Pokémon Broken Things

[Persephone]

Arc Seven: Poison​

"If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?”
-William Shakespeare



Poison 7.1: Corrosion
Plumeria

2016

“You can’t do that.” Your voice is calmer than expected. If you weren’t forced to live in your own head you’d even sound confident. Utterly unsurprised, completely in control.

“The fuck you mean I can’t?”

“You can’t disband Team Skull.”

“Well, like my momma says, I brought it into this world and I can take it out.”

“And you agree with her? That’s a first.”

Guzma sighs and for a moment, the persona fades. “I fucked up, okay? The president was into nightmare jellyfish to like a creepy, stay-away-from-schools degree, and the hammer is coming down on us instead of her. If I take the blame myself and tear it all apart then maybe the rest of you can be spared.”

“To do what?” you growl. “Crawl back to the shitty little lives we were living before? Newsflash, asshole: you weren’t the only one with problems. I’m not leaving hundreds of people high and dry just because they believed in you.”

He smirks again and leans against the wall. Seems the moment of honesty is over.

“Harsh. I like it. Was kind of weird when you worshipped the ground I walked on.”

And maybe you were too harsh. He hasn’t talked much about Ultra Space, but it’s rattled him. “I believed in you. Still do. You can change your mind. Change Skull’s purpose. But you can’t get rid of it. I want you to stay.”

“And if I don’t?” He’s smiling. It’s not his normal smile. This one’s barely there. It can’t command a room. Can’t even command you. It’s probably real. Strange how you’ve never seen it.

“Then I take over.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t come crying to me when the cops come.”

You’ve been running from them since you were eleven. If they’re your biggest problem, then you’ll be just fine.

2017​

You don’t really need to deal with this in person. But it’s been a while since you visited your hometown and this is as good an excuse as any. And if you get to make some numskulls feel dumb for asking? Bonus.

“A ghost,” you repeat. “You’re scared there’s a ghost under your bed.”

Machoke shifts awkwardly. He’s bulked out, yeah, but he’s still the same old softie underneath. Golbat doesn’t react. She worked with you before you were the Big Sis of Team Skull and doesn’t buy your bluster. You can’t bring yourself to fix that.

“The whole city’s full of ghosts. Why should I be worried one got inside?”

“It’s acting weird,” Golbat answers. “Not just scaring or lurking. It’s searching through things. Picks fights when it has nothing to gain. And none of our pokémon can get a hit in.”

Their squad is a little weak these days. You’ve been thinking about sending Loudred to them. She’s a great enforcer but the girl deserves a chance at something a little more normal.

“And you want me to deal with this? Do you have any idea how busy I am?”

“With what?” Golbat asks. “TV? I hear Rime City Blues dropped a new season. You through it yet?”

Yes, actually. She doesn’t need to know that right now. Machoke gapes at his subordinate for a moment before pulling himself together. He was young when he joined. Looks up to you a little too much.

“What kind of a ghost are we talking?”

“A banette.”

A banette that no one on the squad can beat. Suspicious. They aren’t the strongest of ghosts. Probably worth checking out.

Besides, you really do need to catch up with Golbat.

*​

It ends up being close to a stereotypical sleepover, something you haven’t had in… six years, probably. Watched a Chinese upload of a movie you couldn’t be bothered to sneak into a theater for, painted each other’s nails, endured some baseless speculation on your love life, even got a little tipsier than you probably should have. It was… fun. You don’t have many friends like that anymore. Well. You never really had many friends like that.

Maybe you’ll find a reason to come back in two or three months.

And so you find yourself drunk in an unfamiliar living room, idly stroking Joanna’s head while Ivan looks on in amusement.

“Oh, you shut up.”

“I have not said anything.”

“You know what I mean.”

The gengar’s form flickers back to his default as he goes back to scanning the room. “No ghosts yet.”

