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I've been meaning to get back to this fic and now I'm finally back here for the 8th chapter!
The chapter begins not long after where we left off last time. Seems like the dam was a deliberate act and though I thought Harlequin and Enigma had to do with it, turns out that wasn't the case. I feel bad for Mischief because this must've been quite the shock for him to witness. Let's hope it won't suck away all of his bubbly and innocent personality.
I still don't like Harlequin and Enigma as individuals for reasons I mentioned in a previous review, though I do enjoy them somewhat. They seem to have a lot of synergy bouncing off one another, at the expense of everyone else though lol. I hope those poor rats don't end up getting killed off anyway.
I feel bad for Mischief because this must've been quite the shock for him to witness. Let's hope it won't suck away all of his bubbly and innocent personality.
I still don't like Harlequin and Enigma as individuals for reasons I mentioned in a previous review, though I do enjoy them somewhat. They seem to have a lot of synergy bouncing off one another, at the expense of everyone else though lol.
As unpleasant as they are, they're fun to write especially due to the synergy. Enigma can unsettle me sometimes, but he wouldn't be an intimidating enemy if he was a likeable goof XD
Thanks for reading! =D
12 - Fire and Poison
Mischief bobbed along ahead of Cleo and Spark. Harlequin’s satchel swung from his neck like a pendulum, encased in a bubble of purple energy. Cleo trudged after him, her ears unfurled and humming away like a swarm of beedrill. Harlequin’s bag wasn’t light. After jigging things around several times, hanging it from the unconscious whimsicott had seemed the best decision. Sure, if the zorua awakened and found enough strength to retrieve it, Cleo’s psychic wouldn’t exactly be a formidable barrier, and Mischief in his current state wasn’t exactly much of a formidable guardian. But none of them really had much choice.
Spark skipped along beside Cleo, acting as Cleo’s ears. With her psychic humming away, she was at a disadvantage to listen for any small noises that could signal a further threat. Harlequin wasn’t known to work alone very often. They were famous for travelling with another assassin. One who was often heard before he was seen. The thought alone made Cleo’s heart race, and she found herself checking every small shadow - the flutter of a leaf, a small wispy cloud passing the sun… anything.
They’d long since passed where the noivern had fallen, turning west and heading deep into the forest. Tinker hadn’t been clear about how far west they needed to head. Just that somewhere in the forest was a large tree. A large tree that would get them into New City’s cells.
Cleo was beginning to grow impatient. All she could see around them were your standard trees, with no opening into New City at all, save for the occasional vent hidden away near the top, unseen to the untrained eye. This deep in the forest, the canopy grew close together, branches intertwining and knotting together, blocking out most of the light. It left them with a very uncertain sense of time. It could easily be evening, bringing with it more threats.
Cleo forced her way through a thick sea of stinging nettles, wincing as her paws crunched over the prickly stems. Spark had no trouble, slipping between each one as if she did it every day. Thorny bushes and prickly ferns grew among them, each plant trying to strangle the other out to no avail, forming an unpleasant barrier across the unused path.
A low growl resonated by her right ear, and Spark looked up from amid the leaves of a razz bush.
“Cleo?” The dedenne’s voice wavered.
Cleo glanced to her side, catching the glint of sharp canines as Harlequin struggled to raise their head. Great. They’d regained consciousness. A bite at this range would be wildly unwelcome. The zorua was still sluggish, fighting off the effects of the paralysis. Their claws twitched against Cleo’s shoulder as they strove to do as much damage as possible in an attempt to break free. They weren’t much of a threat in their current condition, but a risk was still a risk. It was also not feasible to render them unconscious again, either. Not without potentially dealing fatal damage. They needed the zorua alive. They had to know what was going on, and Harlequin may very likely have that information.
Cleo turned and pressed onward, and Harlequin hissed as they were dragged through the stinging plants.
“Cleo!” Spark squeaked. “What are you doing?”
“I’m asking myself that same question.”
“Put her down!” Spark scampered ahead of her and waved her paws. “We can ask for help, and-!”
The foliage thinned, and Cleo stepped through it with Spark at her heels. Whatever she’d said had either faded or been cut off as the pair of them stared out at the burning forest. Thick black smoke curled up from the blazing foliage, stinging Cleo’s eyes. She slapped a paw over her muzzle to block out its bitter suffocating smog. Houndour swarmed through the inferno, torching everything in sight. Just beyond them was a huge tree, guarded by a formidable houndoom. The sleek, black dog threw his head back and let out a blood-curdling howl that made Cleo’s heart freeze.
Harlequin lifted their head and their claws tightened around Cleo’s shoulders. The zorua’s breath came out as a low, pathetic whine.
Cleo trembled from ear to tail as she took a step back into the nettles. The houndour zipped past her, and the lead one sent a flamethrower right over her head into the canopy. Harlequin slipped from Cleo’s shoulders, landing in a crumpled heap behind her. Harlequin let out a scream of protest which fell on deaf ears. Cleo stared at the desolation for a fleeting heartbeat before her senses kicked in and she twisted away and bolted, dropping to all-fours. She didn’t even feel the nettles. Spark scampered on ahead of her, pausing to check the feline was following. The small dedenne lead the way through the tangle of prickly stems. On the wind, Cleo heard Harlequin’s frantic cries as they pleaded desperately for their life.
Cleo ran until her lungs were fit to burst, burning with a cold fire. It wasn’t until the pair finally came to a stop inside the thorny branches of a razz bush that she realised she’d made a fatal error.
She’d dropped Mischief in all the chaos.
...
The grovyle milled around the office, dwarfed by the expansive shelves that swarmed over the walls in a chaos of organised paperwork. Loose papers littered the lone desk that she filed into various colourful binders in a methodical fashion that bordered on the obsessive. She muttered to herself incoherently, the odd word coming out louder than the rest, although she seemed oblivious to it. ‘Wrong!’ and ‘Nonsense!’ were frequently voiced as she placed the files back on the shelves, or glanced between the one she was holding and the one that had clearly offended her before violently switching them. If she noticed her own variating volume she didn’t show it.
Her mutterings only ceased when a soft jingle emanated from the corner of the room. Her entire body stiffened and her eyes became impossibly wide. Just like many other pokemon before her, she wished she’d only imagined that sound. The fear spread across her face as a shadowy figure emerged from beside the potted palm.
Her reaction elicited a chuckle from the assassin and he sank back against the door, grinning at the quaking grovyle.
“Enigma?” she stuttered. “What… what are you doing here?”
The banette tutted and shook his head slowly. “Oh my. You don’t seem too happy to see me?” He paused and inclined his head on one side. “Mint, right?”
The grass-type’s jaw went slack and a brief silence passed between them. “How did you-”
“The rockruff on watch duty told me.”
“Oh.” Mint licked her dry lips and hugged the folder to her chest tightly. “Why are you… I mean… I’ve not… have I? I don’t understand.”
Enigma stared at her coldly and she shrank back further against the desk. He almost expected her to start begging for her life. Instead she took a deep, steadying breath and ran a paw over the long leaf trailing down her back.
“Why would Lord Hydreigon send you here?” she choked out. “To me?”
“Hmm… why, exactly?” Enigma looked up at the ceiling and scratched his mane. “I’ve been sent to find out which Heretics were visited by a noivern. One passed by here recently.” He locked his crimson gaze on hers. “Were you visited by a noivern?”
She shook her head sharply. “No. No, we’ve not been visited by a noivern.”
He continued to stare at her and a sly grin tugged at his lips. “Are you lying to me, Mint?”
“No!” She shook her head again, more violently, causing the long leaf to sweep some papers off the table. “No one has visited us from the Shadow Lands in months!”
“Allow me to narrow it down for you, see if we can ring any bells.” He warped from the wall and appeared before her with a loud jingle.
Mint squealed and stumbled back from the desk into the shelves. One of them came loose and rained its contents down upon her. She lifted her arms to shield herself and screwed her eyes shut tight as folders pelted her slender body. Enigma stretched out a paw and plucked one of the binders from the air before flopping down into the little desk chair. He idly flipped through the contents, barely taking it in.
“It was Boomer,” he said flatly, looking up to meet her stunned expression. “Does that name clear away any fog?”
“I know who Boomer is.” She gazed at the paper spewed over the floor, and with a defeated sigh she sank against the wall. “We’ve not been visited by any dragons. You have the wrong base, Enigma.”
“Well isn’t that a pity.” He closed the folder and tossed it onto the desk. “I was hoping to finish this little task quickly. Searching for all of your hidden bases is rather dull.” He stood and approached her, taking her head leaf in his claws. “I was rather hoping to play with you a little longer.”
He let the leaf trail through his claws, watching as she turned from a deep green to a sickly lime. She let out an audible gulp. He returned it with a sinister grin and twirled with a flourish to march back towards the door.
“I can tell you where they are if that helps?”
Enigma quirked an eyebrow and looked back at her. “Oh? You’re in contact with them?”
“Of course…” She wasn’t looking at him, instead gazing from the small window.
“Then maybe you can cut my quest short? He was sent back with a message to Hydreigon. One he was meant to deliver with some haste.”
“I don’t know about any message.” She turned her head towards him. “Besides, if he had a message for Lord Hydreigon then why do you want it?”
“Because it didn’t reach him.”
The grovyle’s eyes widened and she looked away from him again. Silence. She hadn’t expected that. Maybe she did know something?
“There were some… complications,” Enigma told her. “So the message never reached Hydreigon. If you know what it is, then it’s in your best interest to tell me.” He leant back against the door and examined his claws, feigning a somewhat bored expression.
It had the desired effect. Mint trembled from head to foot until the feathery leaves adorning her arms rustled.
“I can assure you, Enigma, I have no idea.”
“Well the answer is believed to be in this vicinity.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You said you’re in touch with the other bases. Are there any more around here I should know about?”
“Not… a base.” She swallowed and glanced away from him. “Just a lab.”
Enigma’s eyes widened. “A lab you say?”
She nodded stiffly, as if giving away such knowledge pained her.
“I’ll visit this lab. But if I find out you’ve been keeping any information from me…” He examined his claws again and a huge grin spread across his face, “then I’ll be back to deal with you.”
She grimaced and placed a paw on the desk to steady herself. “Please… I’ve told you everything I know.”
Enigma smirked. “I hope so, Mint.”
“The lab isn’t far from here.” She looked up and fixed him with watery eyes. “You’ll hear it before you see it.”
Well that was interesting.
“Anything else?” he crooned.
She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head, letting a lone tear leak over her scaly cheek.
“Very well.” Enigma lowered his claws and wiped them on his scarf. “Then you’d best hope deeply you never meet me again.”
He phased through the door, leaving the grovyle to sink, sobbing, to the floor.
...
Cleo barely breathed. She crouched, braced to run, peering through the thorny branches. No sign of Mischief. No sign of Harlequin. Not a single bark from the houndour. Had they gone? Had they really not noticed her? She’d expected them to give chase. Her heart hammered at her ribs, urging her to flee. But she couldn’t. She’d left Mischief to an unfortunate fate amid that inferno.
She crept forwards, her nose twitching at the air as it rustled the bitter razz leaves. Not so much as a hint of smoke. What was going on?
She exchanged puzzled glances with Spark, who shifted on the spot with unease. “We need to go back for him, Cleo.”
“I know.” Cleo’s voice was barely a whisper. She strained her ears, but there was nothing. “I can’t see any smoke or fire.”
“Maybe the Guild put them out already?”
“You really think the Guild has seen off the Wildfires?” Cleo scoffed. “No… Something isn’t right. Why would Hydreigon send them this way?” She grimaced at that. He’d already sent Harlequin, hadn’t he? “Maybe… maybe there’s something here he wants after all.”
“I really think we should go back and warn Tinker,” said Spark. “Sitting here isn’t helping.”
Tinker!
Cleo’s eyes widened and she reached into her bag. Her claws fastened around the cold plastic shell of Tinker’s communicator. They weren’t outside the boundaries of New City. If it really worked, then they could contact him from where they sat.
She pushed the red button, and Spark hopped onto her shoulder for a better look. Almost immediately Tinker’s voice responded, crackling. A little too loud for Cleo’s liking. She gave a wary glance back towards the invisible inferno.
“Cleo?” A trace of worry marred his voice and she realised she’d not responded yet. “Is everything okay?”
“Ah… Tinker.” She fell to her haunches and clutched the communicator in both paws. “No… I… we found the tree. But… Oh, Tinker. The Wildfires are there!” Her voice tapered out into a strangled whisper and she stared wide-eyed back up the path of nettles. “I lost Mischief when I panicked. I couldn’t… we just ran!” She screwed her eyes shut. “I’m so sorry.”
A throaty chuckle came from the speaker and she opened her eyes again to glare at it.
“Are you laughing?” she growled.
“I’m sorry, Cleo.” She could almost picture him wiping a paw across his eyes. “I should have warned you. What you saw is merely an illusion.”
“An illusion?” she gasped.
Spark shook her head slowly. “No. I’m afraid we’re gonna need a better explanation than that.”
“Remember, girls. I told you that the entrance is secure,” Tinker explained. “What you encountered is a complex barrier Grey created. It plays on the fears of those that encounter it, playing it out as a vivid illusion in an attempt to drive them away.” He paused. “As you can see, it works quite well.”
“So what we saw… was just an illusion?” Cleo hissed. “I find it rather convenient that you forgot to tell us that.”
“I needed you to see it for yourselves, since you doubted me.”
Cleo closed her eyes and sighed. “Tinker… not only did I drop Mischief, I also abandoned Harlequin.”
“Pardon? You dropped Harlequin?!”
“I wasn’t going to carry a pokemon that size while fleeing from the Wildfires, was I! She’d slow me down!”
Tinker sighed, a static buzz filled with accusation. “Cleo… never mind. Just meet me at the tree. Maybe Harlequin is still there? In fact… I can almost count on it.”
The communicator cut off and Cleo glared at it before stuffing it into her bag. “Come on, Spark. Mischief might have come to his senses by now and be looking for us.”
She ducked from the razz bush and sniffed the air cautiously. Definitely no smoke. If it was an illusion like Tinker had said, it was incredibly life-like. She couldn’t even begin to hope to create something like that. Grey’s skills were incredible.
She crept back through the nettles, keeping her wits about her perchance Harlequin was waiting in ambush. But the zorua lay just outside them in a sprawled heap, one paw stretched out as if they’d been scrambling to get away. Smoke curled up from the grass, and the chilling howl came from the houndoom once more. Cleo froze, fixing it with wide amber eyes. Her gut instinct told her to flee, and she ducked back into the nettles.
“Come on, Cleo!” Spark dived from her shoulder. “He said it isn’t real!”
Cleo watched Spark’s tail as it vanished beyond the nettles. She forced herself after the dedenne, finding her stood beside Harlequin, gazing up at the howling flames.
“Whew boy, it’s really life-like.” Spark trembled slightly and forced herself to look away to examine Harlequin.
Cleo crept into the blazing inferno, feeling the heat lick over her fur harmlessly. It gave her peace of mind that it definitely was nothing more than an illusion.
“You see the same thing, right?” she asked Spark.
“Of course I do,” said the dedenne. “Blazing fires… those dogs… all the screaming… you just have to close your eyes and tell yourself it ain’t real.” As if to demonstrate, Spark squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head.
Screaming? So it did play out differently for each pokemon. All Cleo could hear were the howls and the horrible crackle of burning wood.
“Well… first things first,” said Cleo. “We’d better find Mischief. Maybe he’s hiding?”
She searched around her, finding the whimsicott lying a little way away from Harlequin. Still out cold. It was an inconvenience she’d just have to deal with. She left him to return to Harlequin. Once the zorua was back on her shoulders then she could lift Mischief.
