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There were rebuttals Bahamut could make. Like how he couldn't properly fight despite millennia as a killer. Or the fact that Owen would sickeningly find the good in everyone, including her. Or the fact that Diyem won't be able to send her home until the crisis is taken care of because his powers...

... we'll tell you when you're older. Go to your room.

I would welcome that, but we're in backup bodies.

... well, I guess I'll be hurtling something into the sun before I leave this planet after all.

"Keh heh heh." The shade watched others file out. "I do so look forward to seeing how things play out with such... wonderful new developments."

Chapter 17: Give Me Shelter Come nightfall, some pokémon hit the pubs. Others curled up by the fire with a good book. A certain black-scaled charizard, however, had a different evening pastime: a glass of warm milk. Now made exponentially more effective thanks to the magical hot box machine...

“Elaborate.”

Oh, goody. Bahamut loved waterworks. “You’re not going away.” It was a statement made toward the shadow. “Are you really that jaded from a meeting?”

"If you dwell on the past, you will not be able to forge a path to the future," Bahamut said. "These setbacks... are ultimately insignificant. There are too many hero types on the team. They will overcome this development through sheer tenacity." He shook his head. He found it disgusting, but...

"And what if we'd done the opposite and things still turned out like this? Or worse?" Bahamut flicked an upper wing dismissively. "There are a lot of things unfair in life, regardless the world. No one's saying you can't feel burned. But you," he pointed directly at the shadow, "are not going to...

"You're being vague." Bahamut remained floating in the air, as if he somehow expected the massive size different could frighten the shadow into submission. At the very least, it sat. Was Bahamut supposed to give it belly rubs now? Bah, that sounded more like an Owen thing. "I have been...

Xeromus had stayed behind and was uncharacteristically silent at the news. But his eyes sparkled with... something.

Bahamut wasn't an idiot. These people wore their emotions on their sleeves. Even if nobody liked anything he had to say, he at least tended to keep a level head. Not exploding with radiance or manifesting shadows as separate personas. Case in point, the grass-growing Owen pacing back and forth...

"I'd rather he be in a cell." Bahamut's expression remained dark as he floated past Soda. "As for getting a message to the moon, why not just ask those of us who can fly through space to go out and investigate." And he headed for the door without another word.

“I second that notion,” Bahamut growled.

“Nobody should be thinking about the damn moon until we can verify there’s a safe way to let you lot breathe in space.” Bahamut sighed. “I may not have lungs but the majority of the team does.”

“Look at the bright side. Fighting on the moon will hurt Giovanni.” Bahamut smirked. “The clown deserves it.”

"Please. It's not a matter of trusting that clown." Bahamut shook his head. "Push comes to shove, he can be forced to repair the moon." He yawned again and lay back on his side. "All this talk of Breaker and power psychics when you really ought to be looking for someone with experience in...

"It can very easily be repaired or rebuilt by a lunala," Bahamut scoffed. "Which we just so happen to have on hand thanks to all this cross-reality meddling."

Apparently the charizard of the team were the only ones who acknowledged Bahamut unless they wanted to bark at him for being an asshole. "You are all putting too much thought into this. It's as the grass-grower says. This is the logical end result of that clown's mindset and actions." He...