Joanna huffs at the attention shifting away from her and pushes against your gloved hand. The air grows a bit thicker but you only notice because of years of exposure. Poor Golbat. You think she was flirting with you. And she is the kind of person you’d be interested in… if you had any interest at all in other girls. Your salazzle’s taught you that you’re pretty damn straight.

The light shifts and Ivan’s attention focuses like a laser on the distortion. A crumpled shirt draped over the couch lifts up and shakes itself off. There’s the tell-tale purple glow of ghost energy around it.

“What do you want?” you ask. You lazily wave down Ivan for now. If it attacks, you’ll strike back harder.

The shirt collapses. A door creaks open down the hall. “Bane,” a gravelly voice says.

Great. A dramatic ghost. The kind that speaks in ominous variations of its own species name. You get up and follow it, Joanna hugged against your side as Ivan zig-zags in and out of the walls.

The front door is wide open. A cold wind blows through it. The moment you’re through the door it slams shut behind you. Fucking ghosts.

In the corner of your eye, you see a man in a trench coat standing on the hill. It’s gone when you turn to look.

“Joanna, guard the base. Ivan and I will follow.”

It could be a trap. Probably is a trap. But you’re confident you can fight your way out. Maybe more confident than you should be but all your best ideas come when you’re a little drunk. You’ll figure it out.

The banette keeps blinking in and out of existence in your peripheral vision. It’s clearly leading you somewhere. Towards the mountain. That’s fine. You’re a little drunk and your blood is warm.

Finally, it stops.

The banette stands still at the base of the mountain’s lift. Ivan floats off the ground in anticipation.

“Well?”

It hisses.

“He wants us to wait.” Ivan’s voice is unnaturally faint. Always barely perceptible whether you’re right next to him or a football field away.

“For what?”

The lift hums to life as the car descends. Is this a trap from Selene? You don’t remember her having a banette. No. Too far-sighted of her. She would’ve just raided the house the moment she found out what it was being used for.

Finally, the car descends enough you can see its occupant. A young girl in a grey dress, a navy-blue jacket, and thick black leggings. Acerola. The trial captain. Never given you trouble before. What does she want with you now?

“Hi Plumey!” she calls out.

“Plumeria.” You’re not humoring her like she’s a fresh recruit. “What do you want?”

“Ooh, straight to the point. I like it. Well.” The car stops and she takes two dainty steps off to stand by her banette. You recall that she’s the last princess. Shit meant more to you when you were a kid. “The country’s fucked.”

“Excuse me?”

“Country’s fucked.” She takes another step forward before pivoting into a small twirl. “The government arrests and kills whoever they want while poisoning the land. And no one will or—“ She stops spinning and looks directly at you. “—can stop them.”

You cross your arms at the insult. “This isn’t news to me. What do you want?”

“An alliance. I want to see Alola freed but they pay way too much of a spotlight on me. Stuck me in a haole woman’s pet project orphanage and had a cop act as my kind-of-guardian. I need someone who can act in the shadows every now and again.”

“And what, exactly, do you want?” You don’t buy this. She’s in the government she’s bad-mouthing. There’s an angle here. You just aren’t sure what.

“For now? Just read some stuff. I’ll have one of my ghost friends drop it off at that little house you set up. Maybe incorporate some of it into your speeches. Declare you’re for independence—“

“No.”

She stops her apparently aimless pacing. “No?”

“The cops don’t take us seriously. That’s how we’d make them.”

“I have a way to beat them. All of them. Promise. I just… need some help.”

“No can do. If you have something, tell me what it is.”

The trial captain sighs in exasperation, head in her hands. So dramatic. “I can’t. Don’t trust you yet.”

“And I won’t trust you without knowing what you want.”

“Fine. Just read what I send, okay?”

“If I’ve got nothing better to do.”

She pouts / glares at you before reaching out to her banette. Shadows engulf her and she disappears.

What a waste of a trip.

*​

Acerola’s books arrive in a school backpack outfitted with princess stickers. You can tell half the squad is choking back giggles while you pick it up, but not even Golbat dares laugh directly you to your face in front of a group. You still try to get out as soon as possible.