Harlequin didn’t respond to her presence. Their ribs rose and fell quickly, almost as if they were gasping for breath.
Spark twitched her nose at Cleo. “I think she’s fainted.”
Cleo made a thoughtful noise and hoisted the zorua onto her back. “I wonder what she saw?”
“Makes you wonder,” said Spark. “I often think the Darkness aren’t scared of anything. They wouldn’t cause all this suffering if they were scared, right?”
The pair turned towards the flames, and Cleo’s blood turned cold. Spark gave her ankle a reassuring pat.
“Just do what I do,” said Spark. “Close your eyes, lower your head and run. Don’t even look up!” With that, the dedenne sped towards the tree.
Cleo swallowed bile and pushed herself on, staggering under Harlequin’s weight. When she was close enough to Mischief, she lifted him in a bubble and picked up pace, screwing her eyes shut like Spark. It did nothing to block out the noise swirling through her mind. She half-expected the houndoom to lunge at her at any moment, to feel his hot fangs fastening around her neck.
A pair of paws fell on her shoulders and she screamed, dropping Harlequin and Mischief once more. Tinker flinched back from her and looked between her and the two unconscious pokemon.
“Cleo!” he said, lifting his paws. “It’s just me.”
Cleo suppressed a growl as it rose in her throat, and stooped to gather Harlequin. Tinker stopped her and took the zorua almost effortlessly, slinging them across his back like a shaggy cloak. Cleo, silently thankful for his aid, scooped up Mischief in another bubble.
Tinker looked up at the big tree and let out a long whistle. “You almost forget it isn’t real, don’t you?”
“Really?” Cleo glared at him. “Tell me… what do you see?”
“I suppose we’d better get inside,” he said. “Harlequin might wake up soon, and I’d much rather not be on the receiving end of an assault.”
He carried Harlequin with alarming ease towards the opening in the base of the tree. The houndoom reversed towards it, fixing Cleo with crimson eyes that seemed to burn right through her. Cleo gulped and screwed her eyes shut, moving Mischief ahead of her towards the tree.
Tinker stood just inside the opening with Spark, patiently waiting for Cleo. Once she was safely inside, he popped his Guild badge into the stone slab and it rolled aside with a soft grating sound. He let Cleo in first, and the slab closed behind him.
A dark staircase wound down into the shadows, and the smell of mildew wafted up on the cold air. Tinker took the lead, his paws slapping over the damp stone. It was a far contrast to the fresh and earthy smell she’d grown familiar with in New City.
Candles dotted the walls, their orange light flickering and shimmering over the stairs. They seemed to grow more wet the further down they went, and Cleo had to watch her step for fear she might slip and send Mischief tumbling down the rest of the way. A move she was sure he wouldn’t appreciate.
The stairs ended in a wide room with heavy iron doors barring their way. Muffled angry voices came from the other side, along with cries and sobs. The fur bristled along Cleo’s spine and she wasn’t sure why. The atmosphere? No… it was deeper than that. Some psychological response she struggled to analyse.
Tinker pulled out a large iron key and unlocked the door, releasing the muffled sounds into the hollow room. Slurs and insults, shouts of profanity. Each one warring to be heard above the other. Cleo stepped into a tunnel lined with smaller iron doors, each one sporting a barred window with a view of its occupant. She was surprised at how many weren’t empty. Weavile, sneasel, scraggy, nuzleaf… so many faces looked back at her. She noted an umbreon curled up in the back of one of the cells, glaring at her with tired, red eyes. She hadn’t seen any eevee or its evolutions in years. Each cell was darkened with thick layers of mildew that spread up the stone walls and congregated on the ceiling. Other sharp smells mixed with it - fear, sweat and ones Cleo didn’t even want to think about.
“This,” said Tinker as they filed through the noisy cells, “is where we keep the dark pokemon that are currently being interrogated for information. Some of the Guild’s best soldiers work here, so it’s a place of high security, as you’ve already seen.”
Spark peered over the walls and her nose crinkled. “Wouldn’t hurt to brighten it up a bit, though, eh?”
“That’s not necessary.” Tinker stopped at another door. Painted on it was a red triangle with an exclamation point. He fumbled the key-chain while juggling Harlequin about his shoulders.
“Need a paw with that?” Spark asked.
“I’m not sure you could reach,” said Tinker.
“Oi!” Spark’s whiskers crackled. “If you weren’t my boss I’d give you a good shocking!”
A smirk spread across Tinker’s muzzle, but he didn’t look up from the key chain.
“What’s this room?” Cleo asked.
“High security cell,” he explained. “I feel it’s more fitting for this one.”
“She’s one small zorua.” Cleo stepped forward to steady the zorua on Tinker’s back.
“Harlequin is notoriously known to be an escape artist.” Tinker swiftly unlocked the door and shoved it open with his foot. “Besides, this is a private room. I don’t really want the other prisoners listening in.”
He led them inside, and Cleo was surprised to find the room was a lot wider and quieter than the corridor of cells. Once the door was closed behind them, most of the noise was nullified. A huge cell adorned the far left wall, a wall of iron bars set close enough together that the wiliest of sneasel couldn’t slip between them. They were also thick enough not to be bashed to smithereens by a tyranitar, or gnawed through by a persistent raticate.
Tinker set Harlequin in the cell then, leaving the door open, left the zorua to rummage through the lone desk in the room. Cleo stared warily at the open cell door, but Tinker wasn’t long. He returned to Harelquin and snapped a strange white collar around their neck.
“What’s that for?” Cleo asked.
“Security reasons,” said Tinker. “Would you please join me for a moment? I can show you what I mean.”
Cleo exchanged a shrug with Spark and set Mischief on the floor before joining Tinker’s side. In one fluid motion, the riolu twisted and swiped at Cleo’s ruff. She let out a shrill mewl and raised her paw to her neck. Tinker didn’t seem to care. He finished fussing with the collar and stood up.
Cleo met his eyes and growled. “Would you mind telling me what that was for?”
“I told you,” he said as he shooed her from the cell so he could lock it. “Security. I needed some of your hairs for your own protection.”
Cleo leant back against one of the cell’s bars. “I think I need a bit more of an explanation.”
“Later,” he said. “Right now, I want to see what this zorua has in his bag.”
Tinker untangled the bag from around Mischief and set it on his desk.
“And what about Mischief?” Cleo asked. “Are we just leaving him to come round on his own?”
“No. I have a nurse on site,” Tinker explained. “I’ve asked her to collect him, but she appears to be running a little late.” He opened the bag and the first thing he removed was the large purple horn. “A nidoking horn?”
“Yes,” said Cleo. “She attacked us with that.”
Tinker turned it in his paws, examining the wooden handle it was mounted to, and the intricate tribal pattern painted along the horn’s surface.
“So I guess when you picked it up you used the handle?” Tinker asked.
“Yes, I’m not stupid, Tinker.”
“That’s reassuring,” said Tinker. “Because if you were poisoned by this, you’d be in a lot of trouble. The anti-venom is as rare as the item itself.”
Spark scratched behind her large ears. “You can’t just use pecha berries?”
“While pechas are good for curing poison,” said Tinker, “they aren’t a fail-safe. Some poisons are too potent to be neutralised by a mere berry.”
“Huh!” Spark blinked, dumbfounded. “The more you know.”
“Then what would you use?” Cleo waved a paw at the weapon. “Say one of us did get nicked by this thing. How would we cure it?”
“It needs a very specific anti-venom,” said Tinker. “One designed to counter that of a nidoking.”
“So… the opposite?” asked Cleo.
“Yes. And what is the opposite of a nidoking?”
“A nidoqueen,” said Spark.
“Precisely.”
“Wha’?” Spark looked up at Cleo and shrugged. “I was joking.”
“Well you are right on this account,” said Tinker. “Nidoqueen venom can counter that of a nidoking, and vice versa. It would at one time have been rather easy to come by, but when the poison-types rebelled against Hydreigon, they were wiped out. Nidoking and their evolutionary lines have been eradicated, and none have been sighted in years. They used to be quite populous in these mountains. It’s a wonder this assassin here has managed to acquire such an item.”
“Does she have the anti-venom in there?” Cleo reached for the bag but Tinker swatted her paw away.
“She wouldn’t be a very good assassin if she didn’t, Cleo. What if she accidentally poisoned herself?”
Spark scoffed. “Wouldn’t be a very good assassin if she poisoned herself, either.”
“Exactly.”
The voice had come from the cell. A high voice that now, no longer muffled by the nidoking horn, had an aggressive undertone. It seemed to contrast with the zorua’s sparkling eyes and small, pointed features which were blanketed in an oddly shaggy coat that looked like it needed a good groom. Add to that the over-sized ears and Cleo found herself questioning the zorua’s age and gender. All of Hydreigon’s assassins were male, so Harlequin had taken Cleo by surprise at first. Now she was doubting herself. Was this zorua merely a cub? A formidable cub? No… that was impossible. The name ‘Harlequin’ had been circling for many seasons.
“Oh. You’re awake.” Tinker turned back to the zorua’s bag. “That’s convenient. We have some questions for you.”
Harlequin rolled over onto their stomach and pushed up into a sitting position. They lifted their right paw and flexed their claws. “Looks like the little squirt’s paralysis is wearing off.” They grinned at Cleo and her friends. “I’ll be out of here before you know it.”
“Squirt!?” Spark spluttered electricity, sending a stray jolt into Tinker’s fur. “I have every right mind to shock you again!”
“Don’t.” Tinker smoothed the fur around his shoulders and cast Harlequin a glare. “He can’t do anything. That collar represses all his special attacks, and the bars on that cage are designed to restrain a dragon-danced salamence.”
“Oh really?” Harlequin opened their jaws wide, then a look of bewilderment crossed the zorua’s features. They snapped their jaw shut again and licked their lips, lowering their head.
Tinker raised an eyebrow. “Trying a dark pulse? Try all you want. It’s pointless.”
Harlequin pawed at the collar with a back leg, shoving it to force it past their ears to no avail. “What on earth is this?”
“Science.” Tinker returned to rummaging through the zorua’s bag. “Now… am I right in assuming that one of these bottles is an antidote for the nidoking horn?”
“I don’t carry an antidote.”
“Really?” Tinker looked up at Harlequin with some surprise. “Seems rather foolish.”
“What would be foolish is poisoning myself on my own weapon,” Harlequin explained. “A good assassin doesn’t make it to my level by poisoning themselves. And, if you know my reputation, you’ll know that I’m an elite.”
“An elite who is now trapped behind bars.”
Harlequin’s fur bristled along their back and their hackles rose. If Tinker noticed he didn’t react.
He looked up at the door. “Where on earth is that nurse? Now…” He reached into the bag and pulled out a long string of black thong. A heavy golden ring swung from it, and inside it a strange orb twirled back and forth on a pin. “What is this? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Harlequin’s eyes widened, blazing with a sapphire fire. “Put that back!”
“Here, Cleo. Have you ever seen one of these?” Tinker handed the necklace to Cleo.
“Put it back!” With what strength they had left, Harlequin launched a full-body tackle at the bars. Their jaws fastened around it, snarling and snapping, scrabbling with their claws.
Cleo feared for a moment that the zorua might slip through the bars, but that was impossible. She watched as Harlequin gnawed at the metal bars, leaving a streak of bloody saliva along the rough metal. She tore her eyes away to examine the strange item in her paws. It was heavy, and the orb appeared to be made from glass. A black and white shape coiled down the centre of it, which seemed to warp as the glass ball rotated in its golden prison.
Cleo shook her head and handed it back to Tinker. “I’ve no idea what it is. But going off her reaction, I’d say it’s pretty important.”
Tinker nodded, glancing a the zorua. “I’d say so. Harlequin! What is this?”
Harlequin lay with their jaws still fastened around the bar, breathing heavily. Their eyes were wild and fierce, almost insane.
Tinker nodded again and handed the item back to Cleo. “Keep hold of it. I want to make sure it’s well out of Harlequin’s reach, while we work out what it is.”
“No!” Harlequin barked. “Put it back! Give it back, right now!”
“Are you going to tell us what it is?” Tinker demanded.
“Not yours! Now put! It! Back!” With each word, Harlequin thrashed their paws against the iron bars.
The door to the room opened and an audino poked her head around it. “My. What a racket!” She stepped into the room and pointed a wary claw at Harlequin who was once again gnashing at the bars. “Is he the one you want me to treat?”
“No, no.” Tinker waved a dismissive paw at the whimsicott, who was now starting to stir. “It’s him. He passed out with exhaustion.”
The audino crouched down beside Mischief. “He seems to be waking up, but I’ll give him a check over. Can you stand?”
Mischief sat up and rubbed his fluffy head. He grimaced and removed his paw, looking at it as if it had morally offended him. “Why do I hurt?”
“Because Cleo dropped you,” said Spark with a grin. “Twice!”
“What?” He looked up at Cleo, who flushed and diverted her gaze. “Why?”
“Come on.” The audino looped her arm around him and helped him to his feet. “I’ll get you some fresh oran juice.”
“Where am I? It smells funny.”
The pair left the room, their voices soon drowned out by Harlequin’s frantic screams.
“Cleo.” Tinker drew the meowstic’s eye. “Let’s finish this conversation in the staff room, where it’s quieter. No one will be in there right now, so we can go over what I want you to do.”
Cleo pursed her lips. That didn’t sound reassuring. “But… we’ve not asked-”
“Later.” Tinker waved a paw. “He’s not going to tell us anything in this state, is he?”
Harlequin’s cries had finally come to a stop. They lay panting with one paw stretched through the bars of their cell. Their eyes lacked that fierce fire, now angry and wet with unshod tears.
Tinker ushered Cleo from the room, and Spark hopped from the desk to Cleo’s shoulder as she turned to leave. Her mind was swirling with questions, and she was silently grateful that Tinker wanted to relocate them elsewhere. Without Harlequin as a distraction, nor listening in, Cleo could voice them without concern.
The staff room was located a short distance from the private cells, two doors along. She assumed the other door lead to another private cell, and she briefly wondered if anyone was occupying it. The staff room was pleasantly less musty than the other rooms, with a sharp clean, clinical scent that stung her nose as she entered. The lack of mildew marring the walls suggested it had been scrubbed clean recently.
Tinker closed the door behind them and Cleo turned to face him.
“So what do you want to discuss?” She picked up a glass of hot berry juice from the table and warmed her paws with it. “Do you think Harlequin worked with that absol to poison the river?”
“The thought crossed my mind, and I won’t rule it out.” Tinker leant back against the table and sipped his own drink. “But that’s not why I brought you here, Cleo. The absol situation is being dealt with by a different Warrior team. But I do have a request of you.”
“Oh?” The note in his voice unsettled Cleo.
“I’m a little concerned.” Tinker swirled the contents of his glass. “No. Make that very concerned. This turn of events has set off my alarm bells. Since that noivern showed up in the area, Harlequin’s appearance has… raised some flags. Either there is something huge that Hydreigon is after in the Moorlands, or you three have a price on your heads.”
Spark mirrored Cleo’s wide-eyed expression and lowered a razz berry she’d harvested from the table. “Hang on! What are you suggesting?”
“I didn’t see the noivern’s body,” said Tinker. “So I can’t say for certain. But I am beginning to wonder if it was Boomer, one of Hydreigon’s aces, as you know. That would be the easiest explanation. Did Harlequin have a particular target in mind during your fight?”
“Yes.” Cleo’s mouth turned dry. “Mischief.”
“Oh yeah!” Spark nodded and took a bite of her berry. “Didn’t pay much attention to us two.”
“That cinches it then,” said Tinker. “If you’ve ticked off Hydreigon by killing one of his top aces, then this is huge. He is one ace down and will stop at nothing to exact revenge. This would be a prime opportunity to start thinking about moving in on Hydreigon and finally getting rid of him.”
