It’s none of your business. Why do you want to know so much about somebody who wasn’t interested in you?” he asked, leaning closer to Denis’s face. Denis’s expression didn’t falter, even as he drank again.

    “Oh,” he droned. “Maybe because I’m bitter. Maybe because I think she’s an idiot for picking you over me.”

    Envy really was a powerful thing. Dorien knew firsthand. “That sounds like a personal prob–”

    He couldn’t finish his sentence before Denis was doused with a full serving of red wine. The shock caused him to drop his glass, and it hit the floor with a CRASH that stopped all immediate conversation. Dorien jumped back to avoid getting splashed and watched as Denis sputtered and spat as he wiped the liquid from his face. He frantically examined the expensive suit that would undoubtedly need some serious dry cleaning to remove the stains.

    “What the fuck?” Denis yelled.

    “Whoops,” Clovis said as he tucked an empty wine glass back toward his chest. He was standing behind Denis’s chair now.

    When had Clovis even gotten up? When had he gotten another drink? Where the hell was his cigarette? His eyebrows were knit together in apparent concern, but the way he stood by and watched Denis clumsily try to wipe himself off said otherwise.

    “Stupid me. Already too drunk for my own good.”

    Clovis spoke with an air of jest, but there was a scathing undertone to his words that was on the verge of coming to the forefront. Dorien wasn’t sure if he was thankful or completely startled. He decided just to let the action play out.

    “Fucking hell, LeClair, this is a Brionni.”

    “Truly, I am so sorry.” Clovis still had yet to make any move to assist. It was becoming apparent that he most likely wasn’t going to. “I’ll pay for the cleaning. It’s the least I can do.”

    Denis sent him a glare before standing up and storming out of the room. Some other men and strippers watched him go, but Clovis didn’t bother to look. His face grew somewhat smug as Denis left his line of sight, and when the curtains clattered shut, he shrugged.

    “Really, you’d think I knew my limits by now,” he said flatly. “My apologies, ladies and gentlemen. Please feel free to carry on with what you were doing.”

    It took a second for the vibes to return to normal, but when they did, Dorien was still left standing in the middle of the sitting area, perturbed.

    What the fuck was that?

    Dorien could confidently say that he knew Clovis well enough from their constant fraternizing over the past 5 or so years, so much so that he was sure that Clovis wasn’t drunk. Actually, no. He very well could have been, but he wouldn’t act like it.

    He never acted drunk despite the amount he usually drank. He was a pro drunk. He might have drawn into himself more than usual, but he never acted out like that. Never stumbled, never broke anything, and definitely never spilled his drinks on anyone.

    But, it just so happened that as Denis began to talk about Odette in such an unspeakable way, Clovis suddenly had butterfingers?

    Dorien wasn’t mad about it, not in the slightest. Throwing red wine on that thousand-dollar suit was a tame alternative to what he was considering doing at the moment. But, it coming out of Clovis was what had him so struck.

    Clovis had never been the one to really “defend” anybody’s honor in such a physical manner, let alone the honor of somebody he barely knew. Maybe lasting remnants of that crippling social anxiety he’d apparently had at some point. But, leave it to a beauty like Odette to change him so suddenly, right? No other person had anything on her, so maybe that was all it took.

    Now that he was thinking about it, there was their fraternizing at the gala and his concern for her at the tea party, and now this…

    Dorien had to be reading too much into it. Had to. His observations had to have been solely based on jealousy. Envy. That was his whole being.

    If any man even remotely looked at Odette in an affectionate way, he wanted them dead, and he’d chalk that up to Inviderus’s presence. There was no escaping that. And these feelings, currently, were only being exacerbated by Pride. Sin Title holders always had more visceral reactions to sacrilege, no matter how light the dose.

    But on the other hand, Denis was implying something about the rape and manslaughter case. Would Clovis even know about that enough to attempt to stop him from talking? It was made public, sure, but would somebody like Clovis even pay attention to something like that? Unless he went out of his way to look into it himself. But why would he?

    Reading into it.

    Trying to deduce things about the woman he loved and hated while high wasn’t wise.

    He silently watched as Clovis once again traversed over to the drink counter again and took that opportunity to follow him. He didn’t rush, instead taking time to step over at a slow and steady pace. By the time he got to the billionaire’s side, he could see that he was lighting up another cigarette. Dorien pushed forward his best friendly smile as he leaned his backside against the counter and crossed his arms.

    “That’s going to be a hefty dry cleaning bill,” he said politely.

    “Eh,” Clovis said mid-drag. “Pocket change, honestly.”

    Full of yourself, aren’t you? Dorien thought.

    You’re one to talk, Inviderus chided.

    He sighed loudly and scraped his foot against the carpeted floor, willing the musing to pass.

    “Well, drunk or not,” he began, lowering his voice a little more for good measure, “I do appreciate how that shut him up. So thank you.”

    The look Clovis gave him was a puzzled one. He didn’t say anything before taking another long breath from the cigarette. It nearly burnt the stick down to half. “It was an accident,” he eventually replied as the smoke streamed from his mouth. “Denis should know better than to talk about somebody else’s girlfriend like that. Better he learns the hard way from me being stupid than somebody more violent, I suppose.”

    Dorien narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. So was it just an accident?

    “Either way, I appreciate you, even unintentionally, defending her. He was pussyfooting around a touchy subject.”

    Clovis’s eyebrows shot up. “No kidding,” he breathed, sounding moderately surprised. “I thought he was just being trashy.”

    It could be a bluff, or he could be sincere. Actually, no. Definitely most likely lying. Dorien wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly about that, but he did.

    God, taking Pride was probably a bad idea. Not that he could have anticipated something like this.

    “Oh, he was, but he was digging in a little too deep.”

    As Dorien spoke, a flash of movement caught his peripheral vision. But it wasn’t just any flash of movement. It was the unmistakable movement of braids. Double braids.

    Dorien didn’t bother to mask his eagerness as he turned toward the woman who had just walked by. She was curvaceous and dressed in perhaps the least revealing lingerie he’d seen tonight. However, as he’d seen, her hair was fashioned into that signature hairstyle he’d grown to long for.

    She kneeled down near the chair Denis had previously been sitting in and produced some rags that Dorien hadn’t initially seen on her. As she began to wipe up the spilled beverages, it became abundantly clear that it wasn’t who he thought it was.

    Odette was shorter. Odette was prettier. Odette wouldn’t be caught dead in an establishment like this.

    Dorien unconsciously sighed and shut his eyes as he turned his head back to face Clovis. She was probably at home, sleeping right about now. Truly, he’d have rather been in her bed than sitting among these other women, even the Sinnohan one. Letting her crawl on him was…just a moment of weakness. Really, cuddling Odette sounded like some real bliss for several reasons.

    Opening his eyes, he noticed Clovis was no longer looking at him…but was also staring at that braided dancer. His eyes seemed almost unblinking as he sucked more smoke from the cigarette.

    Ohohoho, Inviderus chuckled. Do you smell it? Do you smell that desire?

    Dorien blinked once. Could it be true, then? Was he really on to something? Was it not just his drug-induced thoughts running wild?

    The thought of that pushed him to the verge of madness. First Mr. Lambourne’s attention, and now there was a chance Clovis was longing for hers?

    “So, what do you think of my other half?” he blurted casually. “Since we’re on the subject.”

    “She’s entirely out of your league,” Clovis shot back without missing a beat. His gaze didn’t even move off the stripper.

    There was no way it was that easy.

    Suddenly, a half smile broke over Clovis’s lips, and he finally met his gaze again. “Kidding,” he said, sounding atrociously sincere. “You two make a fantastic couple.”

    He might as well be green. Envy suits him flawlessly.

    Envy suits him flawlessly.

    Was Mr. Lambourne out to replace Dorien with this white-haired chain-smoking attention whore? But they had never met, so how would Mr. Lambourne even consider Clovis to be yet another suitable host for Inviderus? It simply did not make sense. Maybe...maybe he really was looking for a replacement for Lust? Given how often Clovis bought it, that would make more sense, wouldn't it? Right? He was thinking too hard about it. There was no way anybody could take Envy from him.

    Nobody else could channel Inviderus as well as he did. Not one goddamn person. Nobody else could love Odette like he did either, even if there were moments he wanted to take her head off.

    Except, maybe His Majesty. But that was parental love, which was much different from Dorien's affections, so it didn’t count.

    If Mr. Lambourne couldn’t see that he was set, well, Dorien would make him. And if Clovis tried to get in the way of that—or of his pursuit of Odette’s affections—well, he’d end up dead in a ditch somewhere, wishing he had just stayed a shut-in.

    Actually, it was a good thing Dorien had ingested some Pride. The hubris felt good. He was confident in his abilities to complete the mission to success while keeping Clovis LeClair away from Mr. Lambourne. He could convince His Majesty that he didn’t need another candidate; everything was fine.

    “Not sure why you’re asking me, though,” Clovis continued. “I’m sure you’d rather hear what your boss says.”

    Dorien felt his chest swell. Goodness, he could go on and on about that.

    “He loves her,” he said cheerily. “Just from what I’ve mentioned.”

    Clovis snickered, but it sounded a little forced. Good, maybe he was seething.

    “That’s nice to hear. Does he have plans to meet her? Give a blessing for the wedding you keep fantasizing about?"

    At that, Dorien frowned. As much as he swooned at the thought of Odette in a white dress, exchanging vows with him, that was still a long way off.

    “No. Probably not anytime soon,” he muttered. That wasn’t a lie, either. Florent always preferred to hang back for things like this, even though he hated it in this particular scenario. He and Odette couldn't meet yet, unfortunately. Florent settled for getting his fill from whatever tidbits Dorien brought back, and all the pictures and videos they'd taken of her over the years.

    Aside from that, they were so caught up in trying to get ahold of Venira that the thought of approaching Florent for a blessing was setting alarm bells off in Dorien's head. He was still on thin ice from the Vice Dust incident, so he needed to keep playing it safe. The goal of betrothing Odette to anybody was so far off Florent's radar it was practically nonexistent, and Dorien wasn't going to be the one to bring it up. As much as he wanted to.

    “Sucks for you,” Clovis said after a beat. Taunting him. The fucking lowlife.

    "Just a little," Dorien replied, clenching his jaw. "But he's full of surprises, so who knows."

    Somewhere deep down, Dorien hoped it wouldn't be anytime soon. The further Florent stayed away from these people, the less chance he had to cross paths with Clovis.

    "Well, nonetheless, I'm happy for you."

    As you fucking should be, prick, Dorien thought angrily. And that was that. There didn't seem to be anything else pressing to talk about, aside from what liquor to drink next or plans for the rest of the week.

    All Dorien needed to worry about was making it through the remainder of the get-together and how he would approach his next visit with the love of his life.

    The sooner he could finish what he started, the sooner all of his annoyance would blow over.
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 12 - Navigating the Iceberg, Part 1
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu
    White Swan.jpg
    Chapter 12: Navigating the Iceberg, Part 1
    CW: Strong Language, Horniness, Brief Talk of Suicide
    Odette was quiet for the duration of the motorcycle ride over. Even when Noel would tap her on the shoulder to give her the next turn, she felt little need to give more than a grunt in response. Not that there was any use in talking over her helmet and the whir of her engine and passing cars, but it was the principle of the thing.

    Was it the anticipation? Was it nerves? Was it all of the above? The answer was yes.

    She wasn’t expecting the ride to be as long as it was, but she should have guessed there wouldn’t be any Olympic-style ice rinks in Lumiose. The further they trekked out into the suburbs, closer to Brackish and Calanthe, the more a knot formed in her throat. Was this a good idea? Were they smart in mindlessly driving off to a location that Clovis had given to them? What if it wasn’t actually a rink but an empty scrap of land, and by the time they realized it was too late, they’d be surrounded by—

    She sucked in a deep breath as she revved up the motorcycle’s engine and easily zipped between two sedans in front of her. No, the address was an ice rink. Noel double, triple, and quadruple-checked it before he gave her the go-to agree to meet. Clovis would not be asking them to convene at a public place if he was up to anything nefarious.

    Or, maybe that’s what he thought she’d think? Because he knew how astronomical her crush on him was and that even with her logical mindset, she’d still fall gullible to his charms and—

    Gods. For as often as she told herself to keep her proverbial shit together, it was getting progressively harder as the days went on. Especially when said days were filled with tasks like cracking open a region-wide conspiracy.

    As she pulled into the parking lot of their destination, she peered up at the official-looking sign even as she drove around to the empty bike parking spot.

    Sheer Cold Olympic Ice Rink

    “Well,” Noel said, his voice muffled by her spare helmet. He raised the visor, probably realizing that much. “Looks exactly like the street view did, so at least we know he wasn’t lying.”

    Odette kept her eyes locked on the sign, and it was a long while before she felt like she could move again. Swirling thoughts of what was to come kept her rooted to her seat.

    It wasn’t until she felt a gust of wind hit her bare neck that she flinched out of her almost-catatonic state. She’d been startled at first but significantly relaxed when she saw it was just Elton. He’d followed them over after giving Noel grief about being put in his ball for the ride.

    “Yeah, yeah, don’t give me that look,” Noel snapped as Elton hovered in front of him, sending him something of an unamused glare. “I just figured with the possibility of rain, you would have rather been in the damn ball.”

    The mention of the weather prompted Odette to look up at the sky. Overcast, 5 degrees Celsius, and a 20% chance of a downpour. It seemed fitting for such a dark-coated investigation, but she’d wished the mating castform had been slightly kinder with the temperature. She already felt the chill of her nerves, so some sunlight would have been ideal. Of course, this was Kalos, and even when the castform weren’t causing grief, there was no guarantee of that.

    She finally pulled off her helmet and shook out her braids before freeing up a hand to adjust her glasses.

    “Let’s get a move on, then.”

    ***​

    The lobby was what she expected. Several celebratory banners hung from the ceiling, and the walls were covered in plaques and cases full to the brim of gold-plated trophies. Photos upon photos of the many professional figure skaters and hockey players who walked from the building were hanging proudly for all new patrons to see. And, most importantly, there seemed to be quite a few people around.

    Just walking through the lobby alone, there were some characters dressed in both hockey gear and what looked to be dancewear. The figure skaters, probably. The sport wasn’t too far off from actual dance.

    “Wow,” Noel commented. “How victorious.”

    “A little cluttered for my tastes, but it's certainly an aesthetic,” Elton chirped from his perch on Noel’s shoulders. As the bird spoke, Odette reached into the side pocket of her backpack and grasped Isaur’s ball.

    “Come, be among your essence,” she said as she pressed down on the release and watched as Isaur faded into view. The froslass stretched her arms above her head before pressing them into her back and pushing on it until a sound ‘crack’ rang out. When she appeared adequately lean, she sent Odette a tired look.

    “Snack bar?”

    Odette scoffed. “I don’t know if there’s a damn snack bar. We’ll look later.”

    She didn’t bother to ensure that that was a good enough answer because she unzipped her jacket pocket and fetched RotomPhone, which she wasted no time unlocking.

    “So. Where is he?” Noel asked, leaning over Odette’s shoulder to look at her screen. He shrugged his shoulders, prompting Elton to hover.

    “He said we had to ask for somebody,” Odette answered as she pulled up their virtual exchange. “Somebody named…Val?”

    Noel pursed his lips. “An assistant, maybe? I’d bet somebody with his net worth has an assistant or ten.”

    To that, Odette shrugged. “He didn’t specify, but I assume that’s the case.” She broke her gaze on her phone to take another look around the lobby until she found what she was looking for. The help desk, sitting conveniently close to the front door. Even more so, somebody was manning it. Perfect. She motioned toward it with her head, and Noel, Elton, and Isaur took that as a signal to follow her.

    The clerk, a young woman who was wearing a retainer, beamed at them as they approached. Odette’s eyes fell on her name tag, which was decorated with crudely drawn stars and hearts. It read Amelie.

    “Hello!” Amelie greeted. “How can I help you?”

    Odette took another quick look back at her phone as she leaned onto the counter with her elbows. “Yeah, hi,” she said. “We’re looking for somebody named Val?”

    Amelie’s eyes lit up with a sense of familiarity. “Oh!” she said. “You must be the visitors he mentioned. He’s in Rink B, down past the stairs. You can just head on in.”

    Blinking a few times, Odette turned to exchange a look with Noel, then Elton, then Isaur, before pocketing her phone and sending a friendly salute as she stepped away. “Thanks so much.”

    Noel didn’t make a comment until they were well out of earshot. “Am I wrong for being impressed that that was so easy?” he asked, keeping his voice low as they passed two giggling teens and a set of weaviles, all with skates slung over their shoulders.

    “Am I wrong for being so concerned that that was so easy?” Odette responded with a raised brow.

    “What, were you expecting some James Bond-level security and secret underground headquarters?”

    She paused to consider her response. Eventually, she nodded. “Honestly, yeah. I would think Virtue Corp operatives would be more secure than that, right?”

    “Maybe Val is the security. Maybe it’s code.”

    “He's the one you have to go through to see Mr. Long, Cool, and Handsome,” Isaur said. Odette supposed that could be the case, but why send them down to a specific rink? Or say anything about expecting visitors?

    They turned into the doorway brandished with a large letter B, and upon pulling open the doors, they were met with a gust of icy chill, followed by incessant masculine laughter.

    From their vantage point at the entrance to the rink, Odette could see the rink was definitely in use. A group of seven men and some assorted Pokemon, all mostly dressed to practice some skating, were gathered toward the center of the rink, chattering about gods knew what. The room was empty otherwise.

    “I’ll start off by saying that I’m all for this,” Noel said under his breath as they let the doors slip shut.

    That she could agree with. As she drew closer to the edge of the barrier around the ice, it was abundantly clear to her that this group of men probably flocked together because they were all fucking gorgeous. Even their Pokemon looked well-groomed and carried an air of confidence.

    The men's tight-fitting practice outfits accentuated every muscle, every curve, and every lean feature of their seemingly perfect bodies. She supposed she should have expected that much from figure skaters, being that dancer boys usually didn’t look much different. But gods, she didn’t remember gawking at dancer boys the same way she was doing now.

    “Which one of them do you think is Val?” Noel asked with a snicker as he moved up next to her.

    “I don’t care,” she droned. “I’d be happy with any of them.” She wondered if there was some scientific name for a huddle of tall and handsome skaters. They certainly were a marvel, that was for sure.

    When the fuck did I become so horny? she thought in sudden aggravation. With a firm shake of her head, she crossed her arms tightly over her chest as if that would somehow stop her brain from wandering. Her thing for Clovis was plenty enough to be dealing with. She needn’t over-exert her lust by adding another face to the roster.

    She quickly broke her stare on the group to hunt down a place to sit. Her eyes caught on a set of bleachers just off to her left, and she made for them without saying a word, setting her helmet down beside her as she sat.

    "I've been prowling the wrong market. This is where it's at," Noel spoke from his spot next to her.

    She stifled a laugh as she turned to look at him, and whatever snide remark she had prepared shriveled up and died on her tongue when she was met with the sight of him holding a pair of binoculars to his eyes. Without a second thought, she reached over and tried to yank them out of his hands. However, he had them out of her reach before her fingers could even graze them.

    "What the fuck are you doing?" Odette asked through her clenched teeth. "Don't be a pervert."

    Noel scoffed in mock irritation. "Miss Ma'am, how many competitions do you think the lot of them have competed in where they had cameras and," he shook the binoculars in front of her nose, "hundreds of these stupid things pointed at them?" he shot back. "Surely they won't mind my problematic, deprived gay ass having a couple seconds of fill."

    He nudged her off with his elbow and peered back through the binoculars again, leaving Odette to bury her face in her hands. She only stayed like that for a moment because the group hooting and hollering made her look up.

    One of them—a tall, very lean yet muscular brunette—had skated away from the gathering and was taking a quick lap around the rink, gradually building up speed. Odette had gone ice skating several times in the past and had no issues keeping her balance on the skates, but him? He looked like he was practically flying over the ice. Like his blades were barely making contact. It was so effortless she almost felt jealous.

    Then, without any indication of what he would do next, he quickly turned, so he was now skating backward, and with a few moments of prep, he launched himself into a backflip. Odette watched wide-eyed as he landed seamlessly before stumbling ever so slightly. He didn’t fall, though. He regained his balance and seemed to bask in the cheers that rang out from his group.

    He slowed to a stop mere feet from the others and adjusted his protective glasses on his face before his eyes met Odette’s. She could practically feel the heat travel down to the point of her nose and disperse across her cheeks as he grinned at her. He tilted his head, almost questioningly, before turning to acknowledge his friends again.

    For some reason, that smile felt familiar. She couldn’t pinpoint why. Maybe all pretty boys just smiled the same. That wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.

    However, he was still relatively far away, so maybe she really was just horny. And after watching such a strong display of athleticism and grace, who could blame her? What a show.

    She held her hand out to Noel. “Gimme.”

    She didn’t need to be looking at him to know that stupid fucking smirk had spread over his lips. She felt the binoculars fall into her palm and held them to her glasses.

    “What the fuck are you doing?” Noel teased in a voice that was meant to sound reminiscent of hers. “Don’t be a pervert.”

    “Sorry, can’t hear you. My eyes are busy.”

    Noel’s snicker still wasn’t enough to deter her from taking a good, zoomed-in look at each of them. But, as she did, she vaguely began to return to her senses and started to wonder what the fuck they were doing there. Were they just supposed to wait for this Val person to show up? Was he out there on the ice like they’d initially been anticipating? What was even the point of waiting?

    “I wish the answers to our questions were tattooed on one of their foreheads,” she muttered. “Then maybe I’d have a concrete reason for doing this.”

    “Same, but I’d want it somewhere a little lower.”

    It took her a moment to register the meaning of those words, but she eventually snickered. Her head shook, but she didn’t move the binoculars off her eyes. “We’re fucking disgusting,”

    “No, we just know the top-shelf wines when we see them,” Noel chided. “And we’re in the mood to get a little hammered.”

    That was a nice metaphor for being horny. She decided to hang onto it so she felt less…desperate.

    "Odette," Isaur said, nudging her. "Odette, look."

    "Hang on, man, I'm a little preoccupied," Odette replied.

    As she buried Noel's pretty words into some shallow pocket in her brain, she began to hunt down the brunette again to really get a good look at his face and that smile. However, she couldn’t find him. Even as she moved back and forth between the others, it seemed like he’d disappeared.

    She dropped the binoculars down to get a normal look, brow furrowed in what felt like a mix of confusion and disappointment.

    “Enjoying the view?”

    Odette felt her blood run cold. Colder than the air around her had initially made it. She knew the voice, and it didn’t belong to Noel. Isaur let out a quiet snicker, and Odette resisted the urge to turn and glare at her.

    Her knack for getting distracted by a pretty face would prove extremely detrimental if it kept up. She hadn’t even realized anybody had left the ice and walked over to them, and for somebody as observant as she tended to be, that was a big no-no. It was evident Noel and Elton hadn’t noticed anything either; their collective surprised gasps said that well enough.

    Eyes slipping shut, she set the binoculars in her lap. Anger had started to build up alongside her unfathomable embarrassment, and she needed a moment to calm herself before she faced who had caught her with her hand in the poffin jar. Slowly, she turned her head and had to clench a fist to keep herself steady when she saw it was the same brunette she’d been looking for, now sitting mere inches from her, only separated by her helmet.

    That wasn't who she thought it was. She thought she knew Clovis's voice well, but it wasn't him. It didn't look like him. Did pretty men sound the same too? Or...

    He was smiling in amusement. Perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. But not too white that it looked unnatural, but just white enough that they looked clean. Maybe they were natural, or maybe they were veneers. It didn’t matter because his smile really was just perfect.

    No, she knew that face. She knew that smile. She wasn't crazy. It felt familiar for a reason.

    “Hey, stranger!” Isaur said happily. The suddenness of the outburst made Odette flinch. Brunette simply chuckled.

    “Nice to see you too, Isaur,” he said.

    He pulled the goggles off, and her suspicions were confirmed. The brown hair and brown eyes had totally thrown her off, but she'd been right.

    It was Clovis.

    “What the fuck, I didn’t even recognize you,” Noel wheezed.

    Odette still felt like she was still processing the visual, but her gears had rusted over.

    “Good, that means I’m safe,” Clovis responded casually, scratching behind his ear.

    “Hey Val,” one of the other skaters called from the ice. “Are you done for now?”

    Clovis held up a thumb. “I’ve got a meeting with some newbies, so I’m out.”

    That was enough for the skater because he turned back to whatever he’d been doing before. Odette was so occupied with staring at this new version of her crush that she wasn’t paying too much attention to the rest of the group anymore.

    Val?” she queried incredulously.

    “Mm,” Clovis hummed. He pushed himself up to stand and began to step off the bleachers. Perfectly balanced on his clean white skates, no less. “Let’s go to my office.”

    In other words, she'd be better off not drilling him until they were in private. She understood that much. A good choice, too, because she was a second away from firing off multiple questions at once and might not have been able to control her volume.

    Everything was moving way too fast all of a sudden. Her body began to navigate on pure autopilot as she, Noel, Elton, and Isaur followed him out of the arena, through the lobby, and over to the second floor. She continued to be thrown as each person they passed greeted him, and he had no issues matching their energy.

    “Sup Val,” some young teenager in full hockey gear said as he hobbled past them.

    “Looking good, Quintin,” Clovis replied jokingly as he patted the teen’s helmet.

    “Good afternoon, Val,” a much older-looking girl greeted. She held her Alolan vulpix partner snuggly to her chest, and it cooed in a similar greeting.

    “Good afternoon, Angela, Diamond. How’s your ankle?” he asked.

    “Better today,” Angela said. “I massaged it like you told me to, and Diamond helped me ice it, so I think I’m good to go.”

    At another point, a young girl, no older than 10, rushed up to Clovis excitedly with her smoochum in tow. He was quick to kneel down to the girl’s height.

    “Val, Val!” she said breathlessly. “I got my toe loop today! I did it! And Smoochum got her sit spin!”

    Clovis gasped excitedly and held his hands up for the girl and Smoochum to high-five. “That’s fantastic, guys. Keep practicing, and I’ll come to watch you two later.”

    Odette was absolutely floored. It was like she was in the presence of a completely different person. None of these skaters seemed to have the slightest idea about what their Val did on his days off. Though, to be fair, she’d had no idea what her Clovis did on his days off until now.

    “Damn, you’re quite the celebrity,” Noel commented quietly. It was enough for Clovis to hear because he peered at him over his shoulder, something of a smirk on his lips.

    “It is my arena, after all.”

    ***​

    The office was exactly what Odette expected from the owner of an ice arena.

    It overlooked the same rink they’d just been in, with a window that took up the entirety of the back wall. Against it was a large desk with an organized mess of papers, books, and an empty cup. The walls themselves were decorated floor to ceiling with awards, plaques, flags, medals, everything. Almost as victorious as the lobby. A set of black leather loveseats bordered a glass coffee table in the middle of the room, and that’s where Odette found herself immediately walking to as she entered to set her helmet down. Noel did the same with his.

    “Please, make yourselves at home,” Clovis said as he held the door open for them. He let it slip shut before walking over to the window and closing its blinds.

    As they slipped shut, his demeanor change was instant.

    His shoulders deflated, and he hunched over tiredly as an exasperated sigh clawed out of his throat. He sat on the edge of his desk and aggressively tugged at the knots on his skates before kicking them off unceremoniously. Now barefoot, he stomped his way to the far corner of the office, where a mini bar—stacked to the brim with bottles of varying liquors—stood, flanked by numerous filing cabinets.

    He was swift as he grabbed a glass, filling it with ice and dumping some clear-ish brown liquid into it. He swirled it around for a moment before completely downing it.

    “Rum?” Noel asked with a scoff.

    “You wish,” Clovis snapped back, still facing the bar. He sounded positively exhausted. “Whiskey.”

    Odette sent Noel a worried look, and he returned one that was a little more amused.

    “He okay?” Noel mouthed. All she could do was shrug.

    “Being a rink owner that much of a headache?” Noel pressed again as he crossed his arms over his chest.

    Clovis, pouring another drink, snickered. “Oh no. This is entirely unrelated to the rink. Please, have a seat. I’ll be with you once I’ve adequately warmed up.”

    “My, my, get a look at this wall,” Elton said. Odette turned her head as fast as Noel did, but Noel was the first to approach him. The bird was staring at some of the awards nailed to one of the walls and seemed quite interested in them. Odette might have followed, but for the moment, she found that she was more worried about Clovis’s state of mind. Who the hell had a fully stocked drink bar in their office? It must have been a billionaire thing. Or an alcoholic thing.

    She felt something nudge her leg and looked down to see Isaur wiggling her brow.

    “He's not sober, now's your chance to approach,” she urged, nodding her head toward Clovis. Odette began to shake her head frantically. Approach him and do what? Ask how he was feeling about the weather?

    As she shook her head, Noel grabbed her sleeve and yanked her over to the wall. The sudden movement caused her to stumble, but Noel caught her just in time and held her in a manner to ensure she was staring straight at the wall of awards. Her eyes landed on a gold plaque.

    Rookie of the Year
    Valentin Ménétries

    She read the name over and over again. The first name, then the last name. For some reason, it took her a lot longer than it should have to register the significance of either of them. With a few slow blinks, her eyes traveled up to another award.

    Valentin Ménétries. Valentin Ménétries.

    Ménétries. Valentin. Val.

    Odette’s mouth went slack, and she cautiously turned her head to meet Noel’s wide eyes.

    “Holy—” she started to whisper.

    “J.L. Ménétrie—” Noel gasped. The loudness of his voice caused Odette to jump, and she flailed toward him just in time to slap her hands over his mouth.

    “I’m sorry, what?”

    For the second time, Odette felt her blood run cold. She watched as Noel’s eyes danced with a mix of embarrassment and fear as her look hardened into a glare. They exchanged something silent--something that said "do not say another goddamn word"--before simultaneously turning toward Clovis.

    Glass in hand, he was now glaring at them. Glaring.

    “You want to say that again?” he urged.

    Odette steadily pulled her hands off Noel’s mouth. “We were just reading your awards. Super impressive, I have to say,” she replied without missing a beat.

    “Where did you get ‘J.L.’ from?”

    She felt her words do somersaults against her tongue, and Noel spoke before she did. “We were just…talking about somebody else we knew,” he offered. He flashed his teeth in a casual-looking smile, but Odette could tell he was panicked.

    Clovis stared at them intently. He still appeared absolutely ethereal, even though it was clear he was very cross at the moment.

    “Alright, you know what?” he said evenly. “I’m going to take another sip of my drink, and that should give you two ample time to get your story together.”

    As he spoke, he set down the empty glass he was holding and kept his eyes on them as he wrapped his fingers around the neck of that same whiskey bottle. He effortlessly popped the cork off, then held it to his lips to chug whatever was left.

    Odette didn’t know whether or not to be concerned about his state of mind or completely awestruck by his tolerance. She stole a look at Noel once more, who had his mouth open in what looked to be admiration, so she just decided to follow that lead.

    “I—“ she stammered. “I bet you were a hit at keggers.”

    “I’ll say,” Noel added in agreement.

    “That’s not what we’re here to talk about now, is it?” Clovis shot back, setting the bottle down without bothering to cork it again. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his hand before pushing himself off the bar and walking over to them.

    “Now, what was it that you said just now?”

    With a better look at his eyes, she could see that he truly just looked frazzled. Stressed. Maybe even a tad unhinged. He held himself better than any other unhinged person she’d ever met before, but she started worrying about what was going on inside his head to have him be like this.

    Closing her eyes, she exhaled calmly through her nose. They were there to answer each other’s questions, right? Well, she had her first one ready. And she had no way to ask it without revealing what she knew.

    “J.L. Ménétries,” she said. She hitched her shoulders back to allow herself an air of confidence while she spoke. Showing she wasn’t just there to fuck around with him. “As in, J.L. Ménétries of Virtue Corp.”

    The exhaustion fled off Clovis’s face, chased away by a sudden burst of alarm. His brows lowered, and he tilted his head ever so slightly. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but he struggled to word himself.

    “H…how do you know that name? Either of them?”

    Odette licked her teeth and averted her eyes toward the covered window. Her hands retreated to her pockets, and she shifted her left leg uncomfortably.

    “I’m a bit of a snoop,” she muttered.

    “A snoop?”

    She tried to refrain from flinching. “I found some correspondence on my grandpa’s desk. He’s the chief of the LCPD, as you know, and I can’t keep my hands to myself.”

    If he was going to yell at her for some reason, she wished he’d just do it. Get it over with. Tell her she was in some sort of legal trouble for tampering with confidential documents. Something. The longer he stood there, staring at them in disbelief, the more she felt like she might shrivel up and perish.

    She almost had a heart attack when he broke into a frantic bout of laughter.

    He was absolutely hysterical. One of his hands hovered over his stomach as he stumbled his way over to his desk and threw himself down into the giant leather chair that sat behind it. It was only then that he calmed down, but not by much.

    “Well, we’re off to a fantastic start,” he breathed. The smile on his face stretched from ear to ear, and he began shaking his head. “And here I was, stressed about having to explain the concept of another organization to you. Perhaps I underestimated how much research you’ve actually done.”

    The seconds it took her to build up the will to respond passed like hours. “You’re not mad?”

    “Absolutely not. I’m just a tad blown away by you.” His smile shrunk to something more bashful. “Drink’s not really helping me, so I apologize for the outburst.”

    Heat once more found its way into her cheeks, and she nearly reached up to cover them. That might have made it more obvious, so she forced her hands to remain glued to her sides.

    “Don’t know what you expected from the granddaughter of a cop and her genius bestie,” she said defiantly.

    Clovis continued to shake his head. “So, what else have you two managed to ‘snoop’ through?” he suddenly asked.

    “Not so fast,” she shot back, pointing a finger at him. “I already answered a lot of questions; now it’s your turn.”

    Clovis scoffed. He was no longer shaking his head. Instead, he leaned far back into his expensive-looking office chair, his unwavering brown eyes still locked on them as he rubbed his fingers together. But, at some point, he gave her a relenting gesture.

    “Floor’s yours,” he said.

    Odette pursed her lips and turned to meet Noel’s eyes again. They were wide and accompanied by an urging nod. She once again found herself thankful to be in this with somebody she knew so well because he didn’t need to say a word for her to know what he was telling her to ask.