It’s just books inside. Normal, published books. No secret pamphlets or arcane rituals. Boring. You idly flip through them. A thick volume on Alolan mythology. One on pre-contact agriculture of the Pacific that makes your eyes glaze over looking at it. ‘A Substantial Wrong:’ Alolan Annexation Through Principles of Contemporary and Current International Law. Hard pass. Internal Exile: The Structure and History of Alola’s Regency Committee. You get why this one girl, specifically, is into this stuff but fail to see why anyone else would be.

A sabotage manual. A classic one, but a good one nonetheless. You’ve already read it three times.

The Skychildren. The cover has a man looking up into an ultra wormhole. The colors are a little off but you get what they’re going for. Huh. Book seems older than you’d expect. Worn cover, musty smell. Published… 1951. Didn’t know the eggheads knew what portals looked like back then. You think you’ll actually read that one.

The Skychildren is interesting enough. Dry, old-timey prose and information that’s super outdated after the last year. It’s more about the people who come through than the pokémon. A lot on the old witch of the desert. Even a few new things to you. She was the boogeyman growing up. The reason kids shouldn’t wander out alone so close to the sands. That and the dragons. And crocodiles. But you thought crocodiles were cool so that kind of backfired.

Then the book focuses on more modern fallers. You’d kind of known it happened sometimes. Especially in old legends. But you’d never really thought much about them. Last confirmed one was way before you were born. Apparently not. At least in the 50s a lot of fallers were given new identities and told to keep quiet about it. There was even one who talked to the author who hadn’t known she was a faller at all.

Tapu Lele always creeped you out. The other tapu have their myths and legends and personalities and then there’s her. She just sits in a cave and brainwashes anyone who pissed her off. You spoke to her, once, completely on accident, and really wish you hadn’t. Wrong place, wrong time.

A few days later you find time to pick up the myth book. You’re a quarter Alolan. Your mom was half, but she was never really a “read my daughter a story” type of mom. She wasn’t really any type of mom. Last you heard she’s still out there, somewhere, coasting from one high to another.

You glance around the apartment you’re crashing in this week. One room, barely furnished, an empty case of beer on the counter. Apple didn’t fall far.

You skim through the book. Read some stories in full. Familiar ones. A few with interesting titles. You’re not sure what she’s getting at with this one. Does she want to summon a god? That never ends well. But the dangerous ones—the Tapu, now Lunala—they already live among you. If they could or would overthrow the Americans they would have done it already. Solgaleo? Always framed as being Lunala’s equal. At best you’d tie up Selene. That really just leaves Pele or the ocean itself.

You don’t know if Pele’s real. Maybe just another name for Groudon. Either way you really, really doubt anyone’s going to try summoning an ancient fire or water god for a long time. Humanity’s been there, done that, survived by Rayquaza’s mercy.

The rest of the books barely get any attention. You read the first chapter. Skim a few chapters that don’t sound like they suck too much. You’re pretty sure the ag book’s author wants to fuck a taro plant.

You’ve pretty much forgotten about the books by the time Golbat gives you another call.

*​

This time Acerola meets you in an abandoned café. The lights don’t work. Place is illuminated by will-o-wisps from an unseen ghost. There are two steaming cups in front of her. How? Where’d she get them from.

“Hi Plumey!” She waves at you as you enter. “I brought cocoa.”

You snort in response. The chair screeches against the floor as you pull it away from the table. You at least put your hands on the drink to feel its warmth. But she’s an idiot if she thinks you’re drinking something of unknown origin around her.

“You read what I sent?” she asks. Doesn’t seem surprised or offended that you’re not drinking. Or maybe she’s just trying not to piss you off.

“One and a half books.”

She tilts her head in response.

“The Skychildren and the mythology book.”

She frowns and takes a sip before hissing at the hot beverage and blowing in through the top of the lid. “Not what I was hoping for. I guess it’ll do.”