Cleo’s glass shattered to the floor, and she leapt back as hot, sticky liquid sloshed over her paws. She fixed Tinker with a livid stare. “Are you crazy?! Move in on Hydreigon?! His army is… fifteen times the size of ours!”
“An over-exaggeration, Cleo.”
“I’d say its an under-exaggeration,” said Spark. “He outnumbers us a lot!”
Tinker waved a paw at the dedenne. “Allow me to continue, girls, please.”
Cleo bit her lip, but her glare never left the riolu.
“Since we’ve found Mischief, I’ve been doing some thinking,” Tinker explained. “If we found more of that new type, our armies would increase in strength significantly. We’d have a huge advantage and could turn things in our favour! Let’s face it, Cleo. Mischief’s glittering attack could likely take Hydreigon down in one hit! Imagine what an army could do?”
Cleo let out a flustered sigh and leant her paws on the table. “Okay, Tinker. You have a point. But where do we even start?”
“I haven’t a clue,” said Tinker. “But I’d start with seeking out where Mischief came from. If there are more of his type there, then you could find out where they originated. Perhaps even recruit them.”
Cleo’s livid glare returned and she flashed her canines. Spark spluttered out her berry.
“The Heretics?!” they snapped.
“You seriously have some questionable ideas, Tinker,” Cleo growled.
“This is only a suggestion,” said Tinker. “But given Mischief appears to have come from a Heretic laboratory, there’s no saying the bio-weapons they create are being turned into such voluntarily. Don’t rubbish it before you’ve uncovered anything. There’s every possibility Mischief is merely a victim. Now…” He gazed into his glass, choosing his words carefully. “This brings me to the next part of my request. I want the three of you to take Harlequin with you.”
Cleo’s jaw fell open and she found herself at a total loss for words.
“Yeah…” Spark frowned up at Tinker. “You’ve completely lost it.”
“Harlequin?” Cleo spat. “You want us to take an assassin with us?! She should remain behind bars! It’s dangerous to drag her around with us! There’s no way she’ll co-operate!”
“Yeah, she could kill us!” Spark squeaked. Then she paused, thought briefly and added, “She’ll definitely kill us!”
“I’ve considered all that,” said Tinker.
“What, in the five minutes you’ve had her here?” Cleo’s tails bristled like a pair of cacti. “Why on earth should we be expected to drag one of Hydreigon’s most dangerous murderers with us?”
“As a hostage.” Tinker fixed Cleo with his good eye. “Let’s face it, Cleo. If Harlequin has been sent after you, and doesn’t report back, then it won’t be long until Hydreigon sends out his other aces to target you.”
A chill ran through Cleo’s body, and she felt the blood leave her cheeks.
“Exactly,” Tinker said, reading her perfectly. “That means Enigma, Ripwing… and Howlinger and the Wildfires.”
“Howlinger…” Cleo put a paw to her head. Everything began to spin and turn fuzzy, replaced with the image of a blazing forest and hundreds of black, howling shadows racing through her mind. A blazing inferno of death and destruction.
And it would be coming for her once more.
“Cleo?” Tinker rose to his feet, but his voice sounded echoey. Disjointed from reality.
The last thing Cleo remembered seeing was the room on its side.
Hello hello hello! I've seen you around a lot, both here and on Serebii and I always thought you were cool and I enjoy talking to fellow Christians. I read some of Pokemon:Life when it was on Serebii and I like your writing style. I know this fic was finished there, but when I saw you were uploading a revised edition, I figured I might as well go ahead and take a gander at it.
And I really, really like it. A lot. Overall, it has a very strong Redwall vibe: cute little critters live in a dark world attacked by an evil power and they're doing what they can to survive and bring justice and hope to those living in their world. And I think it works very well with your writing style. The way you describe scenes and settings, especially the focus on what things sound and smell like, really adds to it. I haven't read much in the style of Pokemon Mystery Dungeon, and I was pleasantly surprised when I realized just how much I like this fic. I don't normally go for those that have only Pokemon as characters, but with this, it just works. You make them a bit animalistic (Spark's size, her peference for berries, Cleo's preference for fish) and it gives a wonderful feel to it all. The breakfast scene at the beginning of chapter 2 feels like something straight out of the Redwall books! Those were wonderful about detailing food and feasts, and I think you did a wonderful job on setting the breakfast scene without going too far into every little detail about the food.
The worldbuilding here is very strong. New City feels like a tangible place, though I kept on wondering: what's the light source for New City if it's underground? Do they have torches in the walls or something? But I enjoy the market stalls and your food scenes there. The Moorlands forest reminds me of the Mirkwood forest from the Hobbit: the darkness, the silence, and the importance of its location to the mountains and a subterranean location. Are you a Tolkein fan?
I also like this little comment:
Now he spent his time probing the minds of the reluctant dark pokemon in their custody.
‘His attacks may not damage them, but a brain is still a brain,’ Tinker had told her when she’d enquired about this, many years ago when she was new to the Guild.
I like this because you make it clear about how psychic and dark powers work but you do so at an appropriate time so it doesn't come across as overly-expository or contrived.
I'm looking forward to more interaction between the Outcasts and the Heretics. It was interesting to see the Heretics do a 180 on Tinker and Skipper once they found out that they were Guild members and, instead of accepting their help to purify the river, tried to attack them. We got a bit of an explanation on the Guild's and the Heretics's histories, and we have the Heretics' experimenting on Mischief, but I really want to see more direct interaction. I know this fic still has a long way to go, and we're still in the beginning, so there's plenty of time. I'm looking forward to it!
You also set up some real good, shocking and gut punching moments. One of my favorites was the dam made of Seviper remains. The buildup was strong, and it came as a creepy, scary shock to see the CORPSES piled on top of each other to stop the flow of water. It was another detail that reminded me, "Oh yeah, this world is scary and can be awful sometimes." Another one that hit me strongly was when they realized that Mischief didn't have ANY memories and thus didn't know about the state of the world. That went way over my head until it was explicitly pointed out, and my reaction was probably the same as the characters :O
Also, I dig the banner in your signature. It has an old-school Neopets feel to me, though I don't know if it was intentional or not. I think it's great!
In the first chapter, I had a hard time wrapping my head around why exactly Cleo was in trouble. Tinker didn't strike me as a very strong leader for getting upset at her for prioritizing the well-being of Pokemon over the escape of dragons. Though I can tell that he has some ingrained hatred for them, considering their whole situation.
The further south they went, the less red crosses they’d find.
You've also definitely set up a lot of intrigue surrounding Mischief. At first, I wasn't totally sold on the idea that Cleo and Spark were letting him trail them "for company," but as it progressed and there were clearly no memories left within him, he became much more interesting. As a character, he brought a lot of change in the fic. His pulverizing that noivern was seriously creepy. I thought this would be a more cutesy fic until you described his unhinged smile, creepy laugh, and paws drenched in blood. Sounds like the Redwall badgers on the Bloodwrath. And his sudden strength, unknown dual typing and lack of memories really add to the plot! But when they came to New City with Mischief for the first time, did he still have the bloodstains from noivern on his paws and body? Sounds like that attack would leave quite a splatter, and I feel like Tinker would notice it but he seemed totally unaware.
Of the chapters I read, chapter 4 was so far my favorite. It was very quiet after an eventful few chapters and it explained a lot. Tinker asking Cloe to join him for a walk also felt a little more vulnerable than from what we've seen of him so far--even though he seems to be scolding her more than anything now, I get the idea that he genuinely enjoys her company. And from later chapters, it seems like he holds affection for her (and Spark was pointing out :P).
Character-wise, I think you've got a very strong sense set of characters. Spark and Cloe's friendship feels genuine, like they've known and worked closely together for a long time. You've got some cute banter in there, like:
“I’m so confuzzled I can’t stop eating!”
Cleo ventured another of her pecha-coated fish. “That’s the norm for you.”
“Oi!” Spark dropped her berry and placed her paws on her hips. “Are you callin’ me fat?”
“No, I’m calling you a bottomless pit.”
“Oh.” Spark nodded and returned to her breakfast. “That’s okay then.”
It's a cute character moment! And Spark's comments reflect my thoughts, haha. It's little scenes like this that I find very enjoyable and that I think you're very good at. Cleo's motherliness and gentleness really comes across in her later interactions with Mischief, particularly when she gives him a choice to leave instead of going ahead with them. I thought it was a good moment for her, and something Mischief probably needed, whereas Tinker's desire to experiment on him and hope that he could be a weapon against the darkness came across as utilitarian.
And you do a great job with the others, too, like my previous thoughts on Mischief. Tinker comes across as overly-harsh at first, but he considerably warms up later on. Just from the opening paragraph, Yurlik reminds me of the raven characters from Redwall! Skipper is also a cool Pokemon (I really like Marshtomp in general) and his accent makes him more memorable. What did you base it off of?
I find it interesting to use a Zorua as one of the most feared Pokemon the Guild knows of. I know they have strong powers, though it is still unevolved. Are Zoroark not around? Granted, I can tell that this particular Zorua is feared, though I still don't know much about him other than that he's an (apparently successful) assassin. Speaking of Harlequin, I got him mixed up with Harbinger at first until I did a double-take and realized my mistake. It was a treat to see Harbinger come back in the later chapters, and he also brings up intriguing questions: why were Absols banished and driven to (attempted) extinction? How did he (or his parents) manage to escape? Why is he so set on stopping the Darkness? I think we have plenty to look forward to with him.
Some line comments that I noticed:
He lowered his paws from his muzzle to absently toy with the everstone hanging around his neck.
“Actually, if you don’t mind…” Tinker lifted a paw to stop her. “I don’t allow food in my office. Berry juice makes an awful mess, and I have important documents everywhere.”
She didn't look behind her, but the soft shuffle of paws over stone told her he was following. And that the former spring in his step had been brutally beaten out of him.
I like seeing cordiality from villains. It makes them seem more humane.
And that's all I have, which, for reading 11 chapters, I realize is not that much. But I really, really like this fic and I'm so glad that you posted it here. You've got us set up with an interesting lot of characters and an intriguing world that I just can't wait to keep looking into and learn more about it. Thanks again so much for posting this here, and I look forward to more!
Hello hello hello! I've seen you around a lot, both here and on Serebii and I always thought you were cool and I enjoy talking to fellow Christians. I read some of Pokemon:Life when it was on Serebii and I like your writing style. I know this fic was finished there, but when I saw you were uploading a revised edition, I figured I might as well go ahead and take a gander at it.
Hi there! =D I also enjoy a good chat with fellow Christians!
I am so stoked you are reading this! Your review was really enjoyable to read! Thank you so much! =D Ah yes... I remember Pokemon:Life. Kinda sad I lost my groove for it =( Maybe I'll revive it in the future?
The breakfast scene at the beginning of chapter 2 feels like something straight out of the Redwall books! Those were wonderful about detailing food and feasts, and I think you did a wonderful job on setting the breakfast scene without going too far into every little detail about the food.
Redwall is a huge inspiration for me! The vibe may be down to me re-reading some of them before I got stuck into re-writing this (although I've always enjoyed animal-centric stories, and Redwall is a major one there.) The food scenes were very much inspired by my re-reads. I didn't go into such detail, or have such variety, in the first write-up iirc.
I don't normally go for those that have only Pokemon as characters, but with this, it just works. You make them a bit animalistic (Spark's size, her peference for berries, Cleo's preference for fish) and it gives a wonderful feel to it all.
The worldbuilding here is very strong. New City feels like a tangible place, though I kept on wondering: what's the light source for New City if it's underground? Do they have torches in the walls or something?
Thank you. I enjoy my world-building. As for the light source, they do indeed use torches. I think I mentioned them lighting up the stairwell, but didn't mention they also adorn the walls of the market ground and every tunnel.
The Moorlands forest reminds me of the Mirkwood forest from the Hobbit: the darkness, the silence, and the importance of its location to the mountains and a subterranean location. Are you a Tolkein fan?
I read The Hobbit years ago, so I'm not sure if that was a direct inspiration? I like the similarity though. And I do actually want to re-read The Hobbit.
You also set up some real good, shocking and gut punching moments. One of my favorites was the dam made of Seviper remains. The buildup was strong, and it came as a creepy, scary shock to see the CORPSES piled on top of each other to stop the flow of water. It was another detail that reminded me, "Oh yeah, this world is scary and can be awful sometimes."
Oh man, some disturbing things happen. Like you said, a reminder that it is a dark and scary world. I've questioned my sanity before now XD I don't ever want to go too far with the descriptions however, so this will never be rated any higher than an FFNet Teen Rating.
Also, I dig the banner in your signature. It has an old-school Neopets feel to me, though I don't know if it was intentional or not. I think it's great!
In the first chapter, I had a hard time wrapping my head around why exactly Cleo was in trouble. Tinker didn't strike me as a very strong leader for getting upset at her for prioritizing the well-being of Pokemon over the escape of dragons.
It was more a case of the majority over the minority, and Cleo was focusing on a small number of wounded individuals as opposed to thoroughly driving out the dragons from the town.
Of the chapters I read, chapter 4 was so far my favorite. It was very quiet after an eventful few chapters and it explained a lot. Tinker asking Cloe to join him for a walk also felt a little more vulnerable than from what we've seen of him so far--even though he seems to be scolding her more than anything now, I get the idea that he genuinely enjoys her company. And from later chapters, it seems like he holds affection for her (and Spark was pointing out :P).
Character-wise, I think you've got a very strong sense set of characters. Spark and Cloe's friendship feels genuine, like they've known and worked closely together for a long time. You've got some cute banter in there
Skipper's accent is based off the Scottish one. He's always had it, and I decided to build on it more this time. I even have a page of Scottish words in my Scrivener file to dip into from time to time XD
I find it interesting to use a Zorua as one of the most feared Pokemon the Guild knows of. I know they have strong powers, though it is still unevolved. Are Zoroark not around?
Zoroark are around... Harlequin should be the one named Enigma really, with all their little mysteries =P (This was originally the case when I first designed these characters well before working on The End, but for some reason their names ended up swapped and I cannot remember why.)
It was a treat to see Harbinger come back in the later chapters, and he also brings up intriguing questions: why were Absols banished and driven to (attempted) extinction? How did he (or his parents) manage to escape? Why is he so set on stopping the Darkness? I think we have plenty to look forward to with him.
Tinker being a hypocrite. He can eat in his office, because he won't make a mess. But he doesn't trust anyone else!
Thanks again! =D
After this chapter, there will be a short break of approximately 1-4 weeks! This is due to holiday, and the fact I want to wrap up Part 2 and do banner art for it. I'm almost done with Part 2 - I have half a chapter to write, and some tidying up of the new plot elements I've added in. Part 2 is where most of the changes from the first write-up will take place, and I want to make sure it's as smoothly integrated as possible. I don't want the break between updates to be too long, as weekly works for me. Just please be assured I have not abandoned this story! The wait will most likely be on the shorter end of my guess-timate!
13 - The Hostage
The Moorlands Forest lay blanketed in night, the pale moonlight barely penetrating the sparse canopy. It was exactly how Enigma liked it.
He perched on the thick bough of a tree with his head on one side, blending into the shadows that wrapped up the tree’s sturdy trunk. There it was again. A deep rumble like thunder, rolling overhead and fading out into silence. Unlike thunder, it wasn’t difficult to pinpoint. Enigma turned to his right and warped across the canopy towards it. Each time the noise broke the air it was louder. Good. That meant he was going the right way.