    “Are you…him?” she spoke. “Do you work for Virtue Corp?” She knew the answer to that second question. But he didn’t need to know that yet.

    “More like ‘am a slave’ to Virtue Corp,” he responded bluntly. “And gods, no. Don’t insult me.”

    Clovis pushed himself up to stand and slowly but surely made his way around to the front of his desk. It was hard to tell if he was drunk at that point. He masked it exceedingly well. “J.L. Ménétries is my father. Virtue Corps’ gracious founder. I’m merely his no good, spiteful son, Valentin,” he declared with an air of mockery, stopping to lean back against the desk and cross his arms.

    “And that’s—?” Odette pressed.

    “My real name? Correct,” he answered. “Clovis LeClair is my…” he trailed off as if he were at a loss for explaining himself. “My adopted identity.”

    “Your adopted identity,” Noel repeated doubtfully.

    “Right. Because Clovis LeClair actually is a real person,” Odette surmised. She wouldn’t admit she had about 20 pages of notes about him in her backpack because nobody besides Noel and her Pokemon team ever needed to know that.

    A cringe from Clovis—now Valentin—that soon gave way into a nervous-looking smirk. “Was a real person,” he corrected.

    “You killed him?” Noel gasped.

    Valentin forced a sour laugh. He didn’t find the outburst funny. “Of course not. He did that himself.”

    Odette blanched, her body going stiff as Noel looked at her frantically.

    “What do you mean he did it to himself?” she said. “You can’t just say that and not fucking elaborate. Nowhere did I see anything about Clovis LeClair being dead.”

    Valentin huffed dismissively and, in a swift motion, pulled the brown hair right off the top of his head—a wig, as Odette could now see—revealing those more familiar silver locks underneath. He carelessly threw the headpiece down onto the desk, landing on top of some papers and causing the pile to shift. She didn’t have a spare moment to be thrown by it, as she was already preoccupied with the speculation that Clovis LeClair was no longer alive.

    “Mm. You definitely wouldn’t. The LeClairs made sure of that for the sake of our investigation,” he answered, speaking as casually as one would if they were merely discussing a sporting event.

    She just blinked. As if that would make anything he said make sense to her. “Investigation?”

    “You lost me,” Noel said. Thank gods because it’d have taken another two minutes even to formulate such a response. “Are you Valentin, or are you Clovis? Why are you wearing a wig; why are your eyes brown?”

    Nodding knowingly, Valentin lowered his chin and began to flex his foot. He spent a few seconds stretching the right, then the left. Odette could see the knot that had formed on his forehead, which indicated to her that he was most likely thinking something over.

    “I’m skipping a lot of steps here,” he replied. “Why don’t you do me a favor and catch me up on where your heads are, and I’ll just start to fill in your blanks.”

    “Well,” Noel started after moments of tense silence, “we know sacrilege is affecting mainly the wealthy and shiny Pokemon. We're pretty sure we know Team Enigma exists. We...don't exactly know if Virtue Corp is good or bad.”

    “I knew you were lying about something,” Odette picked up sheepishly. “And we’ve obviously seen those Pokemon.”

    And I know you’ve been following me for a while. And that those things we saw are called blood types. And that you’re scared of Enora. And that there’s some uncanny resemblance I shouldn’t know about right now.

    Though, she’d be getting ahead of herself if she dropped any of that now. She wasn’t ready to release all of the stops just yet.

    “What about your boyfriend?” Valentin said quickly. Nevermind how it seemed like he had that question on standby this entire time, but she had to refrain from growling.

    “I know he’s up to something.”

    “I’m aware of that much, but what are your actual thoughts on him?” he pressed. He sounded tenacious.

    “We’re being honest here, right?”

    “That is the goal, Miss Cinq-Mars.”

    She allowed the exchange to linger in the air, giving herself time to process the words and how Valentin looked as he said them: unmoving. Clear eye contact. Neutral expression. No sign of fidgeting anymore.

    “I think he’s doing sacrilege,” she stated. “I think…he’s involved with Team Enigma.”

    She didn’t want to say the last thing on her mind, but the more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

    “I want to wring his neck.”

    Valentin sighed, and she was actually startled at how relieved it sounded.

    “Great, this isn’t an ‘I can fix him’ scenario. You are truly just in this for the answers.”

    For a passing second, Odette wanted to scream. So it was true; he actually thought she was in love with Dorien? She couldn’t even be happy about that testament to her acting skills. Not when it meant her crush was going belly up like a dead magikarp right before her eyes.

    “If it’s any consolation, that makes two of us,” he added with a slight chuckle.

    “Three of us,” Noel interjected.

    “Four,” Isaur said from the couch.

    “Make that five,” Elton declared, sitting on top of one of the filing cabinets.

    That winning smile returned to Valentin’s face. It was far more welcome than any of the others he’d shown them since getting up to the office. He was still gorgeous. “I’m thrilled that we’re all on that same page.”

    “So you guys do hate each other?” Odette blurted.

    As quick as the smile had come, it was gone. Odette found herself regretting asking as Valentin’s eyes began to shine with that same panic that had come through when he made his slip at the gala. “Was it obvious?”

    “At first glance? No,” she assured him. That was the truth. “But, the more I stared at you two? Absolutely.”

    Her response didn’t appear to help, and now Odette was starting to panic herself. She stumbled over what to say next until Noel cleared his throat.

    “I was none the wiser if it helps,” he said. That was also true. “Dee has an unmatched ability to read people. Don’t feel bad.”

    Valentin eyed her warily, and she shrugged.

    Luckily, that got the point across. Valentin nodded once, his stare settling back into something a little calmer, and he smiled again. “I suppose I knew that. All things considered.”

    More heat on her face. At this rate, Odette felt like she’d need to stick her head back into that fucking ice rink air to keep herself under control.

    “I can’t speak for him, but I absolutely want to murder him,” Valentin elaborated. “Why do you think I just downed a quarter of a whiskey bottle? Not even my happy place gets him out of my goddamned head.”

    He raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I was with him last night, and I’m still reeling. Not to mention, I’ve been dreading this conversation for days already because I’d assumed I would have to give you the entire rundown and that just—” His words had started to pour out, and he stopped himself before they completely overtook him. He took a deep, leveling breath.

    “…pardon if I seem a little out of it.”

    “No. I get it,” Odette replied. Now his display made all the sense in the world. She'd be in a similar boat if she were much of a drinker. “I have to decompress when I get away from him too.”

    “Well, you’re worse off than me. I couldn’t imagine having to kiss and talk about marriage with him. You’re a fantastic actress because you certainly had me fooled.”

    It was her turn to sigh in relief, but she was mindful about being as obvious about it. At least now he understood that what she was putting on display for Dorien wasn’t real. And that she was still technically single and available. Maybe all wasn’t lost just yet.

    However, she had to focus.

    “Why, did you think you’d have to convince me to turn against my loving significant other?” she teased. Something lighthearted, mostly for herself. But it seemed to help him, too, because he smirked at her.

    “Correct. But, being that he does do sacrilege—religiously—and is indeed a member of Team Enigma, that might have been much easier than I anticipated."

    His tone was just as teasing as hers, but it didn’t stop her expression from falling. She supposed she should have been at least somewhat excited that she’d been correct, but all she felt at that moment was the urge to throw up.

    “Does he give it to his ‘mon?” she asked, trying not to sound as numb as she felt.

    Valentin hesitated. “Yes.”

    “And how deep in Enigma is he?”

    Another pause. “As deep as you can get. Direct contact with their leader-deep.”

    Gods, that fucking… she thought in disbelief. She had a feeling but didn’t realize it was like that.

    “Fuck me,” she said through her clenched teeth. “And you’re talking like there’s more to that.”

    “Because there is,” Valentin said. "I also have to convince you that Virtue Corp is on your side. We're totally and completely against Team Enigma and everything it stands for."

    "Alright, that's a move in the right direction," Odette said.

    “But what exactly do you mean ‘the entire rundown’? And ‘skipping steps’? Is there really some big ol’ fucking conspiracy going on here aside from the fact that Dorien’s a much bigger skeeze than we thought he was?” Noel said. Obviously eager to get the show further down the road. Odette was thankful for that much because she felt herself starting to spiral the more they lingered on that topic.

    She had a strong feeling that wouldn’t end any time soon.

    “It sounds like you’ve dug a partial bit of the way down.” Valentin chuckled lightly. “I figured I’d have to try to convince you that I wasn’t just telling you a convenient story about a double identity and another mysterious organization. I'll settle for just explaining why we're on the good side.”

    “This is only partial?” Noel exclaimed. "I'm all for hearing how Virtue Corp is the hero side here, but holy shit, what more is there?"

    At that, Valentin just sighed. He brought his hands up in front of his face and folded them in front of his mouth in what looked to be contemplation.

    “I don’t want to alarm you,” he said darkly. “But I need you all to understand that you have stepped into some deep shit. If this scenario were an iceberg, I’d say you haven’t yet reached the water. I asked you to meet with me to clear the fog so you know what you’ve stuck yourselves into and so you know how to proceed going forward.”

    He looked genuine. Spoke genuinely. His eyes were narrow in seriousness; they had no sense of alarm. They were still quite easy to read, even though they were no longer blue. Somehow, the brown actually looked nicer on him. Dark, but she could still see some flecks of gold within them. So strange for this man who she had come to associate with such cool colors.

    Was that his natural eye color? Or were they contacts? Or were the blue hues she’d met him with the fake ones? Regardless, it all worked on him because, of course, everything about him just worked. Still, it was exciting to be able to see this new side of him. That meant he trusted them, right? And trust was the foundation for a friendship, and perhaps something more than—

    I’m gonna stab myself, she thought in annoyance.

    She focused on his little speech, her brain going to work trying to figure out what it was they might not have known, while her chest filled with warring senses of unease, infatuation, and curiosity. She had been getting a bad feeling that they were dealing with something far bigger than they had planned, but the way Valentin announced it made her feel "bigger than they had planned" was an understatement.

    “Then, I’ll kick off with another question. What the fuck are those Pokemon, and what do they have to do with shinies?” she queried.

    Valentin’s eyes slipped shut as he started to nod expectantly. He probably saw that question coming from miles away. With a deep exhale, he unfolded his arms and used them to pull himself up onto the desk, where he crossed his legs and tucked his hand under his cheek.

    “And I’ll counter you,” he said. “Do any of you know of a man named Florent Lambourne?”
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 13 - Navigating the Iceberg, Part 2
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu
    White Swan.jpg
    Chapter 13: Navigating the Iceberg, Part 2
    CW: Strong language, talk of suicide, mention of forced breeding
    This chapter literally took months, and I don't even know if it's good LOL. It's a big ol' info dump so please feel free to tear me a new one, cuz idek anymore. Thanks!

    Florent Lambourne.

    Odette quirked a brow. She exchanged looks with Noel, who shrugged as soon as their eyes met.

    “No,” she replied. “Is that name supposed to mean something regarding the shinies? He the person who started all of this?”

    Valentin scoffed. “He’s the reason Virtue Corp exists in the first place. The rightful leader of Team Enigma.”

    Blinking, Odette settled back into her spot on the couch. She heard Noel exhale sharply and felt him lean against her shoulder. “So there’s a name,” he said. “Crazy shit we’re finding out today.”

    “Let me reiterate that I’m just getting started,” Valentin warned.

    “But how is that supposed to answer my question? Did he create those Pokemon?” Odette pressed. Artificial Pokemon weren’t necessarily an out-there concept, especially if the fucker was running a ring like he was. Surely he was rolling in money, and money could buy anything, including artificial monster 'mon.

    Shaking his head, Valentin huffed. “No. Those ‘mon you saw at the gala have been around for a long time, believe it or not.”

    “Okay, but why haven’t we ever heard of them? Are they a new type?”

    “Same reason the shiny trade still exists; the wealthy decided on it,” Valentin answered.

    “Is that why we had such a hard time finding shit on them?” Noel queried incredulously. Valentin sent him an approving point.

    “Bingo was his name-o.”

    “But how would something like that even work? How do you wipe the existence of these ‘mon from everything?” Noel said.

    “You’d be surprised at what gets done when really powerful people pool their money together,” Valentin chided. “Gradual but eventual elimination of all information.”

    "Even from the internet?"

    "Even from the internet. Team Enigma is much bigger and much more powerful than you think it is."

    Crossing his arms, Noel grunted. “Guess my threshold for being surprised just expanded.”

    Valentin stood up from his desk and paced over to them. “And, to answer your second question, Miss Cinq-Mars…we’ve learned that they’re referred to as ‘blood types.’ For the way their powers are summoned, as you’ve seen.”

    “With blood, yeah,” Odette said. That was one thing that lined up with the overheard conversation. Check. “How does that even work? Is it reactionary? Are they like…ingesting it? Is there something in blood that makes them…go nuts like that?”

    “I’d say it’s reactionary. You’re familiar with dynamaxing and mega evolutions, right?”

    Odette nodded and saw Noel do the same in her peripheral vision.

    “Blood types are kind of in the same vein.” He smirked at his own joke. “They function alright on their own, but the real power they gain is from blood. It acts like a mega stone to mega evolutions or a dynamxing band to dynamaxing. You understand?”

    “Sounds a little twisted,” Noel said.

    “A very macabre power-up, yes,” Valentin said. “But blood types, unfortunately—or not, depending on how you want to look at it—are ridiculously powerful when given blood. You saw firsthand how nasty those two were at the gala. I can tell you that was only at minimal power. They certainly get far worse.”

    Something about the statement caused one of Odette's earlier hypotheses' to click within her mind. Her eyes lit up as she nodded with a sense of finite revelation.

    That’s why the wealthy hoard and hide them from the general public. They want these crazy powerful Pokemon for themselves.”

    "Wow. That's as topical as topical gets," Noel scoffed.

    Valentin's loose frown gave way to a subtle smirk. “And I’m blessed that the two of you aren’t braindead.” He turned on his heels and moved toward his filing cabinets.

    Odette swallowed hard to keep herself from blushing. Noel nudging her caused that to fall out the window, and she resisted the urge to smack him.

    “But,” Noel spoke up, “what do these blood types have to do with the shiny trade? Or this Florent guy? Or even sacrilege? I assume it’s all somehow connected, or we wouldn’t be talking now.”

    Valentin was now rummaging through one of the topmost drawers. “Of course it is,” he said. “There’s a path here, don’t worry.”

    He withdrew several manilla folders of varying thickness from the drawer and pushed it shut with his shoulder as he briefly thumbed through them. He grabbed hold of one, pulled it to the top of the pile, and flipped it open. He didn’t move his eyes off whatever he was looking at even as he trudged back to the sitting area.

    “Years and years ago…probably around the ‘80s,” he spoke, “my father, Jean-Louis Ménétries and Florent Lambourne were colleagues. Professors. They both came from money, both went to good schools. Of course, they crossed paths, realized they were like-minded, and became friendly. Florent, however, had a couple of family heirlooms he decided to inform my father of.”

    He sat on the arm of the couch directly across from the one Odette, Noel, Isaur, and Elton occupied, then closed the folder and tossed it down in front of them.

    “That is a written ‘dex of every non-legendary blood type we’ve managed to uncover. Take a look at that, but hold out for what I have next.”

    Non-legendary?” Noel inquired in disbelief. “The ones we saw weren’t legends?”

    “No, I’d say hiruition and lophious are rather mid-tier. Desmocula, probably the same.”

    Odette scrambled for it and pulled it into her lap. Noel reached over and pulled it open himself, evidently just as eager as her to see what was inside. It was a pretty thick file, and she could see why.

    Alphabetized names, blurbs, and even photographs of these Pokemon. As Odette flipped through them, she did manage to locate the summaries for hiruition, lophious, and desmocula, among hundreds of others.

    “Are there even legendaries with this type?” Odette said, eyes unmoving off the pages she was flipping through.

    “There are indeed seven blood-type legendaries. You think the regular ones are powerful, but these? On a whole different level. And these are the beings that Team Enigma has been built around, as well as where all other blood types descend from.”

    "Built around," Odette repeated.

    "Yes. Like, worship. Spawn these hellish 'mon in their honor, use sacrilege in their honor, the whole nine yards," Valentin elaborated.

    She fell silent for a moment and pushed her bangs out of her face in exasperation. “It’s not even sounding like a criminal ring anymore, we’re teetering into straight-up cult territory.”

    “Very much a cult,” Valentin confirmed.

    He dug out a thinner folder, pulled it open, then took one piece of paper from the corner and slid it down onto the table. On it was a drawing of what Odette supposed was meant to be a Pokemon, but it didn’t look like one she’d ever seen. Maybe it vaguely resembled a dusknoir in shape but was certainly not one. If anything, it looked like a lantern, plated in gold, with a head that looked reminiscent of a candelabra.

    “There’s Avareed, the Pokemon of Greed,” Valentin said as Odette picked up the image to get a better look at it. She felt Noel and Isaur lean against her shoulders as they also took a look while Elton perched up behind her. She was barely done taking in all the details before Valentin slid over another image.

    “Then Lexuria, the Pokemon of Lust,” he said. The new drawing depicted a headless humanoid form draped in purple tendrils. It appeared to have wings, but the wings looked like…hands?

    “If I had to personify Lust, this would not be my first image,” Noel snorted as he picked the picture up. “Still, she looks like a wild good time.”

    “I'm not so sure I agree,” Elton said.

    “Then, we have Hubrias, the Pokemon of Pride,” Valentin went on. The picture he handed them depicted another humanoid, but this one had four arms. Each wrist was shackled to what looked to be a bloody mirror, which protruded from its back.

    The next image showed a mammoth-like creature. It had tusks while…also having antlers. Both of which were coated in ice. The most striking features, however, were its skeleton-like legs and skull face. Its entire body looked frostbitten.

    “Tristace is the Pokemon of Sloth.”

    He removed another picture from the folder, showing another humanoid, but this one appeared to have horns. Its body looked like a green, sun-eroded statue, but its head and limbs seemed coated in melting wax. It held a staff of candles. “Inviderus, the Pokemon of Envy,” he declared.

    Another image. “Gulattive, the Pokemon of Gluttony.” A hooded figure that seemed to have no legs. Where there should have been a head was a single, wide, bloodshot eye. A mouth of serrated teeth was open on its abdomen area.

    “Gross,” Odette muttered.

    “That's gluttony? I'm disappointed,” Isaur said scornfully.

    “Yeah, you would be disappointed; you’re pretty gluttonous yourself,” Odette smirked.

    “And lastly, we have Venira. Pokemon of Wrath.”

    Odette took the picture as she was handed it and held it close to her nose. She was met with the sight of a dragon made of brambles. Its teeth were bared maliciously, and the spikes along its back were on fire.

    She stared at the drawing far longer than she had at any of the other ones. Her eyebrows scrunched in concentration as what felt like…familiarity overcame her. She wasn’t sure why she empathized with it so much. Perhaps it was because she succumbed to the feeling of anger at least once a day.

    “Wrath, huh?” she said under her breath.

    As she handed Valentin back the picture, she was taken aback to find him staring at her. Hard. The look only lasted for a second once they made eye contact, but he had for sure been staring at her.

    Her head recoiled despite herself. “You good?”

    Valentin shrugged as he took the picture back. That stern stare was as good as gone. “I wouldn’t say that, but I’m alive, and that’s what matters.”

    He’s drunk, she told herself. Maybe his sober facade was falling off. She couldn’t find another way to explain the behavior.

    He shuffled the photos back into the one folder and set it down on the coffee table before he continued on. “Anyway. You’d have never heard of these seven specifically because the Lambourne family has had them captive for the past…thousand or so years, I’d say. Passing them down from heir to heir to heir.”

    “And now, they’re with Florent,” Noel said.

    “We don’t even have real photos of them because we never had access. These images are just renditions of sketches my father took of them.”

    “Florent really let him get that close to them?”

    “He did. He confided in my father about them, which started his obsession with these blood types. He’d never heard of them before meeting Florent, and anybody would have a cow at even the implication of a new typing like this one.” Valentin sounded like he was quickly getting disgruntled and soon caught himself on a breath. He shook his head once and looked back up at them.

    “Things went well for a while, but as you could probably guess, that didn’t last.”

    “They had a falling out when your dad realized Florent wanted to start a fucking cult,” Odette said.

    “Eh, close,” Valentin said as he wiggled his hand. “More like my father tried to stop Florent from starting a fucking cult, and Florent didn’t want to hear it. Even went as far as trying to take the legendaries from him.”

    “And how did that end up?” Odette snickered.

    “Thirty years later, we’re having a Team Enigma crisis, so you tell me.”

    “Right,” she sighed.

    “So these legends…” Noel spoke. “Do they all cater to him because he gives them his blood? Or something?”

    “Not exactly. Florent only has one actually tethered to and using him as a vessel. All of them are stuck to someone else, so to speak.”

    “Who does he have?” Odette probed.

    “Gulattive. Gluttony. Last we know.”

    “Of course, he has the weirdest-looking one out of all of them,” she said.

    “What do you mean 'weirdest looking one out of all of them,' did you even see Hubrias?” Noel said.

    She opened her mouth to argue, but there was no time for it. “Do you know who has the rest of them? Has he bestowed them upon others himself?”

    Valentin nodded and tossed down another folder. A printed label with the name Armel Lambourne was taped to the folder’s tab.

    “He has a son named Armel who holds Greed. No clear photo, unfortunately. The guy might as well not exist. We only know what we know from other operatives and what I’ve managed to finagle out of Dorien.”

    Odette grabbed the folder and pulled it open, only to be met with an official-looking document, notarized by a raised Virtue Corp logo, listing off information.


    Name: Armel [MIDDLE NAME UNKNOWN] Lambourne
    Age: 28 [CONFIRMED]
    Ethnicity: Caucasian
    Height: 6’2 - 6’5
    Hair: Black [CONFIRMED]
    Eye Color: [UNKNOWN]
    Vessel For: Avareed [CONFIRMED]



    The sparse page was also met with blurry and haphazardly caught photos of a man wearing sunglasses. Very clearly tall, and very clearly had black hair. Not much more to be discerned.

    “He’s giving cryptid,” Noel said as Odette handed the folder to him.

    “And, speaking of that fucking nit Dorien,” Valentin said. He slapped down another, much thicker folder with the name Dorien Bonhomme taped to the tab. Odette was hesitant to pick it up, but curiosity always killed the delcatty.


    Name: Dorien Arnaud Ignace Bonhomme [CONFIRMED]
    Age: 22 [CONFIRMED]
    Ethnicity: Caucasian [CONFIRMED]
    Height: 5’11 [CONFIRMED]
    Hair: Brown [CONFIRMED]
    Eye Color: Green [CONFIRMED]
    Vessel For: Inviderus [CONFIRMED]



    Odette felt her hackles go up. "Dorien has one?" she gasped, bringing the page up to her nose. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

    She was met with a detailed report after detailed report of several of Dorien’s day-to-day doings, ranging from his participation in shiny trade matters to dealing sacrilege to talking with gods knew who. Accounts of him being tailed, attempting to find where he goes to converse with other Team Enigma operatives, and ending off inconclusive. How the hell did that happen?

    "How do you spend so much time tailing a person and not know where he goes?" she asked.

    Valentin shot her a look, one that teetered on the line between unamused and exhausted. "Well, it's all there. But, to put it in layman's terms, he disappears. Not figuratively; literally. Gone with the wind. Which leads us to believe Enigma operatives have means to access their point of operations from wherever they may be, even if it's kilometers away."

    "Like...teleportation," Noel declared.

    "That's the hypothesis we have, yes. Or, much less probable, there's just Team Enigma bases everywhere that we don't see. We've lost him in a multitude of locations, though, and swept the areas after. Unless they're pulling a fast one on us, we're assuming some sort of remote access point."

    "Keeps you lot from finding their base. Thorough," Odette murmured.

    "Frustrating is more like it. And this isn't just knowledge coming out of tailing Dorien," he explained, "this is from multiple instances of following suspects. Trying to find where the drugs are coming from, where they go to meet up if need be. All leads to the same wall. So we've focused a lot more energy on undercover shticks at the moment, because that's proving at least somewhat more effective."

    Odette found one report from the night before that detailed Dorien's distribution of several strains of sacrilege to high-profile buyers, including Valentin, and…strippers? She wasn’t going to ask.

    “Oh. So you buy off of him yourself as a way to get in.”

    “Right. Really sell the act that I’m truly just there to be part of their idiocy. But I’ll get to that,” he answered. "Also, for testing reasons. Side-effect combatant research and the like."

    A question occurred to her, and she momentarily hesitated before asking. “…have you taken it?”

    He didn’t seem ready to answer, as indicated by the deep breath he inhaled. “…unfortunately. Can't convince the Romans you're Roman unless you do as the Romans do, you know?” he said. “But that’s not important now. Stick a pin in that.”

    “Alright,” she said after a moment, deciding to let it go. He had a point; that was not the big bad issue. A relatively significant detail, but not the most pressing one. He was undercover, and that was that for now. At least by 'sticking a pin in it,' he was agreeing to discuss it later. She'd remember that. "Guess I'm more caught up on this Dorien bombshell anyway."

    “I did mention he was deep in Enigma, didn’t I?”

    “So I’ve just been fucking around with someone who’s been possessed by one of these things this entire time?” she asked, a small drop of panic resonating in her tone. “How long has he had it? Was he going through secondary school with this thing just casually in his pocket?”

    As Noel and Isaur patted her back, Valentin held up a reassuring hand. “You’d have never known unless he explicitly told you or showed you. If they’re away in their balls, you’d never know any of them were nearby. For the most part. As for how long, he had it for a few years before we met, and I met him just after he graduated secondary school.”

    Odette briefly sunk into a thought, venturing back to the day she and Dorien battled. The strange vibes she’d gotten from him and how fearful he made her feel. She tried to think further back to their time in school together and if she’d ever had moments where she genuinely felt scared around him. She was perplexed to find herself drawing blanks.

    She really had put much of that time out of her head. It was starting to freak her out.

    “Could being possessed by one of these things make someone seem…scarier? Like, make-your-hair-stand-up-on-end scary?”

    Valentin raised a brow but seemed to consider the question as he rubbed his lower lip. “I’d say maybe? We have reports of them being able to twist emotions. I’d imagine meeting one of these things would be an ominous moment, so if he was trying to make it clear he had one on hand, I don’t see why not…” he mused.

    She rubbed the side of her head tiredly. "That's lovely," she groaned.

    “But, in Dorien’s case, he’s also just like that. He’s an obnoxious yet eerie little asshole. If he’s committed homicide by his own free will, I wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest,” Valentin continued.

    “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse,” Odette said. However, her smile did indicate some appreciation. And the way he smiled back at her almost made her melt.

    Noel cleared his throat, thus snapping her out of her crush-fueled trance. “I’d say it's a given Dorien’s kind of a creep, and being possessed by a personification of a deadly sin would definitely exacerbate that,” he chuckled. "Though, I feel like all you need to do now is douse him with holy water. Or, maybe, shove him in a closet of Arcean relics. That should solve at least part of that problem."

    Valentin suppressed a full-blown laugh. "Solid ideas, but it doesn't work like that."

    "What, blood types aren't affected?"

    To that, Valentin wiggled his hand. "They are. They can be, rather, in short bursts. We've observed blood types being averse to Arcean-blessed items and water, and those who have harbored them have even grown ill when in the presence of them as well. Dorien won't go near an Arcean church; he gets visibly aggravated at the idea. But, while debilitating at the moment, this type is quite sturdy. Not enough of a deterrent to make a huge difference."

    Odette caught herself on that explanation. While the fact that Dorien didn't like going to Arcean churches didn't shock her one bit--as he was the last person she'd ever expect to have that kind of devotion--it only struck her because she also became aggravated at the idea of visiting Arcean churches. She could never get through a Unitas service without breaking into a fit of nausea. Of course, that had to be a terrible coincidence or something in the building her family had gone to for services. She'd never thought too hard about it until now.

    "Why didn't he like it? Did he ever tell you?" she asked.

    It looked like Valentin had to think about it for a moment. "Something about him always getting a stomach ache," he said.

    The answer struck her like an ampharos' bolt.

    “Probably the inner demons making his stomach turn in the presence of holiness," Noel jeered.

    "Not the most scientific way I'd describe it, but that's correct," Valentin said.

    Dorien won't go near an Arcean church; he gets visibly aggravated at the idea. Something about him always getting a stomach ache.

    No way. No way, no way, no way. There is no fucking way. How the hell is that even possible? Is there some sort of sickness surrounding that type of thing? That doesn't even--

    "
    Are you alright, Miss Cinq-Mars?"

    Valentin's voice made her flinch. It was such a violent jolt that it even made Noel, Isaur, and Elton jump back. "Uh..." she managed. Her mouth formed around an apology, but she couldn't get it out.

    "Hey, you good?" Noel cooed. He clamped his hand around her shoulder and started to rub it as if he were trying to generate some heat on her skin.

    "You look like you saw a ghost," Isaur said. Her eyes briefly cut back to Elton and Noel as they looked at her with matching deadpan expressions. "Shut up," she groused.

    Odette scratched at her cheek and adjusted her sitting position. "No, no, I'm fine," she said. She had to put her brave face back on. It was too early for the conversation to collapse on itself; there was still too much to go over. "Just started thinking."

    "You sure?" Noel said. Giving her another opportunity to admit her psyche had just suffered another crack. She didn't take it. She couldn't right now.

    "For sure. Let's keep it going." Her words came out a little more forceful than she intended them to, but nobody argued with her. Noel exhaled deeply and turned his attention back to Valentin.

    "Okay, so, lets summarize for a second," he said. "We have this Florent dude, these blood types, these blood type legendaries, some select important individuals have them, the rich are hoarding the type, not too bothered by holy relics…where do the shinies themselves come into play?”

    “Have you ever been taught why shiny Pokemon are shiny Pokemon?” Valentin asked in response.

    “Uh-huh,” Noel said. “Odette’s mum actually taught us.”

    Odette didn't hear her own name. She'd sunk back into herself and was too busy trying to sort through her understanding of what Valentin just told her.

    I got stomach aches in church, Dorien gets stomach aches in church. He's possessed by the Envy 'mon. Do Arcean plates give him headaches? They give me headaches; could I test that theory? What are the fucking odds we went to the same church, and it's all just lining up strangely? How the fuck--

    "And what did she tell you?" Valentin said,

    “It’s a mutation,” Odette interjected, trying to remain as present as she could.

    I know the first thing about mutations, she thought. Focus on that. It's just a bad coincidence. Has to be.

    Focus.


    “Something in their genes gets screwed and causes abnormal coloration. But it doesn’t make a difference in their abilities," she explained.

    Valentin nodded along with her words. “Mostly right. That’s the cover-up reason.”

    “Of fucking course it is,” Noel scoffed while Odette slumped against the backrest. “And why ‘mostly’?”

    “The real reason is the blood types,” Valentin said. “They're very rare, and they’re only known to spawn in, you guessed it, blood. Entirely random, there’s no pattern, and sometimes it simply happens. But when it does, it causes a change in a Pokemon’s coat color, creating what you know as a shiny. Hence, Kalos’s lovely shiny trade still exists despite nobody really wanting it to.”

    Odette exhaled slowly, taking a moment to re-aim her brain onto that. It was a simple explanation, yet there was so much to unpack.

    “As for why your explanation is mostly right, no it doesn’t affect their abilities, but it can affect their health. A shiny unable to manage the blood type within them might experience some health issues related to their blood. Fatigue, drops or spikes in blood pressure, blood loss, bad immune system,” he listed.

    That alarmed her. Not just because that sounded eerily close to the issues she suffered with but because something else had occurred to her.

    Isaur chirped frantically before she had a chance to finish categorizing her thoughts. “Wait, Enora!”

    “Oh my gods, yes, Enora,” Noel inhaled gravely.

    “Enora is possessed by a blood type,” Odette speculated. “And has been this whole time?”

    Valentin sighed. “Correct. Though--and I'm not sure how much this helps ease your mind--she might be unaware that that's the case. Shinies left unbothered often live their whole lives without any idea of what's within them."

    Her frown deepened. “Enora might not even know it’s there?”

    “Sometimes, depending on the species, blood types prefer to remain docile. They occasionally won’t even present themselves unless their host is in severe danger. If that never happens, a host could live a full life completely unaware they’re possessed but be susceptible to those aforementioned health issues. They’d just be completely unaware of why it was happening,” Valentin explained, shrugging.

    Odette was staring down at her lap now, running over his words again. “I found Enora in a dumpster, and she was fucked up. I don’t know where she came from, but I imagine she was at least in some pretty bad shit…would that warrant it speaking up?”

    “That would be between her and the Pokemon living in her. If she’s never mentioned it to you, then chances are even when she was in peril, it didn’t present itself.”

    She supposed that might have been a good thing. She couldn’t imagine Enora not telling her something like that…though, in some world, she could understand the struggle of trying to word it. How would any Pokemon tell their trainer that they have some undisclosed ‘mon living in their bloodstream?

    But if she did know, was that why she didn't want anything to do with getting involved?

    "I don't know about that," she said under her breath.

    “Has Enora ever had any issues with her health?” Valentin inquired.

    “No,” Odette said dejectedly. “Nothing that I ever thought was concerning, at least.”

    Valentin’s expression didn’t help ease her head whatsoever. In fact, it only felt like the whirlwind of revelations had picked up.

    Enora had never exhibited any symptoms of being in anything less than tip-top shape. Odette would have noticed otherwise. Unless she was somehow really good at hiding any symptoms despite being an awful liar. But why would she if she didn’t know what was actually going on?

    Maybe she was scared. Maybe she didn’t know how Odette would react. But, they’d been through so much together, and surely Enora knew she could say anything if she needed to…

    The tea party, though. The voice she heard. Valentin and Bernard being concerned about where Enora was when she was attacked by desmocula…

    Could it have been Enora’s friend somehow? If Enora did know it was in there and had come to terms with it?

    Valentin must have noticed the look she was now making because he leaned toward her. “I did want to ask you about it. Due to the events of our recent tea party, I was concerned it might have had something to do with her.”