You just keep staring her down. “What do you want?”

“I do have a plan for freeing Alola. And I do need your help doing the things that I can’t.”

“That’s it, then? Replace Lusamine with yourself. She had money to fund us? Do you?”

She shakes her head.

“Yeah, sorry, not taking IOUs at this time.”

“Would you change your mind if I told you more?”

“Maybe.” You’re curious at least. Is she really mad enough to summon Kyogre or Groudon?

“The Black Alchemist. You read about her?”

The black—that’s an… unfortunate name. Or a racist one. “The witch?”

“Yeah, her. She gave my ancestor one final weapon. But I need help to activate it. I can do some of it, but…”

Oh. She is mad.

“You mean you want to try and tame a legendary and point it at your enemies? Worked great for the last six guys.”

“It would be under our control.”

You can’t help but snort. She looks genuinely hurt as she takes a sip of her hot chocolate. Good. She needs to get the idea out of her head.

“It would be under control because it would be one of us. It’s not some sealed monster, it’s an apotheosis ritual. A way to merge with the spirits and become a god.”

You can’t tell if that’s better or worse. “And why should I trust you with godhood?”

“Not me.” She sighs. “Can’t be me. It needs my blood and a faller’s. Then it can be used to awaken someone else.”

That’s more interesting. A whole new variable. Who she chooses to empower.

“Who’s the faller, then?”

“I don’t know.” Oh. Back to square one. “There’s only one right now and they’re an actual cop. We’d have to wait for someone better.”

“Can’t we just make them bleed?” That seems like the kind of thing she’d want your help with. And you have nothing against roughing up the pigs.

“Has to be voluntary. The alchemist was worried we’d just stab her.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Could she just be lying? Said she put the restriction on but didn’t.”

“Maybe. But we’d be playing our hand too early. I think we have one shot at this before the Americans figure out what we’re trying to do.”

“And how long will that take?”

She shakes her head and sets the cup back down. It sounds light. Almost empty. “We can’t know. Just make plans and hope.”

‘We.’ Acerola keeps saying ‘we.’ Like you’re already on board. Interesting choice of words.

“What, exactly, would Skull be doing?”

“Just bringing people around to the idea for now. Building up a group of people we can depend on when the time comes. Maybe messing with some enemies. Once we have a faller, we can talk about bringing them on board and getting the instrument.”

“The instrument?”

She looks down. “I’d rather keep that to myself for now.”

Maybe it’s a literal instrument. You’ve heard they used a flute to summon Lunala. But if there was another legendary flute you’re pretty sure the government would be doing everything they could to find it and lock it away.

“Who has it? Or is it still buried?”

“It’s in a museum on the islands. They don’t know what they have. Brought me in to consult since…” Since she’s the princess. “My parents owned a bookshop and collected old stuff.” Or that. “They stole the books and made it a library. Said their will gave it up. Gave me up, too. She wouldn’t have. They just wanted me to know my place.”

Sucks. Not unexpected but it sucks.

“And if you win, what do you plan to do?”

“I gave you a guide—”

“On politics and agriculture. What are you doing with kids without a home?”

“Oh.” She pauses. “They got adopted, I think. Kin didn’t just mean blood back then.”

Right. Of course she’d interpret that as orphans like her. “And what if the birth parents are alive but shouldn’t have kids?”

“I’m open to ideas.”

“Then maybe I’m open to a few ideas, too.”

*​

Acerola gives you a myth and a place. Just go to Wela Volcano and talk about the creation of the islands and how we’re insulting Pele by destroying her land. The kind of green bullshit that even the liberals might go for in theory, even if they’ll turn on you the moment the monkeywrenching starts. Lets you hit a few of the worst companies without tipping off that you might be for Alolan Independence now. You toss in a few lines about poison. You know poison. People know you know poison. You wouldn’t drink half the water on Alola.