The trees parted, and the air rippled over Enigma’s body. A soft tingle that froze him in the spot. He scrambled over spindly branches before his chosen tree turfed him onto the ground. Once he was steady, he gazed over at his surroundings. The trees had parted, giving way to a large clearing that housed a squat building. It glowed white as the moonlight poured down onto it, and above the door was the familiar crescent-shaped logo the Heretics had adopted.
That rumble resounded again, thudding against Enigma’s eardrums. He snapped his head towards it, spotting a pair of lycanroc moseying around the corner of the building. Midday and midnight. The latter wheeled a wheelbarrow laden with something that glistened red when the light caught it. The sharp smell of blood wafted up on the wind, causing Enigma to rise slightly for a better look, but the pair vanished out of sight. The banette stealthily slipped into the shadows and warped himself across the canopy to land neatly in the trees on the opposite side of the building.
He tipped his head on one side and let out a curious ‘oh?’
Sitting beside the building was a large tyranitar, its limbs bound with heavy chains. The ground around it was scuffed bare of grass and any other foliage, and deep grooves spread out a foot in each direction. The side of the wall was coated with a heavy metal sheet, scratched and beaten out of shape. An afterthought to counteract a rampage, most likely. Enigma assumed as much from the tyranitar’s face alone. Its eyes were wild, and it bared its teeth as the two lycanroc rounded the building.
A deep, resonating roar left the tyranitar’s throat, and the midday lycanroc bared her own teeth back at it.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “I get it! You’re hungry. Well, here you go, big guy. Aunt Roxie’s here with your din-dins.”
The tyranitar struggled to its feet, stooping as the chains fastened to its tiny arms reached their full length. It thrashed, bringing its tail into the metal sheet with a deafening clang. The midday lycanroc flinched back from the noise and snapped her ears against her skull.
She turned her head towards her ally and bristled. “Lou!”
The midnight lycanroc dropped the leg of meat he’d been chewing on and fixed the female with a wounded look.
“That’s for B!” She nodded to the tyranitar. “Give it its dinner, you dumb lug!”
The midnight lycanroc let out a low growl and tipped the wheelbarrow’s contents onto the floor by the tyranitar’s feet. He leapt back as the massive creature lunged, jaws snapping. The lycanroc yelped and dashed out of the way, clutching his bushy tail in both paws.
Roxie shook her head slowly. “Never learn, do ya, you idiot?”
The pair froze as the tinkle of a bell rang out over the gnashing, hungry jaws of the tyranitar. Enigma appeared before them, folding his arms as he looked over the ravenous creature. The tyranitar snapped up the pile of fresh meat, fixing one eye on the assassin. A wild eye filled with unreachable madness.
Roxie was the first to recover, standing with her tail erect and ears pricked.
“What are you doing here?!” she barked. “Thought this place was hidden.”
Lou licked his bloody paw in a way Enigma felt was meant to be intimidating. It didn’t work.
“I followed this guy’s cries.” Enigma nodded to the tyranitar which was now much more interested in demolishing the thick thigh bone it had found. “But… I’m actually here to speak to whoever is in charge.”
“That would be Rio,” said Roxie. “But he’s busy. What’s Hydreigon sent you here for?”
Enigma stared into her eyes, and her stoic demeanour melted away in a heartbeat. Her ears pulled back and her bushy tail lowered between her legs.
“I can take a message, is what I’m sayin’,” she said.
“I need to speak to him personally,” said Enigma. “I’m not one to give important messages to inferiors.”
Lou let out a low growl at that, but he kept his distance. Nevertheless, Enigma found himself locked in the lycanroc’s crazed crimson gaze.
“Take the front entrance,” Roxie told him. “You’ll find Rio in his office.”
“And where’s his office?” Enigma asked.
Roxie looked past the tyranitar towards the far corner of the building. “Right at the back.”
“Perfect.” Enigma turned his back on her. “I appreciate the help.”
Her protests fell on deaf ears as Enigma marched past the tyranitar, too busy with its meal to give Enigma the time of day. The banette cast a curious glance at it, straining against its chains to reach the meat that had fallen a little out of its reach.
Enigma melted through the walls of the building, eliciting a yelp of surprise from a plusle and minun. They leapt to the side with their backs pressed against the wall, wearing twin expressions of terror. Enigma grinned at them and looked up at the pristine white walls on either side.
“I appear to have miscalculated,” he purred. “Where can I find Rio?”
The minun pointed a claw down the hallway. “Turn right.”
Enigma nodded and marched past them, his claws clicking on the tiled floor.
“But it’s authorised pokemon only,” said the plusle.
Enigma didn’t look back as he continued along the narrow hallway. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll see me.”
He wound through the corridor, his bell ringing with each step, drawing curious and fearful eyes from an open door. The corridor ended at a closed set of double doors. The right one wore a sign that said ‘authorised pokemon only’. Enigma grinned and phased through it into a cloud of medical stink. He tried not to cough, instead leaning against the door with a deliberate ring of his bell.
A meowstic stood leaning over his desk, and he stiffened at the sound, one tightly curled ear flicking back towards the door. He looked up slowly at Enigma, but all the banette could see was his eyes. The bottom half of his face was hidden behind a medical mask Enigma assumed was more to block out the smell than for the pokemon’s own safety. If he was scared, he didn’t show it.
“Rio, I assume?” said Enigma.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” said Rio. “It’s dangerous.”
Enigma looked over at the shelves that adorned the walls, filled with tubes, vials, and neatly organised folders and boxes.
“I’m rather curious to know what you do here,” he said. “I just met your pet.”
Rio lowered his mask from his face. “Pet?”
“The tyranitar, outside, in chains.” Enigma folded his arms and smirked at him. “Quite a curious way to detain someone, wouldn’t you say?”
“The tyranitar is sick,” said Rio. “It’s outside for the safety of itself and others.”
“Sick how?”
“Parasite,” Rio explained. “It’s taken over the poor creature’s brain. Why are you really here, Enigma? For more information?”
Enigma clicked his tongue. “So you are the ones who sent Boomer with a message?”
“Yes.” Rio sighed and ran a paw through the fur between his ears. “Then if Lord Hydreigon sent you back here, was the message not enough?”
“You could say that.” Enigma smirked and folded his arms. “It never reached him.”
The meowstic’s eyes darted around the room before finally settling back on Enigma’s. “How?”
“He was killed,” Enigma said bluntly. “By a whimsicott, apparently.”
“A whimsicott?” Rio popped a claw into his mouth and his eyes turned distant.
Enigma tapped his claws along his arm as he watched Rio seemingly drift off into his own little world. Enigma had a lot of patience, but it was growing thin watching Rio idly nibbling his claw.
The assassin chuckled and covered his face with a paw. “Starting to get a little bored, here, Rio.” He looked up sharply as Rio came back to his senses. “And when I’m bored, I like to find new ways to entertain myself.”
Rio went rigid and he stuttered. “Sorry, Enigma. I was just thinking…”
“Think on your own time,” Enigma growled. “I’m trying to gather important information here.”
“Yes, certainly. It’s just… the whimsicott… I…” Rio cleared his throat. “The information I gave Boomer, it took a little while to explain. Do you have a while to spare?”
“No.”
“Ah.” Rio nodded and leant back on his desk. “Then I guess I’ll have to just show you. It’s ground-breaking, Enigma. Evolution is happening.”
Enigma spat at that. “Evolution? That’s your ground-breaking discovery? Do you have berries for brains? Pokemon evolve every day.” Enigma jabbed a claw into his scarf. “I used to be a shuppet. Did you hatch a meowstic?”
“Not that kind!” Rio snapped, then quickly back-pedalled at Enigma’s cold stare.
Good choice. Getting short tempered with an assassin was never a good idea.
Rio smoothed out his fur again and took a trembling breath. “This isn’t like your basic evolution from caterpie to butterfree, or onix to steelix. This is a rare phenomenon, evolution on a different scale. You might call it survival.” He paused as if for dramatic flair and gave an over-confident smile. “It’s a new type.”
“A new type?” Well that was interesting. Enigma settled back against the door and waved a paw at Rio. “Go on.”
“We’ve not named it yet, since we don’t know much about it,” Rio explained. “It’s just codenamed Type18. It cropped up randomly in our lab three seasons ago. One of our participants happened to have a child that possessed this new type. An azurill.”
When Enigma didn’t respond, Rio took the cue to continue.
“We discovered it quite by accident,” he said. “The azurill was at the age where he’d make quite a nuisance of himself. He angered two of the axew here and one of them retaliated with a dragon rage. It didn’t even phase the azurill. Washed right over him like water off a ducklett’s back.”
Enigma’s crimson eyes widened. “He resisted a dragon attack?”
“He didn’t resist it, Enigma, he was immune to it.”
Enigma didn’t know what to say. This was huge news. He wasn’t even entirely sure he believed it.
“This is why we requested Boomer,” said Rio. “So he could see it for himself.”
Enigma nodded and gazed over at the window behind Rio. Of course, one could only believe such a thing if they saw it with their own eyes. No pokemon had ever been immune to a dragon-type attack. It was one of the reasons they were so feared. Few pokemon could stand up to them, and those that could had been driven to the brink of extinction, if not wiped out entirely. Other than the weavile that so loyally served Hydreigon, no one had seen an ice-type in years. If Hydreigon was suddenly told that there was a new type that didn’t quake at his dragon pulse there was a huge chance he would laugh it off, then sentence the messenger to death. Having one of his loyal aces experience it for himself… Boomer wouldn’t have outright lied to Hydreigon. Hydreigon would have no choice but to believe it.
“We ran some tests while Boomer was here,” Rio went on. “He brought some murkrow with him, as requested. Aside from the tyranitar, who is completely untrustworthy due to its condition, we have no dark-types here in the laboratory. This meant we weren’t able to see how Type18 fared against every single type in Estellis.” Rio paused, reading Enigma’s expression. Satisfied the banette was clearly interested, he went on, “It turns out Type18 isn’t immune to dark-type moves, but it is resistant.”
“And does this ‘Type18’ possess any attacks?” Enigma asked.
“Not from the azurill,” said Rio. “But new moves had cropped up in our labs over the past few seasons. Ones we didn’t recognise. Going off their sparkly appearance and their ability to floor our fighting-type subj… participants, we just assumed they were new psychic-type moves.”
Enigma folded his arms and tapped his claws along one, glaring at the meowstic.
Rio sank further back against his desk and raised his paws. “You can’t fault us on that! We didn’t expect moves of a new type to crop up like this! No one was expecting it.”
“I suppose.” Enigma’s voice was laced with danger that pushed Rio’s fur on end.
Regardless, the meowstic continued, avoiding Enigma’s eyes as if he was looking for a quick way to escape. “When we explained this to Boomer, he wanted to see if these new moves were linked to Type18. We called out one of the pokemon who had demonstrated these moves, a cherrim. After seeing this ray of purple light knock out both axew in one hit, Boomer was angry. He accused the axew of being weaklings and stepped in to try it himself. When the attack hit him, it knocked him right off his feet. He was aghast.”
“And what of the murkrow?” Enigma asked.
“Wiped out instantly.”
Enigma scratched his head as he took all this in, gazing once again towards the window. A deep, repetitive rumble came from outside. Snores from the slumbering tyranitar. So there was a new type… one that could fare rather well against both dragon and dark-type pokemon. Perhaps it was a good thing the news never reached Hydreigon? If he found out about it, he could cause an uproar. Or an all-out war… destroying the peace that had managed to settle over Estellis in a desperate bid to wipe out any pokemon that could use this type. Every single pokemon that was neither dragon- nor dark-type.
Enigma smirked and wound his claws into his mane. And where would that leave him?
“Has something amused you?” Rio asked.
Enigma let out a sigh and turned back to Rio. “Have you considered the repercussions that giving this information to Hydreigon could raise?”
“I thought it would leave us in his favour, actually.”
Enigma shook his head and laughed. “Oh, you poor pathetic creature.”
Rio shifted uneasily and wound his paws together. “How is this not beneficial to Lord Hydreigon? He gets a heads-up about it, it’s brought to his attention, and he learns to counter it! We continue our research here, finding their weak-”
“Picture this.” Enigma looked up suddenly, cutting Rio off. “You sent Boomer back to the Shadow Lands to tell Hydreigon of this, but on his way Boomer was killed. A noivern, who is a formidable force in the dark and no easy feat to face in the day either. And he wasn’t taken down by an ice-type, or anything else you may think might get the upper paw. No, he is defeated by a whimsicott. You know… the little grass pompom that likes to pull pranks? Hardly a threat to a dragon, is it? And Boomer wasn’t just defeated, Rio. That whimsicott took a dragon pulse head on. From what the few murkrow that survived could tell us, he wasn’t even singed! As for Boomer, he was reduced to a bloody pulp.
“This whimsicott could only have done that if he was exceptionally powerful. Ordinarily they’re not much of a threat to a dragon. So tell me how a whimsicott could easily take down a dragon, and not just any dragon but Hydreigon’s number one ace?”
Rio stuttered for a moment and glanced at the floor. “I… I guess it must have possessed Type18.”
“Exactly, and not just carried it but used its attacks.” Enigma gave him a wicked grin. “So knowing that, Hydreigon isn’t exactly going to be impressed to learn of this ‘Type18’ as you so proudly put it. No, this type hasn’t just manifested in your labs, Rio. It’s out there!” Enigma waved a paw towards the window. “It’s out there, and it’s real, and it’s posing a threat! Now, how do you think Hydreigon, your ruler who is both dark- and dragon-type, will react when he hears about this news?”
Rio grimaced and steadied himself against his desk with both paws. “He’s… going to start a war…”
Enigma nodded. “He’s going to start a war.”
“But… we’re the Shining Moon. We’re on his side, so we’ll be okay.” Rio looked up to find Enigma smirking at him. “Right?”
“What? A group of Heretics who’ve been nurturing this type in their labs for goodness knows how long?” Enigma’s smirk fell into a terrifying glare. “I wouldn’t count your blessings.”
Rio visibly quaked, causing the quills on his desk to rattle in their pot.
“I’m going to do some more sniffing around to see how big this threat really is before I report back to my boss.” Enigma turned with a flourish for the door and paused with his paw above the handle.
“What if we capture this whimsicott for you?”
Enigma looked back at Rio. “You want to capture him?”
“Yes,” said Rio. “Yes. Anything! If we can catch him, then we can turn him over to Lord Hydreigon for execution.”
“It’s already being dealt with,” said Enigma. “Harlequin was sent after that whimsicott and his two allies. If I know Harlequin like I think I do, he’ll have killed all three of them by now.”
“But we know this forest,” Rio explained. “We know the nooks and crannies pokemon can hide. We might be able to find them before Harlequin does.”
“You really think you can manage that?” Enigma couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fine. Do what you want. In fact!” He fixed Rio with a playful smirk. “If you do capture that whimsicott, find me. I’ll take them back to Hydreigon myself and put in a good word for you.”
Rio blinked with surprise. “You’d do that?”
“If you play your cards right.”
Enigma shut the door behind him and marched down the corridor through the nearest wall. He gave one glance back at the squat white building. There was little chance Rio would beat Harlequin to his targets, but Enigma hoped he’d succeed. It would certainly spice things up more than they already were. A new type… Enigma was in no rush to head back to the Shadow Lands. Not now. He had a lot of research to do. He chuckled and warped into the canopy, leaving the lab behind.
Things were starting to get very, very interesting.
...
Cleo groaned and rubbed a paw over her eyes. Her fur was clammy and damp, and cold bit through to her skin causing her to shudder. She burrowed beneath the thin blanket covering her, and her nose recoiled at the musty smell coming from it. It was like a wake-up slap, prompting her to shove it off and sit up on the bed of clean hay.
“Spark?”