    “All that happened there was hypotension spell. I used to get them a lot, it was just bad timing. Maybe that thing sensed I didn’t have anything for it,” Odette said half-jokingly. Mostly to hide the fact she was lying by omission and skirting around the inevitable observation that was starting to brew up a panic attack in the pit of her soul.

    Keep it together. Stay focused. Keep your game face on. You're letting your mind wander because you're stupid.

    But was this a case of her overthinking or actually being on the right track?

    Her throat was starting to feel tight.

    “I am sorry to hear that,” Valentin said. Though, he looked ever so slightly wary of saying it. Like he was suspicious of her. As he probably should be. She was suspicious of herself right now, too.

    “I don’t mean to pry, but did you have other issues with your health in the past?”

    Did he know she wasn't telling the whole truth?

    Since she was thinking about it, she realized he must have known about her health issues while he was heckling her about hosting bids on Enora. The conversation she overheard sounded like Bernard had mentioned it to him even before then. Perhaps that was helping fuel his suspicion. Fueling his attempt at prodding now.

    “Yeah,” she said flatly. “Hypotension, anemia, compromised immune system, all of it. But I’ve been extensively tested and told more than once. It's a hormone problem. I was a preemie. That crap didn’t develop well enough in the womb, and ta-da."

    Also, you have also gotten stomach aches in church. Like Dorien.

    She hated how defensive she felt. What was there to defend? It had to be a coincidence. Many medical issues caused those problems, as so graciously showcased by all the tests she was subjected to as a kid. And people got stomach aches all the time in weird places.

    But he’d listed the same symptoms. And her eye color was indeed considered a mutation, and Dorien

    No way. No way. That can't be; no fucking way. I'm going zubatshit fucking bonkers right now.

    Or was she?

    “So, yeah, you were grilling me about Enora because you assumed I was trying to get a blood type out of her,” she said, hoping to keep the conversation moving forward. “But rest assured, this is the first I’m hearing about any of this. Didn’t know jack all about blood types until I read your files.”

    Valentin suddenly looked sheepish. That was better than suspicious. “I’ll admit that I was out of line, Miss Cinq-Mars. And I apologized to you. But there were layers to it. You having a shiny in your…” he pressed his lips into a thin line, hesitating. Odette rolled her eyes.

    “Just say I’m poor and get it over with.”

    He burst into a fit of giggles. It was adorable and caught her completely off guard. She’d take another round of a lovestruck haze over the tornado of crippling anxiety her brain was trying to launch itself into.

    “No, no. I was going to say ‘socioeconomic class.’ Which…doesn’t sound much better. But the point stands. You don’t exactly come from the demographic that normally has shiny Pokemon on their teams and paired Dorien’s thing for you, and how convincing you were in your act, I was very wary.”

    “His thing for me,” she repeated in disgust, exchanging a pained look with Isaur.

    Valentin tilted his head. “I mean, you know he’s absolutely enthralled with you, right? That might be an understatement.”

    She couldn’t tell if she was picking up an edge to his tone. It was barely there, but it might have just been her imagination. No, was it? She decided to ignore it. She couldn't be getting excited about that at a time like this.

    “Let’s put a pin in that, too. I’m still trying to get straight on this shiny thing.” She slapped Dorien’s file closed for good measure and threw it back on the coffee table. She also moved the blood type file off her lap as well.

    “Of course.”

    “So people find shinies in the wild. Non-shiny hunters, I mean. Like me,” she said quickly. “What happens to them? Am I in deep shit because I have Enora on my team? As a non-cult member?”

    A dark look crossed his eyes, and Odette suddenly wanted to gulp.

    “You found her in a dumpster?”

    “Next to my nana and grandpa’s townhouse in Lumiose, yes,” she confirmed.

    Valentin suddenly became pensive. “Have either of you ever been out hunting in the wild?”

    “Yep. Elton and I met in the wild,” Noel said. Elton flapped his wings in agreement.

    “The only member of my team I found in the actual wild was Isaur. On Mt. Coronet. But I’ve gone on expeditions here in Kalos with my maman’s research team, and they caught wounded Pokemon while out there.” Odette paused to think. “I guess I found Ange out and about too, but he was fucking around an abandoned shopping mall. Not sure that counts.”

    “In the wild areas, specifically, do you remember going through any checkpoints when you returned to town? To authorize the ‘mon that were caught?”

    She blinked. “Are those controlled by Team Enigma?”

    “The ones in Kalos are heavily manned by them,” he said. “Other regions vary.”

    Odette was surprised at how much that didn’t shock her.

    “What, Enigma’s not big enough to span outside Kalos?” Noel said.

    “Oh, they most definitely are. Their levels of activity depend. You know the shiny hunting laws in other regions, right?” Valentin replied.

    “Something, something, Kalosians visiting out-of-region can’t leave wild areas with shiny ‘mon,” Odette said. “To keep them from coming back here and selling them into the trade.”

    Kalos was the only region in the world with an active public shiny trade. All other regions had theirs abolished years ago and had been pressuring Kalos to do the same. Even the Kalosian citizens were for it, but the termination never came to fruition. So, other regions took it upon themselves to enact anti-Kalosian shiny trade laws instead.

    “That’s pretty spot on. Those laws might keep Kalosians from bringing new 'mon back from overseas to sell into the Kalosian trade, but they don't stop trades from happening within those specific regions. Operatives exist and plant themselves at checkpoints in other regions, and shiny trading rings still occur."

    “It’s just gone underground because it's illegal,” Noel said.

    “Precisely.”

    “But then how does it work? How do they manage non-shiny hunters leaving a wild area with a shiny Pokemon? Why did I manage to slip under the radar until now?” Odette said.

    “Some poor sap comes back with a shiny. They mark the sap and the shiny. Convince them to join their cause, or at the very least, give up the shiny. You might have gotten away with it in general because you never went through a physical checkpoint with Enora, but–-”

    “--I still had to report her as a member of my team once she actually decided to stay with me. Do they have access to those records?”

    “Correct. And yes.”

    Her panic was rising faster and faster with every passing second. She was at the point where masking her discomfort wasn't second nature, but an excruciating chore.

    “So, I don’t have a straight answer for you there. I’d imagine it’s hard for even a group like this to keep track of everything, especially secretly, so maybe you just got lucky.”

    “I was also ten at the time,” she offered, trying to rationalize her situation further and prevent her dread meter from maxing out. That earned her an unsure glance from him.

    “Do you really think a cult centered around worshipping sin legendaries is above messing with children?”

    She had to refrain from grunting outright. “No, I don’t.”

    It had to be the latter, then. She had to have just managed to go twelve years without being tracked by a group of sin-obsessed psychos. It wouldn’t be very in line with her luck, but it was the only thing that would make sense given what she had just been told.

    She felt some anger coming on. More out of frustration and brewing mental turmoil than anything. “Let's keep the conversation going. More pins. We’ll get back to that,” she snapped. Her volume made Valentin recoil, and some regret slithered up to meet her frustration.

    "Of course," he said, almost too quietly for her comfort. "As many pins as you need right now."

    “Okay. What would happen if someone, not Enigma aligned, found a shiny and the blood type revealed itself?” Noel questioned, obliging her subject change.

    “They’d still report to the checkpoints, and it would be the same process,” Valentin replied. “We have undercover operatives that have intercepted a lot of them once they picked up on what was happening. Some went as far as posting conspiracy theories online, ranting and raving about it. Usually gets written off as 'tin foil hat' theories and whatnot, though. We've gotten to them before Enigma could and hid them. Most of the time it goes off without a hitch,” Valentin said.

    “But?” Noel said.

    “Nobody’s perfect, so we’ve missed some as well. Some have gone missing, probably absorbed into the cult, or worse. And others…don’t recall anything.”

    Odette pursed her lips. “What, do they like to drug all memories of it out of them? Use ‘mon?”

    “Let me backtrack a bit to explain. You’ll need to know this before I can go that far.”

    “Have at it,” Noel said.

    “Because blood types are so rare, the greedy rich will naturally want more, and the shiny trade can only do so much. That’s where sacrilege comes into play,” Valentin explained.

    “Yeah, but how?” Odette said.

    “Think about it. All of the strains have effects in line with a certain sin. The blood legendaries are the birthplace of all blood types…”

    “Sacrilege comes from the sin legendaries and creates more blood types?” Noel finished.

    "You're right on the money."

    He inched forward in his seat. “That’s why it’s going around the shiny trade. That’s why it’s going around the one percent. They’re trying to spawn more blood types in their Pokemon and themselves.”

    "Gold star for you."

    Noel shimmied to himself in a brief celebration.

    “Can they even spawn in a non-shiny? Or...human?” Odette asked. She'd have found humor in Noel's little dance if she wasn't using most of her energy toward not slipping into a mental breakdown.

    “They can form in anything that has blood in it. The shiny distinction is just because shiny Pokemon were born with one. But, a regular ‘mon could spawn one," Valentin explained. "A shiny could have its original blood 'mon removed and be forced to help create another. A human could make one, too, but we've found it's a little more difficult. They basically have to use sacrilege to a point of sheer, brain-has-melted-and-you-might-as-well-be-dead overdose even to get close to forming one within them.”

    Odette clenched her jaw. "Has a human been known to be born with one?"

    "So far, we've found that only the legendaries have spawned in humans. We're still trying to determine if non-legends have naturally shown up in them, but the findings point to 'no.'"

    "Was Florent born with his?" Noel queried.

    "Indeed. Armel most likely was, too, being that he is a biological descendant of Florent. Florent made it clear to my father that they pass naturally between Lambourne blood--provided that they are available to do so, as in, not already with another vessel--though he never really explained how that happened."

    "So...how did Dorien get one? Is he a Lambourne?"

    Valentin paused to chew on his words. "Florent told my father that, as overseer of them, he also has the power to bestow them upon whoever he picked. If he never ended up having children, which is evidently a different story. Dorien is, from our understanding, not related to Florent whatsoever."

    So many questions. Odette didn't even know which one to throw out, but she decided she wanted to keep the topic on sacrilege and its effects.

    "Okay, noted," she said slowly. "That aside, a lot of people overdosing and dying are just trying to spawn a powerful blood type?"

    "Sometimes. It seems the general consensus is to leave that up to the Pokemon since it's 'easier on them,' but there are enough crazies out there that still try it at their own expense. Really committed to the cause," Valentin said. "But it happens unintentionally, too. Sacrilege gives stronger effects with each subsequent usage, so it's not unheard of for it to happen by accident as they try to chase the ultimate high."

    “You think the malamar and scizor were forced to try to respawn some?” Odette said.

    A shrug. “They were exhausted, so I’d bet on it.”

    “Good gods,” Noel breathed. “It’s like forced breeding.”

    “Exactly,” Valentin said.

    “But wait. Normal people are getting sacrilege to use just for battling reasons. Or as a party drug. On themselves and their regular non-shinies. What happens if they unwittingly bring about a blood type? I'm sure they’re not aware that that’s a side effect,” Odette said.

    “Enigma distributes, Enigma decides who gets it, and they go from there. Chances are if you're using it, you're at least somewhat aware. They're very...particular about when and where it's passed out. And to whom. It was a long while before I was able to purchase for myself. At most deals, if they don't trust you, they won't let you leave with it. You had to do it, a certain amount, with others around, and you could take nothing with you. They'd search you. They're thorough," he said. “Of course, that’s never stopped anyone. People slip, it gets out.”

    He rubbed his face tiredly. Something told Odette he was regretting his decision to down so much whiskey before having this conversation. “But, most of the time, if you're seeing it in any given place, there's an Enigma operative nearby, or you’re looking at someone who was considered trustworthy enough to walk off without supervision. And just because it's mainly going around the wealthy class doesn't mean they're also not passing it out to those in lower social classes. The majority is the elite, but if they can find some trustworthy folks in lower classes, they'll jump on them too."

    “Of course. More fuel for the cult," Noel said.

    Odette was nodding along in understanding. "So, what strains are there?” Odette spoke. “All seven of them, right?”

    “We’ve managed to deduce that there’s Sloth, Envy, Pride, Gluttony, Lust, and Greed,” Valentin explained, holding up a finger for each listed name. "There's one for every legendary, being that sacrilege, at its base, again, comes from them."

    “Okay, but that’s six,” Noel said with a forced chuckle. “That leaves…”

    “Wrath,” Valentin finished.

    Something about that felt…foreboding. And it wasn’t just the look on Valentin’s face that said that.

    “Do you think it’s just one you haven’t found?” Odette questioned.

    “We’ve only accounted for six different versions. Never a Wrath, at any point.”

    “Has he ever mentioned anything about it to you?”

    “I’ve asked, yes,” Valentin said. “Didn’t get much more than some elusive bullshit answer each and every time.”

    “So that means they might be sitting on it,” Noel hypothesized. “These other strains are doing a number on the general public, and maybe Wrath is the ace up their sleeve. I don't even think I want to know what a drug called ‘Wrath’ would do to people.”

    Odette knew firsthand what it felt like to succumb to feelings of Wrath. It happened to her daily. She couldn’t imagine people taking a drug that might induce it to conjure up some powerful demonic Pokemon.

    However, as the thought occurred to her, something spilled out of her mouth before she could think about it.

    “Or maybe they don’t have access to it,” she said blindly.

    She watched as every head in the room collectively turned in her direction. Valentin’s brow quirked. He leaned forward a little too quickly for comfort.

    “What makes you say that?” he asked. He sounded a little more forceful than he did a few seconds ago. She instinctively recoiled back toward the couch but spoke nonetheless.

    “Well, let's look at the facts,” she began, forcing another deep breath into her lungs. Her throat was still so tight that she didn't quite feel like she'd gotten enough air, but she decided she'd have to deal with it. “Every other strain is fucking up the overdosers. I’ve read enough public case files on them to know that it doesn’t seem like one is worse than the other; they’re all bad in excess,” she said. “So I couldn’t imagine, even if it is considered the scariest one of the seven, that Wrath could be any more or less worse. So, why hold off on it? Unless it’s a strain that they’ve found might subsequently wipe us all out, I can’t see a reason other than they don’t have it.”

    She watched as some tension deflated from Valentin’s shoulders, and Noel averted his gaze toward his lap in thought.

    “Right. That’s something we considered as well,” Valentin agreed stiffly. The slight disappointment in his tone was not lost on her, but everything was moving far too fast for her to focus on it. “Nothing in any tested samples has indicated any mixing with it, or even a tell if it’s coming. So we’re entirely in the dark on that front. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little concerning. If they are sitting on it, the question is, why? And if they don’t actually have Wrath on hand…”

    “...then where exactly is it?” Noel finished. Valentin nodded at him, looking grim.

    “Where exactly is it, indeed.”

    All was quiet for a beat, as it seemed everyone in the room was trying to settle into the information being thrown about. Though, Odette couldn't quite enjoy the silence. The sound of her own heartbeat beating on her eardrums had become borderline deafening.

    “So you purchase sacrilege from Dorien to test the strains, but you also said something about side-effect combatants? Does that somehow play into what happens to unsuspecting shiny catchers who don’t join their cult?” Odette questioned.

    “Sacrilege, as you probably know, can leave anybody who ingests it in excess in pretty…bad shape. The price paid to summon a monstrous Pokemon within yourself. We mainly test it for antidotes to revert overdosers to their former selves.”

    “For both humans and Pokemon,” Noel said.

    “Correct,” Valentin said. “We’ve also had to develop combatants to an Enigma-only weapon they’ve started using against those they believe are our operatives or those, like people who get ahold of sacrilege unauthorized and perhaps those who passed it out unauthorized, who might blow their cover.”

    “Like…bombs and shit? Sin guns? How do you weaponize this crap outside of an illicit drug?” Noel breathed.

    Valentin proceeded to slide over the last folder he had in his arms. “They call it ‘Vice Dust.’ It's essentially just overprocess sacrilege. However they're making it, they seem to make a few erroneous batches that result in a substance that functions a little more pointedly than sacrilege. And they've started putting it to use."

    “That's not to be confused with pixie dust,” Odette said drily while Noel grabbed the folder. That got a spiteful laugh out of Valentin before he went on.

    “Can’t guarantee you’re going to understand everything in that folder, but what you’re seeing there are the tests we ran on subjects exposed to it. Like sacrilege, there are six strains, but the effects are a little different.”

    Amnesia?” Noel said. Odette turned her head to see he was holding a page from the folder. “So this is what they’re using on the trainers who refuse them?”

    Odette hated how fast she snatched the paper from him. Her eyes roved past the graphs and numbers until she found a written paragraph to better explain what exactly she was looking at.


    Subject 12A had been experiencing symptoms of amnesia, including an inability to recall recent past events regarding their investigation. After treatment from antidote series 1602B, their memories began to recover. As a result of the treatment, we have deduced that they had been exposed to 3rd Degree Greed Vice Dust.

    “What the actual fuck does Greed have to do with someone’s memory?” Odette said under her breath.

    “We believe it has something to do with Avareed’s passive effects. According to my father’s notes, Avareed was, as Florent described, a mind eater. ‘Greed for knowledge,’ so to speak,” Valentin said. “From our understanding, they’re using the same essence they’ve used to create sacrilege to also come up with this substance capable of this kind of nonsense.”

    “Oh, that’s sick,” Noel said bitterly. “Any average suspicious Team Enigma member can just walk right up to my dumbass and sprinkle me with Greed amnesia dust, and boom, I’m fucked?”

    “We’ve had our own ops see it happen,” Valentin said, holding his arms out to his sides. "And the treatment notes there don't lie. Actual victims."

    Odette couldn’t take her eyes off the page. Once more, her brain was rolling, trying to get its own thoughts in a row.

    Dorien’s job, old secondary school shit, stupid fucking Denis, she thought. Was I ever questioned about Enora?

    Dorien gets sick in church. I get sick in church. My eyes are a color mutation. I have the same symptoms.

    Wrath...

    “Odette?”


    She jolted from her haze and felt Isaur drive a chilly finger into her side. She gave the froslass a weak yet reassuring nod, before dropping the page back into the folder.

    “Can…hypothetically speaking…memories be jogged by other means other than your antidote?” she asked tentatively.

    “Sure. The lower the degree, the easier to jog naturally. There are only three tiers we’ve discovered of the Greed strain specifically. First-degree exposees were much easier to deal with, while third-degree required an antidote every time. Stronger stuff. Jogs can also happen in waves. Somebody might remember some things naturally but need help with the rest. Honestly, it varies from person to person how well they take it."

    Had her memories been jogged at any point? Yes, when Dorien mentioned something about selling Enora, back when they’d reconnected, she remembered his occupation. And her dislike for him came on pretty instantly. But talking about secondary school, specifically stuff related to her time with Dorien, didn’t jog her memories of it. Noel mentioning Denis didn’t make her remember him asking her out.

    She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take. The continued revelations were starting to force an unbearable weight into her stomach, one that was leaving her wanting to gag and maybe lose the protein bar she'd eaten that morning all over the floor.

    But they needed to keep going.

    “So they’re just full-on Men-In-Black’ing these poor guys?” Noel said.

    “Cleaner than killing them, I suppose,” Valentin commented flatly. “I figure it's much easier to steal the shiny away, wipe the trainer's memory, then modify any checkpoint records to indicate the shiny never existed than to have to deal with disposing of a body and possible missing persons cases. Not that they’re past that. Can’t imagine every soul that’s managed to evade our help somehow is still alive.”

    “Yeah, I wouldn’t take Team Enigma as being a group to leave bodies out and about with the possibility of being found,” Odette grumbled. Saying something to take her mind off of where it was. Of course, it didn't work.

    Noel was still busy flipping through the pages in the file he had in his lap, evidently trying to make sense of what exactly he was looking at. At some point, he slammed it closed and threw it down on the table, along with the others he had yet to put down.

    “Okay, that aside for now, I need you to backtrack again and explain the whole Clovis versus Valentin thing because that’s still got me kind of fucked up,” he insisted. “You said the real Clovis LeClair was dead? So how and why the fuck did you, Valentin Ménétries, end up with a dead man’s identity?"

    Valentin sighed gruffly, then averted his eyes up to the ceiling and settled back into his spot on the desk. “I suppose there is no real way to lay this on you easily,” he said, “so I’ll just be frank and hope you don’t think I’m busting your chops.”

    “We might be past that,” Odette said. Her own voice sounded distant to her now. She felt like she was slowly losing herself in her thoughts.

    That got a slight chuckle out of him, which was enough to tug her back into reality for at least a second. “Virtue Corp exists to combat Team Enigma, first and foremost. We also function as the leading opponent against the shiny trade and the leading sanctuary for Pokemon--and, to a certain extent, humans--that have been affected by it. Rehabilitation, if you will. That’s how we’ve gotten so much intel on the non-legendary blood types as well.”

    That explained why he got so mad at the gala. Odette nodded tiredly. “Noble. Tracks with your oddly minimalist website.”

    "Gods, I forgot we even had that," Valentin said, shaking his head. "We put that up as a front for our efforts. A darling little non-profit trying to take down a shitty institution while we do...that and more, underground."

    "You're far bigger than just that scope," Noel said.

    "Oh yeah," Valentin said, nodding heavily. "My family, the Ménétries family, couldn't even do this alone. We’ve partnered with seven other pretty powerful families in Kalos to make Virtue Corp and its goals what it is now. The De Guignes’s, the Giradot’s, the Subercaseux’s, the Toussaint’s, the Aliker’s, the Delsarte’s,” Odette watched as he lightly cringed over that name, “and the LeClair’s.”

    Odette’s brows raised for more reasons than one, and she perked up out of her slump. “So the LeClair's are a family working with you, you’ve just taken on their name?”

    “I’ve been a researcher of blood types for most of my life. I was actually in school to become a certified Pokemon Professor while competing as a figure skater. But, as the head of Virtue Corp, my father got deeper into his…desire to combat Team Enigma, and blood type research took over everything. Soon I had to drop figure skating and focus primarily on my research and the cause. This started to include…going into the field to collect evidence."

    “Your undercover work,” Noel said.

    He nodded. “But, I couldn’t do that as Valentin Ménétries. Florent and possibly any close confidants of his would know the surname. We also needed to ensure I took on an identity that would allow me to get access to things a normal civilian wouldn’t. That ended up coming down to the name of the LeClair’s late son, Clovis.”

    “So what actually happened to him, if you don't mind me asking?” Odette asked, masking the internal relief that was flooding her core. If he was telling the truth here, then that meant his chances of being some sick fuck were being pushed further out the window, and he was most likely not lying about being a predator.

    Thank gods. Thank fucking gods. At least something decent was coming out of this conversation.

    “Clovis LeClair, the real Clovis LeClair, was a depressed, socially anxious shut-in. He was credited with developing the business solutions that made Claire De Lune what it is today. He committed suicide about six years ago. His parents never made that information public.”

    Once more, looks were exchanged, far more incredulous than the first share.

    “So to get in with these rich blood type trainers safely, they made you take on the dead Clovis LeClair’s identity?” Noel said.

    “The real Clovis LeClair was dedicated to stopping Enigma and the trade and finding out more about these blood types. His parents felt it would be ‘carrying on his legacy’ or whatever the fuck that meant. We were quite similar in many senses—family brains, numbers people, dedicated to the cause. The council felt it made sense and that I could somehow make it work.”

    “Looks like you did,” Odette said.

    “Yeah,” Valentin said, “a little too well.”

    Too well?”

    “Research and evidence collecting quickly turned into rubbing elbows with potential high-ranking Enigma members. I somehow managed to get 'friendly' with Dorien, got further into Enigma’s sacrilege crap, actually got ahold of sacrilege samples, and learned more about Enigma in general. So, my little undercover mission gained a little more importance. We’d already started partnering with the police forces all over Kalos, but they felt there was no point in pulling me out and having another cop do what I was doing—I was already in.”

    “Wait, you’re not just working with the LCPD?” Odette blurted.

    “This is a region-wide cause; it’s not just concentrated on Lumiose. The most active area happens to be Lumiose. So, unfortunately, the chief of the LCPD—your grandfather—is the busiest.”

    “What luck,” Noel scoffed.

    “Do you guys speak a lot?” Odette shot back without thinking.

    A brief rush of panic flooded Valentin’s perfect gaze, and he cleared his throat. “...semi-regularly,” he said sheepishly. “We’ve gotten to know each other rather well if I’m being honest.”

    That was fucking rich. Bernard was getting more date time with Valentin than Odette figured she ever would. She exhaled evenly to keep herself from making a face that would make her envy obvious.

    “Small world.”

    “Small world,” Valentin echoed.

    “So,” she said, “you’re a figure skater turned professor turned undercover researcher with the name of a dead shut-in turned undercover spy. All because of the way things fell into place?”

    “When you put it like that, it sounds absurd,” Noel jeered.

    “It is absurd,” Valentin said. “But it’s all true. I couldn’t make this crap up even if I tried; fiction writing was never my forte.”

    It all felt way too elaborate and oddly specific for it to be a fib.

    “Gods, the more you talk, the more tired I get,” Odette said. She sounded like she was in pain, and truthfully, she felt no different. It was amazing how mental angst could hurt so much more than physical ailments sometimes.

    She pinched the bridge of her nose and rested her elbows on her knees. She then felt a cold hand begin to pat her shoulder again and sent a silent nod of thanks toward Isaur.

    “I don’t blame you,” Valentin said. “This is a lot to take in, and that’s a horrible understatement.”

    “I didn’t come here expecting a whole-ass conspiracy theory to fall into my lap. I’d have brought something to take notes,” Noel said.

    “Rest assured that I have plenty of other notes on hand.”

    “And you're not whistleblowing the shit out this because,” Odette suddenly said, raising her head as another thought occurred to her, "that would let Enigma know what you're up to. It would basically blow your cover."

    “Checkmate, Miss Cinq-Mars. You're very good at this," he complimented. The sudden spike of crush-induced adrenaline nearly sent her over the vomiting edge.

    "Not to mention, there's a very wealthy man heading this apparently very large criminal cult who has access to seven—maybe six—very deadly-sounding legendaries that only he and his cult know about. And said cult members are farming these legendaries' descendants in their honor. That's pretty simple, scary math, too," Noel said, shaking his head in disbelief.

    "You too, Mr. Masse."

    “But while I do understand the need for your cover," Noel went on, "I can’t imagine what the reaction is gonna be when the general public finds out the cops and a bunch of rich people were fudging public case records and warding off the press to keep all of this from them in the first place."

    Valentin narrowed his eyes slightly. “Do I want to know how you know about that?"

    "Gals in different locales, honey," Noel declared.

    Sighing in what sounded to be defeat, Valentin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Believe me, we are stuck between a wall of knives and a loaded assault rifle in that regard. But, we collectively decided it would be better to break the news to the public after Florent had been apprehended, Enigma disbanded, and these legendaries and type more adequately researched."

    Noel was nodding in agreement at that point. "It lessens the blow if it's all been solved and dealt with," he said.

    "That's the end goal," Valentin said.

    “But why even tell us this?" Odette spoke up again. "Why not just tell us we’re way too over our heads and to fuck off? You’ve clearly got the authority for it.”

    That got a deep breath out of Valentin, and he slowly crossed his arms over his chest. “Simply put, you’re both ins now.”

    He gestured to Odette. “To take one of your pins out, Dorien Bonhomme is obsessed with you. He mentioned that you two had a thing while you were in school, so I'd have to say it stems from that," he said in a borderline grumble. "I’ve been playing friendly with him for the past five years, yet I seem to have hit a wall trying to get to Florent. They trust me with the sacrilege, they trust me enough to tell me about Enigma-related things, but I’m stuck there. You, on the other hand, have a very different in with him that I could never obtain, which might prove useful in getting ahead. And Mr. Masse is very good at socializing, and it's always better to have more charismatic teammates on hand."

    Odette palmed her cheek in exasperation. “So basically, you want us to join your undercover squad?”

    He held his hands out to his sides. “I’m not asking you to do anything different. Let’s be real here; you were already doing it alone. Now I’m just simply offering Virtue Corp’s backing and protection.”

    Another good point. There were enough unsolicited parallels from that phone call that she’d overheard that she was beginning to believe he was in their court. That wasn’t part of her overwhelming anxiety anymore.

    All nervous thoughts now centered on the bits of information she’d just found out about. The true origin of shinies, these legendaries, the fact that the very person she was trying to shmooze had one within him and was quote on quote “obsessed with her.” She didn’t like that wording.

    If she didn’t feel like she was getting in over her head at first, she definitely did now. She didn't think she'd ever been this nervous about anything in her entire life. And yet, she somehow still wanted to hear more. Valentin had to have somehow read her mind because he spoke again.

    “And there’s…another reason. Admittedly, my primary reason for drilling you at all. I’ve wavered on disclosing it, so forgive me for its late arrival. It’s just a tad less…concrete.”

    Odette raised her brows at him. She was momentarily alarmed that he was ready to keep stuff from them, but then she remembered what she was actively refraining from disclosing to him. She supposed she could let it slide.

    “Go on,” she urged. She didn’t think he could say anything that would make her more uneasy than she already was.

    He scrunched his nose in contemplation as if he were still wavering to say what was on his mind. He was so fucking adorable when he was thinking.

    Gods, she was a mess.

    Just when it seemed like he wasn’t going to speak, he managed something. "It's largely observational and largely me trying to make sense of things,” he said slowly, “but to be completely and totally blunt with you, Miss Cinq-Mars, you bear a striking resemblance to Florent.”

    Another checkmark from the phone conversation. One that sent her soul into a spin and made her feel lightheaded. Uncanny resemblance, he had said, hadn’t he?

    Of course, that was the last thing she’d have assumed he was talking about.

    “I–?” she tried to speak but found that her mouth had started to fill with cotton. I'm going to throw up, she thought dazedly. I'm absolutely going to throw up all over his office floor.

    “Resemblance? How the hell would you know that for sure?”
    Isaur squeaked in alarm. Odette had retreated so far back into her own head that she almost couldn't hear her.

    “You have a picture of this guy or something?” Noel sputtered.

    Valentin was raising his hands defensively before Noel began to speak. “We have a single photo of him, courtesy of my father, but it’s years old. He certainly wouldn’t look that way now. Even so, the likeness is very much there, but it’s just a hunch. There are billions of people on this earth; it’s easy to see similarities between completely unrelated people.”

    “So then, why is that even on your mind?”

    Odette was very thankful Noel was with her. Having him do the talking while she sat there trying to conjure words and keep herself from having a psychotic episode made things easier for her.

    “Well…” Valentin said cautiously. “I hope I don’t end up crossing a line, but I’m going to go there anyway. I’m aware from my conversations with Chief Cinq-Mars that you, Miss Cinq-Mars, were born without a legal father figure. Is that right?”

    She regained lung function and managed to exhale sharply. “Y-yes. Maman fucked around a lot when she was younger and went a little too far with some guy…almost twice her age…from what she’s told me…” she trailed off as she clawed her hands up through her bangs and settling them on the crown of her head.

    Now she was actually thinking about it. If she were doing her math correctly, if Florent were in school to be a professor in the ‘80s, that would put him in his early twenties. In 1997, that should have had him in his early thirties.

    Roughly twice her mother’s age at the time.

    “Did your maman tell you anything else about who her fling was?” Valentin prodded.

    Her tongue felt swollen. It felt dry. It felt just as numb as she did. And yet, she still found her words. “Didn’t talk much about him. I never bothered asking; never thought it was worth my time. All she told me was that I must have gotten this eye color mutation from him because it didn’t run in her side of the family.”

    The face Valentin made didn’t help ease her nerves whatsoever. How his beautiful eyes became so solemn only caused her heartbeat to pick up. And not for a good reason.

    “I can confirm via my father’s personal stories that Florent indeed had a similar eye color to yours, Miss Cinq-Mars.”

    Such a simple response hit so much harder than she ever thought possible. Learning that Dorien had a powerful legendary in his possession, that Enora might have one herself, that she happened to slip under the radar for Enigma’s gatekeeping, the weird parallels about her poor health and the health of shinies, that Enigma has ways to wipe people’s memories, and now something even more fucked?

    I'm going to throw up.

    “Do you have his picture with you?”

    “Unfortunately, no. I only have the files I’ve shown you because I knew we’d discuss them. I was under the impression I would have a lot more to run by you, so I didn’t think we’d be getting this far today, if at all,” he admitted. “I don’t keep anything Virtue Corp-related here otherwise. For safety reasons.”

    “So where is it?” she pressed.

    He shifted uncomfortably. “My apartment. I’d be more than happy to schedule another meeting with you two at a later date to show–”

    “So let’s go to your apartment,” Odette said, once again not thinking before speaking. Noel darted his head in her direction, looking slightly more incredulous than the last time he’d done so. Even Isaur looked taken aback.

    “Holluh-holluh-holluh-holluh-hollup,” he faltered, waving his arms. “Are you for real right now? That is like textbook bait,” he said in a half-whisper.

    “I’d be offended in some capacity, but I’m inclined to agree with Mr. Masse here.” He paused to reevaluate what he was trying to say, clearing his throat again. “Hypothetically.”

    With a gruff exhale, he shook his head. “The point of meeting in a public place like this was to prove I wasn’t up to anything, and I feel like returning to my house defeats that purpose. I do not want to give you any reason to distrust me, and it’s my fault for not being properly prepared.”

    Yes, she’d been so worried on the drive over that they were riding into a mugging. Or something worse. But she was sticking to her guns on this. She needed to see more, even if it meant she never left the mental tailspin she was stuck in. But, she did find some room to make note of his cautiousness and appreciated it in spite of everything.

    “If I’m asking you to take us there, I don’t think it counts.”

    “Right, it just makes you sound reckless,” he shot back, his expression deadpan.

    “Sound?” Odette repeated, tilting her head questioningly. Her boiling panic started to bubble up behind her words. “I think it’s all but been said that that’s what I am. And if you have information on this criminal ass man who is in a scarily coincidental position to be the fling that got my maman pregnant with me, I would like to see it all.”

    She exhaled deeply to level herself out, but the franticness wasn’t going away. It only continued to build, like water behind a cracking dam.

    “Pardon if I sound a little forceful, but I’m getting a little stressed out here. I’m trying to defend my illnesses and insisting I don’t know shit about these Pokemon, but now I’m finding out one of my team members has one, and that I’m displaying symptoms of a shiny that has one, and that Dorien has gotten ill in the presence of Arcean things, and I think I have too, and now you’re telling me the head of fucking Team Enigma looks like me, and I can’t—“

    “Eeeeeeasy, O,” Noel tried to ease her, massaging the back of her neck with his hand. Isaur nuzzled close to her, as if trying to cool her down. Somewhere, deep in her shrieking mind, she felt appreciation for the gesture.