It goes better than you’d thought. Don’t get shot. The cops show up but you’re just talking. Aren’t even telling anyone to do something. Just that maybe someone should. The Skulls are a little too into it. Need to clarify what you mean by “be enthusiastic” because, turns out, that can just look like mockery. You’ll give some of them an earful. There are kids who get caught up in it. Just followed a crowd that was mostly in plainclothes to see what it was about. One of them looks way too into it. Hanging onto your every word like it came from the gods, and not a low-key alcoholic trying to hold a gang together.

And it’s nice to have actual missions again that aren’t just stealing food and drugs. Smash up the cars on the lot of some dealerships while leaving the EV shop next door alone. Paint some messages on the side of a cruise ship in dock. Turns out they burn, just, actual toxic sludge and dump shit straight into the ocean. Somehow more fucked up than you’d thought. You tear up the trail to an overcrowded part of a park. Burn down a chemical company’s sales office.

A few environmental groups reach out to you. Start discretely sending kids to your speeches in exchange for telling you about a place that maybe something should happen to.

It feels good. You doubt Acerola actually gets anywhere with her faller idea but you don’t mind doing this for a while. Eventually you toss in more myths at your flashmob speeches. Tales of The Sacred Peaks the colonizers are filling with trash. The gods providing abundant water that we’re throwing away on tourists. A few shifts in focus. The lift up Lanakila gets broken just about every time they fix it until they need guards and cameras along the full length. Even then you still break it sometimes, just for fun. You dump paint on the lenses at Hokulani. Paint in big letters “Want to know about the stars? Ask an Alolan.” That one gets you a bit too much heat. Turns out those things were expensive. Have to lay low for a long while afterwards.

Eventually you’re just straight up saying that Alola can solve its own problems. That you don’t need the colonizers. That they’re the cause of the problems you have to solve. The cops start coming down harder. Even some of the feds. The cell system that seemed way too paranoid before is now the only thing keeping you alive. The speeches have to stop and a newsletter springs up in its place. The military and the cops and the governor all think you’re the worst thing to ever happen to them but, weirdly, they never send the biggest guns. The kahuna. The champion. Interpol. The special forces.

Acerola tells you that the tapu and some of the kahunas are on your side and no one really wants to start a hot revolution. Cool. At least she’s figuring out who her allies are going to be.

*​

2019

“I think I’ve found one.”

“Hmm?” you take another swig of your beer. Acerola follows but makes a face. Girl still hates the taste but feels like she has to around her gang boss friend.

“A faller. Might’ve found one.”

That snaps you back to full sobriety. “Who? Where?”

“Not sure who, yet. All I know is that right at the start of this,” she gestures into the inky darkness outside of her ghost’s light, “Nanu sent out a message in the Ula’Ula Defense Council’s groupchat to expect a lot of UBs at the observatory. And there were! Like, a third of the ones on the island kept throwing themselves at it. Nanu said he was trying to get someone strong to guard it. Hilda and her Reshiram showed up a few hours later. Convoy kept getting attacked.”

“You think there’s a faller there? Someone evacuated.”

“So that’s why you wanted the observatory’s staff list.” Hadn’t been hard to get. Disappointingly easy. Just a little phishing.

“Yup. They all checked out. Same for the Pokémon Center staff. Got a list of the people in the convoy. Been trying to look into them when I have time. But, well, I noticed one of the names from the news and I checked on a whim. Think we’ve got her.”

You flick your head. Go on.

“The butterfree girl.”

“She’s been traveling. Wouldn’t she have gotten got by one of the UBs?”

“No. Melemele was actually clear.” She pauses. “A lot of them attacked the city early in the blackout. Didn’t just stay in the north and east bothering the totems like you’d think.”

“Interesting.” Could be a coincidence. Another faller. Maybe they were just disturbed by the people.

“So, I figure, hey, she has to have some kind of ID in the league’s system, right? A passport or something? I look. Can’t find anything. Just an email to reach out to upon request. I do. Say that I just want to know what Anahuac docs look like. And Uncle Nanu, the interpol officer, he reaches out to me to tell me I don’t need personal documents. Even though I can look at all the other ones saved.”