Her voice came out as a strangled whisper and she licked her dry lips. It didn’t seem to help. It just made her more aware of the horrid taste filling her mouth. She swung herself off the bench and staggered, placing a paw to her head as the room began to spin. She muttered to herself, dragging her unwilling body towards the door. Perhaps some breakfast would help? Her stomach lurched at the thought and she clasped a paw over her mouth, pausing to lean against the door frame. Maybe not…
Once her stomach settled again, she tugged the door open to be greeted by a fog of musty air. She closed her eyes and sighed. Of course. She was still in those cells. It was all coming back to her now. Tinker had been explaining their situation to her and Spark, then everything went… hazy.
Where was he? Surely he wouldn’t leave her alone in the cells?
She worked her way towards the staff room, and faint voices came from beyond the closed door. One stood out from the rest. She let out a sigh of relief and nudged the door open.
Tinker sat around a table with Spark and two guards - a combusken and meinfoo. The group were enjoying a spread of dried meats and berries, which once again turned Cleo’s stomach. She leant her head against the wall and closed her eyes.
“Cleo!” Tinker exclaimed. “You shouldn’t be up! You look terrible!”
Cleo bit her lip. “Thanks.”
“Are you sick?” the meinfoo asked. “You shouldn’t keep pokemon down here if they’re sick, Tinker, the air isn’t good for them.”
“She’s not sick, she merely fainted so I had her sent to the medical ward for a rest.” Tinker looked up at Cleo, catching her bleary gaze. “How are you? Rose said you were having feverish nightmares.”
Well that explained the clammy fur. She pushed herself from the door to approach the table, where she found a cool glass placed in her paws.
“Drink that,” said Tinker. “You’re probably dehydrated. It should help you feel better.”
Cleo took a grateful sip, finding it to be spring water. With some delight, she found her nausea began to settle. She muttered a thanks and sank down into a chair beside Tinker.
“So… have there been any developments with Harlequin?” Cleo asked.
Spark rolled an oran berry towards Cleo, and she took a cautious nibble as Tinker replied.
“Not yet,” he explained. “We left him be overnight. He seems to have tired himself out with hysteria.”
Cleo took a more confident bite of her berry. “Should we go and see her… him?”
“If you want to get things moving sooner rather than later?”
Cleo closed her eyes in a grimace and clasped her paw around her glass. She just wanted to get out of these stagnant cells, but she knew Tinker wouldn’t allow them to leave without their new burden. She’d already taken on Mischief, and now she was expected to drag an assassin around with them? It certainly wasn’t a welcome situation.
Her eyes snapped open and she looked around the room. “Wait… where’s Mischief?” She met Tinker’s eye. “I thought he’d be up by now.”
“He is,” said Tinker. “He was so grateful to Rose that he’s insisting on helping her out, so he’s doing the rounds with her.”
“Doing the rounds…?” Cleo asked.
“Yes. Checking on the health of our inmates,” Tinker explained. “You can’t exactly get information out of someone if they’re on death’s door, can you?” Tinker paused and a funny look crossed his features that Cleo couldn’t quite place. “Rose is… rather well received among the pokemon held here.”
The combusken seemed to frown at that and took a swig of his berry juice.
Checking the health of the inmates? It hardly seemed like a safe job to task an amnesiac with. Or was Tinker merely testing Mischief, putting him in a potentially dangerous situation? Either way, Cleo wasn’t happy with it.
“Well then.” She placed her paws on the table and pushed herself up. The room began to spin again, only with less ferocity than earlier. She masked it by leaning forward against the table. “I’m going to question Harlequin.”
“Alone?” Tinker watched as she strolled past him.
“Of course not, you dunce!” Spark scampered along the table and leapt up onto Cleo’s shoulder. She jabbed a thumb-claw into her chest. “She’s got me!”
Cleo looked back at Tinker. “But you can come if you want? It is you who wants me to drag Harlequin around while looking for some pokemon that may or may not exist.”
The two guards gasped and the combusken dropped his glass.
Tinker hissed at Cleo and waved a frantic paw. He then turned to address the stunned guards and smiled.
“This is a confidential Elite investigation,” he told them. “So if you could keep it secret, that would be appreciated?”
The meinfoo narrowed his eyes. “Of course.”
Tinker nodded and turned to leave, but the combusken’s voice froze him.
“You are aware that pokemon will find out about this anyway?”
Tinker looked back at him. “Yes. But if news gets out in less than two days, I’ll know it was one of you two, and you’ll both lose your rank.”
The combusken licked his beak and looked away. “I won’t say a word.”
The meinfoo shook his head rapidly and dragged a claw across his lips like a zipper.
“Good,” said Tinker. “Now finish up your breakfast and get back to work.”
He closed the door behind them and lead Cleo and Spark to Harlequin’s cell.
“You’ve still not explained how I’m meant to be doing this,” Cleo told him. “Am I just meant to expect her to obediently follow along?”
“I was going to explain things last night,” said Tinker. “But you made that rather difficult with your fainting spell.”
Cleo swished her tails.
“But never fret,” he went on. “I shall explain all in due time. Just… what?”
His paw hovered over the lock to the cell and he frowned at it. The door was slightly ajar, and voices came from the other side. He shoved the door open, revealing Rose the audino and Mischief. The pair were crouching by the cell bars, and Rose was talking in soft tones.
“What are you doing in here?” Tinker asked.
“Health check,” said Rose without looking up.
“Harlequin was the first one you checked this morning.” Tinker folded his arms. “The prisoners here only need one check. That was our agreement.
“Of course. But he’s paralysed, so I wanted to give him a second check-over.” Rose looked up at Tinker. “He’s not touched his berries.”
Cleo stepped further into the room to see into the cell. Harlequin was crouched against the far wall, their lips pulled back from their canines in a silent snarl.
Tinker placed a paw on Rose’s shoulder and tried to steer her away from the cell. “If he won’t touch his berries then leave him. I have work to do, as I’m sure you have your own duties?”
“I can’t just ignore a patient,” Rose protested. “If he won’t eat them then the paralysis won’t fully wear off.”
“That’s his problem.”
Rose dusted herself down and rose to her feet. “You need to have a little sympathy, Tinker.”
She fixed the riolu with a glare then turned from the room. She paused in the doorway and smiled at Mischief. “Thank you for your help.”
“Any time!” Mischief chirruped.
Rose cast another glare at Tinker before closing the door behind her.
Cleo watched after her. “Is she…?”
“A peace maker?” Mischief beamed up at her from beside the cell. “Yup!”
“It’s ‘peace enthusiast’,” Tinker spat. “And it’s entirely pointless. No one has ever made peace with a dark-type yet.”
Spark smirked. “Yet?”
Tinker lashed a paw in the air. “That audino can get under your skin! Drop it!”
Spark snapped her mouth shut and ducked into Cleo’s fur.
Tinker shook his head and moved over to the desk where he rummaged noisily in the drawers.
Cleo turned her back on him and approached the cell, drawing a threatening growl from its lone occupant.
“Are you ready to answer some questions?” Cleo asked.
Harlequin glared back at her, their livid eyes lighting up with sapphire flames. The fur along the zorua’s back stood on end, and they tucked their bushy tail into their side.
Cleo wasn’t sure what was worse. Harlequin’s silence, or the risk of another rampage. Getting information out of dark-types was never easy, but once behind bars with their comforts taken away, they were usually much more willing to speak. Not Harlequin. There was no bargaining for their freedom. No bargaining for their belongings back-
Cleo’s eyes widened and she reached into her bag, whipping out the strange orb that had prompted Harlequin’s outburst only hours before. The zorua’s sapphire glare snapped to it, and their growl cut off abruptly. The glare melted away to something unreadable. Fear? Anger? Sadness? Maybe all of them? Whatever it was, a reaction was still a reaction.
“What is this?” Cleo asked.
Harlequin said nothing, but their eyes didn’t leave the strange sphere, following its pendulum swing as it hung from Cleo’s paw.
“If you tell me,” Cleo said cautiously, “I just might give it back.”
Harlequin’s eyes snapped to Cleo, hard and cold as ice. As uninviting as a frozen lake in the dead of the cold season. Harlequin pushed themselves up with their forepaws until they were sitting at a lopsided angle. They licked their lips a few times then cleared their throat.
“I don’t know what it is.” The zorua’s voice came out hoarse and dry. “It belonged to a friend. It’s value is purely sentimental, and I want it back.”
Cleo returned her stare, unfazed by the zorua’s intimidating glare. “Not just yet. I have more questions for you.”
Harlequin’s lips curled back from their teeth, but there was no growl this time.
“Why did you poison the river?” Cleo asked.
“I didn’t poison any river!” Harlequin snapped.
“Really? We heard an absol has been sighted in the mountains, and is believed to have poisoned the river.” Cleo inclined her head on one side, noting a fleeting look of surprise on the zorua’s face. “You weren’t working with an absol?”
Harlequin lowered their head and licked their canines. “There aren’t any absol in the Shadow Lands. They’re enemies. They were driven out years ago. Killed. Each and every one of them.” A low growl rose in their throat. “Whoever told you they saw an absol is lying.”
Spark looked up at Cleo and shrugged. “They were Heretics. Maybe she’s right?”
“Okay, fine,” said Cleo. “Let’s say you aren’t responsible for the river then. What are you doing in the Moorlands? Why were you targeting us?”
Harlequin’s snarl turned into a sinister grin and a dry chuckle left their throat. “Because it’s my mission. I was told to assassinate a whimsicott and his friends. What… you think I have some deep-seated personal grudge or something?” The zorua smirked and inclined their head on one side. “I do now.”
Spark leapt from Cleo’s shoulder to land on her feet between Cleo and the iron bars. “You can’t intimidate us! Your threats will just be met with another jolt of electricity, zorua!”
Harlequin let out a lone laugh and lowered their head, fur bristling. “Bring it on, pipsqueak!”
“Enough!” Tinker barked. “This is not productive.”
Cleo folded her arms and shook her head at her small companion. “It was until Spark cut in.”
The dedenne’s ears drooped and she looked up at Cleo. “Hey!”
“She’s behind bars, Spark,” Cleo waved a paw at the cell.
Tinker grabbed her outstretched paw and placed a large white ring in it. Cleo blinked at the device. It wasn’t entirely dissimilar to Harlequin’s collar. In fact, it was very similar. The only difference was the size.
“Put that on your wrist,” Tinker told her.
“Why?” Cleo asked.
“You’ll see soon enough.” Tinker approached the cell and turned a key in the lock. “Mischief? Don’t you lift a paw unless I tell you to.”
Mischief nodded and took a step back.
Harlequin stood and began pacing back and forth by the door, watching Tinker intently. Their movements were stiff and sluggish, and they walked with a slight limp on their right paw. It didn’t hinder them though. As soon as the door was open, Harlequin lunged, crashing into him with a full-body tackle. The pair rolled in a frenzy of blue and black fur across the room.
“Tinker!” Cleo gasped.
“Put it on!” he barked.
The riolu, now abandoned, rose up against the wall, separated from Cleo by a snarling, crazed zorua. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. As Cleo fastened the bracelet around her wrist, Harlequin lunged towards her. Spark scattered, vanishing beyond the bars of the cell in a flurry of sparks. The electricity missed its target by a hair’s breadth. A loud click came from the bracelet as Cleo snapped it in place. Her heart was in her throat, eyes fixed on a set of snarling, glistening canines. They snapped shut mere millimetres from her muzzle. A surprised yelp came from the zorua as an invisible force shoved the pair apart. Cleo stood her ground, but Harlequin was slung across the room like a rag-doll. They landed hard on their side, skidding along the dirty floor in a shaggy heap.
Harlequin raised their head and shook it. “What the-?”
The assassin scrambled to their feet, fixing another livid glare on Cleo. “What did you do, meowstic? Your psychic shouldn’t affect me!”
They launched another attack, jaws snapping, only to be met with the same result. This time they landed on their feet, skidding on their pads. Claws raked up dust as they brought themselves to a stop by the cell door.
“What are you doing to me?” Harlequin hissed. Then they spotted the bracelet. “Is that some kind of shield?”
“You could say that.” Tinker stood in the corner of the room with his arms folded, a good distance away from Cleo.
Harlequin snapped their head around towards him and pounced. The zorua’s head snapped backwards with a yelp while their back feet continued on. They landed flat on their back with a sick thud. Harlequin groaned and flailed their paws before rolling over onto their stomach. Sapphire eyes fixed on the bracelet with a look of realisation, and a low growl left Harlequin’s throat.
Tinker’s eyes were glittering with glee. He pushed back from the wall, following it to Cleo’s side.
“You asked how you were meant to handle Harlequin,” he said. “This device is designed to keep its detained criminal locked in a two foot radius. Harlequin can’t move out of it, and, as you have discovered, he also can’t touch you.”
Cleo stared aghast at the bracelet. “How does it work?”
“It’s locked to your DNA,” Tinker explained. “This is why I took some of your hairs yesterday. The bracelet recognises you, and therefore repels the collar, resulting in repelling Harlequin.” Tinker grinned and rubbed his chin. “It’s nice to see that it actually works!”
Cleo rounded on him. “You didn’t even test this thing?!”
“Not extensively.” Tinker shrugged. “I tested it on a tree, a chair…”
“But no living pokemon?” Cleo had to restrain herself from blasting him with her psychic. “You just put me at risk, Tinker!”
“You were perfectly safe. I would have let no harm come to you or your friends.” Tinker smirked at the stunned zorua. “I’m fully capable of handling a dark-type in a one-on-one battle.”
Cleo rolled her eyes and turned away from him.
“So… if it repels Harlequin…” Spark hopped up onto Cleo’s shoulder. “That means I’m safe here, right?”
“Of course,” said Tinker. “Not only are Harlequin’s special attacks restrained by that collar, you are safe from all of his physical attacks so long as you are perched up there, or outside of the two foot radius. Like Mischief.”
Harlequin’s jaw dropped. “What?”
Mischief blinked a few times and rubbed his fluffy head. “I’m confused.”
Cleo stared at Tinker, aghast. “Tinker, I’ve not agreed to this!”
“Agreed to what?” Mischief sighed and spread his paws. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on? Is this more of your science?”
Tinker leant back against his desk and folded his arms. “I have requested you take Harlequin and go and look for more of this new type, like you have, Mischief.”
Harlequin’s mouth flapped open wordlessly and they pushed themselves back up onto their feet.
“I am not taking her!” Cleo snapped. “She’s dangerous! Not to mention she makes us a massive target to Hydriegon’s armies!”
“Hang on!” Harlequin gasped. “I am not going anywhere with you! And what do you mean ‘new type’?!”
“That is confidential to the Guild,” said Tinker. “And as for going with Cleo and her friends, I’m afraid you don’t have much choice.”
“I do.” Harlequin closed their eyes and puffed out their chest. “I just don’t have to move. It’s not as if you can touch me to drag me along now, is it, since your little device won’t let me touch you.”
“Cleo?” Tinker motioned for Cleo to follow him.
She sighed and slumped after the riolu towards the door. There was a slight tug at her bracelet, followed by a despairing yelp. Harlequin lay on their side, scrabbling with their paws as they were dragged effortlessly behind.
“Like I said.” Tinker placed a paw on Cleo’s shoulder to stop her. “You don’t have much choice.”
Cleo grimaced and turned her head away. She couldn’t help but feel those words weren’t only aimed at Harlequin.
...
The sun warmed Harbinger’s back as he sat looking out over the mountain. The warm rays shimmered off the swiftly moving water as it snaked its way through the forest, coating the neighbouring skeletal trees with its frothy foam.
Just like any other river, it flowed away from the Shadow Lands, as if the very water itself didn’t want to be there.
“Looks like they’ve got it flowing again.”
Harbinger looked down at the speaker.