    Still, she felt a sense of regret starting to build. Fuck. Fuck. I said too much. I really--

    “It’s alright, Miss Cinq-Mars,” Valentin said sympathetically. “You've made your point.”

    All was quiet again as Valentin began to think about how he would respond to the request. Odette was fully expecting him to drill her about her drop about the Arcean relics, but no such interrogation came. It wasn’t long before he sighed dejectedly.

    “I suppose if you’re insisting, there’s nothing to call seedy. And I want you to see these things sooner rather than later, now,” he relented.

    “Provided you actually have things worth looking at,” Noel interjected pointedly.

    “I did tell you I had notes aplenty. Hopefully, enough to answer any lasting questions you might still have.”

    Noel gave Odette a light yet reassuring squeeze on the back of her neck. “I’ll hold you to that.”

    Valentin rolled up his sleeve to check his watch, flexing his lips at the time he read. “I guess I can go home for the day at this point. I cleared my schedule for this meeting.”

    “What, did you think this was going to take hours?” Odette said.

    “As I said, I greatly underestimated how on top of things you two were.”

    His eyes roved back to the covered window, and he sucked his teeth. “If we are going to go, it’s best we go now. The forecast says a storm will be hitting later in the evening, and I have no intent to be driving in that.”

    “Considering we came here on a motorcycle, I think I concur,” Noel said. He sat up again and peered back at Odette, who’d yet to take her eyes off Valentin.

    “You feel okay-ish enough to drive?”

    So much information to dissect. So many questions and so many answers to file through. She didn't know what she felt, but it was nothing airing on the side of coherent, she guessed. But, she wasn't down and out enough to stall her from trying to puzzle everything she’d just learned together. There was still more to learn. There was still more she had to know. More to further confirm what she might have already concluded.

    At the very least, getting to see where Valentin lived was definitely a light at the end of the very, very dark tunnel she seemed to be stuck in.

    She sighed deeply and stood up. She felt wobbly but willed herself to stay upright, and Isaur hovered up next to her to keep her upright. Odette firmly grasped her hand to assure her she was okay.

    "You ready?" she asked.

    Odette nodded. “Let’s bounce.”
     
    Last edited:
    UNSCRIPTED: FEATURING THE CAST OF THE HIT TV SHOW "WHITE SWAN, BLACK SWAN" (April Fools Chapter)
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu
    AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi all! This is my spur-of-the moment April Fool's Day chapter that I ended up taking a little too seriously featuring some...gently modified versions of the characters you've read in the past. This is intended to take place in an AU where Odette, Noel, Dorien, and Clovis are actors playing characters of the same name on a television show, so you might notice that they're acting a LITTLE different.

    This is normal, this is intended, don't ask questions. Enjoy Dorien being nice, maybe.​
    This has been written in a weirdly meshed screenplay/stage play format, but don't be intimidated! It's pretty simple to read. Just follow this guideline:
    SETTING
    NAME
    (How the line is said.)
    Action.
    Line.


    UNSCRIPTED
    FEATURING THE CAST OF THE HIT TV SHOW "WHITE SWAN, BLACK SWAN."

    ---

    INT - WHITE SPACE
    The “White Swan, Black Swan” cast sits in four chairs against a white backdrop. From left to right, it’s DORIEN BONHOMME, NOEL MASSE, ODETTE CINQ-MARS, and CLOVIS LECLAIR. It looks like they’re all engaged in a conversation.

    ODETTE
    I’m not gonna lie, I wouldn’t necessarily mind if a throuple started off between her, Clovis, and Dorien, right?

    Clovis, Dorien, and Noel start to laugh.

    CLOVIS
    Oh my god, please don’t say another word.

    ODETTE
    No! Listen! You think in some weird alternate universe, they’re all in love with each other?

    NOEL
    (Between giggles.)
    Girl, is there something you need to tell the class?

    DORIEN
    What exactly is your taste in men? Are you sure you don’t like them psychopathic? Because I think you like them psychopathic.

    ODETTE
    NO, I’M JUST SAYING, ON SHEER EYE CANDY ALONE–

    Odette stops abruptly and looks at the camera.

    ODETTE
    Wait, were you rolling?

    PRODUCER (OFFSCREEN)
    Yes, we got that on tape.

    Odette looks embarrassed and starts to rub her temple as she smiles crookedly. The other three laugh harder.

    ODETTE
    Holy shit, please cut that, do not put that in the video, I’m gonna get my shit rocked.

    NOEL
    No, PUT IT IN THE VIDEO, let the fans tell you your tastes are ass! No! They need to hear the out-of-pocket crap you like to say when nobody’s listening, Miss Ma’am. Nuh-uh.

    Odette is wheeze-laughing into her hands as Noel talks. Clovis pats her shoulder comfortingly.


    CUT TO:
    INT - WHITE SPACE
    The scene cuts away with a beep. Dorien, Noel, Odette, and Clovis are now facing the camera, smiling. They wave as some royalty-free instrumentals play in the background.


    ALL
    Bonjour!

    ODETTE
    I’m the shorter, thicker knockoff of Wednesday Addams, or in some cases, Bayonetta, Odette Cinq-Mars.

    NOEL
    I’m your favorite gay porn voiceover retiree, Noel Masse.

    Clovis opens his mouth to speak but starts laughing into his hand, causing the others to start laughing too. Giggles can also be heard off-screen. He laughs for several seconds before Noel claps his hands.

    COME ON, MAN, WE HAVEN’T GOT ALL DAY.

    CLOVIS
    WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

    Clovis laughs for a few seconds longer before he takes a breath to compose himself.

    I’m the walking embodiment of whatever the hell you degenerates call a “Tumblr Sexyman,” Clovis LeClair.

    DORIEN
    And I’m the reigning short king supreme, Dorien Bonhomme. And this is—

    They all strike a dramatic pose from their seats.

    Unscripted. The ridiculously candid web show where the casts of your favorite TV shows answer some pressing questions and talk about whatever the fuck they want in the process.

    NOEL
    Some spoilers included.

    ODETTE
    We’re not responsible for any plot points that get ruined for you if you keep watching because, well, the title clearly says spoilers, and, uh…if you can’t read, that sounds like an issue you need to work on, maybe?

    They all shrug.

    CUT TO:
    Title screen. It is simply black script against a white background. The title reads “Unscripted: The Cast of White Swan, Black Swan” as a catchy jingle plays in the background. It soon cuts to another screen that reads “SPOILERS AHEAD AS OF EPISODE 13.”

    CUT TO:
    INT - WHITE SPACE
    The cast sitting in their chairs against a white background.


    PRODUCER (OFFSCREEN)
    So to start off, tell us a little bit about how making the show has been for you all.

    NOEL
    Oh it’s been a damn blast, holy hell. I don’t want to sound like I’m gloating, but I’m gloating—-this cast is fucking STACKED. Even the crew, like. Wow. This is all fucking gods work, and I’m so here for it.

    CLOVIS
    It’s such good synergy. I’ve never been with a cast that I’ve felt so friendly with, like—all four of us hang out after shooting, all the time. And that friendship really helps with the work because you’ve seen it, we’re dealing with a lot of heavy shit on the show, so having that foundation of trust really helps when sinking into those heavier moments. And coming out of them, too, because it’s so easy to lighten the mood again with these guys.

    DORIEN
    One hundred percent. And despite all the weird, creepy, uncanny things you might be seeing on the screen, I guarantee you there was a lot of time spent leading up to actually filming those scenes that was just us lovingly screwing around with each other.

    NOEL
    Or Odette fucking up a line.

    Clovis and Dorien laugh, and Odette gapes.

    ODETTE
    For your information, people watching, I am FANTASTIC with my lines. It’s just really fucking hard to keep the RBF when Clovis is behind the camera trying to do some stupid fucking Fortnite dance.

    CLOVIS
    I wasn’t even TRYING, I intended for it to look bad.

    NOEL
    Yeah Clovis really do be the one trying to make us fuck up mid-shoot.

    Clovis rests his cheek in his hand, with the heel of his hand covering his mouth as he chuckles for a moment.

    CLOVIS
    (Smugly.)
    I’m a saint on set, you’re all just liars.

    ODETTE
    The intentional sabotage aside, it’s also kind of vital that we keep things light, especially between me and Dorien, cause, like…we have a lot of really fucked up scenes, and while I do agree it's important to keep it serious to make sure we’re handling it right, it helps to go into a moment where his character is supposed to, like…be kissing mine totally non-consensually right after he and I have just finished having a long-winded conversation about how drilbur have three dick heads or something like that because I can at least remind myself that he’s still my friend and we’re playing parts.

    DORIEN
    He snickers.

    She’s not even lying; that actually happened, and it took us, like, four takes to do the scene.

    PRODUCER (OFFSCREEN)
    So it’s a good time, then?

    ODETTE
    Oh, yeah. There’s a lot of eye candy around me so…

    She puckers her lips slyly and shrugs. Clovis, Dorien, and Noel look at her jokingly.

    What can I say, I’m definitely having fun.

    CUT TO:
    Title card that says “She’s definitely having fun.” It cuts over to another title card with a beep. New title card reads “Who hates their character the most?”

    CUT TO:
    INT - WHITE SPACE
    The cast sitting in their chairs against a white background. Clovis, Odette, and Noel shift themselves to angle toward Dorien, who throws his head back in exasperation and groans.


    CLOVIS
    I think we’re gonna hand that one to Dorien.

    NOEL
    (Giggling.)
    Yeah that’s all him.

    DORIEN
    (Sighing.)
    Where do I start…I mean, simply put, I can’t STAND my character. I literally can’t. He’s beautifully written and so nuanced and so layered and so tragic, but my god. Sometimes I read the script and feel like I have to lie down. And whenever I think it can’t get any worse, the writers send me the next episode, and SURE ENOUGH!

    NOEL
    It ALWAYS gets worse!

    DORIEN
    He claps in time with the first three words.

    EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. It always gets worse! I gave up hope for a redemption ten episodes ago because, holy fuck, there is no return for him.

    PRODUCER (OFFSCREEN)
    None at all?

    DORIEN
    Absolutely not. You cannot under any circumstances dwell on how much you love your significant other than also debate beating the shit out of them out of jealousy on the same train of thought.

    CLOVIS
    (Sarcastic.)
    Really? I thought that was really romantic.

    DORIEN
    (Sarcastic.)
    Well, yeah, I guess I just have different tastes. To each their own.

    ODETTE
    (Sarcastic.)
    True, I’m more of a “wipe your date’s memories because you pissed them off by talking about something traumatic” kind of hopeless romantic.

    DORIEN
    Oh yeah, DEFINITELY more my speed, for sure.

    There’s a momentary pause as they all look at the camera and nod in ironic agreement. Suddenly, Dorien has another thought.

    DORIEN
    Oh, and sometimes I can’t help but look through things on Chatter, and I see these people writing…what are they called…

    NOEL
    Thirst chats, sweetie.

    DORIEN
    THIRST CHATS, yes. God, what a stupid—

    He shakes his head.

    Anyway, I find a lot of thirst chats about him, and I’m just like…seek therapy. For the love of god. Get yourself a Clovis, get yourself a Noel, but JEEZE, why would you EVER want a Dorien?

    CLOVIS
    Women love a man with a pretty face, perfect teeth, and a penchant for collecting their lost lip balm and mulling over whether or not it’d be worth it to kill them. Or their so-called best friends.

    DORIEN
    To Clovis.

    Remember I had an entire monologue about how much Dorien wanted to kill Clovis and I felt like I had to buy you dinner afterward to make up for it, it was like—

    CLOVIS
    (Laughing.)
    OH YEAH, he ran up to me after the scene and was like—

    Starts to mimic Dorien’s voice.

    What do you like, sushi? Steak dinner? My firstborn?

    Dorien, Odette, and Noel burst into laughter.

    Money’s no option, I will buy you gold-encrusted shrunken heads if you want them, just—

    Clovis’s words trail off as he joins the others in laughing.

    DORIEN
    Rubbing his face.
    Oh, BROTHER.

    ODETTE
    Yeah, Dorien comes up to me before each episode where we have a moment like that and is like “I am so sorry for what it is I’m about to do,” and I feel so bad because he’s so sweet about it, and then I have to…act like I wanna kill him. When he’s really just a baby.

    CLOVIS
    We promise it’s just our characters that want to kill each other.

    NOEL
    To Clovis.

    Speak for yourself, I’m gonna waste you the next time you fill my car with packing peanuts.

    CLOVIS
    (Chuckling.)
    Happy birthday.

    Noel reaches behind Odette to playfully shove Clovis’s arm. Odette looks minutely concerned for a moment but giggles anyway.

    ODETTE
    I mean, yeah sometimes we have moments when we want to kill each other unironically but it’s few and far between.

    She’s snickering again.

    Sometimes. It’s occasionally really easy to want to kill Dorien because he’s just so good at playing garbage. Like, it’s scary.

    NOEL
    (Teasingly.)
    Well, it takes garbage to know garbage.

    Dorien gapes at the camera and slowly leans over to playfully put his fingers around Noel’s neck, who tries to lean away despite the fact he’s grinning ear to ear and laughing through his teeth.

    DORIEN
    Okay, yeah, fuck it. I’m definitely going to commit a homicide IRL.

    NOEL
    But then how will I get us more scenes together? We’re fucking deprived!

    DORIEN
    He settles back a little.

    Yeah, we really are, it’s unfortunate, honestly.

    NOEL
    They let me kiss your hand ONCE, it’s criminal.

    DORIEN
    See, come here.

    Dorien leans closer to Noel, and they touch their cheeks together. They smile at the camera as it zooms in on them.

    These faces look so good together onscreen, right?

    NOEL
    Deadass, how could you not, I mean? Perfection.

    Dorien and Noel seem to be enjoying their moment, but there’s a momentary pan over to Odette and Clovis, who are watching them with raised brows.

    ODETTE
    Spinoff where Dorien comes to his senses and falls in love with anti-commitment Noel instead?

    CLOVIS
    I would watch that for the trainwreck couple alone.

    NOEL
    Pulling away from Dorien to gesture accusingly at Clovis and Odette.

    I mean this with no offense intended, but I would SWAN DIVE–

    He pauses and looks back at the camera.

    Ba-dum tss.

    Dorien, Odette, and Clovis giggle as Noel keeps talking.

    —off the studio rafters, please don’t do that to my boy.

    DORIEN
    Would love scenes with me really be that bad?

    NOEL
    Of course not, you gentle dunce, I just hate Dorien and would rather Noel shoot him instead of fuck him.

    DORIEN
    Yeah, uh…to be fair, I would also like it if someone shot him.

    They all nod in agreement.

    CUT TO:
    Title card that says, “He would also like it if someone shot him.” It cuts over to another title card with a beep. New title card reads, “Who’s the most unhinged on set?”

    CUT TO:
    INT - WHITE SPACE
    The cast sitting in their chairs against a white background. Noel stands up and points accusingly at a laughing Odette and smug Clovis as Dorien watches in amusement.


    NOEL
    IT’S THESE TWO. TWEEDLE DUMB AND TWEEDLE DUMBER. IT’S ALWAYS THESE TWO.

    PROCDER (OFFSCREEN)
    You seem pretty passionate about that.

    NOEL
    Sitting back down.

    Listen, I love them both with all my heart, but I swear if the studio ever burns down, it’s gonna be one of their faults. Probably Clovis’s.

    Odette is doubled over laughing, and Clovis is scratching the side of his head with a shit-eating grin on his face.

    CLOVIS
    That’s a little gratuitous.

    DORIEN
    See, he can’t even say it with a straight face.

    CLOVIS
    Look, I would never go as far as to commit arson. I’m just here for a good time, not a long time.

    Odette has finally calmed down, and she rubs some tears out of her eyes as she takes a few mellowing breaths.

    ODETTE
    I wouldn’t refer to myself as unhinged, I just have my moments.

    NOEL
    O, you are a walking embodiment of an offbeat shitpost.

    Odette wheezes.

    And I mean that with all the affection in my body. Meanwhile, Clovis is the hell-sent lovechild of a loose canon and a bottle of hair bleach.

    CLOVIS
    (Holding back snickers.)
    Jesus Christ, I didn’t realize it was the Roast of Odette and Clovis today.

    DORIEN
    Well, that could be every day, there’s plenty of material.

    NOEL
    I mean this when I say it. We all flub lines and goof off and whatever, but usually, if filming stops, it’s because of one of them. And it’s crazy because they’re both playing the most straight-laced characters on the show, but YOU’D NEVER FUCKING KNOW THAT if you met them in real life. They’re both in their own sectioned-off little world 24 hours a fucking day, and it’s absolutely WILD.

    DORIEN
    I think there was one time…it was actually really recently…where the three of them were filming that big scene in the ice rink office, where Clovis ends up telling them about the whole Blood Type conspiracy, and…we went on a really long lunch break, I don’t exactly remember why, but we were break’d for like two hours, and we came back…and we couldn’t find Odette, we couldn’t find Clovis. They’re both just gone, I wasn’t in the scene, I was just there watching, but then out of nowhere, Odette rushes back on stage, and she just has—

    He makes the shape of a bowl with his arms. Odette’s already giggling.

    This GIANT fucking watermelon and she’s like…eating slices out of it, and we’re all looking at her like, “what the FUCK are you doing? You had two hours to eat all that, where did you even get an entire watermelon from?”

    He breaks off into small giggles with his last words as he gestures over to Odette, who’s slumped in her chair, grinning.

    NOEL
    AND THEN, Clovis shows up not a minute later, covered in paint, because he got caught up as an extra in some movie scene where they were filming a paint fight? I guess?

    CLOVIS
    It was a smeargle war movie, and it was a great time. No regrets.

    ODETTE
    Look bro, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, I really wanted watermelon.

    DORIEN
    But the WHOLE MELON?

    ODETTE
    You don’t understand, in the next soundstage over, they were filming a new episode of “Kitten Stories” and they had all these baby skitties and I was–

    CLOVIS
    HANG ON. They had baby skitties? Like babies?

    ODETTE
    Yeah, like seven.

    CLOVIS
    ODETTE HARMONIE. AND YOU DIDN’T COME GET ME?

    ODETTE
    YOU WERE PLAYING ON A SMEARGLE WAR MOVIE SET, ASSHOLE. And they were getting ready to end shooting for the day, so I wanted to play with them, and then they had a bunch of fruit left over from their catering so they sent me off with the melon.

    CLOVIS
    Odette. This is a transgression I can’t forgive. I thought we were closer than that.

    ODETTE
    I mean, there’s a cat cafe up the road, we can go when we’re done here.

    CLOVIS
    Seriously?

    The camera cuts to Noel and Dorien watching the exchange, dumbfounded, before returning to Odette and Clovis.

    ODETTE
    Nodding.

    You’d like it; I’ll buy lunch.

    Clovis considers the request before settling into his backrest, crossing his legs and arms.

    CLOVIS
    Okay, fine. I’d be willing to forgive you, then.

    The camera pans back to Dorien and Noel, who simultaneously lock eyes with it and gesture toward Clovis and Odette.

    NOEL
    Own little world, you saw it here, folks.

    CLOVIS
    I wanted to see the skitties goddammit! Fuck the paint, skitties always.

    ODETTE
    The skitties were very cute.

    DORIEN
    Okay, but like, you see it? This is just a dumbed-down reenactment of what goes on on every shooting day.

    PRODUCER (OFFSCREEN)
    To Clovis and Odette, chuckling.

    Do either of you have a defense for that?

    CLOVIS
    Oh, no, I’ll lean into it and say we get…sidetracked.

    ODETTE
    Momentary lapses in memory.

    NOEL
    (Snickering.)
    Is that what we’re calling it now?

    CLOVIS
    I mean I READ THE SCRIPTS, I just…it’s silly. We get silly, and Odette and I together aren’t exactly the best duo to have when you’re trying to avoid sillines. I swear we look at each other and forget. Or want to laugh, and it’s ONLY US, and it’s contagious. Like, I think in that ice rink scene, we got to the big dramatic reveal of Clovis’s name being Valentin, and…Noel said what he was supposed to say, I said my part, then it was Odette’s turn. And she went really quiet and I looked at her and went “did you forget your line?” and she was like “totally” and I was like “good, because I just forgot what I was supposed to say next too.”

    Odette and Clovis laugh at each other while Dorien and Noel snicker as well.

    Thanks for taking the fall, lovely girl, you did me a solid.

    ODETTE
    (Laughing.)
    Fuck you.

    She calms down.

    But we uh, kinda do that a lot. A lot of times, I can’t look at him without laughing, or I think about something stupid he said or did and totally forget what comes next.

    NOEL
    At least they admit it.

    CLOVIS
    OKAY, BUT LOOK, THE EPISODES GET FILMED, OKAY? The show goes on, even if it takes twelve takes ‘cause Odette’s eating a fucking watermelon on the soundstage.

    NOEL
    Or anything, really. She always has something in her mouth.

    ODETTE
    MY GUY, WHY ARE WE THROWING ME UNDER THE BUS NOW?

    NOEL
    Okay, that sounded dirtier than I meant it, I meant FOOD.

    ODETTE
    Yeah, you’d know a lot about having something in your mouth, that’s something you and show Noel have in common, huh?

    NOEL
    (Dramatic sigh.)
    Y’know…I’m feeling strangely attacked, I think we should move on to the next question.

    It’s quiet for a beat, and the camera zooms in on Noel’s face. He can barely keep a straight expression as the sounds of Dorien, Odette, and Clovis snickering can be heard.

    CUT TO:
    Title card that says, “He’s feeling strangely attacked and thinks we should move on to the next question.” It cuts over to another title card with a beep. New title card reads, “What are you most looking forward to as the season goes on?”

    CUT TO:
    INT - WHITE SPACE
    The cast sitting in their chairs against a white background.


    NOEL
    The romance, definitely. Like, you can’t look me in the eye and tell me something isn’t going to happen between Odette and Clovis, the girl’s down BAD.

    DORIEN
    He’s definitely down there too. I think the sexual tension has been really slow-moving, but it’s there.

    CLOVIS
    Oh, for sure. I think the phone call Clovis ended up having with Bernard solidified that. Bernard was definitely cutting him off, but I’m sure the viewers can infer what he was going to say. Or…trying, I’d say.

    NOEL
    Can’t wait for the Bernard reaction there either.

    DORIEN
    I don’t know, I feel like he’ll be okay with it. I think he’s still pretty trigger-happy because he’s scared for Odette in general, but if she likes him too, I can’t imagine he’s gonna crazy papa bear over it, especially if he and Clovis have as good of a relationship as I think they do. A lot of that’s still, uh, up in the air, though, I guess.

    ODETTE
    I hope it’s a good relationship, as of what we’ve read recently, Clovis is in dire need of a fucking decent father figure. ‘Cause WOOF.

    Dorien, Noel, and Clovis start nodding in grim, cautious agreement.

    NOEL
    And Bernard’s so nice, too, man. What a gem. I love when he’s on set, we can shoot the shit with that man for hours, and he’s so fucking talented.

    ODETTE
    Yeah, he made us all cookies last time, and they were so fire.

    CLOVIS
    They were really good. I'm a fucking cookie fiend and I'd only eat those if I had the option.

    DORIEN
    After the events from 13, I am actually aching to see more of him, and I think I can confirm that we will be.

    ODETTE
    Oh, yeah. Chief Cinq-Mars and his stupid angry granddaughter need a sit-down therapy session at this point. Will it happen like that? Lord only knows.

    CLOVIS
    (Whispering.)
    It’s not.

    Dorien, Noel, and Odette shake their heads in agreement, ad-lib mouthing ‘It’s not’ and ‘nope.’

    NOEL
    Speaking of confirming, you know what other romance I can talk about? Noel’s totally getting a love interest.

    ODETTE
    AH, yep. In the next episode. Both the mains with their daddies.

    CLOVIS
    Their daddies?

    ODETTE
    Yes, Clovis, he and you are what I would collectively classify as a daddy.

    CLOVIS
    Snorts into his hand.

    God, we need to keep a muzzle on hand for you.

    Odette giggles.

    PRODUCER (OFFSCREEN)
    To Noel.
    Are you excited about that?

    NOEL
    Of fucking COURSE I am. Noel is so fucking messy when it comes to the whole commitment thing, as we’ve probably inferred so far, so I’m really stoked to see him in a place where he’s actively breaking out of that. Granted, it’s not going to start like that because it’s fucking Noel, but I’m looking forward to him learning to break his sex habit just to be with this one person. However the hell that ends up happening. It’ll be some nice growth for him, and some nice new territory for him to explore and learn to enjoy. And, maybe he’ll be able to stop third-wheeling on Clovis and Odette trying and failing to seduce each other.

    CLOVIS
    “Trying” is too hard of a word at this moment in time.

    NOEL
    Okay, “thinking about.”

    PRODUCER (OFFSCREEN)
    Have you already started shooting the new episode?

    NOEL
    Mmmmmhmmm, and let me just say, he is…

    Noel pauses to make an “OK” sign with his fingers.

    Absolutely yummy. But…

    He leans over to lay his head on Dorien’s shoulder.

    Nothing will replace my offscreen bromance baby.

    DORIEN
    Laying his head on Noel’s.

    I sure fucking hope not, I was here first.

    CLOVIS
    I hate to say it while you’re having your gay moment, but I’m also anxious to see Dorien get his shit rocked.

    Noel picks his head up to nod in agreement, and Dorien also sits upright.

    DORIEN
    Well, that’s mutual, so you get a pass.

    PRODUCER (OFFSCREEN)
    To Dorien.
    Are you looking for him just to get beat up, or are you hoping for something a little more permanent?

    DORIEN
    He’s quiet as he mulls over what to say, bobbing his head pensively.

    I mean…I don’t want to say I’m looking for him to die because then I’m out of a job.

    CLOVIS
    We hate Dorien, but we don’t want Dorien to go, you know?

    DORIEN
    He laughs lightly.

    But, uh, yeah, if something really bad happened to him, I’d have a great time acting it out, let’s just say that.

    CLOVIS
    Seconded.

    ODETTE
    Yep.

    She perks up as a thought occurs to her.

    OH. I’ve got another one. Venira.

    Dorien, Noel, and Clovis all ad-lib excited remarks and noises.

    NOEL
    YES, Venira. That’s…going to be a time. We started filming the parts for those, and…yeah.

    DORIEN
    I don’t think we can confirm exactly when that’s happening, but it is happening, and it’s…

    ODETTE
    Smiling dubiously.
    Just clench your assholes is all I’m gonna say.

    CLOVIS
    Clench your assholes and MAYBE your sanity too.

    CUT TO:
    Title card that says, “Clench your assholes and maybe your sanity too.” It cuts over to another title card with a beep. New title card reads, “Wrap Up.”

    CUT TO:
    INT - WHITE SPACE
    The cast sitting in their chairs against a white background. They’re all smiling directly at the camera.


    NOEL
    Well, it seems like that’s all the time we have for today. Thanks so much for tuning in and listening to us bitch at each other.

    DORIEN
    Don’t forget to tune in for the next episode of “White Swan, Black Swan,” premiering soon on Thousand Roads.

    ODETTE
    If you’re tired of waiting for new episodes of “White Swan, Black Swan,” we also invite you to check out our new prequel series, “Poison and Pecha Berries,” which is premiering soon on Thousand Roads as well.

    CLOVIS
    And of course, a special thanks to Sinderella for having us here today. Subscribe to the channel for more BTS content like this, and we’ll hopefully catch you soon in a future episode.

    They all wave.

    ALL
    Au revoir!

    CUT TO:
    Outro credits set to an upbeat theme, inviting you to like, comment, and subscribe for future eldritch horniness, and also wishing viewers a very happy April Fool's day. Blackout. End.
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 14 - The Calm Before the Shitstorm
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu
    White Swan.jpeg
    Chapter 14: The Calm Before the Shitstorm
    CWs: Strong Language
    Author's Note: Hiya! Been a while. Made some small yet pretty significant worldbuilding changes, so if you haven't yet, please check out the most recent Patch Notes for those updates, as they'll be in play for the rest of the story. As always, thank you for reading, it means a lot to me 🤍
    Valentin had suggested they follow him back to his apartment but realized about halfway out of his office that he was too inebriated to operate his car responsibly. So he made a call, and within ten minutes, a dark blue Mazda SUV was waiting outside for him.

    “Not gonna lie, was expecting a Royce,” Noel said, sounding slightly disappointed. Valentin shot him a questioning look.

    “Don’t rag on my baby,” he said. “It drives like butter, and it’s roomy. You can fight me on that.”

    He approached the passenger side door, turning back to look at them again before getting in.

    “Just keep up; it’s not too far from here,” he promised.

    Despite his words, Odette felt like the ride to his flat was far longer than the ride to the ice rink. Her sense of time was being greatly fucked with by her full head. However, in the time spent in the zone of driving, she'd managed to calm herself off the edge of a breakdown. The chill breeze against her body and the exhilaration of weaving between cars on her bike was exactly what she needed to ground herself. For now, at least.

    Even after that, she couldn’t decide if she was frazzled, floored, or infatuated. Either way, she squeezed the handlebars of her bike so tight, her joints screamed when she finally loosened them up once they neared the complex.

    It wasn’t at all what she was expecting. Someone as wealthy as him was bound to live in a block of super luxury high-rises, right? Or even a mansion alone? But no. The building she followed him to looked no nicer than her and Noel’s. Not that they didn’t live in a relatively nice building, but it surely wasn’t any set of multimillion-euro flats. Just middle-class living, exactly where their collective socioeconomic standing was meant to be.

    Noel’s hands against her shoulders tightened, and she felt him lean toward her ear, his helmet bumping hers. “You think they took a wrong turn?”

    “I’m not really thinking, period,” Odette replied. And that was the gods honest truth. She couldn’t be surprised or underwhelmed by anything. Everything was just information now. If she wanted to keep her head on, that's how it needed to be.

    She should have guessed that Valentin probably chose to live humbly, considering the car he was catching a ride in wasn’t anything over the top, even though someone was chauffeuring him. The vehicle looked well-kept and had clearly been detailed recently, but it couldn’t have cost him more than a few tens of thousands. She recalled him saying something about not being much of a car person when they’d spoken for the first time, and she could see now there might have been an air of truth to that.

    The car pulled into the garage entrance, and he spoke to the attendant at the front gate, who waved him and soon her through. At least that was a step up from her and Noel’s building. They only had a box for gate codes, not a whole ass person manning it. She supposed that was fancy enough.

    “Hopefully, that wasn’t a difficult drive for you,” Valentin said as he exited the car upon parking. Odette had slipped her motorcycle into the spot next to his, which he didn’t protest. “Told Max not to drive like a lunatic today.”

    As Odette pulled her helmet off her head and shook her braids out, the driver’s side door swung open, and a casually dressed man stepped out. He was just as tall as Valentin, and his curly strawberry-blonde hair hung in neat ringlets around his forehead. His light freckles and rosy cheeks did not match the stern, sharp features he had.

    “I am an excellent driver; I'm not sure what you’re yammering about,” he said in a huff, the Germanic accent light yet obvious on his tongue even through his Kalosian speech. “Would you have preferred if I’d have flown you home on Kasper instead?”

    Valentin’s expression fell before morphing into an unamused glare. “You’re a real comedian, aren’t you?”

    Strawberry-Blonde laughed lightly to himself as he ran his fingers through his hair. When it looked like he’d enjoyed his giggles enough, he sent an easy look to Odette and smiled warmly when their eyes met.

    “Good afternoon. I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” he said. Odette hurriedly yet awkwardly swung her leg off the bike, stumbling a little as she tried to stand upright to greet him. Noel didn’t bother to help her, as he seemed preoccupied with staring at the new presence.

    “Right,” Valentin sighed. “Miss Cinq-Mars, Mr. Massé, this is my very good friend slash right-hand man slash getaway driver slash the sole reason I haven’t fully lost my fucking mind, Maxence Drossel. Max, this is Odette Cinq-Mars and Noel Massé. We’ll be…working closely for a bit, so you might be seeing them frequently.”

    Max appeared amused by the introduction, judging by how he playfully rolled his eyes as Valentin listed off his jobs. He held his hand out, and Odette moved to take it. “It’s nice to–” she started to say but was abruptly cut off by Noel bumping her aside with his hip and slipping in to take Max’s hand in both of his.

    “It is so nice to meet you,” he said in a borderline drawl. Odette furrowed her brow, her mouth agape in annoyance. She glared at the side of his face, only to see that he looked positively dumbstruck.

    Max grinned at the intrusion and regarded Noel with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, you’re an eager one, aren’t you?”

    “That’s one way to put it,” Noel replied, practically purring. “Let me guess. You’re not from here?”

    “Of course not; born and raised in Germania.”

    That seemed to get Noel’s gears going because his brow raised as his lips curled into a flirtatious smile. “Oh, Germanians are always so fun.”

    “What, you’re some sort of Germanian connoisseur?" Max queried. He was obviously entertained. "Noel, was it?”

    “If I may be so blunt, feel free to call me anything you want.”

    Odette could practically see the drool forming on the corners of Noel's mouth, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She supposed she had no room to be annoyed, as that would be hypocritical of her. It couldn’t be helped that Noel was a little more out there about how he handled his crushes.

    But, as much as she didn’t want to cockblock Noel’s attempts at catching flings, there were more pressing matters. She sucked her teeth and dug her elbow into his rib, causing him to cry out in discomfort as he flinched away.

    Anyway,” she chimed in, “I hate to interrupt such a deep conversation, but we’re kind of on a mission here.”

    Max nodded in understanding. “Of course. My apologies,” he said as he turned to hand Valentin, who looked perplexed by the interaction, the keys. Max stopped short when he saw Valentin’s face and frowned mockingly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

    “Like what?” Valentin said jokingly.

    “You’re a pain,” Max said in a falsely annoyed scoff.

    “What, you don’t want to take it out for the evening?”

    The question prompted Max to shake his head. “C’mon, you know Kasper loves flying before a storm.”