Your eyes drift to her banette’s flickering ghostly fire and your mind kicks into gear. You know of the girl. She’s traveling with… oh, whatever-his-name-is. Kevin? A little too tipsy to recall. The short angry kid with some unfortunate acne. The one who sent the long ass apology after the apocalypse happened and the princess went back to her castle.

Having him watch the Gage girl was Acerola’s idea. She knew the boy from… somewhere or another. Knew he was sympathetic.

“Who’s the kid we had with Gage?”

“Kekoa?” There it is. “Yeah, I was getting to him. Might be worth having him set something up. I can loan you my UB tracker. See if it pings. Test out how she feels about Skull, if she knows she’s a faller, all that stuff.”

You frown. “She’s with VStar. How are we bringing her around?”

“Well, she’s from—thinks she’s from—Anahuac. That cuts in our favor, right?”

“Maybe.”

She sighs. “Look, she has a tyrunt. She’s going to need a Class V license. And the council isn’t going to give it to a Nahua girl who works for the highest bidder. Especially when she doesn’t have the money to pay for her prospective pets. They’ll either turn her down outright or someone will say some super racist shit that gets her pissed off. We can use that.”

A bit low. But you wouldn’t be making them do anything.

“And, uh, The Lady of The Scarlet Forest.” She’s fidgeting. Can’t blame her. The florges gives you the creeps, too. You think she likes you and it still feels like she’s going to execute you at the end of every conversation. “She made a deal with Kekoa. Was trying to snare Cuicatl but after watching for a few days decided that it wasn’t likely. Wouldn’t give me more info than that. Basically, her niece kind-of-maybe owns Kekoa, depending on how the deal is interpreted.”

And fairies will interpret the deal in the way that benefits them the most.

“She might be willing to use that in our favor.”

Even lower. You really don’t like that. She must catch it on your face.

“Look, it’s all to free Alola, okay? I don’t actually want to hurt her and Kekoa’s been a beloved thorn in my side at the orphanage for a while now. Definitely don’t want him getting hurt.”

You take a deep breath and steeple your fingers. “The dagger, then.”

“Working on it. That’ll be your job when the time comes.”

*​

You take in the pokemon you have left. There were six, once, when you were finishing up the island challenge. The dragon totem killed Helen. Said it was an accident. Cops still came for you when you stalked his handler and poisoned his food. Your only regret is that the fucker survived.

Pacifica left when you settled down away from the coast. Can’t blame her. A land-locked life isn’t for a toxapex. You had to let John go shortly after you abandoned Po Town. Just wasn’t enough space and food for the muk anymore. Far as you know he’s still hanging out in the ruined town. Maybe he’ll get through its garbage and rot someday.

Mark got killed a year ago when the cops figured out where you were squatting. You barely got away with two pokémon and your life. He knew what he was doing. Didn’t make the loss any easier.

Ivan and Joanna stand before you. Float in Ivan’s case.

“Well, looks like it’s over.”

“You don’t have to,” Ivan whispers. You think it’s even softer than usual.

“I know.” You look around. It’s a garage with an inflatable mattress this week. You used to stay at Skull branches but a lot of people got arrested the last time you did. Some of them were maimed or lost pokémon. You couldn’t put anyone through that again. “But someone has to. The world can’t keep going on like this.”

“I understand.” He briefly flickers out of existence before retaking his human shape, a pale-skinned boy maybe thirteen-years-old. Older than you were when you caught him. “I will be with you to your end.”

He doesn’t mean your death. You’ve discussed this before. He’ll serve the shadows if they’re still you. And if they aren’t… he’ll end them or die trying. Probably the latter. You can’t blame him for it. Gengar don’t usually outlive their trainers and he made peace with death a long time ago.

“Joanna?”

The air grows thicker and she hisses.

“She does not wish you to do this.”