Claw stood next to him with Scratch, the latter less interested in the water than he was in his surroundings. He rubbed his claws together, gazing at the shadows as if they threatened him.
Harbinger turned back to the flowing river and nodded. “Yes. It would seem they have.” He paused and lifted his head to follow the river as it vanished into the distance. “That’s the beauty of nature. Things know how to survive. That goes for pokemon, too.”
“Pokemon like us?” asked Claw.
Harbinger said nothing, keeping his mind fixed on the present.
After a while, Claw spoke up again. “Do you think we won this one?”
“Even if those Heretics survived, I think I made my point.” The absol rose and motioned for the twins to follow him. “Come. We have things to do in the Moorlands Forest.”
There's quite a bit of stuff to unpack in these two chapters I read. I'm not at all surprised that Cleo and the gang disobeyed Tinker's orders to do some investigation of their own regarding the poisoned river. Cleo was pretty considerate for giving Mischief the choice to leave if he wanted to, and I also hope to see more of that tragic event from her past.
I was pretty surprised the one random Absol we saw in the first chapter was responsible for the tragedy that occurred here. I'd completely forgotten about him and I guess it's nice(?) to see him back?
It was kinda funny seeing Tinker offering aid to those survivors only for them to immediately grow apprehensive after realizing their on conflicting factions. The previous chapter had me looking forward to the village perhaps being an unaffiliated sanctuary to any faction, so it's a bit disappointing to see that it was just a bunch of heretics.
Meanwhile, Mischief finally bounced back after a lot of thinking on his end. Well, he hasn't bounced back completely, and I doubt he ever will if his future will involve more dangerous stuff now. And boy, that was quite a narrow escape they had against that mysterious attacker. Could it have been Enigma or Harlequin? I doubt it since it seems those two have to deal with Harbinger first. I'll eat popcorn and watch to see those three murderers duke it out. :D
Chapter 12 was real good (I forgot to actually take down notes/thoughts as I read it, so this'll be brief ^_^;)
Enigma came across as legitimately scary. Up until now, others had mentioned he was scary and high-ranking but when we saw him he was usually with Hydreigon or Harlequin and came across as relatively comical. Here, his threats to the Grovyle felt legitimate with him lacking a sense of personal space and grabbing her head leaf *shivers* Definitely a spooky character, in more ways than one!
Tinker not giving any warning to Cleo and Spark about the protections felt a bit iffy to me. I suppose the whole "see for yourself" attitude fits him, but considering that Cleo nearly made grave errors (losing Harlequin and abandoning Mischief) out of fear, I would have thought he would know better. Especially considering that he KNEW she had Harlequin--he should have known that dropping Harlequin and running to save her own life would be an appropriate, instinctive response.
I liked the glimpse into the prison that we got. And you mention that Umbreon/other members of the Eevee line are rare--I wonder how they got to be that way (as they seem that way canonically, as well). Definitely felt like an eerie, grimey place. I'm curious to see what that orb-thing Tinker pulled out of Harlequin's bag was, and why the little Zorua was so defensive about it!
I'm not too sure about Tinker's idea of Cleo bringing Harlequin with them. I know the hostage idea is there, but it strikes me that dragging an unwilling enemy who's actively trying to kill them, no less, along with would be much more of a hindrance than create any advantage. And poor Cleo--knowing that Houndoom and Houndour are probably going to come after her is a terrifying thought!
Those two issues aside though, I think this was a nice chapter--we're starting to get answers to what's going on with the Heretics and what the Guild will do now that they have Harlequin!
Chapter 13
The tyranitar struggled to its feet, stooping as the chains fastened to its tiny arms reached their full length.
Cleo looked back at Tinker. “But you can come if you want? It is you who wants me to drag Harlequin around while looking for some pokemon that may or may not exist.”
The two guards gasped and the combusken dropped his glass.
Tinker hissed at Cleo and waved a frantic paw. He then turned to address the stunned guards and smiled.
“This is a confidential Elite investigation,” he told them. “So if you could keep it secret, that would be appreciated?”
Tinker's invention with the bracelet and collar is clever, but I have a feeling that things will still go badly--and I can see several different scenarios coming up. It'll be interesting to see where it goes! Harlequin, at least, seems scared about it.
And you finish with a Harbinger scene! And he's going to the Moorlands forest! I'm very excited to see where these two lead. I also thoroughly enjoyed this chapter, even with my nitpicks previously brought up. I thought the scene with Enigma at the lab was spooky but very fitting and explained quite a bit and I like that you chose to end with a quieter, warmer note on Harbinger. A solid set of chapters, and I'm looking forward to more!
After this chapter, there will be a short break of approximately 1-4 weeks!
Just finished reading these two chapters and they were quite intense! Mostly anyway. I'm willing to guess the two pokemon that attacked Cleo and pals in the 10th chapter were Harbinger's lackeys, which adds up honestly. Though I'm not sure why they'd have just left without finishing the job.
I'm glad to have seen that Mischief is still committed to being a member of the guild and helping Cleo and Spark out with their mission. It's good seeing that Cleo has finally gotten pretty used to having him around. Funny how this all began with him robbing them and them just trying to tolerate him while he followed them along.
I honestly wasn't expecting them to meet Harlequin so soon. I thought he and Enigma would be too busy dealing with Harbinger, but I guess the latter is still keeping his distance for now.
The illusory defense mechanism in the twelfth chapter took me by surprise honestly. I thought Hydriegon really wasn't messing around or something lol, and man it was a bit wicked of Tinker not to warn them about it given it's a mechanism that shows one their greatest fears.
That orb Harlequin was fixated upon was definitely a Zoroarks hair pearl, right? I'm not sure what they're actually called, but I'll go with hair pearl. I wonder if it belonged to his mother or something, or perhaps it's even from him somehow. Though I don't think stripping a Zoroark with their orb would make them devolve, so it's probably not that.
I still find it a bit crazy, if not hard to believe, that Hydriegon's conquest was as successful as it is. Sure, dragons are powerful, but they take way longer to reach their prime and I'm not sure how numerous their populations often are. Either way, it seems impropable that a combination of majority Dark and Dragon types were able to topple the world over this much against the 16 other pokemon typings out there. I sure hope the secret to his success is revealed in story, otherwise this discrepancy stands out quite a bit.
That aside, we also got to see a bit of what Enigma is up to in chapter 12, and from the looks of it, he and Cleo's team are converging on the same location. I sure hope things don't take a turn for the worst for Cleo.
I've finally caught up to this fic and it was a pretty good chapter too. Tinker's inventions continue to surprise me and I sure wonder just how far he's gone with his technological research and advancement. Poor Harlequin has pretty much been roped into their escapades now, but I'm willing to bet they'll eventually make an escape of some sort because I don't really see them getting on friendly terms with Cleo and the others without a lot of development on their end.
One thing that's been nagging me since Enigma's introduction is how it feels a bit exaggerated the way everyone is afraid of him. Sure, he's a top assassin and I get that, but we've never actually seen anything from him that's worthy of having every character he meets to shit their pants. I just can't see this bannete being that terrifying since we've only been told he's as such, but haven't been shown it so far.
That aside. It looks like things are finally moving. Fairy types keep popping up left and right, and Hydriegon will act sooner or later. Let's hope the rest of the world will be able to take him down before he succeeds in doing that. It's still hard to believe that his armies have presumably wiped out entire pokemon types over time, but we've yet to see what his armada are capable of first hand anyway. Looking forward to the next chapter.
Enigma came across as legitimately scary. Up until now, others had mentioned he was scary and high-ranking but when we saw him he was usually with Hydreigon or Harlequin and came across as relatively comical. Here, his threats to the Grovyle felt legitimate with him lacking a sense of personal space and grabbing her head leaf *shivers* Definitely a spooky character, in more ways than one!
Tinker not giving any warning to Cleo and Spark about the protections felt a bit iffy to me. I suppose the whole "see for yourself" attitude fits him, but considering that Cleo nearly made grave errors (losing Harlequin and abandoning Mischief) out of fear, I would have thought he would know better.
The illusory defense mechanism in the twelfth chapter took me by surprise honestly. I thought Hydriegon really wasn't messing around or something lol, and man it was a bit wicked of Tinker not to warn them about it given it's a mechanism that shows one their greatest fears.
A lot of what Tinker does is questionable. After Cleo questioned his safety precautions, he wanted her to experience exactly what anyone else would. It would 'shut her up'.
I liked the glimpse into the prison that we got. And you mention that Umbreon/other members of the Eevee line are rare--I wonder how they got to be that way (as they seem that way canonically, as well).
After I'd finished writing the original, I watched Volcanion and The Mechanical Marvel. I really liked the device that held Ash and Volcanion together, it was very similar to the collar I had Harlequin wear. Its function remains the same, but if you want to get technical about it, you can assume it works in the same way as the one in that movie (with added features such as stopping Harle's special attacks) ;)
I still find it a bit crazy, if not hard to believe, that Hydriegon's conquest was as successful as it is. Sure, dragons are powerful, but they take way longer to reach their prime and I'm not sure how numerous their populations often are. Either way, it seems impropable that a combination of majority Dark and Dragon types were able to topple the world over this much against the 16 other pokemon typings out there. I sure hope the secret to his success is revealed in story, otherwise this discrepancy stands out quite a bit.
One thing that's been nagging me since Enigma's introduction is how it feels a bit exaggerated the way everyone is afraid of him. Sure, he's a top assassin and I get that, but we've never actually seen anything from him that's worthy of having every character he meets to shit their pants.
Oh there are reasons he's so scary. Hydreigon told him not to leave a trail of blood. Keep reading. You WILL find out why. Believe me.
Part Two - The Legend
Chapter 14 - Orphan
Echo swooped over the canopy of the Border Woods, his ears twitching and swivelling as they picked up the vibrations bounced back at him. He darted through the branches with phenomenal agility, the leaves barely skimming his fur. His swarm flowed behind him, a river of noibat cleaving effortlessly through the woodlands.
Their leader abruptly turned a somersault, digging his claws into the tender bark of a spindly branch. Some of the swarm didn’t quite get the message, fluttering past him before doing a double-take, then flocking back to gather around him in the surrounding trees.
Rumble settled beside Echo and turned his head to address him. “What are we doing here, boss?”
“Thinking.” Echo inclined his head on one side to scratch it with a wing-claw.
Their task wasn’t exactly an easy one, and now they were far enough away from the Shadow Lands and Yurlik’s prying ears, he could finally voice his concerns and frustrations.
The noibat let out a sigh that was more akin to a frustrated growl and spread his wings, almost knocking Rumble from his perch.
“Does anyone here even know what we’re looking for?!” he roared.
The noibat swarm rose into a buzz of muttering, exchanging confused glances. Many of them shook their heads until one spoke up from near the back;
“A cocoon… right?”
“Right!” Echo mumbled under his breath before adding, “But what kind of cocoon? Is it small, like a kakuna? Or huge? Will it be in a tree, or buried underground? If it’s the latter, we can’t dig!” He turned on his perch so he was facing the majority of his swarm. “Does Lord Hydreigon even know what he’s looking for, or has Yurlik sent us on some… wild zangoose chase?!”
The swarm was silent, exchanging glances.
Rumble shimmied closer to Echo and cleared his throat. “The common idea is that… no… Lord Hydreigon doesn’t know what he’s looking for.”
Echo jerked his head towards Rumble and bared his canines.
Rumble huddled into his wings and shrugged. “Just that it’s a cocoon.”
Echo tutted and shifted so he was facing forward again. “If he hadn’t had that library burned down, he might have more of an idea then, huh?”
“Maybe there’s a library somewhere else?” Rumble suggested.
Echo’s ears perked up at that. He gave the smaller noibat a playful grin. “Not a bad idea, rookie!”
He spread his wings and dropped from the canopy.
Rumble dropped beside him and the swarm rose into the air. “The question is, where do we find one?”
“The nearest Outcast town, duh!” Echo turned to lead his swarm through the woods. “They’re bound to have books, right?”
...
Rio was seething. His claws clacked over the tiles as he marched through the clean corridor, eyes fixed on the document he was reading. Not that he was taking it in. His mind was elsewhere, and he knew the contents already. He turned into the staffroom without knocking, drawing a surprised yelp from the vigoroth dozing on the sofa. The chatot perched in the far corner stirred but didn’t draw his head out from beneath his wing.
“Tantrum.” Rio dropped the document on the vigoroth’s lap. “Remember this?”
Tantrum glanced over the notes then raised an eyebrow at the meowstic. “The whimsicott?”
“Unfortunately I’m going to need you to retrieve it.” Rio flopped onto the sofa opposite him, drawing the vigoroth’s eye. “There’s been a problem.”
“What kind of a problem?” Tantrum asked slowly.
“Enigma.” Rio’s answer caused Tantrum to bristle along his spine, and not out of anger. “Apparently the whimsicott killed Boomer before he could give Hydreigon our bait. If we don’t retrieve this whimsicott, well… I think it’s safe to say Enigma will wipe out the entire lab.”
“And likely uncover our research.” Tantrum grimaced and closed the folder neatly onto the table. “All right. Any idea where the whimsicott is?”
“It was last sighted here in the Moorlands Forest.” Rio folded his arms and sat back against the sofa. “If it still is, then you shouldn’t have any problems finding it. It’s travelling with a meowstic and a dedenne.”
“Well that makes things slightly easier.” Tantrum chuckled. “Who’d’ve thought it woulda made friends, eh? More fool them.”
“Indeed.” Rio paused and licked his lips. “I suggest you take a team. A strong one. In case it goes rampant.”
Tantrum grimaced and ran a paw over the back of his head. “I hadn’t considered that. Yikes, Rio. I’m not sure a team of four is gonna cut it.”
“That’s why I suggest you take Project B.”
Tantrum’s jaw went slack and he stared at Rio wordlessly.
“Project B can track it,” Rio explained. “We still have some of the whimsicott’s belongings. Give Project B the scent, and it will find it. Hopefully before Harlequin does.”
“Harlequin?” Tantrum spat. “What… why?”
“We’re essentially racing him. If he finds the whimsicott first, then we’re as good as dead. Especially if they find out what exactly it’s carrying. We made a fatal error unleashing it when we did, and we need to get it back to appease Hydreigon.”
Tantrum grimaced again and scratched his head. “I dunno, Rio-”
“Things have gone wrong,” said Rio. “Very wrong. If we don’t clean up this mess, we’re all as good as dead. Especially if Enigma finds out I lied to him! We get it back, send message to Enigma, he comes and deals with the whimsicott however he sees fit.” He chuckled and shook his head. “If he takes it back to the Shadow Lands, well… the bomb might just go off. Maybe things will turn in our favour after all?”
Tantrum sighed and sank back in his seat. “You really need us to take Project B?”
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t you send Roxie and Lou instead?”
“Good idea.” Rio smirked and scratched the side of his muzzle with a claw. “Take them, too. They have better control of the thing anyway.”
Tantrum groaned and lowered his face into his paws. “Why did you hire those two idiots?”
“For precisely that reason. They’re too stupid to be scared of Project B. It chases whatever runs from it.” Rio stood and turned from the staff room. “Gather your team and leave tonight. Don’t waste any time. Understood?”
Tantrum’s voice was muffled by his paws, “Roger.”
...
The usual silence of the Moorlands Forest was broken by the shouts and screams of the zorua flailing and scrabbling through the undergrowth. Dried leaves and prickly burrs clung to their shaggy fur, and their ears and lips pulled back making the assassin look more sleek and pointed than their coat allowed. The zorua’s blue markings were soiled with powdery dust, and what could be seen of the white collar locked around their neck was scuffed and grey. Regardless, it couldn’t be removed. Tinker had made it very clear, more-so to Harlequin than Cleo, that the collar was virtually indestructible, made from some kind of alloy only found in steelix mines. And the only ones who could remove it were himself and Cleo. That little revelation hadn’t surprised Cleo in the slightest.