    He turned to head back to the front of the garage, but not before giving Odette another warm smile. She was put at ease at how friendly he seemed and particularly enjoyed watching Valentin act buddy-buddy with him. As much of a whirlwind as the day had been, she was enjoying how much of Valentin—the real Valentin—she was seeing.

    “I hope you have a good day, Miss Cinq-Mars.” His eyes shifted slightly over to Noel, and she watched that mischievous glint return to his green eyes. “You as well, Mr. Massé.”

    He walked off after that, and Odette felt Noel grab her arm and give it a squeeze.

    “Yes, well. Follow me,” Valentin instructed as he turned to head for the door that led inside the complex.

    “Holy mother, Val,” Noel said breathlessly, letting Odette go and hustling up to his side. “When were you going to tell me you had a fucking piece driving you around?”

    Valentin quirked his brow as he pulled open the door for them. “Forgive me, but I didn’t think that was on your radar.”

    “It’s always on my radar,” Noel responded, stopping in front of Valentin to place a hand on his shoulder. “Please indulge me in some good news and tell me he’s single.”

    “Subtle,” Odette murmured under her breath as she walked by, prompting Noel to kick her in the calf. Probably deserved.

    Valentin snickered, letting the door go as soon as they entered the spotless hallway. “I believe so. He’s never told me otherwise. But I’d recommend you take any other inquiries up with him. He prefers to do his own flirting.”

    “I love a man who takes charge,” Noel said dreamily. “You think he’ll take me for a spin in your baby? Or on Kasper? Is he a bird-trainer?”

    Valentin gave him a bemused look. “He does have an affinity for flying-types, yes. Pain in my ass," he said, sounding partially disgruntled. He shook it off rather quickly, though, sarcasm coming to lace his tone. "What, being the passenger on Miss Cinq-Mars’ bike isn’t exhilarating enough?”

    “More like it’s just standard,” Noel huffed, giving Odette another nudge. “No offense to my bestie, but I wouldn’t say no to a scenery change.”

    Odette was shaking her head. “What, is my driving that bad?”

    “I think you look pretty handy on that thing, I must say,” Valentin complimented. “It’s cool. It suits you.”

    The warm way he said it caused her lower gut to vibrate, and she had to stop to collect herself. Did he just call her cool? Was that flirting?

    Gods, she was tired.

    The trek from the garage up to the apartment wasn’t anything of note either. There was a doorman in the lobby, assisted by an infernape, and they both waved happily at Valentin as he walked by them. If anything else, the flooring and wall finishes were a tad nicer. Still, nothing she’d have expected out of a billionaire. Perhaps he just preferred things on the ordinary side. Or maybe he owned the entire building and happened to keep a personal room? Somehow she wouldn’t put that past him, but she decided not to ask.

    The flat itself was more in line with what she’d been imagining. Although they were only on the first floor, the apartment was giving a penthouse appearance and size.

    Black hardwood floors and slate gray walls, paired with a kitchen of clean, state-of-the-art looking appliances, a living room fit with a sleek gray sectional, matching coffee table, a surround sound system, and fancy paintings depicting abstract forms of figure skaters and what she guessed were ice-type Pokemon. There was even a patio, with a panoramic sliding glass door serving as the main window of the living room. Overcast light streamed into the space, and Odette could see both the low-rise scenic view of a park and how fast the gray clouds were rolling in.

    “Wow, this is swanky,” Noel declared as the door shut behind them. “Very much screams elusive billionaire.”

    “You’ll be shocked to know I actually prefer smaller abodes. We moved here when my aurorus partner evolved; she needed the extra ceiling space,” Valentin replied, gliding into the kitchen. “Shoes off at the door. Please make yourself comfy, I don’t care where.”

    Noel and Odette shared looks before pulling off their shoes and nudging them against the wall. They followed Valentin out of the foyer and into the kitchen, silently taking in the space. They were interrupted, however, when a glaceon hopped up onto the island. Noel flinched at the sudden intrusion but immediately calmed down upon seeing what it was.

    “Oh, who’s this?” he asked delightfully.

    “This is Love,” Valentin said. “She was my first partner, and she’s graciously been handling me since I was a kid. Love, this is Noel Massé, and Odette Cinq-Mars. They’ll be keeping us company for a while.”

    As Odette eyed Love, she took in the stiff way she held herself and the way her piercing blue eyes trained on them. As Valentin finished his introduction, she finally released some of the tension from her body and bowed her head in a polite greeting.

    “Good afternoon. It’s a pleasure,” Love said. She sounded very formal. Odette was pleased she could understand her better than she had Valentin’s snom; eeveelutions just all spoke similarly, thank the gods. She was suddenly smirking to herself, realizing that Love and Enora would probably get along. They seemed cut from a similar cloth, their adjacent species aside.

    Recalling Enora, however, caused her expression to fall. The sylveon was none-the-wiser about the bombshell discussion they’d just had. Probably none-the-wiser about her probable ailment too. Or, she was completely aware and had just gone twelve years, not mentioning anything about it. Odette wasn’t sure which one was worse.

    It was hard to dwell on it for too long because soon, the room was inundated with more Pokemon. Valentin’s team, who wasted no time in introducing themselves. A quiet cryogonal named Sprinkle, a confident-sounding weavile named Frosting, a bubbly aurorus named Glaze—Odette could understand why a penthouse would be needed for her; she was very tall—and of course, the cute snom named Powdered Sugar, who situated himself back on Valentin’s shoulder with help from Sprinkle.

    “Where’s Donut?” Valentin asked after greeting his team. Love made a gesture toward the living room, where Odette finally noticed an apparent fish tank built into the wall behind the couch. A very large one at that. No sooner had Valentin said anything, a lapras swam into view, flashed a friendly and cheerful fin, then looped away.

    The first thing Odette noticed was that none of them were shiny. Just regular colored Pokemon.

    “Ah. Yes. Donut,” Valentin reiterated. “Also why we moved; I think most of the actual square footage here is her tank. It’s what I get for having such large members on my team, but if I can afford it, I’d like to ensure they’re comfortable.”

    “Well, at least you’re accommodating,” Noel said.

    “They do a lot for me, so the least I can do is make sure their living arrangements are up to par.”

    It was apparent that all of his Pokemon looked…happy. Healthy. Odette couldn’t pick up on any nervousness from any of them, and the way they situated themselves around Valentin gave her some gist that they were close. The sight flushed her heart with warmth; seeing him with his entire team, in his home, was almost too much for her crush to bear. But here she was, in the flesh. Taking in the scene like she was watching an enthralling movie.

    Surely one had to be at least a semi-decent person to worry so much about their Pokemon’s well-being, right? Much better than any of the other rich people she’d been forced to speak to up until that point. She was still resolving to stay cognizant around him, but she already felt better knowing that, at least at first glance, he cared for his teammates. And they seemed to care about him.

    “Can I get you anything?” Valentin asked. “Drinks, snacks, whatever? Help yourself.”

    “My appetite’s pretty lacking right now, if I’m being honest,” Odette answered. “But, I’m definitely looking to see that picture.”

    “I’ll eat when I can confirm you’ve got stuff for us to look at, yes,” Noel added.

    Valentin lowered his head into a lone nod. “Of course, I understand. Follow me,” he said, motioning out of the kitchen and toward a hallway that led down past the living area. Powdered Sugar remained set on his shoulder, but the others stepped aside as he walked away. Odette was first to follow, and she took notice of a partially built puzzle sprawled out on the dining table as she passed it.

    She found herself leaning over to get a better look, enticed by the idea of sitting and enjoying an actual puzzle instead of the bullshit intangible one she was stuck in the middle of. She didn’t realize she slowed until Glaze trilled at her in concern. Odette couldn’t quite catch what the aurorus was saying but appreciated it nonetheless. She politely set a hand on Glaze’s front leg as she passed, and she trilled again, this time more excitedly. It settled Odette’s anxiety for a second.

    It shot back up, however, when she and Noel entered Valentin’s office. When he’d insisted that he had “notes aplenty,” he wasn’t lying. It said something about his honesty and just how fucked she and Noel might have been on their own.

    Valentin had several filing cabinets in his office back at the rink. Here had entire shelves and locked dressers. Books upon books took up the shelves, while stacks of files sat haphazardly on the desk that was pushed up against the back wall. Above it was a bulletin board, so full of sticky notes and thumb-tacked pictures and documents it was a wonder it hadn’t fallen off its hanger. There were actually multiple boards, all sporting equal amounts of notes. There was even a whiteboard with leftovers of a poorly erased list of bullet points pushed into a corner.

    It felt like she was stepping onto the set of a TV show. It didn’t feel real.

    “My gods,” Noel said, awestruck. “Five years got you to all this?”

    “Five years plus the thirty-something my father and his associates had been at it, but, yes,” Valentin answered. His arms were crossed, and he was looking over all of his handiwork as if he were disgusted by it. Odette was quite impressed and utterly horrified by how much material there was, but she understood he looked that way. There shouldn’t have been a reason for it in the first place.

    Valentin then approached one of the filing cabinets and pulled it open. He had to thumb through a few manilla tabs but eventually pulled one out.

    “Here. It’s the only real photo we have of him. He certainly wouldn’t look like this anymore, but…”

    He held out a smooth yellow envelope. Odette felt like she stared at it for a thousand years before she worked up the nerve to take it. Once it was actually in her hands, though, she had to stop herself from tearing the envelope open entirely.

    The photo was old, and there was a date on it. November 1983. Two men in lab coats stood side-by-side with one another. The one on the right bore a rather striking resemblance to Valentin; she assumed that it was Jean-Louis. The man on the left, however…

    He clearly took care of himself. Cleanly shaven, slicked-back black hair, and a set of relatively broad shoulders under the lab coat. At first glance, she couldn’t make out a resemblance, being that his features were so sharp, but the longer she stared, the more sense it made,

    She’d always had a round face and the features to match, courtesy of her ever-effeminate mother. People mistook them for siblings all the time, so she had always assumed she’d been born a mere half-clone of Vienna Cinq-Mars. However, looking at Florent, she could make out the stark similarities.

    The narrowness of his nose, the way he smiled, and his eyes. She briefly wondered if any of her sudden certainty was a confirmation bias. She knew people could convince themselves they looked like anyone who was remotely similar looking if they tried hard enough. And children didn’t always look like their parents; traits could skip generations.

    But his fucking eyes. They had the same stern sharpness to them that Vienna could not have given her. And their color. That was the only thing leaving her second-guessing her possible partiality.

    Maroon. They were stark maroon, present even in the faded colored ink of the photo. She’d never seen another soul with her eye color, and finally, beholding someone with it was the definition of jarring and served to tie all the similarities together.

    “No, I see it,” Noel said. He was leaning over her shoulder now to get a better look at it.

    “Yeah, I understand where you’re coming from, this is…” she said distantly as her thumb grazed over the image of Florent Lambourne. The man who was behind the biggest threat to Kalos in the past two decades; she was holding his picture.

    There were far too many coincidences falling into place that were starting to point to him being her father. At what point did they stop being coincidences, though? How many needed to pile up before it was fact?

    The uncanny resemblance was there. The timing was there. It was all there.

    “This is fucking crazy.” Of course, she was stating the obvious, but she wasn’t sure what else there was to say.

    On the few occasions she’d wondered about seeing her probable biological father, this was not how she’d pictured it. Though, from the very vague retellings Vienna had given her over the years, she never had much to go off of in the first place.

    All she really had was that Vienna didn’t like him and that there was little to no chance that they would ever meet because he wanted nothing to do with a baby. Odette knew she was a lovechild, and she’d always been okay with that. Bernard had been the only father figure she ever needed or wanted, so the idea of who her paternal half was had never mattered.

    Why couldn’t he have just been a lowlife deadbeat? Or a piece-of-shit big wig who had an affair? She’d be able to stomach either of those things easily; it would have made the most sense to her. It would have been comical, even. But a sinister cult leader with demonic legendaries under his belt? That was far harder to swallow.

    “We do have a couple of artist renditions of what he might look like now, but they’re nothing concrete, and I would imagine it gets the same point across.”

    Her eyes were still trained on Florent’s printed ones. Bits and pieces of the talks so far raced in circles around her shriveling brain, and soon, something about his gaze in the photo became almost…taunting. The way he stared back at her simply said, ‘Is this throwing you for a loop yet?’

    She shoved the photo back into its envelope. Closing her eyes, she handed it back to Valentin. “I’ll look at them later,” she said. “The point has definitely crossed.”

    He took it back without a word, carefully replacing it in the filing cabinet. “It’s in here under ‘Lambourne,’ should you decide you need another look,” he explained. He pushed the cabinet closed, then gestured to the rest of the room.

    “As for everything else, it’s open to your viewing. Just try to keep things as organized as possible; it’s enough of a mess, and I’d rather not have even more to–”

    Thunder rolled, and Valentin silenced himself. There didn’t appear to be a window in the office, and he was the first to shuffle out of the room and back down the hallway they’d come down. Odette and Noel followed behind him, and upon making it back to the living room, they could see there was no longer a park view but a blanket of white static. A flash of light illuminated the living room, only to be followed by yet another violent thunderclap.

    “Oh, there’s that downpour,” Valentin commented.

    Om!” Powdered Sugar declared.

    “Twenty-percent chance of rain, my fucking ass,” Noel added. “That’s just great.”

    Valentin turned to them, features contorted into a slight grimace. “Well, I hate to say it, but that should give you time to settle in and read what you want. I don’t imagine you’ll be taking a bike home in this.”

    While Odette had driven in the rain before, what was coming down now looked like less-than-ideal driving conditions. It looked like it was picking up by the minute.

    “Yeah, no thanks,” she said. Especially not with her current mental state. She couldn’t focus on any one thing right now, let alone trying to ride a motorcycle through a deluge.

    “I could call for a car, but…this doesn’t look safe to be outside in general,” Valentin mused.

    “We’ll give it an hour or so. Not like we’re looking to bolt, anyway,” Noel said. He sent Odette a look as if asking for approval on that suggestion. She merely nodded in agreement; she had no qualms about that.

    She felt like she would need more than an hour to sort through her thoughts, anyway. It could storm all night for all she cared. The time would prove useful.

    ***​

    An hour passed, then two, then three, then four. When an emergency weather notification went out at the fifth-hour mark, urging anyone who got it to seek shelter and stay off the roads, it was only overkill at that point. With the way the rain never seemed to let up once in the hours Odette spent flipping through blood-type notes and pieces upon pieces of Team Enigma evidence, she didn’t need a weather warning to tell her that it was serious.

    “Texted Maman and told her we're stuck at a friend’s house,” Odette said to Noel, her eyes down at RotomPhone, who was showing her the current forecast.

    “Same,” Noel said, also scrolling through his phone. “Mum told me and Elton to just stay where we are anyway; she’d kill us if we tried to come home in this. Fucking castform really getting jiggy with it.”

    The two of them had set up shop in the living room, sitting on the floor with piles of reading material taking up the coffee table, floor, and parts of the couch. Isaur and Elton had indulged themself in some skimming for quite some time, but when the clock struck ten, and there was no sign of a window to leave, they jumped into their balls for naps, exhausted by the mental hoops they’d jumped through today. Odette didn’t bother to stop either one of them because she’d have done the same if she could.

    “I’m fried,” Noel grunted, slapping another file folder closed and adding it to his ever-growing stack of searched material.

    “I’m deep fried,” Odette agreed with a yawn.

    “Consensus?”

    She looked over her shoulder toward the front door and down the other hallway she’d last seen Valentin go into. He’d realized there was no chance of anyone leaving any time soon and decided to go make up his guest room.

    “If he’s lying, fuck me,” she whispered back to Noel.

    “Well, you shouldn’t be saying that to me,” Noel smirked, nudging her with his leg. In return, she shoved him playfully.

    Exhaling slowly, she eyed the heaps of pages they’d gone through. She was shaking her head before she realized it. “There is way too much here for this to be some scheme. Pictures, charts, written accounts, I–”

    She met Noel’s pensive gaze. “I don’t see how any of this is made up.”

    “I agree,” Noel said with a nod. “I owe him an apology because gods…fuck the podcasts, this is everything.”

    It really was. ‘Notes aplenty’ had been an understatement. She’d spent her time reading several files about some of the blood type species, then files dedicated to the doings of some other Enigma suspects, before going into a very detailed account of all of Dorien’s day-to-day doings, starting from when they had first begun tailing him shortly after he had graduated secondary school. She’d been hoping to find something about why she had ceased contacting him before all of this, but nothing of that nature came up. It was minutely frustrating but hard to focus on alone when everything she read just served to make her crazier.

    “Are you okay?” Noel asked after another bout of silence. It caused Odette to start.

    “Huh?”

    Are you okay?” he repeated. "You were tensing up something fierce in his office, and I just wanna know where your head is at."

    No, I"m not fucking okay, she thought. But everything within her protested that answer. She couldn’t think clearly about the evidence she was looking at if her mind was muddled with thoughts of being anything but fine.

    She blinked slowly at him before lightly shaking her head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

    It looked like he tried to suppress a jesting scoff but failed miserably. “Well, I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s noticed the sheer level of coincidences happening here pointing to you being a Team Enigma product.”

    She started again, that time triggered by a sudden pulse of white-hot anger that shot up her spine. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” she menaced.

    “Whoa, easy,” Noel said, raising his hands defensively. “I’m sorry, that was crass; I meant it as a joke.”

    The apology did nothing to lessen her aggravation. In fact, it only increased the temperature of it. “Do you think this is something that we should be joking about right now?” she queried, shifting her body so she was facing him. “There isn’t anything funny about this; this is horrifying, Noel.”

    He looked guilty now. Good. “Dee, I get it, I didn’t mean–”

    “Do you?” she interrupted him.“Do you think I’m just totally vibing at the idea that I’ve somehow been involved with this cult shit before I was aware of it myself?”

    He apparently didn’t have an answer because he was left sputtering dumbly to himself as she turned to lean back against the couch, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as she tucked her knees in as closely as she could. Her eyes slipped shut as she went to work fiddling with the fabric of her jacket sleeves, silently rationalizing to herself why she needed to calm down.

    It was just a joke. It’s Noel. He jokes about everything. He didn’t mean any harm by it. He’s still your friend. If Florent Lambourne is your father, that won’t change.

    Right?


    She was soon shaking her head again. All the thoughts, feelings, and angst came rushing back with no warning, and she could once again hear her heartbeat in her ears. But, she kept focusing on just her hands. “Gods, maybe this really all was a bad idea…”

    “If all this ends up pointing in the direction I think it is, this was going to catch up with us anyway,” Noel said curtly.

    All her breathing, fiddling, and rationalizing went out the window. She was soon up on her knees, her vision swimming in the redness of fury. “What do you mean the ‘direction you think it is?’”

    Noel let out a scathing laugh. All the guilt from before had seemingly vanished. “Oh, c’mon, Odette, don’t get defensive stupid on me now; you know damn well what I mean. How much of this needs to line up before it might just be fact?”

    She’d thought the same thing earlier. So why was hearing it out of Noel’s mouth so absolutely infuriating? All she wanted to do right now was punch him, throw something at him even. She gripped the couch cushion with the intent to launch it. However, before she could even fathom how to do so, her lips had detached from her rampaging brain and went off on their own crusade.

    “And what do you mean ‘us,’ this is a ‘me’ problem,” she spat. “You can dip whenever the fuck you want, but if everything here is actually true, I’m the only one who’s fucked here. When it’s all said and done, you really have no reason to care aside from morbid curiosity.”

    A coil of regret tightened around her heart as she watched the exasperation fall off Noel’s face, replaced by sheer hurt. He blinked as if still trying to comprehend the words she’d just mindlessly flung at him.

    “Morbid curiosity was a start, but if it’s my best friend’s life on the line, I think I have more than enough reason to care,” he said. “I just assumed we were in this together.”

    Fuck, no, I’m sorry. I know. We are, she wanted to say. She never wanted to see him make such a face. But her lips were still running on their own, she still felt like she wanted to break something. She still felt enraged.

    “Yeah, well,” she said, entirely unsure how to craft an answer when her entire being was split, “your dad’s normal. Mine may not be. So, to answer your overall question, no, I’m not okay. Happy?”

    In the heat of their argument, Odette hadn’t noticed that Valentin had come back from the bedroom. When she finally saw him, she had to assume he’d been standing by for quite a bit because his hands were clasped over his stomach, and he looked like he was fidgeting with his feet as he pressed his lips together uncomfortably.

    “Oooooooo...kay,” he said after a moment. “Sorry for…interrupting, but I’ve prepared the guest room. I don’t imagine the storm is letting up any time soon, so you’re welcome to crash in there until it does. I can set one of you up on the couch if–”

    Noel was standing up before Valentin finished talking. “I’m gonna go to the room,” he mumbled as he walked off.

    Odette watched him go. Her guilt screamed at her to go after him, but her anger told her to stay in place because she knew she was right in some sense. All that manifested was her sighing and laying her forehead on her knees.

    “That’s, uh…” Valentin spoke after a small eternity.

    “Sorry,” she said, lifting her head to rub her eye. “We don’t…argue like that very often, I’m just…”

    Cutting her eyes over to him, she saw him wearing that same sympathetic look he’d given her in the office. She supposed she could accept that; surely, he could have been far more ticked off over two of his guests having a heated argument in his living room. The graciousness was appreciated.

    “On edge? I get it. I would be, too, if I were in your shoes,” he said.

    Odette flexed the corners of her lips, trying to grin at him. She found that she didn’t have it in her and settled for a thankful nod before hugging her legs and resting her chin on her knees. Onset numbness from her conflicting emotions left her stalled, and all she felt like she could do was sit there and listen to the thunder shaking the sky and heavy rain hitting the patio.

    She was brought back to attention by Valentin clearing his throat. Glancing back at him, she saw that he was now swinging his arms, which he brought together in a quiet clap. “Well…I don’t…I don’t know what you like to do when you’re high-strung, but in this house, we build puzzles. When the gym is closed, and I’ve had my booze intake for the day.”

    He gestured over to the table that the puzzle was on, raising his eyebrows and smiling crookedly.

    “Care to join me?”
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 15 - Well, Fuck
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu

    White Swan.jpeg
    Chapter 15: Well, Fuck
    CWs: Strong Language, Talk of Drugging, Talk of Killing Someone

    It was only there that she realized she was alone with him.

    She was alone with him. In his house. Rained in, no way to safely leave at the moment. And he was asking her to build a puzzle with him. The subject of her intense crush was asking her to build a puzzle–one of her absolute favorite pastimes–with him.

    Her jumbled conscious thoughts ceased as her chest looped itself into a constrictor knot. Suddenly, all she could do was stare at him, blinking.

    “Uh…”

    “I mean, please don’t feel obliged,” he said frantically. “If you want to keep reading, go right ahead, I just figured–”

    “Yes!” she replied with a jolt. “I mean…yes, I’ll join you for the puzzle.”

    He exhaled to himself. Was it out of relief? What did he have to be relieved about? Was he hoping she was going to say yes? The thought caused her heartbeat to pick up, so much so that she heard it pounding against her ears as she pushed herself to stand.

    Now that she could actually look at the pieces, she also found time to get a better look at the box. The first thing that stood out to her was the number of parts it advertised, and she eyed it closely as she leaned over one of the chairs pushed in under the table.

    “Two-thousand, look at you,” she commented, trying to ensure they didn’t get trapped in another bout of awkward silence. She also wanted to nurse the cutiefly pecking the shit out of her guts.

    “I typically don’t do any less than that. Not challenging enough,” he replied coolly, leaning on the seat beside her. He looked to be mimicking her stance, but she didn’t think too much about it.

    “A man of taste,” she complimented. She never did much less than 1500 pieces unless she liked the finished picture. At that thought, she reached over to pick up the box to get a better look at the image, half-expecting something depicting a dark snowy landscape or a group of ice-type Pokemon.

    She was surprised to see a painted nighttime cityscape instead. Silhouettes of humans and Pokemon rushed through a downpour that only served to reflect the city streetlights. In the foreground, what looked like a gengar, a misdreavus, and a greavard lurked in the shadows of an alley.

    “Oh wow, I like this,” she gasped.

    “Right?” Valentin beamed. “I just picked it up a few days ago and have been slowly chipping away at it.”

    That much was obvious. He’d already completed the outer edge and had begun working his way inward. He’d also begun separating the rest of the pieces by color grouping, judging by how some were in neat piles, and others were scattered about in a less organized fashion.

    “I’m guessing you do a lot of these?” she asked.

    “Indeed, it’s fantastic to pass the time with,” he said. “I take it that you’re a puzzle connoisseur yourself, huh?”

    “I’ve gotten around,” she said coyly, pulling out the chair she was leaning on and sitting down.

    “Something tells me you’re downplaying that a little,” Valentin teased, following her lead.

    She stifled a scoff as she held up her hand and pinched her index finger and thumb close together. She hardly felt the need to go into every little detail about the monthly puzzles she, Bernard, and Vienna used to do when they all lived together.

    “Just a little.”

    She was amazed at how quickly the awkwardness had deflated from the air. The next thing she knew, all she could think about was the fact that she was puzzling with Valentin and became solely focused on trying to show off her skills at getting pieces together. Soon, they were so engaged in it that they stopped talking entirely. It only dawned on her just how quiet it was when a clap of thunder broke her out of her building trance.

    She glanced up toward Valentin, careful not to move her head too much and give herself away. He looked rather engrossed in the part he was putting together, as indicated by the notch that had taken form in his brow and the way he rubbed and pinched at his chin. As quickly as she thought the awkwardness was deflating, she felt it coming back on with a vengeance.

    Say something else, quick, she thought.

    “You said you do this to take the edge off when you’ve drunk too much, so I’m guessing you only smoke the pecha cigarettes when you’re trying to impress other elites?” she said.

    Valentin’s eyes slipped shut, the notch smoothing out as he grinned dumbly. He leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes in jest. “Actually, Love and Frosting don’t like it when I smoke in the house, so I would normally do it outside, but–”

    Lightning sent a burst of brightness into the room, followed by a clap of thunder that quaked through the wood floors and caused the light fixtures to clatter slightly. Valentin shrugged when it died down.

    Odette pursed her lips. “Understood. This is probably better overall anyway.”

    “You’re definitely right, but a little pecha smoke in my lungs never hurt me.”

    “And a little whiskey in your system made that office conversation easier.”

    He snickered, shaking his head as he reached over for a few more pieces. “Mmmmm, touché.”

    They shared brief grins before Odette lowered her head to continue her work. She wasn’t sure what else could be said after that; no sarcastic quip came to her, and the idea of trying to further prod him about his life left her feeling like her insides would disintegrate. Awkwardness started to build again, and panic flooded her stomach.

    Anything. Something. Say literally anything. Ask him how he’s feeling. Ask him what hair bleach he uses. Ask him if he wants a kiss.

    Holy shit, get a
    grip.

    “I’m sorry, I’m really awful at this,” Valentin said suddenly. Odette silently thanked the gods for the reprieve.

    Furrowing her brow, she raised her eyes to look at what was on the table in front of him. “What, the puzzle? You look like you’re doing fine.”

    “No,” he said. “I mean this.” He motioned between them, timing it with a few strained nods. Her eyes widened in understanding.

    He was in the same boat but had the balls to admit it.

    Oh,” she said, putting down the pieces she was holding. Averting her eyes away, she tried to come up with the best way to make her empathy clear.

    “I guess small talk is harder when there aren’t twenty people you’re trying to ignore sitting around you,” she said.

    Valentin pointed at her. “You are correct; that does tend to offer a bit of a boost.”

    “If it helps, we can just pretend we’re at another party, and we have Dorien clones trying to talk our ears off.”

    “Perhaps,” he said, “but I’d hate if every conversation we had alone relied on us roleplaying something like that.”

    Odette began to drag her fingernail across the table, having to fight off the dreamy smile that threatened to curl her lips. “That would be kind of obnoxious, wouldn’t it?”

    She only wished talking to him would come on like second nature. She felt herself obsessing over every little word that came out of her mouth, and it only served to pile onto her nerves.

    “I know the goal here is to take the edge off, but if you have anything else you want to ask me, I’m more than happy to discuss,” he said. “Clearing some more air might help our case.”

    Odette felt some tension enter her body as several more questions began to form. They started surface-level but quickly developed into inquiries about the Clovis LeClair research she had done. No reason to worry about that anymore, though. That was null information.

    What did she want to ask Valentin Ménétries that wasn’t ‘what hair bleach do you use?’ He formally invited her, so she felt more at ease trying to consider it.

    One question immediately rushed to the forefront of her mind, coming on like an intrusive thought but overstaying its welcome. She warded off the sudden silence by grabbing another piece and trying to jam it somewhere in the image of the greavard she had created.

    “I’m pretty set,” she lied. “Why don’t you ask me something?”

    “I’d love to, and I plan to,” he said, tucking his hand under his chin as he grinned. “But, I trust you right now. I’d like for you to trust me more in return, so it’s only fair that you go first.”

    He paused to purse his lips and shimmied another piece into the part he was building. “Besides, I think I sense something on the tip of your tongue.”

    I wish you could feel the tip of my tongue, she thought longingly before clearing her throat. So much for having a grip.

    “Not sure if I should ask,” she muttered. “Might be crossing a boundary.”

    She watched Valentin roll his eyes againn as he continued to work at his little stretch of the puzzle. He successfully fitted two more pieces into it. “We’ve hopped over a few boundaries today, so I can’t imagine it’s anything worse. My goal is to be an open book to you, so please ask away.”

    The more she talked to him, the more his shows of sincerity became obvious. He always made direct eye contact with her when he was trying to make her believe him or get a point across, and he always kept his brow at a neutral, wrinkle-free position while doing so. Sometimes he’d offer a half smile if the topic were light enough. And he never looked tense, even if he had all the reason in the world to be so. Tension only gripped him when he slipped up or was putting on an act.

    She decided to match that energy and let the tightness in her shoulders loosen. “Okay, fine,” she relented. She did, however, brace herself for her question.

    “Uh…who’s Jocelyn?”

    Valentin’s cool expression fled off his face as soon as he heard the name, leaving a blossoming scowl in its wake.

    Odette sucked her teeth and smacked her hand to her face in embarrassment. “Fuck, see? I shouldn’t have asked. Forget it, I was just being–”

    “No, no,” Valentin cut her off, sighing. “I guess I shouldn’t be shocked you managed to catch the caller ID, and I did make a bit of spectacle out of it.” At least he knew exactly what she was talking about, so she didn’t have to explain herself more.

    He was now pinching the bridge of his nose as if the mere mention of the name ‘Jocelyn’ gave him a headache.

    “Jocelyn Delsarte. She’s my fiance. My…betrothed fiance.”

    Odette felt her heart stop entirely. She tried to will the oncoming despair away, but it flooded into every cavity in her body. Heartbreak came on fast, and it came on violently, apparently.

    You shouldn’t be surprised, of course he’s engaged. What were you thinking?

    “Oh,” she said. “Congra–”

    He whipped his hand up, effectively silencing her. “Save it,” he jeered. He turned his hand and wiggled his ring finger, which, surprisingly, lacked a ring.

    “Let me make one thing clear; I can’t stand her. I’d sooner hang myself than exchange vows with her.”

    Odette curled her toes as she exhaled slowly and evenly, keeping the sense of utter relief from showing anywhere on her person. She wasn’t sure why she was so relieved; he was still engaged. Engaged in an arranged marriage with someone he would rather die than marry but still engaged. Something about that felt wrong, yet that little spark of hope returned. If he could get away from it, there was still a chance…

    Don’t be a fucking homewrecker.

    Was it actually homewrecking if Valentin wanted nothing to do with the relationship? Would she be doing him a favor? Why were arranged marriages still a thing, anyway? That had to be illegal in some sense.

    But what if Jocelyn was nice? What if she was just minding her own business, trying to make the arrangement work, and he was badmouthing it in such a way? Odette would feel awful if that were the case.

    However, Valentin seemed relatively level-headed and reasonable. She couldn’t imagine him being so vehemently opposed to the arrangement and hating her so much if she was someone who was just trying to live her life and treated him well. Did she even know him well enough yet to make such a deep assumption? Probably not.

    Maybe he hated the idea of an arranged marriage so much that he badmouthed it regardless of how nice Jocelyn might have been. Wanted nothing to do with her because of her ties to the concept. Odette could see that happening because she’d probably be in the same boat if she were in his shoes. If that was what was happening, though, would it still be a case of homewrecking? Would she be a bad person for pursuing it?

    As if she needed another thing to stress over right now. Dammit.

    “So that’s why you’d rather risk damaging your expensive ass phone than take her call.”

    “Now you’re getting it.” He let out another chuckle, far more aggravated than the first, as he fiddled with a few more pieces. “I think I’d prefer to play friends with Dorien than talk to her spoiled rotten ass. Absolutely insufferable.”

    “More insufferable than Dorien?” she asked, trying not to sound hopeful.

    She was met with a deadpan look from him, and her heart stopped for the second time. “She chewed me out because I wore a tie that didn’t match her dress to an event. Then quite literally tattled on me to her father, and as a result, I was sternly spoken to about ‘keeping an image.’”

    “Oh my gods, Valentin, how could you not wear the right tie? What the hell were you thinking? Now everyone’s going to think you’re a knob,” Odette said sarcastically. That earned her a smirk.

    “Yeah, well, I just got a new Hermes tie I wanted to test out; how the fuck was I supposed to know she wanted to wear purple that day specifically?” he replied, shaking his head.

    “Read her mind, of course. I hear it’s easy.”

    “She definitely thinks it’s something I know how to do,” Valentin said. “Except, even if I could, I still don’t think I could keep up with her nonsense. She expects me to be unconditionally in love with her. But she continuously acts like the world revolves around her and throws a fit when I can’t be bothered. Mind reading wouldn’t make her shit attitude any better.”

    “Sounds familiar,” Odette chided.

    “I’m sure you know firsthand what that’s like,” Valentin agreed. “Except you’re much better at playing the part than I am. I have no issue indicating that my hatred for her defies gravity.”

    “That must be nice. I’d love to tell Dorien to go fuck himself. And he probably would.”

    “That’s well within the realm of possibility,” Valentin said with a light laugh. “Unfortunately, the spectacles of my bitter distaste do nothing to ward her off. They just give me lectures about ‘what’s best for the families’ and every bit of nonsense I couldn’t care less about.”