You sigh. Poor girl. “You know you can’t brainwash me.”

More and more pheromones settle around you as she tries. Damn it. You’re going to be drenched in this shit tomorrow. Going to throw your allies off their game. “I’m sorry, girl. I’m doing it. Only question is where you want to go once I have.”

She refuses to dignify you with an answer. Just crosses her arms and looks away with a dramatic flick of her tail.

“I can take you back to the volcano. Give you to another Skull member or Acerola.”

She hisses and violently whips her tail onto the ground.

“If this fails, she will kill Acerola.”

Another hiss.

“If this succeeds, she might kill Acerola.”

Fair. You think being a queen’s right hand would suit her well. Shame about the circumstances.

You look over to Ivan. “Take care of her, please.” You don’t think you will get an answer out of her. She will stubbornly refuse to admit this is happening until she sees your dead body.

“I will.”

*​

Unfortunately, you were right: three showers later and you still have five times the perfume on you that you usually wear for missions. And you’re certain Joanna is going to be pumping out more than usual just to spite you. The first part goes well. You and Acerola have been working to get one of her rotom into the museum’s systems for years. The alarms take a while to trigger and the cameras are looped. Even their radios are jammed. When a guard does find you they can’t use too much firepower in the middle of a museum. You barely have to do anything. Just let the two grunts with you handle things with their melee attackers.

Acerola didn’t want you burning the museum down or staining the art. A lot of her family’s shit is here. Not much you can do without fire or poison.

The vault takes a while to pierce. It’s not actually digital. Just a metal door with elemental barriers to keep ghosts out. You have to let your safecracker deal with that while you and the other grunt just watch the entrance and deal with guards as they come. Unfortunately, she keeps taking glances back at you. Stupid imorin. You have to glare at her to get her to hurry up but you swear her hands are shaking more than they should. Ivan darted off at some point to try and pick them off one by one with hypnosis or minor curses.

The lock eventually clicks open and your companion’s machoke rolls it to the side.

“Let’s make this quick.”

Almost no guards inside the vault itself. A lone golett that Joanna takes out with a little too much glee. The entryway is all concrete. She didn’t burn anything important. You memorized the map of the vault Acerola got you and quickly walk through it. Walk. Not run. That’s how people get hurt. That’s how you drive your body into a full panic. You don’t need that right now.

The dagger is in a glass case at the end of a row. Before you can give any orders Joanna lurches forwards and unleashes a torrent of flames on the case. The glass shatters under the thermal stress and the rest of the case starts to melt or burn. Shit. Just when you think she’s done she sprays a quart of acid on it and the metal starts to smoke. Fuck. You withdraw Joanna as soon as you can but the damage is done. You’re not even sure it’s left. People are getting fucking shot and it was for nothing because you couldn’t predict that your desperate—

The flames turn blue. Ghostly blue. Then they disperse altogether. The air feels cooler. Cold, even. You take slow, hesitant steps forward and look down at the case’s remains. It’s absolutely ruined. Charred and melted and warped. But the pitch-black dagger is completely unharmed. You slowly reach down and wrap a gloved hand around the pommel. It feels cold through the glove.

The museum knew it was cursed. How could they not? Acerola just convinced them it wasn’t that big of a deal. The personal weapon of the usurper queen. Infamous. Historic. Best kept away from the public, but nothing world-changing.

You look back. The safecracker (Kingler?) has taken many steps away from you and the dagger. Before you can calm her down you hear a bang outside. Could be a strong attack from one of the pokémon. More come. One, two, a torrent. Gunshots. You break into a run. Along the way one final guard comes out of the woodwork. He just stares at you as you rush past for a long moment before Ivan takes out his twin beldum with a pair of shadow balls. Was that the dagger or the imorin? Do you care?

When you step outside your worst fears are confirmed. The cops are shooting madly into the crowd. A few of your people are down with grizzly wounds. Maybe a half dozen pokémon are dead on the ground. At least a few of the pigs are injured. Unfortunately, none of them seem dead. The dagger surges with power in your hand.