Between Harlequin’s struggles, the assassin would scramble to their feet and launch an attack, finding themselves bowled backwards from the strange forcefield between the collar and Cleo’s bracelet. Screams of protest would follow, and the attacks grew much less frequent as Harlequin resigned to the fact they were defenceless and powerless against their new prison guards.
The only one making any noise had been Harlequin. Cleo and her friends walked on in silence, trudging through the forest ever on edge with no clear destination in mind. Finding any more of this new pokemon type would be no easy task. None of them even knew where to go, or what to look for. If the type could just crop up in any old pokemon, then how would they begin to check? Use Harlequin as a punching bag and see if the pokemon they met knew any new or unusual moves? Enemy or not, it seemed rather cruel.
Day quickly turned to dusk, the sky through the canopy painted a dusty blue with the faint hint of crimson in the distance. Cleo faltered slightly, turning to check which direction they were heading in. They’d been heading north. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea?
The wind rustled the canopy, and Cleo became aware of the silence that had fallen over them. She looked over at Harlequin, expecting the zorua to have exhausted themselves into unconsciousness, but instead Cleo met their livid blue eyes and a toothy snarl that seemed to be permanently etched on their face.
“I hate to break the peace, but I’m getting pretty hungry.” Spark’s voice so close to her ear caused Cleo to let out a little yell of surprise.
The meowstic nodded and gave a glance around at their surroundings. The forest was never a safe place to camp out, but they had to sleep somewhere. Besides, walking around in the forest at night was more dangerous than simply existing in it. At least sheltered by their blue tent they’d be somewhat disguised.
“Then let’s find somewhere to camp,” Cleo suggested.
“All right.” Spark turned her tiny head to look behind Cleo. “And what are we gonna do with her? Because I don’t really feel safe camping out in the forest with our new little friend.”
“No, no. By all means, sleep!” Harlequin rolled over onto their belly and grinned up at Spark. “We’ll see how many dark pokemon I can catch the attention of! It’ll be fun.”
Cleo’s eyes flashed with danger. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“Oh really? And what, exactly, can you do to me, meowstic?” Harlequin chuckled then rolled onto their back, flailing their paws in the air. “Help me! Help! I’ve been captured by Outcasts!”
“Shout all you want.” Cleo turned and waved a paw. “You’re more likely to attract the attention of Outcasts in this area, anyway.”
Harlequin laughed. “Really? Don’t you weaklings hide when night falls because the Darkness comes out? You’re scared of being in this forest while the sun is setting, I can see it. You’re twitching like nervous hatchlings.” The zorua paused and a wide smirk spread across their muzzle. “There’ll be a murkrow patrol very soon. They’ll spot you and alert every nearby member of the Darkness to you and the murderer you’re protecting.”
“Murderer?” Mischief turned towards them. “Who’s he talking about?”
“I think you know who I’m talking about!”
Cleo’s spine stiffened and she rounded on the zorua. “Shut up, Harlequin!”
The zorua grinned up at her. “Why? You know I’m right. Lord Hydreigon won’t stand for this. First Boomer, now you’re holding me captive? You’ll have the rest of his aces on your tails before you can blink.”
A chill ran down Cleo’s spine and she visibly tensed. She cast a nervous glance towards the shadows, and a huge smirk spread across Harlequin’s face.
“My point.” Harlequin chuckled and made a thoughtful noise. “Enigma wasn’t far from me before I located you. Perhaps he’ll have caught wind of this and be looking for me?”
Spark’s whiskers crackled with electricity. “If you don’t shut that mouth of yours pretty soon, I’m gonna silence you with a blast of my thunder!”
Harlequin licked their canines threateningly and pushed themselves to their feet.
“Don’t do that,” Cleo told Spark. “I don’t want to be dealing with another bad fur day because of your static discharge.”
Spark didn’t even know thunder, but Cleo wasn’t going to correct her. The threat had had its desired effect. Harlequin returned to silently seething as Cleo dragged them through the forest, leaving Mischief to move on ahead. Harlequin’s bag swung at his side, heavy and bulging with its stored poisons and supplies. Tinker hadn't wanted them lying around in New City, so he'd tasked them to find a means to dispose of it safely. Mischief carried it effortlessly, and cautiously. The nidoking horn was tucked away in its protective sheath inside the satchel’s flap, but its danger still rang loud and clear in the whimsicott’s mind.
Almost as clear as the haunting sound of the imaginary bell ringing around Cleo’s head. She forced herself not to glance back, but kept her ears open. If Enigma was nearby, then they’d need to remain vigilant. The banette hadn’t gained his notorious reputation on rumours alone. He used his ghost-typing to his advantage, vanishing and reappearing at will. When his victims actually spotted him, it was usually too late. And a notable number of his victims hadn’t sported any visible injuries on their bodies. Not on the surface, anyway…
Mischief stopped abruptly and pointed a claw. “Look! The river’s flowing again.”
Cleo squinted, spotting the orange glow of the sunset shimmering off the river’s rapids. “Oh yes! That’s great news. Maybe we should camp there?”
“I dunno,” said Spark. “Would it be safe? It might still be poisoned.”
“If it is, we have someone who could tell us.” Cleo looked back, meeting one of Harlequin’s cold blue eyes.
“What? You want me to sniff out poisons for you now?” they spat.
“I think you’ll be more than willing to,” said Cleo. “Like all of us, you’ll be thirsty by morning. Maybe even more than we will be. You’ve been doing a lot of shouting.”
Harlequin snorted and diverted their gaze to the shadows.
Cleo marched on, heading towards the river. Not so much as a peep came from the zorua. It was becoming more apparent they’d worn themselves out. Maybe they wouldn’t be much of a threat after all?
...
Tinker crept through the tall grass, raising his paws high to avoid snagging in the tangle of ferns and goosegrass. His feet barely made a sound, but he was growing more and more on edge. Skipper followed close behind him, his shadow stretching far ahead of them beside Tinker’s, making the pair look a lot larger than they actually were. The sun was rapidly setting, plunging the mountains into darkness. Behind them, the sky was painted a dramatic red. It always brought with it a sense of danger, no matter how quiet the Silent Mountains were.
“I think Cleo said they found it around here.” Tinker paused, glancing over the river. “There’s that bridge… but it’s hard to find a body when it’s been taken away.”
“Aye.” Skipper crouched down on all-fours and swept some of the dry leaves aside. “Grass looks a wee bit flat here.”
Tinker followed the marshtomp’s paws and made a thoughtful noise. The dry, brown grass was pressed into the floor as if something had been lying on it for some time. The log bridge, the flattened grass… they were definitely in the right place. If Cleo’s suspicions were right, then perhaps the pachirisu had been living with its family nearby?
Tinker gazed up at the trees, searching for anything that may clue them in.
“We need t’be careful here, Tink,” said Skipper. “Cleo said they was attacked out ‘ere, an’ it’s gettin’ a wee bit dark.”
“We won’t be much longer.”
The confidence in Tinker’s voice was betrayed only by the slick sweat covering his paw pads. His eye fell on a shadow at the base of a large tree a few feet away, and his heart lurched. He froze as he tried to focus on it, straining his ears for any movement. Nothing. After a moment, he let out a long breath. It was nothing more than a natural hole amid the tree’s roots. He was about to turn away when something twigged in his mind.
A hole.
Many years ago, long before Tinker’s time… long before Grey’s time… pokemon would live together in natural nests. Nests made in holes, crevices, high up in trees, under the water… if a pokemon could live in it then they would.
Tinker dashed towards the small hole and dropped down to peer inside. It was large enough for two adult pachirisu to comfortably hide in. No… he was over-thinking this. He narrowed his eye and poked his head into the hole, catching the musty scent of dry leaves. Leaves that hadn’t been contaminated by the poison.
He wasn’t over-thinking anything. It was definitely a nest.
“Skipper?” his voice echoed slightly in the hole and he pulled his head out to look back at Skipper. “You might want to see this.”
The marshtomp had been investigating the trees where the body had been found, all while keeping a look-out. He abandoned the spot to join Tinker, and the riolu stood aside for him to investigate the hole.
“Well, whaddaya know,” said Skipper. “It’s a nest, sure enough.”
“Then I think we might be on the right track.” Tinker took a step back and looked up higher into the tree, tracing its trunk. “If we keep looking, we might…”
He trailed off and his eye widened. Now he’d seen one, he was spotting more. A small hole nestled just beneath where the canopy would have been, but with the leaves gone it was as clear as day.
“Skip, give me a boost up, would you?”
Skipper scratched his head and followed Tinker’s gaze. “I dunno, Tink. Ye sure ye can climb that high?”
“I guess we’re about to find out.”
Skipper shrugged and dropped to one knee. He laced his clawed flippers together to create a foot-hold. “All reet then. Step on.”
Tinker placed one foot in the marshtomp’s paws and with a ‘heyup!’ Skipper lifted him into the tree. Tinker grabbed hold of the first branch he could reach to steady himself, and finding it could hold his weight, he pulled himself up onto it effortlessly. He scrambled up onto the next branch, a sturdy bough that provided a walk-way towards the hole. He crept along it and placed one paw against the tree’s thick trunk as he leaned forward to peer into the cavity. A huge smile spread across his muzzle. Just inside was another pile of debris. Leaves, dry grass, thin brittle twigs. And a small pile of berries that looked a little past their best, but they weren’t rotten.
Tinker pulled himself back and turned his head to examine the surrounding trees. The nests stood out to him now, glaringly obvious in the bare trees. Holes and cavities both natural and pokemon-made. Mounds of tangled twigs nestled in the branches, once safely hidden from prying eyes. Burrows mounded up beside brambles and ferns, and the remains of berry pips scattered around the knotted roots of fruit trees and berry bushes.
Tinker abandoned the tree, clambering down as carefully as his one eye would allow. With a handicap like that, pokemon would call his persistence of performing such a precarious task as being foolish. Tinker, however, would call it perseverance. His depth perception might be bad, but he wasn’t going to let something like losing an eye stop him from helping others.
Skipper caught Tinker in his paws and steadied him on the ground. Tinker gave him a polite nod and motioned towards the nests high up in the trees.
“Pokemon definitely lived here,” he said. “And recently, too. To live in nests like these… Cleo was right. Pokemon were living peacefully, not tied to any faction. Now I want to know what they were.”
“All reet.” Skipper nodded up at the hole Tinker had been investigating. “Any idea what that one was?”
“An arboreal pokemon, for certain,” said Tinker. “Either emolga, or maybe even a pikipek. I’d be leaning more towards emolga if I had more information to go off, since pokemon that complimented each other’s types would often live in close proximity for company and survival, but it was very dependant on terrain. Bulbasaur, for example, would often live alongside rivers where marill and azurill would live. Since pokemon tend to be drawn to those of the same type, it wouldn’t be unusual to find sunkern and shroomish living with them, too.” Tinker paused and tapped his muzzle. “Flying types are apparent from those nests in the branches, so if there were pachirisu living here then we might find evidence of pikachu and maybe some ground types. Would you mind investigating the river to see if you can find any nests under the water?”
“Sure, Tink! This is gettin’ pretty excitin’, aye?” The smile swiftly left the marshtomp’s face and he shook his head as he turned towards the river. “Shame they met such a sad fate.”
Tinker’s heart sank and he looked up at the nests high above them. It was a sad fate. If they couldn’t find any evidence of survivors, then they may never find out how these pokemon had been surviving out in the mountains in such a primitive fashion. Their beliefs, their opinions on the factions, how they survived the Darkness… all of it could be lost forever.
But they could still try to find out who had occupied the area. There would be evidence of species left scattered about. Fur, feathers, bite-marks from the rodents. Tinker turned to examine the various nests. It wasn’t going to be easy, especially when some were so high up.
His eyes fell upon a tangle of twigs, neatly woven together right at the top of a narrow fir tree. The sheer size of it left him gobsmacked. It was huge in comparison to the other nests. Perhaps it had belonged to a fully evolved bird pokemon? A soldier that looked over the smaller pokemon that it lived alongside? The amount of care that had gone into making the nest was astounding. Not a glimmer of moonlight could penetrate the weave of sticks and grass. The tree was impossible for Tinker to climb for a better look. The trunk was narrow and smooth with no foot-holds, and the lowest branches were too high even for a lucario to leap up and grab. Quite possibly the reason the bird had chosen that particular tree. It left its eggs out of harm’s way.
He glanced around for something to dislodge it. A large rock, or a long stick. But there was nothing.
Skipper’s wet footsteps sounded over the crunch of leaves. “Mudkip. And marshtomp. I recognize th’nests.”
Water trickled off the marshtomp’s slick body and he wound his goggles in his claws. His eyes flit left and right as he struggled to meet Tinker’s.
The riolu let out a sigh and ruffled the fur between his ears. “I’m so sorry, Skipper. I know that must be hard.”
“Aye,” said Skipper. “An’ they were so close t’home n’all. If I’d’ve known, I coulda…” He shook his head sharply. “Nae. I cannae think like this. It’s too late now. But at least we’re a little closer to crackin’ this mystery, aye?”
“Yes, and it proves my theory that there would be ground-types nearby.” Tinker turned his attention back to the tree. “I really want to know who occupied this nest. Do you think you could shoot it down for me?”
“You want me t’shoot it down?” Skipper narrowed one eye and shook his head. “A bit disrespectful, ey, lad?”
Tinker snorted. “This is no time for jokes, Skip. And no one is living in it anymore.”
“Aye, right enough. Stand aside then.” Skipper ushered Tinker behind him. “Dinnae want it landin’ on ye dome, eh?”
The marshtomp opened his mouth and fired out a powerful torrent of water. It was only brief, whooshing through the air. It struck the nest just underneath its side, causing it to pivot. It wasn’t as dramatic as Tinker had been expecting. The nest merely rocked on its perch, then teetered over the edge before flipping upside-down like a pancake. Downy white feathers fluttered from it, but that wasn’t all. Tinker’s eyes widened and he lurched forwards, arms spread, to catch the falling object before it struck the ground to be lost forever like everything else. Tinker landed hard on his back, cradling the object to his chest.
Skipper dropped to the riolu’s side in a squat. “There were an egg in there? An egg?!”
Tinker curled back from the egg to examine it, his breaths still coming in short bursts. It was completely unblemished, not a crack in sight. Wispy white feathers clung to the coarse surface and drifted down around them like snowflakes. The same feathers coated the inside of the nest like a thick, downy blanket. Thick and warm enough to block out any drafts that might find their way through the neat weave of twigs and grass.
The feathers were unmistakable.
Tinker licked his lips, finding his mouth suddenly dry. Part of him wanted to drop the egg back in its nest, but for some reason his paws wouldn’t relinquish it.
“Well.” Skipper stood up and wiped droplets off his brow before setting his goggles back in place. “Now we know who’s nest it were, aye?”
Tinker nodded stiffly and stood up, careful not to drop the egg. The dark forest didn’t feel any more dangerous, or any darker. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but he could almost hear the haunting melody the pokemon in question was famous for humming.
He nodded again and cradled the egg to his chest. “Altaria.”
Oh, good point! Poor Eevee line--the Umbreon are being locked up by the Guild, and the others are all hunted down by Hydreigon. Which isn't much different from the other Pokemon, I suppose.
I like the scene with Echo and the other noibat voicing their frustrations. I definitely know the feel haha, and it felt very real!
Tinker had made it very clear, more-so to Harlequin than Cleo, that the collar was virtually indestructible, made from some kind of alloy only found in steelix mines.
Mines that steelix had dug, or mined from an actual steelix? I mentioned that Magneton metal was used to make special devices in my fic, so I just thought this was a bit amusing, heh.