    In that small emotional whirlwind, Odette realized that the last name ‘Delsarte’ was indeed familiar to her. “She’s from one of the families that are helping yours with this whole conspiracy thing, right?”

    He nodded. “They felt that unification would be powerful, even though our whole operation is underground, so I never understood what difference it made. It was more because Jocelyn can’t take no for an answer, and her father is fantastic at shmoozing mine.”

    Blinking, Odette blindly reached for another puzzle piece. “What, she was into you, and you didn’t return the feelings, so she told her daddy to tell yours to make you suck it up?”

    He hesitated before bobbing his head in thought. “Close. More like…I initiated an experimental fling that I made abundantly clear was only meant to be a fling, and she read further into it than she should have. Used it as leverage to convince our families a union would be great, and here we are.”

    Valentin turned his gaze back to the puzzle as soon as he finished, making it evident he wasn’t proud of that fact. It both filled Odette with sympathy and a sense of anger. Being given firm boundaries and stomping on them so heinously? Who the fuck was she?

    “That’s…” she stammered, trying to breathe through the throb in her lower back. “I’m so sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t want to make the conversation deeper than it had already gotten. She felt like she was imposing on him too much as it was.

    Instead of doubling down on the apology, she decided to commiserate instead. “She sounds like a fucking nightmare.”

    “That’s an insult to nightmares everywhere,” Valentin scoffed. “Taught me a valuable lesson about useless flings, I’ll say that much.”

    Stop poking it. Let it die; you’re making this worse than it needs to be. Odette knew everything she needed to know. Jocelyn was trash, Valentin hated her, and if he was telling the truth, there was no harm in continuing to crush on him like she was. She should just leave it at that, but her desire to know more about who Valentin Ménétries actually was overpowering. What were his flings like? What did they entail? Was he…in one currently?

    “Well, if you said you didn’t want anything more, she should have respected that. Fling or not,” she said.

    “You’re right, yes. But I can’t help but feel like I did it to myself.”

    If he were casting the line, taking the bait wouldn’t be bad, right? “That’s not how that works.”

    “Perhaps not. But there’s a nuance to it.”

    “Nuance or not, consent is consent, which also applies to marriage.” She was getting worked up again. She barely knew him, and yet she was seething on his behalf. It must have made itself clear somewhere in her tone because he recoiled slightly.

    Odette sighed, settling back against the chair. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to keep pressing the matter and make you–”

    “No, don’t apologize,” he replied. “It’s…actually cathartic to talk to a clueless party about it.” He paused, his expression falling. “I mean, not that you’re clueless in general, I just meant in terms of the situation, you’re–”

    “It’s okay, I got what you meant,” she said.

    “I swear I wasn’t calling you stupid, I just–” he insisted.

    “I know you weren’t calling me stupid, you’re–” Odette tried to assure him.

    “--find it remarkably easy to explain these things–”

    “--more than welcome to discuss this–”

    “--to you.”

    “--with me.”

    Odette fell silent as she realized she was talking over him, and it seemed Valentin quieted down for the same reason. They stared at each other for what felt like hours before Odette made the first move and returned to doing the puzzle.

    “I was just trying to say, I don’t mind if you want to talk my ear off, especially about something like that. If anything, your willingness to talk at all just makes you seem more trustworthy.”

    The sigh he released was relieved. “I appreciate that. But I also don’t want to bog you down with my life story.”

    Was there a way to tell him he could do that as much as he wanted without her sounding desperate? She decided not to take the chance. “To be fair, I was the one who asked.”

    “That you did, but I asked you to ask.”

    “Do you really want to play this game with me?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

    “I’ll play whatever you want me to play, Miss Cinq-Mars.”

    She decided to ignore the dopamine-laced chills that his response sent through her body. At least the quietness that lingered between them that time around was much less awkward.

    “Then answer my question, sir. Nuance, you said?” she urged, fitting another puzzle piece.

    Another sigh, this one long and heavy. “It’s a lot.”

    A roll of thunder sent a vibration up through the floors, and Odette gestured toward the patio door. “I have time.”

    It was a good while before Valentin spoke again. He seemingly took that time to piece his thoughts together because he stopped fiddling with the puzzle. “If you must know, as I was growing up, I was under the impression that…” he trailed off and clicked his tongue. “Sorry, this might be TMI.”

    She shrugged in response and waved him on. Nodding, he continued.

    “I grew up under the impression that the act of having sexual feelings was …not the norm.”

    Odette tilted her head. “Okay…”

    “And it didn’t become clear to me that it actually was the norm until I went away to school. All boys school, so it was all any of the idiots ever talked about,” he recalled disdainfully. “But, I never changed. I remained…pretty set in my ways.”

    She tucked her palm under her chin. “You’re…asexual, then, right?”

    Damn, she thought regretfully. The feeling deepened when she watched him nod.

    “Right. And I wasn’t exactly familiar with the sexual spectrum at that point in time, so for a while, I figured there was just something wrong with me. I decided the way to fix it was to just push through the ick of it and–”

    “--do the deed with a bunch of people,” Odette finished.

    Valentin’s smile was crooked, and that was the only indication she needed to know she was correct.

    “And Jocelyn ended up being one of those people,” she added.

    “I was…desperate. And that desperation landed me in her bed despite knowing damn well she was sick in the head,” he huffed. “Not my proudest moment. None of it was, really. None of it did anything.”

    Now, Odette just felt bad. Here she was absolutely lusting after him when ‘lust’ as a whole wasn’t something he had the ability to feel. She really was disgusting.

    “There’s nothing wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with not liking sex,” she said. And she meant that from every angle. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to wrestle through all that. But that doesn’t excuse Jocelyn for forcing you into marriage.”

    “No, you’re right. But I can’t help but wonder what would have been had I just come to terms with it sooner. Maybe I wouldn’t be ensnared in her delusion,” he mused. “I’m perfectly happy with myself now, which only makes the whole setup of a marriage even more repulsive.”

    “You didn’t know any better,” she said.

    “No, I didn’t. But, I never fully learned, which is also part of the issue. Like…remember how I told you I’d taken Lust before?” he asked.

    It took her a second, but she got it. “Oh, no.

    “I had the antidote, drank it after every outing I had to act the part, but after a while, I stupidly decided to forgo it,” Valentin explained. “Sacrilege effects get stronger after every use, so…I figured I’d give it a shot. Even after everything. There was still a part of me that thought it was possible.”

    She nodded slowly, giving herself time to sit with his confession. Giving herself a moment to decide how she wanted to retaliate.

    “Can I be honest?” she questioned. Her lower back tingled.

    “Please.”

    “That is fucking braindead.” As much as she wished he had the capability to feel what she was feeling, there was no world where that was worth getting high on some deadly drug.

    Valentin laughed outright, which she decided was a better reaction than him getting mad at her. He rubbed at his forehead as he leaned back against his chair. “You sound like my team and my brother. I already got the tongue-lashing, so don’t trouble yourself.”

    “I don’t know, I think I want to trouble myself,” Odette snapped. She was shocked at why she felt so strongly about it, but she figured it was stemming from her infatuation.

    Laughing again, this time more nervously, Valentin shrugged his shoulders. “If you feel it’s necessary, be my guest. I definitely deserve it, but it probably won’t be anything I haven’t heard before.”

    She decided to test that out. “Noel might be better to talk to about this than me, he loves this type of shit. But you know it’s called a fucking spectrum for a reason, right? And it’s not concrete? It'll shift if your brain decides there’s room for a shift. If it doesn’t, you’re fine where you are. Leave the psyche-melting drugs alone.”

    Some of what she said must have struck something within him because it gave him apparent pause. For the briefest second, he shifted his gaze toward the ground as if in deep thought.

    “Is that something Noel and I should be worried about going forward?” she went on.

    Valentin cut his eyes back to her. “What? No,” he replied. Odette almost cringed at how offended he sounded but held her ground. “This was two years ago, Miss Cinq-Mars. We’re long past the need to worry about it. It’s much more manageable to tame booze, anyway.”

    Crossing her arms, Odette slumped in her chair a little. She wanted to be cross with him for his poor decisions, but the longer she beheld his aggravated gaze, the more she softened up. Fuck him for being so gorgeous.

    “Fine. I’ll take that,” she said. “But, one more thing? Stop calling me that.”

    Valentin tilted his head in concern. “Calling you what? Miss Cinq-Mars?”

    “I called you Clovis when you were Clovis and now I call you Valentin. I would like you to call me by my first name as well,” she said.

    For a second, she could have sworn she saw the apples of his cheeks flush red. With a few timed blinks, it was gone. “I’m…” he tried to say. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just trying to keep things professional, is all.”

    Shrugging, Odette pushed herself to sit up straight again. “Yeah, well,” she said in a breath, grabbing a few more pieces and pulling them over to her. “No need for that. You know bullshit about me, and I know bullshit about you. I think that means we’re friends, and friends call each other by their first names.”

    He blinked at her like he was dumbfounded, but that look soon gave way into a genuine smile.

    “Alright then, Odette. We’re definitely friends,” he declared. Hearing him say her first name again caused a comforting warmth to flow through her chest.

    She could still be slightly in love with him. That didn’t need to go away.

    No sooner had she thought that did she reach over to grab another puzzle piece, only for her hand to meet Valentin’s as he reached in the same direction. They lingered there together before Odette came back to her senses and hastily pulled it away.

    Too soon, she thought.

    As Valentin recoiled his hand, she watched him turn it palm up on the table. The unmistakable sight of scar tissue caught her eye, and she felt herself lean over to get a better look before she could stop. He must have caught her because she flinched from her mini trance at the sound of him clearing his throat.

    “Oh, you saw my scar?” he asked. He held his hand up to let her look better at it. There was indeed a long, narrow string of raised, pinkish skin tearing through the natural lines of his palm. He smiled awkwardly before turning his wrist to look at it himself. “I was trying my skills at couples skating; long time ago. Fell while I was doing a lift with my partner, and her blade caught my hand. Seven stitches,” he said, running one of his fingers over it.

    “Ouch,” Odette replied, clenching her teeth. “Stitches in the palm hardly sounds like a good time.” Not that stitches in general were a good time, but she was trying to keep the conversation going.

    “I definitely do not recommend it. The scar’s a good talking point, though,” he said, tucking his affected hand under his chin, that crooked smile stretching into something far more suave.

    So hot. So fucking hot. Is he flirting? Is that something he would even do? I don’t…

    “I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered. She cleared her throat in an attempt to keep herself sane. “I didn’t mean to stare, I also have a little palm scar myself.” She raised her right hand, showing him her still relatively-fresh injury. “Not as old or as big as yours is, but still.”

    Valentin leaned in, eyeing the old gash with interest. Don’t blush. Don’t blush, Odette urged herself. Could she even stop herself from blushing? Did that even matter right now?

    “Still an ouch,” he said solemnly. “I assume you lucked out in the sutures department, though?”

    Rolling her eyes, Odette reached for a couple more puzzle pieces. “Yeah, it was just a superficial cut from some glass,” she said.

    “Let me guess, juggling wine bottles?” Valentin said.

    Smirking, she shook her head. “If I’m being honest, I was pretty drunk. But I went out to eat with Dorien and broke a cup. I tried to pick it up…and…”

    Odette’s voice slowly trailed off as a shrill ringing began to fill her ears. Her eyes fell on the puzzle, but she wasn’t focused on it. She’d become caught on what was going on inside her head. How what she was trying to tell him didn’t…feel right. Didn’t sit with her.

    Brief yet vivid flashes of herself picking up the glass crossed her mind’s eye. A perfectly intact glass, full of wine. She sipped it. It was fine. Dorien spoke. Her grip on it tightened too much for a moment, then CRACK.

    Broken. Blood. But…no.

    That wasn’t what she had remembered. That wasn’t what she’d gone around the past couple of weeks thinking had happened. She’d broken it, tried to do something with it, and gotten cut. Solene had gotten drunk, too, right? That’s what she remembered, right?

    But, Solene didn’t drink. So why had she been so convinced Solene was drunk?

    Why was she suddenly recalling bits and pieces of a completely different scenario?

    She was standing up, backing away from the table without realizing her legs still worked. The ringing was getting far more intense, and the corners of her vision blurred. She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes, hoping that would stop her swimming sight and the noise, but she found no such reprieve.

    “Mis–Odette?” Valentin called, the concern all too apparent in his voice. She heard him stand and soon felt his presence at her side. “Odette, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

    Moving her hands off her eyes, Odette pressed her fingertips into her temples, cutting her wavering gaze to Valentin’s worried face.

    “I lied. That’s not what happened. I mean, I thought that’s what happened, but–”

    He raised a silencing hand, though he moved cautiously. “I need you to slow down,” he said. “What do you mean you thought that’s what happened?”

    “I mean, I remember breaking a glass and trying to pick it up, but I don’t think that’s what happened, but I don’t know why I don’t think that’s what happened because I’m…I’m so sure I remember breaking something, and being drunk, and–”

    Her breathing was picking up, and her heartbeat drowned out the ringing. Why was this making her panic? What was there to panic about? What if she’d just gotten so blackout drunk she didn’t remember? Why did it feel so wrong?

    She was momentarily relieved by the sudden look of understanding that crossed Valentin’s eyes, only for her anxiety to surge as she started to wonder how he might have realized what was happening.

    “Okay, okay,” he said. Both of his hands were raised now, and it looked like he was going to put them on her shoulders but stopped short. She might have been disappointed if she weren’t so focused on keeping herself together. “Take a breath; you’re okay. Let me go find something, alright?”

    “Find what?” She didn’t mean to sound so forceful, but it came out that way. Valentin, fortunately, didn't look any less deterred.

    “I might know why you’re having conflictions and why you’re so riled up. Give me two seconds, I’ll be right back,” he said. He was backing away before he’d even finished talking, and Odette watching him skip-run down the hall Noel had disappeared down.

    She numbly went after him, miraculously finding the will to ignore his instructions. She aimlessly followed him past a few doors and to a roomy, luxurious master suite. She was running on autopilot again, so all she could do as she stood in the doorway was watch Valentin rummage through the pockets of an expensive-looking coat hanging on a hook on the wall and eventually his night tables.

    Valentin grumbled a string of expletives that were barely too low for her to hear clearly, but he soon found what he was looking for, as indicated by how he roughly yanked something from a drawer and kicked it shut. He stomped up to her shortly after, brows knit in dismay. “This’ll have to do,” he hissed to himself.

    He held an object out to her. It resembled a shot glass with a cap on it, and a large ‘2’ was engraved on the front.

    “Alright, I know this is suspicious as hell, but I need you to down this whole thing. If I’m right, it’s going to help you,” he said, shoving it into her hands.

    Odette eyed it through her unsettled blinking. “What am I looking at?”

    “Second-degree Vice Dust antidote,” Valentin said. “You’re showing signs of a partial jog. If you have been given anything from a second-degree down, this will set your mind straight again.”

    Not even a few hours ago were they talking about this Vice Dust and antidotes and all of that nonsense, and now she was standing there with said antidote in her hand. She must have been silently staring at the glass for a long time because Valentin finally set one of his hands on her shoulder, causing her to flinch back to attention.

    “Please trust me. You said so yourself; we’re friends, right? Friends help friends,” he insisted. The tender sincerity behind his words and his matching look was calming, even for a moment. “It’s all I have on me, so I just hope you don’t need anything higher.”

    She stared at the vial again, trying to pick anything off of it that might have told her she shouldn’t be ingesting it. The glass was spotless, and the liquid was clear. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have thought it was water or a shot of vodka. Maybe that was all it actually was, and the concept of the antidote was just meant to be some sort of placebo.

    Her raging theories aside, minus the ‘2,’ nothing about it was imposing. It was simply a shot. A shot that might stop the ringing in her ears.

    In a quick motion, she pulled the top off the glass and threw her head back as she downed it. The substance tasted…clean. Milky, but clean. Something about it was actually quite soothing. It felt like she was flushing a burn with cool water.

    “Did it work? Anything different?” Valentin pressed after a few seconds. She couldn’t respond because she was too preoccupied with the instant results.

    I wanted to ask you about the manslaughter case you were involved in last year. Well, I guess it was more of a self-defense killing, considering the victim raped you, right? So that makes you the victim, I suppose…

    She got mad. So mad. Squeezed the glass until it broke. And then…

    I did say the ride would be easier if you’d put her back in her ball. Hopefully, I have enough.

    What he blew at her. It burned so badly. But it was gone as quickly as the stinging pain peppered her face, leaving her feeling dazed and horrified. Solene too. Both of them were none the wiser.

    “H-he…he…he got me all riled up. Mentioned…a thing that happened, then…blew some shit in my face when I refused to talk to him. And he did it to Solene, too, that’s why he wanted me to put her away,” she said numbly. “Oh gods…oh gods, oh gods, oh–”

    The numbness was interrupted by a sudden explosion of pure fury. Molten wrath traveled up from the small of her back before taking every last nerve in her body in a violent grip. Before Odette knew it, she was gritting her teeth so hard she was bound to break a tooth if she didn’t let up. But she didn’t care at the moment. Not as she lobbed the shot at the floor.

    “Mother fucker!” she shrieked over the sound of shattering glass.

    Hey!” Valentin shouted in protest. She didn’t hear him well, though. Not as she turned and paced back toward the kitchen, hands balled into tight fists.

    “I’m gonna fucking kill him!

    She wasn’t sure how, she wasn’t sure when, but she was certain that she was going to ruin him. One way or another. It was pouring outside, but she’d driven her motorcycle in the rain before. She could go home, grab the rest of her team and even her gun, and–

    She felt fingers wrap around her forearm and was forced to face a very steely-looking Valentin. If she were in any other state of mind, she’d have been perturbed by seeing him look at her like that, but all it did was make her rage surge.

    “Excuse me, what the hell was that?” he groused. “I understand that you’re rightfully upset, but defacing my property is not something I’m going to condone.”

    “You think I give the slightest fuck right now? The creep drugged me, and you’re concerned about a shattered glass?” she seethed, yanking her arm out of his grasp. “And don’t touch me.

    She watched through her reddening vision as his features scrunched up as if he were studying her accusingly. It was the smallest and quickest of changes, but one that she had a hard time missing. So much for ‘not having any desire to scrutinize her.’

    “Rest assured, I can vacuum up the glass,” he said. “Your well-being is far more important to me, but I don’t think breaking shit in my home is going to make the situation any better. So I’m going to advise you to calm down before we continue this conversation.”

    Odette bared her teeth at him.“What makes you think I want to calm down? What about this is calming?” she questioned, her voice rising again as she closed the already tight gap between them. “Dorien screwed with my head; how do you expect me to sit here and let that slide?”

    Her glare bore into him with the might of a rabid mightyena, but Valentin stood his ground. He held her gaze as he crossed his arms, his eyes twinkling with a puzzled light.

    “Of course, I don’t expect you to let it slide, but I do expect you to take a deep breath and try to consider how to approach fucking him over rationally. Your anger isn’t unwarranted, but you have to understand how delicate our situation is. Letting anger dictate how you go forward isn’t going to help one bit.”

    Odette responded with a scathing laugh. Fuck delicacy; fuck pussyfooting around Dorien and his shit. He had the heavy enough hand to insight her wrath, then drug her, so she forgot about it? All chances to be careful went out the window; it was war now.

    “With all due offense, screw that,” she hissed. “I’ll go bash his head in by myself.”

    She didn’t give Valentin a chance to say anything before she stomped around him and headed toward the front door. Unfortunately, she didn’t make it very far before he stepped in front of her, effectively blocking her path.

    “Move,” she spat.

    “Respectfully? No,” Valentin replied. “Above everything, the storm’s only gotten worse, and driving in your state is going to compound your chances of getting into an accident.”

    Flaring her nostrils, she began to dig her nails into the palms of her hands. “Valentin, if you don’t get the absolute fuck out of my way, I’m gonna punch you.”

    She was pleased with how startled he looked. His wrinkled expression and questioning tilt of his head made his shock perfectly apparent. He hesitantly opened his mouth.

    “Is it normal for friends to want to punch friends? That doesn’t seem like you.”

    Her breath hitched as the force of a thousand expletives suddenly got caught in her throat.

    “But, if that’s going to ease your mind, have at it,” he continued with a huff. “Just be sure to aim for my jaw if my face is your desired target. Right side, preferably.” He pointed at the right half of his jaw. “I chew with my left.”

    It was unreal how nonchalant he sounded. Her entire being stalled on what to do next, but a wave of exhaustion washed over her and left her feeling winded. There, she managed to start returning to her senses and realized what she’d just done.

    Screaming at him, breaking stuff in his room, threatening him; was she fucking crazy?

    “I—“

    But, no, she didn’t have the bandwidth to be mortified at her own behavior. Not when she was still reeling at her newly uncovered memories. As the red in her vision receded and the world around her swam, she buried her face in her hands.

    “I-I just–” she tried, “I…don’t…how did that even happen? How did I have…absolutely no recollection? I felt nervous around him right after it happened, but…how? How did I not know any better?”

    “That’s the Vice Dust’s power. It completely overrode whatever you’d witnessed when he used it on you; there was no room for you to remember anything different. Unfortunately, though, muscle memory is a little different. Your brain forgot, but your body remembered,” Valentin said. She wished she could appreciate how gently he was speaking, but she was on another plane of thought. “It was just reacting accordingly despite you not mentally knowing any better.”

    “Gods,” Odette gasped, dragging her hands down the sides of her face. “Holy shit, he fucking drugged us. He rewired our brains, he fucking drugged me and my partner, I’m gonna blow his fucking head off his body, holy shit, I’m–”

    Now both of Valentin’s hands were on her shoulders, and he had leaned down so he was at her eye level. She was so out of it that she didn’t even recall him grabbing her again, and it took her several seconds to realize she was nose-to-nose with him. “Odette, listen to me.”

    It was hard not to with him so close, despite the fact she felt involuntary tears blurring the corners of her vision.

    “You’re okay. I know it’s really scary, but you’re okay. You’re safe right now. Breathe,” he said.

    But she couldn’t. Her airways felt constricted under the revelation that the antidote brought, and no matter what she did, she felt like she couldn’t get enough in. It wasn’t until she felt Valentin squeeze her shoulders that she focused enough to take a deep breath, which she held for a few seconds before exhaling slowly.

    “There you go. I know you know breathing exercises, Miss Singer, so keep it going.”

    She did as she was told. The breaths eventually started coming in a lot easier. It was the only thing that was stopping the lightheadedness and keeping her from passing out. However, as she fully returned to her senses, she became acutely aware of how close Valentin was to her. He was gripping her tightly but tenderly at the same time. Keeping her from jumping to that angry high again.

    Something on her face must have let him know that she had come back down because she watched his expression fall and his fingers loosened.

    “Sorry, I know you said not to touch you, but I—“ he started to say, and she shook her head.

    “No, it’s fine,” she assured him with a shallow breath. “I appreciate…” she shook her head again, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I know that doesn’t do anything for my attitude or my mess, I just–I’m such an…I’m not really in a–”

    He offered her a gracious half-smile. “It’s forgiven. Like I said, I can vacuum it up. And I think you’re well within your right to be that upset. But it’s not productive.”

    That’s the understatement of the fucking century, she thought in embarrassment. At least her mind had cleared enough to where she could hear her own thoughts. Progress. Breathing really did help sometimes.

    Nodding in agreement, she was suddenly working up the courage to say what else had come to mind. Swallowing hard, she tensed her shoulders. “Can I tell you something else?” she asked.

    Valentin nodded. “Yes, of course.”

    Another breath. Another moment of trying to make sure when she spoke, she didn’t sound like a fucking crazy person. “I think there’s more than that,” she began. “When I ran into Dorien again, I’d completely forgotten what he did for a living until he said it, and the hate was…instant. As soon as he reminded me. And-and Noel—” her voice strained under the weight her chest was under, “was telling me a friend of ours asked me out multiple times in school, and—”

    Valentin nodded. “Denis, right?”

    She shot him a wide-eyed look.

    “They were talking about it at the club last night.”

    She was shaking her head before she realized it. “Valentin, I don’t remember that. I don’t remember any of it.”

    His expression collapsed onto itself. “Nothing?”

    “I-I remember the date I had with Dorien, and I had…so much hate for him when he reminded me what he did for work, but…everything before that is still…”

    She didn’t want to ask what came to mind next but didn’t know what else to say.

    “What did he do to me?”

    Valentin looked about as lost as she did, which was no help in helping her panic subside. His mouth was open like he wanted to say everything he could to calm her down, but nothing came out at first. All he could do was shake his head.

    “I don’t…know,” he finally said. “Fuck. Okay. Then you definitely need a three, I just…dammit.”

    Before he could fall into another string of curses, footsteps sounded down the hallway to the bedroom. A groggy-looking Noel stepped into view, rubbing his eye as he was coming out of a yawn.

    “Yo, who the hell is yelling this late? What’s going on?” he called, still blinking sleep out of his eyes. It didn’t take very long for the grogginess to flee him entirely. As soon as he met Odette’s eyes, all of his tired limbs seemed to jolt to attention. He quirked a dubious brow as he watched Valentin step back too.

    “Dee,” Noel asked slowly. “What’s the–”

    He could barely finish his sentence before Odette rushed to him and hugged him tightly. He didn’t hesitate to return it, resting his chin against the crown of her head. Feeling his arms around her did heaps more for her nerves, and she immediately relaxed into him. Her body quivered against the warring senses of panic and ease she felt.

    “Hey, hey,” he said, concerned. “What’s the matter? You’re shaking.”

    “That stupid fucking Vice Dust shit,” Odette grumbled into the fabric of his jacket.

    There was a pause on his end, and she felt his chest seize. “What about it?”

    She pulled her face away to peer up at him. “Dorien used it on me,” she told him. “That date? I didn’t get drunk, neither did Solene. He asked me about Deschamps, and I broke the fucking cup myself. He wiped my brain about it on the boat back. I remember it all; the antidote works.”

    It was hard to make Noel mad. He’d always been a very happy, very easygoing, albeit boisterous personality. So when any form of rage crossed his face, Odette always knew it was serious. On her, it was normal. On him, it was so out of the ordinary, it was frightening. A violent shine took hold of his hazel eyes, his jaw clenched, and the vein in his forehead popped as his grip on her tightened.

    Anger didn’t wear him. He wore anger.

    “Are you fucking serious?” he ground out.

    He didn’t give her a chance to respond before he glared at Valentin. “What the fuck are we going to do about this? There clearly needs to be something done, he drugged her.”

    “Noel, I hear you,” Valentin responded calmly. “You both have every right to be upset, and I am just as appalled as you are, but–”

    As Valentin spoke, Noel slowly let go of Odette to approach him, closing the gap between them faster than the former could speak. Despite how quickly Noel popped his personal bubble, Valentin had to have been a wall in another life, because he once again remained rooted in place as he crossed his arms.

    “No, ‘appalled’ isn’t a strong enough word. I’m gonna fucking kill him. Where does he live?”

    Valentin sighed deeply. “Noel,” he said. “Again. You have every right to be fuming, but we need to be–”

    “There’s no ‘we’ here. You don’t have to do anything, just tell me where he fucking lives. You can wait in the car if you’re concerned about providing security or whatever, but I’m not playing this game.”

    “I’d be right there with you if the circumstances were different. We’ve been tailing him for five years, do you really think that’s something that hasn’t crossed my mind?” Valentin asked incredulously. He held his arms out to his sides before jabbing a finger in Noel’s direction. “As much as I’d be overjoyed to pop a bullet in his head, that’s not going to end well for anyone here. Not you, not me, and especially not Odette. You should be mad, terrified even, but don’t let that cloud your judgment. Take a breath, too.”

    Noel didn’t have an immediate comeback, instead silently pressing his lips into a tight line as he kept his burning eyes on Valentin’s. Odette took the pause to approach again and put her hand on Noel’s shoulder, and he flinched at the feel of her before whipping around to face her. His look softened as soon as he saw her, and he forced something of a pained smile.

    “I don’t know how you do this all the time,” he said jokingly, though it sounded like he was struggling. “My heart’s racing.”

    He pulled her into another hug that was far tighter than the first.

    “It’s not fun, I can promise you that,” she replied in a whisper, her voice shaking more than she intended. She allowed the hug to linger for a long while before she disclosed what was left.

    “No fucking way…” Noel muttered through clenched teeth. She felt him bury his face in her hair.

    “That antidote would only jog anything erased by a second-degree use or lower. If that didn’t completely reform her memories, somebody used a three on her at some point,” Valentin said.

    “And you don’t have an antidote for that?” Noel replied, turning his head toward him again.

    “That’s what I looked for first,” Valentin said. “I swore I swiped one from the lab to have it here, but I must have returned it at some point.”

    “So when can you get another one?” Odette queried.

    Rubbing his neck, Valentin paced toward the kitchen. “The issue is, threes are criminally difficult to make,” he said, approaching the fridge again. He pulled back the double doors and began to search the door shelves somewhat frantically. “That’s the highest caliber power, so it makes the antidote develop even harder, and as far as I remember…we might be between batches.”

    It was obvious he couldn’t find what he was looking for because he soon dejectedly nudged them shut again. “I can go down to our lab tomorrow and see about getting one for you as soon as possible, but that’s all I have right now.”

    “What, you can’t slide her a one? Two plus one equals three?” Noel was loosening his hug again to stand upright, one of his hands falling to his hip.

    “I’m pretty sure that if it worked like that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Odette scoffed.

    “I just…” Noel started to say. The words got caught on his tongue, and he indicated his frustration with a grunt as he sent her an infuriated glance. “Why would Dorien even go there? Even if he didn’t know you have a temper, how the fuck did he think that was appropriate and not going to garner a negative response?” he asked. “I-I mean…Is he stupid? Does he keep that shit on hand when he fucks up with a girl? I’m so fucking…”

    There was nothing else to say because there weren’t really more words for it. Except, so she thought. Valentin raised a hand, alerting both her and Noel’s attention before he approached her again.

    “I hate to interrupt, but Odette,” he began, “I need you to be honest with me, right here, right now.”

    Her brows lowered, and she let go of Noel to cross her arms. “Shoot.”

    Valentin took a deep, readying breath. “I have my suspicions and hypotheses, and I’ve been biting my tongue until now, but now I really feel the need to ask.” He hesitated. “Is there any chance that…you might be the reason Enigma might not have access to Wrath?”

    The first thing she could instinctively do was look at Noel, who appeared as if he was about to get upset all over again. But, when it looked like he wouldn’t move, she met Valentin’s eyes again.

    “Is there something you haven’t told me? Now’s the time,” he urged.

    Honesty was the goal here. And that photo of Florent Lambourne popped into her head for the millionth time that night. As did everything else she’d discovered throughout the day…

    “The tea party,” she said. “When that bat thing tried to come at me, and I fainted. Right before I went down, something…spoke. In my head. It was…my voice, but it also wasn’t. And that thing just ran, I don’t even know how. Then when I yelled at Dorien, it was because he was trying to…figure out how I did that, I guess? I thought it had something to do with Enora all day, but…”

    “She was nowhere near you when that happened,” Noel finished.

    “You also said something earlier about…also getting sick around Arcean relics. I didn’t press because you were overwhelmed at the moment, but what did that mean?” Valentin continued, not taking any time to dwell on the information. Just moving forward.

    Her gaze fell to the floor despite her attempt to keep eye contact with him. She hadn’t even remembered that she’d said that out loud until now. And now, there was no reason to talk her way around it.

    “I…I used to get nauseous whenever I went to Arcean church for services. It wasn’t frequent; once a year at most. But it always resulted in me losing my guts into a toilet or bush, and—“

    “Whoa, I didn’t know that happened every time you went,” Noel gasped, shooting her a quizzical look.

    “I didn’t think much of it until I learned that’s why Dorien doesn’t like going,” she said quickly. “I didn’t think it could have been anything weird aside from a purely bizarre coincidence…”

    Noel’s look only grew more puzzled, until it suddenly dispersed into a loose look of panic. Something had clearly dawned on him. “Oh my gods, wait,” he gasped. “Your astral shrine. You don’t use Arcean plates, they give you headaches.” He reached out to grab her by the arm, squeezing it with the same level of unease he held in his voice. “Churches make you sick, holy relics make you sick. Dee, oh my gods.

    Not that the facts weren’t already lining up, but they were wedging themselves in place, despite her trying to avoid all the obvious. The anger issues. The symptoms being in line with blood type possession. Her eyes. The resemblance to Florent. Dorien trying to change her thoughts, trying to upset her.

    They’d crossed the coincidence threshold now. She'd known, deep down, all along. But, now there was no way to deny it.

    Valentin said the words before she thought them. “Well, then I’m pretty certain. I think you’re Enigma’s missing Wrath. And they want it back.”

    ***​

    “I will say this, this is a comfy ass bed. Swanna down is fucking crazy, I might need one of these for myself,” Noel was saying. It was amazing Odette could hear it through the lasting effects of the night's bombshells buzzing in her ears.

    She didn’t bother moving from her spot at the edge of the bed and simply nodded with an added "mm" because she couldn't muster up much more. She knew Noel was trying to keep things light, but it was so hard to appreciate his attempts when the weight of revelations was practically pulling her to the floor. She felt like she couldn't move. All she could do at the moment was stare at the wall.

    I think you're Enigma's missing Wrath. And they want it back.

    She wanted to be taken aback. She wanted to be anguished. She wanted to be horrified. She wanted to feel something that a normal person would feel upon finding out their father is a cult leader and that they're possessed by the embodiment of a deadly sin. But, she just felt empty. Neutral. As if her mind and body had already accepted it as fact. Perhaps she'd exhausted every emotion she could feel about it in the single moment she'd processed it all to be true. Or she'd just grown really adept at swallowing down those hard emotions. Either way, neither felt particularly good. However, she supposed that either was better than immediately falling apart over it. And as horrible as it sounded, she'd managed to get work past something she was willing to consider far worse. She felt relatively prepared to handle a monkey wrench like this.

    “Hey.”

    She didn’t need to turn her head. Noel was already crawling up behind her to sit at her side. He rubbed her shoulder, and she let her eyes fall shut.

    “Penny for your thoughts?”

    “You’re going to need a lot of pennies,” she said back after a long while. That got a quiet chuckle out of him. She opened her eyes in time to catch his concerned look, and he sighed.