You could kill them all now. Protect your men.

The thought is intoxicating. You’re drawn to the idea of vengeance like people are drawn to your perfume. And that’s enough to make you think hard about what’s going on. You don’t know what the dagger can do. If it can protect you from gunshots. As if any metallurgy of this realm could damage its host. That wasn’t your thought.

Ignore the cursed dagger. Take control of its power. Then come back and finish this.

You reach out to the nearest abra and it takes you away a few seconds later.

*​

Teleportation doesn’t really bother you anymore. Done it too much. You adjust your posture to the new ground you’re standing on almost immediately. Acerola’s here. So is the damn florges. And Cuicatl. Good. Everything’s in order.

“Live rounds in Hau’oli. We need to make this quick.”

Cuicatl’s face pales. “Is Kekoa there?”

You’re pretty sure you had the Tapu Village cell attend. Damn near all of them did. Don’t know if he was actually in the crowd or not.

“Maybe.”

“Okay.” She takes a shaky breath and steadies herself. “What do I do?”

“It’s just a quick cut over the back of the hand,” Acerola says as she steps forward to take the dagger. She’s not wearing gloves. It doesn’t seem to harm her bare skin. If she’s feeling the rush of power and cold rage she’s not showing it. “I think you might have to do it yourself. Just to be absolutely sure.”

Another can guide the blade so long as her hand is on the pommel.

You’ve learned to stop asking how the florges knows things. The times when she answers are so much worse than the times she refuses to. Acerola helps Cuicatl through the process. You can practically see the life leave the strength as the blade leaves a shallow cut. Acerola rushes forward to catch her, almost dropping the dagger or stabbing someone with it on accident.

“She’s fine. First sacrifices are just one hell of a feeling.”

Good. You didn’t want anyone else to die because of this. Especially her. You already don’t like the shit Acerola pulled to get her here.

After spending a little too long consoling the girl while your people are dying for her cause, the princess makes a quick, shallow cut on her own hand. She barely reacts at all. She sees your confusion and laughs. “You don’t become a ghost trainer without shedding some blood and spirit. Now.” She flips the dagger around so that the blade faces her. “Your turn.”

You take the knife. It’s glowing now. Black and pink flames shimmer around the blade. It feels eager. Just waiting to be released.

To be released.

“And I’ll be in charge of this?” you ask.

“Should be.”

“Should be?”

“Everything I’ve read says you should be. I can go and double check, but it sounded like you had a problem back at the museum.”

Oh.

This was all a trap, wasn’t it?

You glance down. Ivan wriggles out of your shadow. Do you fight it? Go back to Hau’oli and finish the fight, knowing that the feds are going to be coming down on you like a hammer for this as soon as word gets out? Or trust that, whatever happens next, Skull will be taken care of?

Acerola looks at you hungrily. The florges looks on as impassively as ever. When you first met a veiled woman on a bright night you’d asked her what she was.

A silent judge, she’d answered. A witness of history.

Is she a prophet? Did she know this would happen? Or does history just repeat itself if you live long enough?

You look back to the dagger. Whatever decision you make, you need to make it now. Before things get even worse in Hau’oli.

Let’s say you go back. Fight. Win. You know what comes next. Everyone’s scared shitless of ancient artifacts and the old gods. Can’t blame them. Even if you can beat the cops can you beat the champion, every other damn trainer in the region, and the entire military with just Team Skull and a magic dagger?

There’s no future for Team Skull if you go back.

There’s no future for you either way.

At least one path gives them a chance.

The blade is sharp enough that you barely feel it enter. For a moment you stand in disbelief, unsure if any of this is real. And then it burns. Tears straight through your body and soul. Boils your blood. Maybe literally. Maybe figuratively. Reality itself stops meaning anything. Everything that has and will and could happen spins around you faster and faster and faster until there’s nothing but a blurry void.

You close your eyes for the final time…

…and something wakes up.