    "I will say," he said gently, "you are taking this remarkably well. But I can't tell if it's in stride or because you're shutting down, so I just need to hear it from you."

    Her snicker was delayed. For a second, all she could do was shake her head. "Your guess is as good as mine," she said. "I think I've just hit a shock threshold and my body's decided it doesn't have anything left to do but quietly take it all in."

    Noel nodded. "I'm not a psych by any means, but that sounds completely and totally fair."

    She went back to staring at the wall, relishing in the feeling of Noel hands running across her upper back.

    "I know it's a really stupid question, but are you okay? Like, full disclosure?" he eventually asked. She exhaled softly through her nose and allowed her eyes to shut again.

    "I'm...functioning," she said. "Functioning is better than losing it over something that you can't really help." She aimed her gaze back down at him, just in time to catch him looking at her with that tender, sincere look he liked to give her when he was really worried about her. In other cases, it would only serve to fuel her annoyance. Right now, she needed it more than ever.

    "Getting upset about it isn't going to change it. This is the hand I have, so I have to play it. It just is," she said. Despite her worries about her oddly zen state of mind, she truly did believe that.

    Noel's worry didn't fade away, and she hadn't expected it to. But, he at least appeared to accept the answer. "You're fucking unreal, you know that? I mean, really. I can't even believe I know you."

    The warmest smile curled his lips, one that set her heart racing, and he pushed himself up to look her in the eye.

    “I know this is probably not a good time, but I’m really sorry. For what I said earlier," he said, the smile waning down into something more apologetic. "I didn’t mean anything bad by it, I was just trying to keep the mood up, but we both know I’m ass at thinking before I speak.”

    “I forgive you,” she said, breathless. “I’m sorry for how I reacted, it wasn’t–”

    He was shaking his head. “No, you were right. You must be on another plane of thinking right now and me making a stupid comment probably didn’t help too much.”

    “And this is the part where I say you were right because–”

    She stopped talking when he abruptly grabbed her wrists. Not roughly; it was more of a tender, reassuring hold. “It’s okay,” he said, an easy grin gracing his lips despite the notch in his brow. “We can go back and forth about it all night, but really. I appreciate it, but you do not owe me an apology. It’s okay.”

    He only let go of her when she nodded, deciding to take his words to heart.

    She didn’t like yelling at him. She regretted every instance where she had raised his voice to him. Friends shouldn’t talk to each other like she sometimes spoke to him when angry. Most of the time, she wasn’t even mad at him; she was just mad, and he happened to be around. They weren’t friends who fought. Nothing worse than petty, silly arguments, at least.

    He might have insisted that she didn’t need to apologize, and she did agree that what he said had bothered her and maybe warranted some choice words. But she maintained that, overall, he didn’t deserve any of that. He’d hung around her and her explosive temper for all these years and thought nothing of it, and she never wanted to give him any reason to second-guess that decision. Now that there was an evident cause for that temper, she was afraid he’d just been given the grounds to.

    She didn’t want to say anything. She didn’t even want to pay attention to the thought of him breaking off their friendship. Yet, she couldn’t stop herself from going there.

    “This doesn’t…change anything, right?” she asked. She couldn’t look him in the eye and instead settled for staring into her lap, messing with a loose thread on the seam of her joggers. “If…if whatever’s happening here actually is…you’re still…gonna be there, right?”

    When he didn’t pipe up with a swift comeback, her muscles tensed. That was the cue for her to start running her mouth, despite the urge to hold it shut and just become one with the bed.

    “Because…I know what I said about this being a me problem and that you have no reason to care, but you’re one of the only reasons I haven’t absolutely lost my shit already, but I would understand if this was getting a little too real for you because it’s already too real for me, but I don’t know, especially now, how I could keep this going without you, and–”

    Noel had her in a hug before she got too far. Thank the fucking gods, she thought, burying her nose into his shoulder. Her relief was so heavy that it caused her eyes to water, and she had to close them to keep herself in order. She wasn’t a crier, but she was certainly not in the best state of mind at the moment.

    “Odette, someone would have to literally kill me to get me to stop being friends with you,” he said, his cheek falling against the side of her head. “And even then, I’d come back as a drifloon or something and just bother you some more.”

    She melted into his hug. Noel always had the best hugs, only second to Vienna’s, and maybe even Bernard’s or Marieanne’s. But her eyes snapped open as a question occurred to her. “Why a drifloon?”

    He scoffed, though he didn’t release his hold on her. “Ghost? Flying? Good hair? Come on, man, it’s like you don’t know me at all.

    Odette could hear the smile in his voice, which was enough to get her to laugh. In turn, he broke into his own fit of light giggles too, letting his arms loosen just enough for her to pull away. It felt good to laugh. It felt good to laugh with him.

    She’d spent the last half hour wondering how she was ever going to recover from the never-ending whirlwind that seemed to be her life right now. But, here she was. Laughing with Noel like there was nothing wrong. Like there was no sacrilege. No Florent. No looming dark secrets that had just come to the forefront. Just them, as close as they ever were.

    "You, Odette Cinq-Mars, are absolutely fucking indomitable," he said. "And I'm so lucky to call you my best friend. But please don't forget that us squishies like me are still here for you."

    The sheer strength behind his words left her stomach lurching, and she felt her eyes well up with a sudden wave of emotion. The relief, the fear, the anger, it all hit her in that moment, and her body craved the release of a sob. She reached up to cover her mouth, thinking that might do something to stop the flow of tears. It didn't work, but Noel was one step ahead of her. He reached up to wipe one away before it even had a chance to fall, and she watched his eyes start to water, too.

    "Oh don't you fucking dare," he said, straining his voice to keep it from cracking. "I'm supposed to be the crier between us. You're not allowed to cry." He sniffled as a tear traced the round of his face, then quickly reached up to wipe it away as he laughed to himself. "That's a lie, you can cry if you want to. I'm just not used to it but ignore me. You deserve a good cry, you fucking boulder."

    "Yeah, but crying sucks," she laughed. The force of it knocked several more tears loose. She covered her mouth with both hands as her giggles collided with sobs, and before she knew it, she was doubled over into Noel's lap, laugh-crying along with him. They rolled into one another, sniffling and giggling and wiping their tears on each other sleeves for what felt like hours. Their cries eventually subsided, leaving them lying side by side on the bed and out of breath.

    As Odette refilled her lungs, she felt light. She hated crying. She hated it more than most of the other things she vehemently disliked. But, she couldn't deny that she'd needed that. All her uncertainties about her state of mind and how she should be reacting had left her through those tears. She was exhausted as a result, but she felt ready to take on whatever was coming next. Wrath demon or not, Florent's spawn or not, she was ready.

    Even if the feeling was only temporary, she would find comfort in it while she had it.

    Pushing herself up again to wipe the rest of her face, she glanced over at Noel to see he was doing the same.

    “My ugly crying face aside," he said, sniffling, "my point stands. I’m in. I’m in deep. Probably even more so now. Do you know how long I’ve been following this sacrilege shit? And suddenly, over the span of, like, a month, I’ve found out more about it than anyone else in Kalos? And you think I’m just gonna stop here? Fat fucking chance.”

    Odette laughed again but was left frowning shortly after, aching for the sensation of another true smile, and maybe a laugh to go with it.

    “I know, Noel, but I can’t help but feel like I just pulled you past the point of no return,” she said, pulling her glasses off her face to wipe the lenses off on her sleeve cuff. “I know you’re invested, but your only skin in the game is that you’ve mingled with a lot of potential Enigma suspects.”

    “I’d say that’s still a lot of skin,” he said. “On top of that, I’ve been past the point of no return, Dee. I’ve been dealing with your temper since we were six. That’s 73% of my life. At least now we have a diagnosis,” he said. She put her glasses back on in time to catch him playfully poking her in the side with his finger, and she swatted at him lazily.

    “You’re right,” she said, her tone sardonic. “I suppose possessing the very embodiment of Wrath is grounds to give someone some anger problems.” That alone already gave her so much to think about. Did Venira’s presence just involuntarily make her upset at every little thing? Was part of it her own volition? Did Venira do it on purpose? In the past, she’d been able to keep it at bay with her hobbies, but was there another way now that she knew the source?

    …did Venira know what she was thinking? Always? The thought mortified her. An eldritch beast having a front-row ticket to every unsavory thought she’d had about Valentin so far? Ever?

    She didn't want to think about it. Not now.

    “Anyway, I get it, but still…” she continued. She didn’t want to say the words that balled up on her tongue, but they rolled out anyway. “It’s not like they’re…probably after you, you know?”

    Tonguing the inside of his cheek, Noel averted his eyes toward the ceiling momentarily. “No,” he said tentatively. “But, they’re after you.” He let the words hang for a while as if he were trying to give her time to sit with them. “If the roles were reversed, would you be bowing out?”

    “Absolutely the fuck not,” Odette declared. She didn’t even need to think about it. And it was there that she realized his point.

    “Okay then,” he said. “So why would I?”

    She stared at him for a beat. But, eventually, she just nodded. There was nothing to argue with him over.

    “If you think this sudden revelation that you might be withholding some insanely powerful demonic blood ‘mon is going to run me off, you’ve got another thing coming, sis. I don’t know what that thing is yet, but it’s probably just me shaking you and telling you to shut the fuck up.”

    She smiled again. Noel made them come on so easily. “Thank you.”

    “And you know that just makes you the cooler one now, right?” he said, eyes sparkling with a childlike eagerness. He heightened his voice into a falsetto that she supposed was meant to imitate her own. “Hi, I’m Odette Cinq-Mars, and I’m holding an ancient unknown powerful legendary inside me, fuck around and find out.”

    As he finished his little act, his expression fell. He shot her an apologetic look. “Or, you know, something like that, only what you’re comfortable with,” he added quickly.

    Despite her inability to handle biting jokes about the matter, she liked his enthusiasm. It distracted her from her unease, if only for a little while. “I wish it were that simple, but there’s…so much this uncovers. Like, does my mum know? Do Grandpa and Nana know? What about Enora? What’s Dorien’s end goal? If Dorien knows my whereabouts, does that mean Florent does too?”

    The thought made her dizzy. If Dorien had been harboring his own blood legendary since before Valentin met him, he had to have still had it in secondary school. This meant he would have been in cahoots with Florent at that point, which meant…

    More things she didn't want to dwell on. There was a lot she still didn’t know. Still didn’t remember. She’d need the higher antidote before she could allow herself to venture past that gate, lest she give herself more reason to be crazy. Not that she didn’t have one to begin with.

    “Not to mention, how do I even access this thing? Talk to it? If it’s just…in me? My soul? Do I even have a soul? I don’t–”

    Noel must have sensed her discontent because he started rubbing her shoulder again. “I know, it’s a lot,” he said. “But questioning more without more evidence at this stage is just going to make everything worse. Let Valentin get you that antidote, bring this up to Enora, and maybe…talk to your mum.”

    The first one was the easiest, albeit the most nerve-wracking, because there was nothing else to do but wait. Second, slightly less simple, but not anything impossible. Enora was a hardass about opening up, but if Odette could level with her, it would happen. Eventually.

    The third thing, though…

    Odette had never had any issues raising problems to Vienna in the past. Never struggled with arguing with her over things, big or small. Vienna was never the type to shut her down on the rare occasion she willingly wanted to “discuss feelings” or anything of that nature. But this felt like a whole different beast altogether.

    Vienna was minutely unhinged, yes, but she was quicker than a whip on steroids. And that might be an understatement. It wouldn’t take her long to suspect that Odette had ulterior motives for opening up the “Who’s my father?” dialogue after so many years of brushing it aside, which would breach Odette’s personal vow not to get Vienna involved in her sleuthing.

    But, if Vienna had known that her daughter was possessed by a Wrath god this entire time, perhaps that vow was as good as null. Odette decided the best thing she could do was sleep on it. The deluge outside kept her from riding home to see her mother right then and there, and it would not be a good conversation to have over the phone at eleven o’clock at night.

    “One thing at a time,” she said. “I should probably sleep off this day before I start figuring out how I’m going to proceed.”

    “I’m with you on that. Come here, get under the comforter. It’s so soft.”

    Odette humored him and crawled her way under the fluffy white blanket while he got up to switch the light off. She soon settled herself at Noel’s side, her head falling against his shoulder as he slung his arm around hers.

    He was right; it was comfortable.

    “Okay, you got me. Swanna down is nice,” she said.

    “I wonder if your boyfriend would let me steal it. I’m sure he’s got twenty of these things lying around,” Noel mused, and she turned her head to glare at the side of his face.

    “Keep your goddamn voice down,” she said in a loud whisper. “We’re in his fucking house, this is not the place.”

    “Yeah, yeah,” Noel chided. “Speaking of which, I checked for wiretaps and cameras before I went down for my first nap. All clear.”

    Her gaze didn’t move off of him even as she furrowed her brow. “…okay.”

    Noel sucked his teeth and turned to nudge her with his free hand. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t know what the man’s into. If he’s gonna watch me sleep, he’s gotta pay a fee.”

    Odette opened her mouth to make a snippy comment but decided against it.

    “I definitely don’t think he’s like that,” she said. If the conversation she’d just had with him was any indication.

    “Yeah, I’m feeling pretty warm about him myself. But you can never be too sure,” Noel said. She supposed that was fair.

    Still, even though her talk with him had gone in such a sour direction, she felt…good about it. Once they got past the painfully uncomfortable small-talk wall, they exchanged words like it was nothing. It felt like she was talking to Noel, Acadia, or any of her other childhood friends. Second nature, despite the levels of horniness built up behind every word that came out of her mouth. But, when she didn’t think about it and just rolled with the punches, there was nothing difficult, awkward, or suspicious about it.

    At least she could start to be certain that there was someone else, aside from Noel, who was trying to act in her best interest. Just a sliver of good in such a fucked up situation. That was the thought she rode into the sweet embrace of sleep on.
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 16 - I Say Hello
  • Sinderella

    Angy Tumbleweed
    Staff
    Location
    In Guzma's Closet
    Pronouns
    She/Her
    Partners
    1. sylveon-shiny
    2. gothitelle
    3. froslass
    4. chandelure
    5. mimikyu
    White Swan.jpg
    Chapter 16: I Say Hello
    CWs: Body Horror, Blood, Strong Language, Talk of Sex, Sexual Metaphors
    Hey there! This is a bit of an exciting chapter, as I'm introducing a character I've wanted to write for a long time! That said, this chapter was kind of a clusterfuck to write more due to some personal issues I was having. My biggest issue is the length--this is a LONG chapter, and I was looking to cut it in half but wasn't sure where a good cutting point would be. So please let me know how the pacing is if it's good as is, or if it drags a little, and where you think a good stopping/starting point would be if I were to split it into two chapters.

    Also, please let me know how the interactions are here. I feel like I rushed through some of them a little bit, and I want to make sure they have the right amount of time to "sit" before moving on if that makes sense!

    As always, thank you so much for reading!

    When she awoke, she wasn’t in the bedroom anymore.

    She wasn’t anywhere.

    Blackness engulfed her senses, for a small eternity. As her eyes adjusted, the darkness lightened into an endless, deep red veil. Black, formless matter swirled about in the space above her head like ink moving through water.

    Odette sat up, though was alarmed when she was met with resistance. It felt as if she was trying to sit up out of liquid, and her suspicions were confirmed when she was assaulted with the sound of splashing and the sensation of something thick dripping down her body as she lurched upright. Some of it landed on her face, and she sputtered and wiped her mouth.

    She could feel her own skin. She could feel her own rear, sitting submerged in something lukewarm. Her mind was clear. She felt awake.

    As that thought occurred to her, she pulled her hand away from her mouth. Her chest lurched when she saw it was covered in blood.

    To her horror, she looked down at herself and discovered that her entire body was drenched in blood. Hell, she was sitting in it.

    Through a panicked gasp, she wrestled herself to her feet, trying whatever she could to clean herself. She shook off her hands, wiped her face, and even tried to wring out her hair. But, upon grabbing one of her braids, she was shocked to find it completely dry. She caught sight of her hands again and found that they were no longer coated either. Looking at her body, she beheld her pristine white tracksuit. No signs of staining. It was as normal as it had been when she’d fallen asleep.

    Her shoes, however, which had somehow ended up back on her feet, were still splattered with that disgusting red. In fact, she still stood in it. No matter where she stepped, the puddle never ended. She tried to find something else to stand on but discovered that what she had thought was a puddle was a sea. Miles upon miles of a still, bloody ocean stretched out before her eyes, and it seemed that the lone presence within it was her.

    “What the…”

    She’d only spoken in a shallow whisper, but her voice reverberated through the space as if she’d spoken at normal volume. It lingered in her ear, like the whispers of a distant specter, before fading off entirely.

    “Hello?” she shouted. It echoed along the expanse of the gruesome ocean, vibrating in her core and leaving her feeling perturbed. There was no way she was awake, but she was having difficulty believing she was sleeping, either.

    Being a light sleeper, she’d never been much of a dreamer, let alone a lucid dreamer. At most, she recalled specks of nonsense her brain had come up with throughout the night, but never anything as distinct and vivid as this. She felt as alert and present as she would if she were wide awake and walking down the streets of Lumiose.

    But this wasn’t Lumiose. This wasn’t anything that could have been real.

    The more she looked around, the less anything made sense. No doors, no stairs, no buildings, no signs of spooky apparitions. Just her. She kicked against the blood pooled at her feet, watching as it splattered up around her and landed in droplets, sending rims of ripples in all directions. That was the only movement she saw, and soon, it all fell still again.

    “Nothing?” she called. No response. Nothing changed.

    A nightmare. It had to be a nightmare. Barring the odd coincidence of her having such a lucid dream after the day she’d had, there couldn’t have been any more to it. And she probably wasn’t going to get herself to wake up by just standing there.

    Adjusting her glasses, she started forward in a straight line.

    She wasn’t sure how long she walked on. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours. All she could tell was nothing changed for a long while. Nothing got closer, and nothing faded out of view. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought she was walking on a treadmill.

    However, when the scenery did change, it was instant.

    The bloody ocean beneath her shifted, leaving her on an incline. Sedge grass and cattails began to sprout from the red alongside numerous lanky trees and rotted logs. Small island mounds also came to form, and Odette was sinking down into the blood up to her waist before she had the chance to process what was happening. She tried to kick her way out of it, but all that did was splatter blood onto her face and mouth, leaving her sputtering. She quickly understood that, like before, all she could do was continue forward despite her fight-or-flight reflexes begging for flight.

    When she felt her feet touch the bottom, she clawed through the new swamp she found herself in, battling past chewed-up lily pads and piles of gnat-infested algae before she managed to crawl her way out of the hellish lake and up onto land again.

    Panting, she looked back over her shoulder to see that the aimless path she’d traveled down was gone. All there was around her was unkempt swampland with no clear sign of a correct direction. However, she’d deduced quickly that walking forward had brought her here, so walking forward would likely get her out. And much to her relief, the blood disappeared off of her person as soon as she was out of it. It was somewhat comforting to know that would be something she wouldn’t have to worry about.

    As expected, walking through a swamp–even one in a dreamscape–in nothing more than sneakers and a tracksuit sucked. She tripped, scaled fallen trees, had to wade through more gnat clouds and squelch through bloody mud piles, and was whacked by bush branches and cut by logs. Just when she thought that was all the dream was going to be, she happened upon an eerily neat clearing, one that felt manmade.

    Sitting in the middle of it was a simple, standalone full-length mirror. Despite its simplicity, Odette felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Nonetheless, it was the biggest change she’d come upon in gods knew how long. She felt she had no choice but to approach it.

    She walked around behind the mirror first, stepping slowly as if she were afraid to startle it for any reason. She had no doubt in her mind that it likely had the capability to get up and chase her if it so desired because nightmares were just that strange. When it didn’t budge, only then did she loop around to the reflective front.

    From far away, she could tell she was seeing the shape of her own reflection. Squinting didn’t prove anything different, and the mirror was as still as any normal mirror should have been. She didn’t let her heels touch the floor as she approached, cringing deeper and deeper every time she heard a leaf crack or a twig snap under her weight.

    She soon found herself directly in front of it, and it was only there she got a full look at what the reflection was actually giving back to her.

    It was indeed her likeness but…it also wasn’t.

    She recognized the curve of her rounded jaw, the shape of her eyes, and the pink hue of her lips. But, she didn't recognize the black-sclera eyes just slightly too big for her head, the razor-tooth grin reaching slightly too far up her cheeks, or the tracksuit as black as the sky above…

    Wrong. Run away. Run away, FAST.

    But she couldn’t. Despite what her mind was screaming at her to do, something kept her rooted in place. Something compelled her to lean in, just to see…

    “B̵̎̒O̴̕͜O̸̍̕.̷̏̎”

    The reflection jerked forward, protruding out of the glass. Its face came so close that Odette felt its nose bump hers, and the abruptness of it forced a jolt through her body.

    “Fuck!” she involuntarily cried out as she stumbled back and crumpled over her wobbly knees, grasping her chest in onset fright.

    Now, the reflection was laughing. Then, it stepped out.

    “Oh gods, is that all it took? Some baby shit like ‘boo’?” it cackled. “I guess it probably helped that you weren’t expecting it, but shit, I wasn’t expecting it to be that easy!”

    The voice. Odette recognized that voice. It was so distinct, there was no world she could have ever forgotten.

    The static-laced voice she’d heard in the garden.

    “You…” she said through her calming breaths, “...you’re…you spoke. In my head.”

    The reflection, now more of a doppelgänger since it was no longer inside the mirror, was now examining its nails. They were long, sharp, and were just as black as the tracksuit.

    “Yeah, that fucked you up for a few days,” it said. “I almost felt bad. But that desmocula would have gutted your ballsy stupid ass, so I had to do something.”

    Odette watched, both awestruck and puzzled, as the mirror sunk into the swampy earth, and a path took form through the thin trees. The doppelgänger took off down it without as much as another word.

    “W-wait, where are you going?” Odette called, scrambling back to her feet. She hesitated at first but ultimately decided to follow far behind.

    “To commit war crimes against dyslexic toddlers,” it yelled back, not turning around. It had shoved its hands into its pockets. “Where the fuck do you think I'm going? I'm walking. We have a whole bloodstream to take up; might as well use it.”

    “Bloodstream?” she asked numbly.

    That was enough to make the doppelgänger stop abruptly. So much so that Odette nearly slammed right into its back. It turned to shoot her a quizzical look; long lips tightened into a frown. “Yeah? Come on, there haven’t been pools of blood this big in your world since Pokemon used to try and gut each other for sport.” It spoke like Odette was simply supposed to know this.

    Soon, however, it was walking along again. “Did you know entrails were, like, the big fashion statement back then? I was the one who made them big, not to toot my own horn. Fleshy things look really good when you know how to style them.”

    Odette could not believe the thing was still going on about the topic. At that point, all she could do was stare.

    “That aside,” the doppelgänger continued, turning its head to look over its shoulder, “I figured you’d recognize your own blood by now; it’s only…well…your fucking blood. Do you like what I’ve done with the place, though?”

    Odette blinked out of her stunned trance. “Wait. We’re…inside me?” she said.

    The doppelgänger grunted in annoyance and stopped walking again, this time turning its entire copied body to face Odette.

    “Some rendition of that, yeah, but you’re not answering my fucking question. Did you like the decor?It spoke with a new level of forcefulness that Odette decided was meant to be intimidating. While she was indeed unsettled, she mostly felt herself getting more annoyed. How was she supposed to respond? Lie? Tell the truth? Spew some nonsense?

    "It's...something," she said, hoping that would be good enough to end the conversation and not anger the thing. She had a feeling the latter would be futile.

    "'Something's' not an answer, fuckhead."

    Odette darted her eyes around. Part of her was waiting for a camera crew to jump out and bum-rush her. "I'm not a huge outdoorsy person, so it's whatever. Needs more...development?"

    "For fuck's sake, the question wasn't meant to be open-ended," the doppelgänger groaned. "Yes or no. Pick one before I start gnawing on your temporal lobe."

    Odette's light annoyance quickly blossomed into something far more concrete, and she sucked her teeth. "Okay, no. I thought it was really fucking obnoxious. Happy?"

    The doppelgänger inhaled deeply. Its gold pupils picked up a baleful glint as it sucked on its lower lip. It released the lip with a loud 'pop!' before crossing its arms defiantly. “A word of advice: nobody likes a dirty cunt. So why don’t you clean yourself up a little before we continue this conversation, hm?”

    It turned on its toes and rushed ahead, like a toddler trying to get away from a parent who’d just scolded them. Odette watched, too aghast to say anything.

    Every part of her being was warring with each other. She was suddenly ready to get into a no-bars-held fistfight with the doppelgänger. But, she was still perturbed by her current dream state, and still unsure if she wanted to get any closer to it. Even so, while she watched the scene of the swamp literally disintegrate around her, she wasn't as afraid as she had been at the start. As the dirt, the trees, and even the gnats sunk back into the blood with the same consistency as a melting popsicle, it all felt expected.

    She’d been so certain she knew the doppelgänger's voice. More specifically, she’d been so certain she knew its true identity. But did legendaries normally act like this? Then again, she’d never actually met a legendary, so what the fuck did she know? Still, the question fell out of her mouth before she could think too hard about it.

    “What the hell are you?”

    The doppelgänger stopped again, but it took a while for it to turn. When it did, a dubious grin had twisted its way up its cheeks. “You haven’t figured it out yet? I didn’t take you for a jackass,” it said tauntingly.

    That was the only confirmation Odette needed. But the taunt had left her with a sense of defiance.

    “I want to hear you say it.”

    Odette could have sworn she saw the doppelgänger smile wider, and it approached her with an ominous weight in its step. As it neared, and Odette was able to see the thing’s uncanny face in more detail, her throat started to tighten. She gritted her teeth as it slapped its hand against the small of her back, the very part of her that let her know when her Wrath was coming on.

    “I’m this,” it declared. “Well. Kinda. I’m tethered to your existence by this. I didn’t have a lot of time to pick a spot, so I hope you’ve been enjoying the tingly tramp stamp. If not, well, sucks to suck limp dick, I guess.”

    It was squinting at her as if trying to gauge a reaction. Odette decided not to give it one, though she’d be surprised if it couldn’t hear the shake in her exhale.

    “You’re Venira,” she said.

    The vast expanse was abruptly engulfed in colorful lights. Fanfare trumpets sounded from every direction and yet nowhere at all, so loud that Odette doubled over to cover her ears. Through the cracks between her fingers, she swore she could hear the sounds of cannons popping off and looked up in time to see confetti falling from above.

    Venira now stood atop a flight of stairs that ended in a balloon arch. Every single balloon was inscribed with the words, “You stated the fucking obvious!”

    “Congragulfuckinglations, we have a fucking winner winner cannibalism dinnerrrrrrrrr!” Venira hollered over the commotion, holding her hands up in a triumphant pose. She looked to be waiting for some sort of response, but when she finally met Odette’s perplexed gaze, her stance started to deflate.

    “What?”

    Odette tried numerous times to form some sort of sentence. All that initially came out were a couple of sounds that barely counted as words.

    “Oh, come the fuck on, are you having a stroke on me now? After two fucking minutes? What kind of pussy shit is this?” Venira spat, her hands settling on her hips. “At least wait the standard five, then I’ll give you the floor.”

    That was enough to force something coherent out of Odette. “No, you–” she started to say. A brief surge of anger pulsed through her and snapped her back to full attention. “No. This is just fucking weird.”

    Now, the words were gathering in abundance, and she gestured up to her otherworldly twin. “You’re Venira, clearly, but you don’t look anything like what I was shown or even fucking imagined. I didn’t even–”

    She clawed her fingers through her bangs, exhaling harshly. “You look like me. Why? How?

    Venira was chuckling now. She practically danced her way down the steps of her grand perch, her movements the perfect mixture of fluid and rigid. Odette wanted to liken them to some variation of a strange contemporary style.

    When she made it to the bottom step, she leaped off and landed lightly. The blood barely rippled under her step. “That’s me doing you a favor, dear darling schmucko,” she declared, tapping Odette on the nose. She flinched against the sudden gesture and swatted Venira’s hand away.

    What favor?”

    “I figured I would be polite in presenting as a human form that you could identify with, but if you’re not into it, I can always go back to one of my ancient shapes.”

    “Ancient sha–” Odette started to repeat, but she dragged her hand down her face to stop herself. “Do you not always look like a branch dragon?”

    Venira chuckled again, louder this time. The sound gave Odette the same uneasy feeling she got when she heard the Kalos emergency signal test on the TV. “I could. I could look like that. But that’s some basic bitch bullshit, and I don’t roll that way.”

    “So…” Odette breathed. “You’re like a ditto of sorts?”

    “Oh gods, no. I have all the ditto goodness without the slutty undertones. Ah, well.” She raised her hand as if she were trying to be reassuring. “I don’t slut shame here. But in comparison, I’m definitely not as loose with who I’d sleep with. In fact–”

    “Where are you going with this?” Odette queried in bewilderment.

    “Watch your fucking tone, ma’am,” Venira scoffed, sounding offended now. “I’m just trying to explain my goddamn case here, but since you’re too good for that, I’ll cut to the demo. Get a load of this.”

    Without a warning, she fell into a heap of jagged limbs, each contorting in ways Odette didn’t think a human, even an insanely flexible one, could manage. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think she was watching some spacey weirdly-targeted rendition of The Ring.

    At that moment, she decided she wanted to wake up. But the longer she tried to convince herself to do so, the more she was certain that she couldn’t do anything to make it happen. All she could do was step back. And maybe prepare to run.

    “I don’t know what I’m getting a load of, but cut it out,” she warned.

    No sooner had she spoken did the discombobulated human form twitch. Then it lunged at her.

    It ran on all fours, its bones cracking and popping with each eerie stride forward. It moved like somebody caught in the area of a strobe light, yet managed to close the gap between them in no time flat.

    Odette stumbled backward, trying to break into a sprint. Her brain was trying to decide if it was only obnoxiously startled or scared out of its wits, and the break in judgment caused her to lose her footing. She fell rear-first to the ground, blood splashing up around her as she landed. She didn't have time to process her disgust before she found herself nose to nose with a form of abject horror.

    In the time it had taken Venira to sprint toward her, her form had shifted tenfold. No longer was she an uncanny reflection but a ghastly exaggeration of it.

    Thin, ghastly skin stretched over the skeletal contours of unnaturally long limbs that defied all laws of human anatomy. Her smile now served as a wicked gash, slicing her grotesquely large head from ear to ear. Her eyes, which had grown into enormous, bloodshot saucers, leered down into the dark recesses of Odette’s soul and gleamed with an unearthly malevolence.

    The creature's nostrils flared with every giggle-laced breath, and Odette felt all the hair on her body stand on end, sent up by how fast her blood started to curdle. Panic threatened to speed up her breathing, but she managed to keep herself steady by reminding herself that this was her dream. Her bloodstream, specifically. She couldn’t wake up for whatever reason, but she realized she might have had more control than she was led to believe.

    Even though Venira looked like she would hurt her, she wasn’t going to. She wouldn’t have scared off desmocula if she wanted to see Odette hurt for any reason. That was logic she could utilize.

    “Don’t,” Odette said breathlessly, building up a curt edge behind her following words, “do that. What's the point in trying to scare me to death if you've already gone out of your way to protect me once?"

    The smile didn’t leave the creature’s face, even as it started to shrink. Odette cringed through the sounds of bones and tendons popping back into place as it morphed, but her chest settled upon seeing the more familiar yet still-uncanny clone form. Far easier to look at in comparison, but not by the biggest of margins.

    “Because it's funny? Does there have to be a point? Who shoved that fucking stick up your ass?" Venira sniggered. "I’ve been looking forward to this meeting for a long fucking time, and you can’t even indulge me in some tag? You’re not a very gracious host."

    Odette's temper quickly overshadowed her ease. “I–what?” she fumed.

    The sound of her onset rage prompted Venira to cackle outright, her head tilting backward at a barely unnatural angle as the sound rose from the deepest recesses of her stomach.

    “You’re so godsdamned precious when you’re pissed off! I can’t stand it.”

    “Yeah, considering it’s your fucking fault it happens so easily, can’t say I’m shocked it tickles you so,” Odette retorted. “I didn’t come here to play tag with an infernal…cryptid…thing. In fact, if I had it my way, I wouldn’t have come here at all. This seems to be more your doing than mine.”

    “Gods, you’re a fucking stick in the entrails,” Venira scoffed, kicking at the blood that surrounded them. That’s when Odette noticed the stairs, confetti, and lights had disappeared.

    “It’s a good thing you’re cute. I like this face,” Venira continued. She brought her hands to her copied cheeks and began to pat them. “I like this body.” Her hands traveled down to her hips, where she set them and began to wag her tailbone back and forth. “You’d never think short and fat go well together, but moving in this skin is as eeeeeeeeaaassssyyyyyyyy as it comes.”

    Odette bristled, reaching her hands up to cover her stomach as she was pelted with a feeling of self-consciousness. “What the fuck; I’m not fat!” She was a little rounder yes, but certainly not fat.

    “Oh, right, I guess not. Gulattive was fat, but you’re more...thick. Like a peach. No!” Venira gasped, black eyes sparkling. “You’re a pear. You’re a cute little itty bitty little pear-shaped soft little angry cute midget thing.”

    If someone had told Odette she was going to wake up just to be bullied by a demonic Pokemon, she’d have assumed they were high off their ass on sacrilege. Truth be told, she was worried she was already at that point herself. Maybe the antidote Valentin had given her was actually spiked.

    “Are you quite finished?” she asked.

    “I’m just trying to emphasize that I genuinely don’t think you’re fat; you’re just soft. Soft, short girl. Soft, short, pear-shaped, teeny tiny little–”

    “I get it,” Odette seethed. The response left Venira a giggling mess, and she covered her mouth as her eyes crinkled under the force of her grin.

    Odette decided there was no reason to keep instigating the beast and took another long, hard breath. She supposed since they were here for whatever reason, it was the best time to unload whatever questions she had. Because gods knew there were a lot. And questions meant that the God of All Things Anger couldn’t make more bizarre comments about her weight.

    She stood up and brushed herself off. “Okay…Venira…I–” she started slowly before being cut off.

    “Stop there.”

    Odette clenched her fists. “What now?”

    “Don’t call me that,” Venira said.

    “Call you, what Ven–?”

    “Shut.”

    She felt a tantrum brewing in her gut and forced another breath to numb it. “So then, what the actual fuck am I supposed to call you?”

    Another wry smile curled over Venira’s perfectly fanged mouth. "You tell me, bitch," she shot back in a snicker. “Just something that isn’t that. I like your nicknames, so I want you to give me one. As a first meeting present.”

    Crossing her arms, Odette shifted her weight to her left foot. She didn’t need to feign her curiosity. “Do I get anything as a first meeting present?”

    “Mmmmmmmm, I’ll tell you if I like the nickname,” Venira mused, copying Odette’s stance exactly.

    Odette beheld the sight of her wrong-yet-right mirror image again, still finding herself put off by the sight of it. She was getting more used to it the longer she was in its presence, but she devolved back into unease every time she stared at the face for too long. That uncanny valley sense came on slowly, but when it hit, it hit with a heavy hand.

    Why did Venira even want a nickname in the first place? Unknown or not, she was still a legendary. Odette had a hard time grasping why a Pokemon of her caliber would want to be called by a different name, which she supposed was why she was struggling to come up with something. When her teammates had joined up with her, she'd come up with their names on the spot. They were based on feeling, and she would just roll with it. When she looked at Venira, all she felt was a mixture of apprehension, annoyance, anger, and maybe awe. Curiosity, even. But none of that produced nicknames.

    Thinking harder, she started scratching at her cheek. What would anyone want to call the God of Wrath? Something related to rage? Destruction? The occult?

    Somewhere in her thought process, she started thinking about her own name. Vienna had the idea to name her after the main character of the Swanna Lake ballet, the white swanna herself. Vienna thought the name was pretty, and it coming from a show she liked so much made it better. Odette supposed she had her family's overall fixation with that ballet to thank for her decision to start dancing.

    As she started recalling the plot of Swanna Lake, she remembered how the white swanna eventually came into contact with another woman named Odile, who ended up being transformed to be a copy of her. Her doppelgänger.

    Odette paused for a moment before dragging her shoe against the standing blood at her feet. She then let out a scoff, it coming out a deflated chuckle. It was good to know she had a sense of humor, even in the face of so much utter bullshit.

    “Odile,” she said simply. “Your name is Odile.”

    Venira’s—Odile’s, now—face lit up. Something about it might have been cute if it weren’t so demonic to start.

    "Clever," Odile cracked. "Not gonna lie, I was hoping for something like 'Consuelo' or 'Syphilis' or 'Little Sweetmeat', but that's really smart."

    Odette squinted in disbelief. “Why the fuck would you want your name to be Syphilis?"

    "Because?" Odile wheezed. "It rolls off the tongue so elegantly, and I think it embodies my high-class pedigree and the state of my manners."

    Odette suddenly felt tired. It transcended every other sense of exhaustion she already felt. She had an inkling of a feeling that the sensation wouldn’t go away any time soon.

    “Okay,” she said evenly. “You got your gift. Give me mine. As long as it’s not another game of tag.”

    Odile shifted her weight back and forth between her legs before sighing deeply. “Okay, fiiiiiiiine, I guess now you’re allowed to ask me some questions. That is the whole reason I’m here now, truthfully. I feel like you’re about to explode.”

    She smiled again as a thought seemingly occurred to her. “Not that that wouldn’t be funny as fuck to witness, but, actually, I think you’re more fun together than in a million pieces. You’d just be like–”

    She reached up to grab her right bicep, and with a loud, wet 'pop!' she pulled it clean off and tossed it aside. A dramatic cry of anguish soon followed as every other one of her copied body parts began to detach themselves, falling to the blood with meaty thumps and the most sickening splashes Odette had ever heard in her life. Odile’s head continued to let out some obnoxious groans, even as it flipped off her torso and rolled to a stop several paces away.

    Odette felt bile rise in her throat. Her vision clouded with a feverish blur while nausea clawed at her stomach. Her mouth began to salivate like it usually did when she was about to vomit.

    “Okay, stop. Stop! This isn’t working,” she shouted, raising her hands as she turned her head away.

    “What isn’t? I thought this was a fantastic conversation?” Odette could hear Odile fiddling with her dismembered limbs, somehow, and cringed through the fleshy squelching.

    You,” she hissed, bringing her hands up to rub her eyes underneath her glasses. “That body, your presence right now.”

    “Too hot to handle?”

    Odette snapped her head around, facing her doppelgänger’s torn-up body while she sputtered over her words, trying to ignore her body's need to puke. “Wha—no. You’re fucking...freaking me out with this uncanny valley mirror image body horror shit,” she managed, gesturing wildly to the mess. “Can you turn into something else? Literally, anything that doesn’t look like a fucking hellspawn? Preferably something you can’t make fall apart like that?”

    Odile’s stolen features crinkled with mock concern, and she reformed into a functioning body in a single instant. “Aw, honey, you’re not a hellspawn. Do we need to have a talk about your self-image?”

    Exhaling in aggravation, Odette began to flex her fingers as a means to keep her threatening fit and illness in check. “I think, considering I have you in my bloodstream, I’m as close to a hellspawn as anyone can get,” she jeered. “Can you please humor me? Blood type to…vessel?”

    Gods, that’s what she was. A vessel. A host for an eldritch parasite. How the hell was she ever going to get used to that?

    Odile stuck out her lower lip in a pout before crossing her arms. They crackled with the movement, and Odette grimaced in disgust. “And here I thought I was being hospitable. No good deed goes unpunished, I fucking guess.”

    With a wave of both hands, she shrunk down from her humanoid form into what looked to be a tumbleweed with wings. Like some strange woobat variant. Or, rather, a woobat-brambleghast hybrid.

    The weight immediately lifted from Odette’s chest, as now she was beholding something that was no spookier than any of the rambunctious ghost-types at Vienna’s lab. If she squinted, it was even kind of cute despite its wide glowing eyes.

    Odile flapped up to Odette, who outstretched her arms to give her room to land. “How’s this, you pansy?”

    “Much better,” Odette said, breathing in as her stomach settled.

    Odile made a sudden sweeping gesture with her wings. “Well then, get on with it. Start the Q and A before I get bored and chew your fingers instead."

    Right. That is what Odette wanted to do. She’d nearly forgotten that while she watched a copy of herself dismember itself. She’d have to add that to the list of things she never wanted to dream about again.

    She opened her mouth to speak, but the realization of just how many questions she had brewing in the center of her mind caused her to freeze. She didn’t know how long she stood there with her slack jaw, but when she tried to move her tongue after a while, it felt dry.

    “Are you trying to catch a fly? I prefer fruit flies; the big black house ones are fucking vile,” Odile said.

    “I just…I don’t even know where to start," Odette said, ignoring the comment.

    “That is a problem, isn’t it,” Odile said. Odette watched her nod, momentarily expecting her to add in something insightful. That never happened.

    It was there that she decided that her best course of action was just to ask whatever came to mind, rapid-fire style. Odile seemed like the type of character to respond well to that.

    “So you’ve just…been inside my body this entire time?” she said.

    “Eeeeeyup,” Odile replied.

    “And you’re Wrath, so…you’re the reason I’m so pissed off all the time.”

    “Eeeeeyup.”

    “And when the hell were you planning to let me know about all of this? Was I just supposed to go my entire life just assuming I’m some temperamental freak?”

    She broke her gaze away from Odile’s, momentarily finding herself more interested in the blood around her feet. The thoughts continued to wash over her like rough waves over an unsuspecting surfer, and she scrunched her brows in frustration.

    “All my health problems, everything, it’s your fault,” she said.

    She heard the tumbleweed inhale and looked up in time to see that the slightest of grimaces crossed Odile’s branch-like features. She raised a wing to scratch her spherical head. “Yeeeeaaaaaah, look,” Odile said tentatively, “I didn’t show up in you with intent to fuck your immunity; it just happened like that.”

    For the first time since they started talking, she looked serious. Solemn, even.

    “I am sorry. And I want to emphasize that I mean that. And I don’t ‘mean’ apologies very often.”

    The sincerity behind her words threw Odette off. She wanted to overanalyze them, poke holes in the delivery, and look closely for any signs of deception. But there was nothing to look for. It was as plain and bare as it could have been. Somehow, some way, Odette just knew.

    Venira, the legendary Pokemon of Wrath, had apologized to her. And wasn’t pulling her leg about it, either.

    It felt…nice. It felt nice to finally hear somebody apologize to her for her shit hand and having it actually mean something.

    “Sure,” she murmured after a while. She mindlessly began to sink into a sitting position and was startled when her rear met the cushion of a recliner. But, if fanfare trumpets and unkempt swamplands could be conjured here, she figured a recliner was a welcome change. It was better than sitting in the blood.

    She continued as she leaned back into the leather. “But if you’re that sorry, why didn’t you rear your head earlier? We could have figured something out,” she said. “Valentin told me there was a way to keep the illnesses under control if you had a grasp on it. Unless he was lying.”

    “Why? Because safety and info gathering, you sweet summer shit,” Odile said. “And your little wannabe fucktoy? He’s fucking brilliant. Even if he trains ice types.” She visibly shuddered, then recovered as if she hadn't. “Pretty much everything out of his mouth was spot-on true. The stuff about us blood types, the other legendaries, the Vice Dust…”

    Odette’s jaw tensed. The confirmation of the truth bomb was eclipsed by Odile’s choice of label for Valentin. “Don’t call him that.”

    “Fine, your 'wittol gorl cwush,'” Odile mocked, flapping her wings for added effect. “Regardless, you should keep him. And I have no reason to yank your dick about that either; we have the same goal in mind, so you’re best off staying under his ‘fuck me’ eyes. You can yank his dick whenever you want to, though.”

    “He’s asexual,” was all Odette managed through the mortified haze that started creeping in through the cracks in her mind.

    “Yup, and I used to get my asshole waxed with holy water,” Odile scoffed.

    Odette tried to think of a quick comeback but came up ridiculously short. “I...I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

    “Congrats, you’ve sharpened my fucking point,” Odile said, rolling her eyes. “Would you like a lollipop? Or perhaps a lollipop-flavored condom you can use when you two inevitably–”

    “Oh my gods, enough,” Odette spat. She snatched her arms back to slam her hands over her ears while she squeezed her eyes shut. Her face felt so unbearably hot that she swore she could feel sweat beading up on her forehead. “That’s not what we’re fucking here to talk about, so why–”

    “We might not be here to talk about it, but you certainly like thinking about it,” Odile retorted. Odette heard her land on the chair’s left armrest and had a sudden desire to take a swing at her. But the flood of unbearable embarrassment blocked her from doing so.

    “What, so you just read my fucking thoughts all day?” Odette groused, dipping her chin toward her chest, trying to scrunch herself up into a ball as a means to escape her own shame.

    “Kinda. Sorta.” Odette could hear the stupid, snarky smile in Odile’s voice. “I can sense changes in your feelings. When the changes are really intense, I’ll go poking around your brain for the specific thoughts. You have a very vivid–”

    “Ah, please, please, please, shut up,” Odette whined. She moved her hands to cover her eyes as she slumped in the recliner and tucked her knees into her chest. “I don’t even know why I asked, for the love of fucking…”

    “No need to get so worked up,” Odile cooed. “I’m just trying to make things a little more comfortable for you while we chat.”

    Odette’s left eye snapped open in time with the resentment that took hold of her, and she moved the corresponding hand off of it to stare at the tumbleweed. “Oh yeah, dismembering yourself while in your little look-a-like form was really meant to be comforting.”

    “I could name ten people off the top of my head who would have been very comforted by a similar image; thank you very fucking much.”

    Forcing another breath into her lungs, Odette lowered her hands and legs. “We’re not here to talk about my relationship with Valentin,” she said evenly. “This is purely a conversation about me and you.”

    “I mean, technically this does involve me and you; it involves you thinking about jumping that man’s bones and me–”

    “What is this about safety?” Odette sputtered, lurching up to glare down at Odile and effectively cutting her off. “Was I safer living life with a violent temper and sickness spells that almost fucking killed me a few times? Let’s get back to that.”

    Odette watched with a clashing mixture of solace and unease as the glee drained from Odile’s eyes. She broke her gaze to look at the ground before suddenly taking flight.

    “You like stories? Of course, you like stories; you took fucking acting classes,” she said as she landed in the blood. “Let me tell you a story, then.”

    Without warning, any light that was within the realm faded away, and Odette found herself engulfed in darkness. Before the dread could set in, a screen flipped on in front of her. Its light cast some illumination on her and the hundreds of empty theater seats she now sat among. Looking around, she couldn’t find any physical signs of Odile. All she heard was the beast’s static-y voice.

    “A looooooooong, long, long, long, long, long, long, long time ago, before you were even a speck of dust on the cosmos, I came to be among some other legendaries you might be more familiar with.” A crudely drawn image of Odile as a flying tumbleweed flashed across the screen. In fact, it was so crudely drawn that Odette would have assumed a toddler had made it. But it got the point across.

    More crudely drawn pictures slid in to join the Odile doodle, and they were silhouettes and colors Odette immediately recognized.

    Giratina. Yveltal. Solgaleo. Eternatus. Rayquaza. So many legendaries she knew by name. All standing around the Odile doodle. They all had smiley faces.

    “However, it wasn’t just me. There were also my bitch ass cohorts,” Odile went on. The drawings of the familiar legendaries suddenly disappeared, only to be replaced by shapes she didn’t recognize. They were smaller forms that looked to be the same size as the Odile drawing. After squinting at them for a moment, she realized that they were just the shrunken versions of the forms of the Blood Legendaries she’d seen in Valentin’s office. They all had angry faces that Odette could tell were meant to be derogatory.

    “Without getting into the gory details, as much as I usually like those in particular, our shitty creator kinda treated us like garbage, so I got mad and left.” The other doodles dropped away, leaving the Odile doodle wandering among poorly drawn stars. Soon, Odile landed on green lines, presumably grass, and a dismembered arcanine surrounded by red scribbles popped into the frame.

    “I came across your world, and this substance you mortals call blood,” she said fondly. “I drank it, and it changed me.”

    The Odile doodle moved toward the red scribbles, then suddenly sprouted into a poorly drawn version of that branch dragon drawing Odette had seen before. The angry-faced doodles of the other six legendaries popped back into view.

    “At the time, my cohorts hadn’t given me much reason to hate them, so I invited them to do the same. They changed too.” All six doodles sprouted into the forms Odette was more familiar with despite the childish level of the art.

    “Some of the other legendaries didn’t like what we’d become, and we had a big fight about it. During that fight, I learned the power of vessels. I also created an army of other Pokemon like me–like us–that thrived on blood just as we did. I taught my cohorts to do the same, too. From there, I became known as The Mother of All Blood Types.”

    Throughout Odile’s narration, Odette watched as the doodles of the Blood Legendaries and some of the others she’d seen smiling earlier quite literally smashed into doodles of different legendaries she recognized. For a moment, she saw Dialga flash on the screen, but his head and neck looked as if it had drawn like a penis. Palkia looked to have been drawn as morbidly obese. She wanted to laugh at how absurd it was, but she had caught on to something else.

    "Wait, you created the blood types? Shinies? That was all you?" she said.

    The animation paused, as did Odile's voice. She spoke again after a while, but the animation remained stalled.

    "Yeah, yeah, it was a big thing I figured out. Game-changing, really. They all thought just seven of us were bad, but try like...seven gazillion. We almost wrecked the population here, though..."

    Odette frowned dubiously, eyes roving around the theater on the hunt for the tumbleweed form. "Go on."

    "Well, if you think about it, there's not much to explain. A bunch of bloodthirsty 'mon going on a war-fueled tirade? We needed blood, mortals had it, so we just hunted and slaughtered a whoooole bunch of them."

    The animation abruptly switched to a group of doodles, presumably Odile and the other blood types she'd created. Odette recognized a few of their shapes from Valentin’s analog blood type Pokedex. The doodles proceeded to fly at drawings of stick figures and other Pokemon shapes, yanking them apart and sending red scribbles all over the scene.

    "Now I understand what you meant by Pokemon maiming each other for sport," Odette said, grimacing.

    "Yeah, why do you think you all evolved with the uncanny valley?" Odile said. A smiley face appeared on the screen, but its wide eyes and wide grin sent a cold, prickly feeling through Odette's body. It was the exact sensation she got when she looked at Odile's copied face for too long. "We wrecked you all so badly that you evolved to be more aware of when we were coming. How about them leppas?"

    The explanation had Odette gritting her teeth again, and she shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "So, is that why you didn't end up killing everything? We beat you back?"

    "Oh, don't flatter yourself," Odile snorted. "It was all my genius that saved you; let's be perfectly clear there."

    The scene on the screen swapped into an image of the Odile doodle dressed in a graduation cap and holding a diploma. That got a derisive chuckle out of Odette, but she kept her comments to herself.

    "I quickly figured out that killing all the mortals on this planet wasn't going to be feasible in the long run, and soon discovered that the best and most powerful way to get blood is to partner with mortals, not kill them," she said. "Partnerships led to a longer supply and way more power. Something about bonds or whatever, that's a whole 'nother story."

    She stopped to laugh to herself while Odette made a mental note. "So I got my fill by picking and choosing vessels that worked well with me. So did my cohorts. So did the other blood types."

    A diagram popped up on the screen, showcasing the Odile doodle being connected to other Pokemon shapes by arrows. The same was shown for the other sins and other blood type doodles.

    "This eventually led to some blood types jumping between Pokemon offspring, which--"

    "Resulted in the first shinies," Odette finished, moderately dumbstruck by the revelation. That meant Enora likely had descended from the first Pokemon who had made pacts with blood types. Or came from some other Pokemon who had done it more recently.

    "See, you're not a jackass when you choose not to be."

    Odette scrunched her nose in irritation. "Continue, please."

    Odile's voice took a breath. “In the end, the war came to a draw. My cohorts and I decided to settle down in one particular world so as long as we and those who had helped our side could be left alone. I didn't want anything else; I just wanted to be left. Alone. Me, myself, and I, with nothing more than a couple million mortals to mess around with idly. But that's it."

    There was a sudden surge of stress in her tone that stroked at Odette's sympathy. She had to wonder what could have happened to the embodiment of Wrath that made her so serious about not being bothered.

    "Things were okay for a while, but as I said earlier, my cohorts are bitchasses. Namely, Gulattive.”

    The doodle of Gulattive’s grotesque form flashed up on the screen. His angry face was now more defined. “Gulattive is a bit of a loaded schmuck, you see. He’s Gluttony, so he’s impulsive, never sated, and always wants more. He wasn’t happy with the terms of our war-ending agreement because wanted to keep fighting. He wanted to have a pissing contest with everyone, but he wanted to ensure he was always the one pissing the furthest. More than that, he wanted to be in my position, the leader of our stupid group, because he thought everything was about him. He’s a fucker. But nobody would fuck him because he’s fat and ugly and–”

    “Odile,” Odette called. She listened to the voice clear its throat.

    “Anyway.”

    Gulattive suddenly produced a Pokeball, and other five gathered around him and approached the Odile doodle.

    “So, unfuckable Gulattive convinced the unfuckable quintet that the agreement sucked and why doing the most to be the big fat dick on top was the way to go, and they sucked me into a little ball, and locked me up. Because they knew I'd stop them from whatever idiocy they wanted to get into.”

    A scribble of purple shot out from the Pokeball in Gulattive’s hand and engulfed Odile. Her doodle disappeared, and the other six doodles were left cheering before a poorly drawn clock cut onto the screen. The hands began turning.

    “I wasn’t sure how long I was in that ball. It’s safe to say it was thousands of years, maybe more. But, Gulattive took over the group and led us all into a contract with this family called the Lambournes, all for the sake of having consistent vessels and a means of manipulating a group of power-hungry humans into doing his power-hungry bidding. They all seemed to be on the same braindead idiotic dumbass page.”

    At the sound of Florent’s surname, Odette perked up. She watched as the six Blood Legendary doodles spoke with stick figures in bowties before cutting over to a drawing of a Pokeball. It lingered for a beat before popping open.

    “However, at some point in time, twenty-two years ago, a Lambourne child was born, and my prison had been unlocked. I escaped without a second thought and ended up with none other than you. Odette. Free for the first time in gods know how fucking long.”

    The final scene of the “movie” ended with a horrible drawing of her. But Odette could tell it was her by the braids, the white tracksuit, and the strange childlike emphasis on how red her eyes were. The screen cut to black after that, and Odette found herself sitting back on the recliner in the middle of the same bloody ocean. It took her eyes a moment to adjust back to the change in light, and she gave them a good rub while Odile kept talking.

    “I was just excited to be free, even though I’m not sure how it happened. I didn’t want to ask questions; I just wanted to enjoy being away from those backstabbing dickshits for however long I could.”

    Upon opening her eyes again, Odette could see the tumbleweed was still sitting in the blood, but her back was turned. Her tone had taken on a far more sardonic weight. “So, to answer your question, I don’t know. At the moment, yes. It felt safer to lay low with no indication I was with you aside from your anger and shitty health. But now that I know how things have progressed outside my fucking sightline, I might have misjudged.”

    She looked back over at Odette, her eyes hard now. “I knew it wasn’t going to be quiet forever, but I just craved a few years of peace and freedom.”

    For a moment, Odette had no words. It was so much to digest in one go that she was once again left unsure of what to address. However, as the two decades of strife that her anger and health had caused her came rushing back with the weight of an aggron’s stomp, it didn’t take her long to figure it out.

    “Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” she said thinly. “You craved a few years of peace at my expense? Knowing there’s a genocidal legendary out there? Newsflash: I didn’t ask for any of this.”

    Odile was suddenly in front of her, having morphed back into her doppelganger form. She grasped both armrests and hovered her face so close to Odette’s that their foreheads touched, effectively trapping the latter in her seat.

    “Congratufuckinglations, because neither did I,” she menaced over Odette’s surprised gasp. “You think it was all sunshine and ponyta guts having the very beings I gave power to shrink me down to a speck inside a Pokeball? Maybe if you’d let me finish, you would have heard me tell you that I’m grateful for you.”

    Odette blinked, her expression falling along with the shaky breath she exhaled. “You–”

    “I was locked away in that fucking ball for thousands,” she raised a hand for emphasis and lifted her knee up onto the armrest as if set to climb into Odette’s lap, “of years. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but your bastardly teeny existence got me out. And I guess I was just riding the last two decades on the high of freedom and didn’t want to fuck it up. Despite what you might think, we gods are far from perfect. Believe me.”

    Now stunned into silence, Odette kept her eyes on Odile’s face. She watched the fiery passion drain from her eerie features, only to be replaced by wrinkles of doubt as she slowly stepped back. She stood there for a while, staring at nothing in particular in a tense, heavy silence.

    “I just didn’t want to be caught like that again. I was–” She frowned like she was struggling to finish the thought. “I also didn’t want to know what they would do to you if–”

    She cut herself off with a single, rough jerk of her head. She trained her eyes back onto Odette’s, causing Odette to hold her breath in anticipation.

    “I know you know a thing or two about letting trauma dictate what you do,” Odile said.

    Something Odette could only describe as defensiveness walled up within her. “Don’t…leverage that against me,” she said, standing up to emphasize the severity of her words. She stopped short as another realization hit her, and that wall was toppled by distress.

    “Wait. Wait,” she said breathlessly. She settled her hand over her chest as if that would somehow calm her heartbeat, which was now pounding against her eardrums. “Gods, you were…you were there…for that…”

    Odile’s face twisted into a look that matched what Odette felt. She would have been jarred by the change were she not so consumed by the thoughts of that thing that had shown up to make the dream worse.

    “Don’t,” Odile said quickly. She reached out a hand like she wanted to make some sort of comforting gesture but stopped short. She appeared to stumble over her words before dropping her hand. “I’m sorry.”

    For a second, she almost looked entirely human.

    “Just…don’t do that to yourself right now. Please.”

    Odette exhaled sharply. Odile’s mannerisms were strange, so the fact she felt somewhat comforted by them was equally as strange. Still, nobody needed to tell her twice not to allow herself to sink into that buneary hole. Especially not now.

    “Okay,” was all she said.

    Odile released a huff, her eyes slipping shut for the briefest of seconds. “Whether you want to believe me or not,” she went on slowly, “even if I hadn’t somehow ended up with you, you were involved in this shit the moment you were born. The Lambournes don’t take kindly to people walking off with their property, and you, Odette Harmonie fucking Cinq-Mars, are Lambourne property, despite whoever's uterus you were prematurely cut out of.”

    That was something far more pressing to think about. Something that hadn’t truly struck her yet until that moment. “So it is true.”

    Odile answered with a single nod. “Allow me to be the paternity test you so desperately wanted,” she said, sarcasm lining her tone. “Filthy Lambourne blood flows in these veins, so you better start getting used to the shit that comes with that territory. You come from a line of power-hungry, nasty human beings. I’d actually be impressed if I didn’t want to see every one of them burn to death in a blaziken’s gaping cloaca.”

    Odette replayed Odile’s words over and over again in the second of downtime she had. Filthy. Power-hungry. Nasty. That’s what she came from. She was directly descended from a familial line that was set on making a deal with a dangerous legendary for the sake of causing problems.

    The fact that she wasn’t surprised didn’t just startle her. It frightened her.

    “But despite all of that, I see your bitter fucking malice at the way those Lambourne whores are existing right now. With the sacrilege shit happening, and all that,” Odile said. “You would want to stop them, wouldn’t you? Even if they are your blood?”

    Yes, was Odette’s immediate thought. She wanted no part of a family that could help commit gods knew how many atrocities. She didn’t have to think twice about that.

    Odile seemed to know her answer without her having to say it. She kept talking, sauntering closer with a little more gusto in her step. “Guess what, bitch? You have that edge.” It looked like a grin was tugging at the corners of her lips now. “They want you; they want us. Now that I’m out with a vessel, we have the capability to fuck. Them. Over. That was the one thing they and the other six were afraid of happening, and it did. And we can wreck them for it.”

    All of it sounded tantalizing. All in one day she found out about the story behind sacrilege, the Shiny Trade, Dorien, her own past, her unknown paternity, and how it all just seamlessly fit together. How her existence was intertwined with the very thing she had set out to get to the bottom of. How her existence probably had a larger hand in what was happening in the first place. And now, she was being met with the pretty words from the very being who might be able to ensure she saw victory, and who could give her an edge she didn’t have–or at least didn’t know she had–previously.

    “Why now and not twenty years ago?” she asked.

    Odile raised a brow and recoiled slightly. “The fuck was I gonna do with a two-year-old?”

    Point taken, she realized. “Then in general? Why now? Why haven’t you been preparing me for this?”

    Odile paused, a vacant yet charged look settling in her dark eyes. “I don’t know. Like I said, imperfect. Now that there are signs that they’re moving, I have to move too.”

    She paused again, that time to cross her arms and look at Odette with a little more bemusement. “And don’t start with me about the ‘preparation’ shit. You’ve prepared yourself plenty,” she scoffed. “You’ve been learning deductive reasoning since you got out of your fucking incubator, you’re armed, you’ve got better metaphorical eyes than a fucking claydol, and that acting training got you built enough to mack on a man you’d rather bury in a shallow grave,” she explained, raising a finger with each passing point. “You were capable from the get-go. So shut the actual fuck up.”

    Despite the overall curtness of the delivery, the stream of compliments left her feeling rather good, as much as she didn't want to admit it. They were compliments from a god, after all. A god with a really fucked up sense of humor and shitty art skills, but a god no less.

    “Okay,” she said after hesitating. “That doesn’t change my disdain for how long you took to present yourself to me,” she added sternly, trying to make herself forget that she'd been complimented at all. But, she softened her gaze as she crossed her arms. “But…better late than never, I guess.”

    Odile was grinning now. “I got you all buttered up just like that? Noted.”

    Odette licked her teeth, deciding to bite back the quip that threatened to spill out. “How would you recommend we proceed, then?”

    She wasn’t exactly sure what had changed throughout that speech, but she was suddenly far more privy to Odile’s wide smile. Something about it carried an air of determination she hadn’t seen before, making it seem more amicable than eerie.

    “Your future 'Baby's First Shallow Grave' occupant, Dorien. Inviderus' fuckhead,” Odile said. Her nose crinkled in disgust. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this, but keep your wits about you with him. He’s trying to get a rise out of you to get me to rear, most likely to get me back to that ball and to get you to follow.”

    Now, his reaction to her warding off desmocula in the garden made all the sense in the world. Paired with his previous blatant attempts at pissing her off, she now understood his angle. She was briefly thrilled to know that she hadn’t been crazy for initially thinking that’s what he was doing. Then she realized what a fucked up thing that was to be happy about.

    “If I’m under Gulattive and you’re under Florent, that makes it more likely that they can succeed in their world domming shit. I’m not stupid enough to fall for low-hanging nipples like that, provided it's not Inviderus saying it directly, because that guy could go fucking die in a hole for all I fucking cared, since he's such an insufferable buttmunch."

    She stopped to take a breath. "But your own bodily anger might be enough to expel me,” she explained as she jabbed a finger into Odette’s shoulder, causing her to flinch back. “You need to watch it. You’ve been good about it so far, but desmocula was a close call.”

    Odette quietly rubbed her shoulder. “What, you don’t cause my bodily anger?” she asked.

    “Our partnership instilled it in you, and I might exacerbate it by being within you as I am, but your anger is still your own.”

    Frowning, Odette nodded along despite not particularly liking the answer. And Odile calling it a “partnership” felt wrong somehow, but she left that part alone.

    As Odette was starting to think of ways to ensure she kept herself sane with her newfound knowledge, a different question came to mind. “Do you…know about any of the other things I forgot? Because of the Dust?”

    Flexing her lips, Odile released an irritated sigh. “I couldn’t say. We’re not separate entities right now, so Vice Dust does to me what it does to you.”

    “How could we be separate?” Odette queried, tilting her head.

    “A formal catch.” Odile pursed her lips and started to pace slowly. "Teeeeechnically, even though I'm living in you, tethered to you, I'm still wild. Catching me would give us that 'official' partnership and separate me from your body, so to speak."

    Odette blinked in surprise. Was it that easy? “I have a spare ultra ball–”

    Whoa,” Odile yelled through a deep chuckle. She raised her hands up as if she’d just heard an offensive joke. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, dipshit. That wasn't me telling you to do it now." She started shaking her head. "Do you know how easy it would be to swipe a ball from someone? With me in here, you’re still the obstacle they need to get through. This gives us time to infiltrate and ruin them. And maybe I can figure out what caused my little jail cell to malfunction upon your arrival.”

    Odette had to resist the urge to groan. Of course Odile had a point, but gods forbid that Dust was used on her again. Then what? She’d have to wait for another round of antidotes? Provided she even managed to have a jog at all? That was still reigning as the only solution, and all it did was supercharge her anxiety.

    “And what if that doesn’t work?” she heard herself asking. “There are things I don’t know about all of this, which means I can’t imagine you know anymore, being limited to my eyes and ears. Should I just sit back and let it happen if we get blindsided?”

    “If we get blindsided, I’ll handle it,” Odile answered so quickly that Odette barely had time to process if she’d been heard or not.

    “You’ll handle it?” she repeated.

    “That’s what I said,” Odile snapped. “Do you need a godsdamned hearing aid to go with those glasses?”

    Rolling her eyes, Odette exhaled sharply. “Fine. Continue as normal. Stay with Valentin. Mind Dorien even more. You’ll intervene if you see fit.”

    “Atta girl.”

    “Can I tell him about this?” Odette said. “Can I tell Noel?”

    “It’s your fucking mouth, I sure as hell can’t stop you,” Odile said, shrugging. “Well, I probably could, and it’d be funny as shit, but I won’t.”

    Raising a brow, Odette tilted her head again. “You can control my mouth?”

    “I’ve never tried, and it’d probably be harder without the bond of an official catch. If I could I would just have you confess your undying horny for your wannabe fucktoy and save you the aggravation and mental strife. You’re not you when you’re freaking out over your Lusty Lusty Lusty thoughts,” Odile said. She grinned in a manner that indicated she knew the commentary was going to make Odette mad. Catching that intent was what kept Odette from actually losing her shit.

    “You know what? Point doubly taken. We can wait a little longer before I officially catch you,” she said drily.

    If I even want to catch you, she thought.

    She didn’t dwell on that too much because now she was trying to think too far ahead. At the moment, she needed Odile if she wanted to keep going on this sacrilege bust. And Odile needed her. That’s just how things were, and for her own sake, they needed to stay that way for a little while longer.

    But when the time came, would she even want to officially partner with Odile? What would that entail?

    Did she even have a choice?

    “I’m sensing your nervous system’s starting to jingle back to life,” the eldritch terror said, shimmying her shoulders excitedly. “Better get a move on, cutie patootie.”

    Odette stared at her negative mirror image again before furrowing her brow. “What are you talking about? I’m not–”

    Before she could finish her thought, her eyes opened. Her vision was blurry at first, but it came to focus on a smooth white ceiling. The overhead fan was spinning quietly, and she could hear the muffled sound of chatot singing just outside. A swanna down comforter had been tucked up under her arms.

    Awake. She was awake.

    “Fuck me,” she said out loud. Her mouth felt dry, and she could taste the morning breath on her tongue. But, hearing her voice under normal, awake acoustics was something she'd never take for granted again.

    As soon as the words left her lips, her thoughts sprung to life, but they weren’t her own.

    That’s what she said.

    Crude. Laced with threatening giggles. Static-y.

    Odette lurched up, her eyes darting around the room. She’d been so caught off guard by the casual intrusion of Odile’s voice in her brain that it took her quite a while to realize Noel wasn’t in the bed anymore. But all she could focus on was her own mind.

    “Odile?” she said in a whisper.

    Yes, but maybe don’t talk out loud when you need to respond to me like this, dumbass, Odile said. That’s a one-way ticket to a padded cell and a straight jacket, and while those are a fun time, save it for later.

    Odette slowly settled back against the pillows, feeling herself sink into their plush material as she brought her hand up to cover her mouth. Her own thoughts raced over the sound of Odile’s voice, but she could somehow still hear the Wrath god giggling through them.

    “Oh no,” she murmured.
     
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