Harlequin telling Cleo the amount of danger they're in--the Zorua being able to catch the attention of other Dark-types, the Murkrow patrolling, the fact that the forest is so huge, and that Hydreigon's other Pokemon are after them--makes me really think that Tinker could have thought things through more or at least provided some modicum of safety. As it is, it's a lot easier to see the potential dangers outweighing the good. I know it's very in-character for Tinker to do, but it does seem like a shaky plan.
Harlequin returned to silently seething as Cleo dragged them through the forest, leaving Mischief to move on ahead. Harlequin’s bag swung at his side, heavy and bulging with its stored poisons and supplies. Mischief carried it effortlessly, and cautiously. The nidoking horn was tucked away in its protective sheath inside the satchel’s flap, but its danger still rang loud and clear in the whimsicott’s mind.
!!! I don't know if you're including Mega Evolutions in this, but given that Mega Altaria is a Dragon-Fairy-type, I can see quite an identity conflict there. Altaria's nest out here makes me wonder if not all Dragon types were with Hydreigon, or, given that she was near so many other wild Pokemon, she was serving as a guard or lookout for them. Your description in this chapter makes me think it's the latter. I look forward to finding out!
This was an enjoyable chapter--I love finding out more about their world (it makes me wonder why Pokemon only used to live primitive lifestyles, what happened to that, and why they don't anymore), and Rio's fear in the first scene was palpable. Nice job, and looking forward to more! :D
Glad to see this story is back to being updated. I just read the 14th chapter and It picks up where the last one ended and even brings up some new set ups for future plot lines.
The noivern gang are planning on targeting an outcast base, Rio and his team of scientists appear to be hiding more than they are willing to let on, Cleo and Co are still dragging Harlequin around and finally Tinker discovers a dragon egg.
I don't have a lot to say about each individual set up in this chapter all things considered, but the one that piqued my curiosity the most is why an altaria was living in a hidden abode alongside a bunch of other non dragon types. Does this hint that not all dragons subscribe to Hydriegon's dragon superiority complex? I also wonder what the future holds for that Swablu egg. It would certainly be interesting to see a dragon being raised by the outcasts, but it likely won't end well if the child is mistreated by the outcasts for being a dragon. A newborn child bears no sin, and I hope the outcasts are better than that. Then again, that's unlikely…
Some overall thoughts:
The tone and content of this story continue to be cute and fun. Some Lord of the Rings vibes here, hiding from the Nazgoul noivern! There were a couple of places where I wanted more of a sense of space, where characters stand in relation to each other. In particular, we seemed to lose track of Spark entirely and the murkrow flock needs to be expanded upon to feel like a real, threatening presence. Nice to see how Mischief is becoming a surprise helper ... if an unstable one.
It was nothing more than a blue sheet coated with combee wax for weatherproofing, but, with the help of a low tree branch to toss it over, it did the job.
Mischief was crouched beside a brook, scooping up water to throw over his head, and scrubbing his face with his paws. They hadn’t managed to lose the whimsicott.
The small group had been forced to camp out, taking turns to keep watch. But with a suspicious pokemon tagging along, neither Cleo nor Spark had got a wink of sleep.
Mischief, however, trampled along behind them, his usually light footwork sounding deceptively loud as the finest of twigs snapped beneath his feet. Cleo gave a glance back to berate him, but he stared at his feet, his expression calculating. Cleo’s lip twisted and she bit back her retort. It didn’t seem like he was deliberately trying to get them attacked, but…
He whined with protest and stood, dragging fine thorns from his shoulder. Cleo didn’t care. It was better to be pricked by a few thorns than face the nightmare that was descending on the forest.
I lost some of the sense of space here. He's standing, so isn't he visible now? Where is Cleo relative to his position? Can't/shouldn't she yank him back down?
This was a little clunky. I think you should just say "it glided on huge, wide wings," and then you can say something more about him looking around menacingly if you want more.
that awful noise passed over the forest floor. She could feel it beating down on her, taking in her size and posture and feeding that information back to the dragon hovering above them.
This was a little muddled. I wasn't sure what "it" referred to in the second sentence, especially since I didn't know yet that it was a noivern. Now that I know, this feels a little outside of POV. It feels like more information than she might actually have about how noivern echolocation works, and yet it's also unclear what exactly is happening. It might be more helpful to lean on 1) rumors Cleo has heard about noivern, because if no one survives a noivern attack then surely she's never seen one in person before 2) physical cues. You do a good job with those in other places, but here it's oddly absent. Perhaps she feels her pulse racing and she swallows hard, and then--no way--the noivern turns in her direction at exactly that moment. Could he hear--? Etc.
Why exactly are they blocked? For all those murkrow, who I would think could be really dangerous as a big group, they don't seem to play much of a role in this scene.
I'm not sure how she's both leaping and bracing. I also want more information about what "bracing herself" means. Is she really gonna stand her ground here when she believes that no one survives an encounter with a noivern? Shouldn't she try to run? Or at least prepare an attack?
Suggestion: The noivern clawed at its face where green still shimmered in the air: evidence of an elemental surprise attack. (And maybe even) It surprised Cleo, too, and she whirled to look at Mischief.
She rushed towards Mischief, barking at him to stop. But her pleas fell on deaf ears. His orange eyes were frenzied, and that sinister grin was still on his face. His paws were coated with blood, which spattered his entire body as he continued to pulverise the noivern.
This felt like a big leap. There's a moment like this in Chapter 11 of Love's novella, Those Who Will Inherit the Earth, where this is handled really effectively. The protagonist feels some pity for her victim, but there's almost more revulsion in it. And she still reasserts to herself that he deserved what he got.
Altaria's nest out here makes me wonder if not all Dragon types were with Hydreigon, or, given that she was near so many other wild Pokemon, she was serving as a guard or lookout for them. Your description in this chapter makes me think it's the latter. I look forward to finding out!
I don't have a lot to say about each individual set up in this chapter all things considered, but the one that piqued my curiosity the most is why an altaria was living in a hidden abode alongside a bunch of other non dragon types. Does this hint that not all dragons subscribe to Hydriegon's dragon superiority complex?
I like that you're thinking about this. As a reminder, in an earlier chapter, Hydreigon did get riled at the mention of Ripwing, a salamence. A pokemon Tinker later mentioned as one of Hydreigon's aces! But of course, that doesn't tell you why the altaria was there. Hmm... Many mysteries that will be answered in due time =D
The tone and content of this story continue to be cute and fun. Some Lord of the Rings vibes here, hiding from the Nazgoul noivern! There were a couple of places where I wanted more of a sense of space, where characters stand in relation to each other.
Thank you! =3 I've taken on board what you've said about a sense of space, and I'll look over that battle again and tweak it. Writing combat is something I've been building on, and it's hard to cover all the raging combatants. I feel I've handled it better in this chapter (15), and I'll definitely bare your advice in mind for future fights and edits too!
15 - Daylight Assault
The moon was high in the sky, bathing the mountain in its cool silvery light. The rugged slope began to level out, the stone gradually turning to soft, comfortable grass beneath Harbinger’s feet. The worst of it was behind them now as Harbinger and his friends wound their way down, following the river as it rushed away from them, twinkling with starlight. Mountain terrain was no problem to the absol. He was used to coming and going from the mountains all across Estellis, and like any absol he was cut out for a variety of terrains. But despite his snowy coat and thickly furred feet, he didn’t feel at home in the snowy peaks. They offered a fantastic view of the surrounding woodlands and villages, but they were often wrought with memories. Terrible ones that reeked of nightmares. He never felt comfortable in them.
They reminded him of home. Well… to use the term loosely. Nowhere felt like home.
Not anymore.
A sharp cry snapped him out of his reverie and he froze, one paw raised above the ground as he tried to work out the nature of the voice. It wasn’t a warning of oncoming danger. No assault headed his way. No, it was a cry of distress. A desperate plea for help.
Harbinger’s muzzle creased and he turned away from it, following the curve of the river. He didn’t do ‘help’. He was an absol. They brought disaster, not aide. No one would accept help from an absol anyway.
As he pressed on, Scratch and Claw grew more and more restless. Their huge, round eyes surveyed the land across the river, searching the shadows and twitching at every cry. They were growing louder now, and Harbinger gave the passing trees a sideways glance. That’s where the din had come from. He snorted and ignored it, moving with deliberation to draw the pawniard twins after him.
Doom and disaster. That’s what absol are believed to bring. So that’s what he’d always bring.
Scratch rubbed his blades over his metal chest, the shrill scrape irritating Harbinger yet it barely reached the pokemon on the other side of the river. The pawniard’s posture grew more withdrawn, and Harbinger finally looked up to see what had distressed the small steel-type.
A female meowstic sat outside a blue tent, one Harbinger could easily have overlooked if it weren’t for the noise. The feline was on edge, tense, her tails bristling as she searched the canopy. The reason lay beside her, sprawled on the floor, legs flailing weakly. A zorua. Bedraggled, exhausted, their voice cracking with the stress of endless screaming.
That behaviour alone told Harbinger the zorua was a prisoner. Dark-type pokemon didn’t frolic with psychic-types. Then there was the second clue. The blue markings adorning the zorua’s small body. The flash of blue eyes.
Harbinger lowered his head and his eyes narrowed as the fur rose along his hackles. He knew that zorua. Its pitiful cries rang out, carrying with it every emotion the wretched creature felt. Distress, fear, desperation.
Abandonment.
Harbinger turned his face away and moved on. Thick, dry mud wedged uncomfortably between his claws. Scratch and Claw trotted to keep up with him, only glancing back once at the deep rivets in the soil where Harbinger had been standing.
...
Cleo crawled out of her tent, the morning sun’s warm rays bouncing off the river and dazzling her tired eyes. She flinched back and rubbed a paw over her face, trying to work some enthusiasm into herself. She rose to her feet and strolled past Spark who was lying spread-eagled on her back beside Mischief. The latter gave a wide yawn and stretched languidly.
Spark cracked an eye open when Cleo stopped beside her. “Oh, Cleo! I’m so exhausted! You might have to feed me.”
“I’m not feeding you, Spark. You’re not an invalid.” Cleo dropped her satchel beside the dedenne. “You can either feed yourself or go hungry.”
Spark pushed herself up with one paw and reached for the bag. “I think I can manage.”
Mischief looked up at Cleo and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “I could use a drink.”
Cleo gave a glance to Harlequin who had been standing silently beside her most of the night, after wearing their voice out from screaming. The zorua’s back was arched and canines bared, which, alongside their bedraggled fur, gave them a somewhat feral appearance. But they were clearly exhausted. Even if Harlequin weren’t confined, Cleo wouldn’t be afraid. She was fairly sure in this state Harlequin could be taken out with one swipe of her paw.
“I think we’re all thirsty,” said Cleo. “But we need to test the water first. And lucky for us, we have just the pokemon to do that.”
Harlequin let out a low snarl which Cleo shrugged off as she turned towards the river, dragging the reluctant zorua behind her.
“I think you need a drink too,” she said. “What with all that screaming you did last night.”
To Cleo’s surprise, the zorua was oddly compliant. Harlequin moved past her towards the river and gave it a cautious sniff. Then they plunged their head straight into it, gulping it down with noisy laps of their tongue. After a few seconds, Harlequin whipped their head back out and shook it dry. Cleo raised her paws to avoid being splattered, to no avail.
“It’s fine.” Harlequin marched into the water as far as their confines would allow and stopped up to their knees, glancing back at Cleo. “Come on. I need to get clean!”
Cleo narrowed her eyes. “How do I know this isn’t some elaborate ploy for me to let you drown while we all die from poisoning?”
Harlequin snorted. “What, you think I’m gonna drown myself just to trick you lot into drinking poisoned water? I told you the water’s fine! Now let me in so I can get this skuzz out of my fur!”
The three pokemon stared at the zorua for a moment, receiving a sapphire glare in return.
“Seviper venom is very fast acting,” said Harlequin. “If I was poisoned, I’d be showing signs by now.”
“How can we be so sure?” Spark asked.
“Simple.” Harlequin smirked, but it wasn’t a sinister one. More smug. One a haughty straight-A student might give to their underlings. “You can tell from the land alone that the poison here wasn’t exactly at its weakest. Sure, it might have been a little diluted, but it would have caused much more than a mere tummy ache. What did you say it was? Seviper?”
Cleo nodded stiffly.
“Well, seviper didn’t exactly die off from starvation, did they?” Harlequin went on, not taking their eyes off Spark. “No. When they hunted their little rodent prey, like yourself, the venom would need to act quickly, not give their lunch a five-minute chance to flee. We’re talking asphyxiation. You’re not gonna run for very long if you can’t breathe.”
Spark shuddered and sank to her bottom. “Well that’s a nice image, thanks for that.”
Harlequin let out a single laugh and turned back to the water. “Now are you going to let me bathe or what?”
Cleo gave her friends a defeated look and waded further into the water. Harlequin immediately set to work tugging tangled leaves and twigs from their shaggy coat. They grimaced as they tugged a particularly stubborn stick out along with a clump of fur, muttering to themselves under their breath.
“You only have yourself to blame for this,” Cleo stated.
“Oh yeah?” Harlequin fixed her with one livid eye. “And who’s the one who dragged me through the forest?”
“I wouldn’t have had to drag you if you’d just cooperated.”
“Why would I cooperate with the enemy?!”
“To make things a little easier for the both of us!” Then Cleo added, a little under her breath, “Although you only made things difficult for yourself.”
Harlequin barked, lunging at Cleo, causing a cascade of water to rise up over the both of them. Cleo strafed to the side, lashing out with her claws. Neither of them landed a hit. The pair flew apart, landing with a mighty splash in the river.
“Do you mind!” Spark wailed.
Spark stood beside Mischief on the river bank, the pair dripping from head to foot.
“We’re trying to have a drink here,” she said. “And you two are fighting in the water like a couple of hatchlings!”
Cleo stared at the gasping and stunned zorua, hunched over and dripping in the river. So the collar worked both ways. Neither of them could land a hit on the other so long as Cleo was wearing that bracelet.
“She has a point.” Cleo flicked water from her eyes and moved towards the bank. “Get cleaned up so we can move on.”
She didn’t leave the river, staying enough in it that Harlequin had enough water to work with. Cleo stooped to have a quick drink then turned to address her companions.
“I’ll be honest, I have no idea where we’re meant to be going,” she said.
“Neither do we,” said Spark. “We talked about it in depth last night.”
Mischief nodded and twirled a claw in his creamy fur. “Maybe we just… ask if anyone has evidence of a new pokemon type whenever we reach an Outcast town?”
Cleo sighed at that. She’d already thought over that idea, and in some way had dismissed it. But perhaps it really was their only option?
“Mischief does have a point,” she said. “But I can’t help but fear it’s a bit of an odd question to randomly ask someone.”
“Yeah, and what if they do have evidence of a new type?” said Spark. “How do we even test it?”
All three looked over at Harlequin. The zorua lay on their back in the water, flailing their limbs to splash it over their body. Noticing the group’s staring eyes, Harlequin paused to give them a vicious snarl.
“No,” Cleo said firmly. “She’s with us as a bargaining tool, not a punching bag.”
“Yeah, but I bet Tinker would beg to differ.” Spark waved a paw. “She’s the wrong type anyway.”
Harlequin sat up again to groom their fur with their teeth. Both ears were trained towards the bank, listening into the conversation. Not a surprise, given they’d need all the information they could get if they wanted to find a chance to escape. Cleo looked down at the river lapping over her hips and drenching her tails. She was getting very wet, but she refused to show the zorua she was unhappy about it.
“I think our only option is what Mischief has suggested,” she said. “We find the nearest Outcast town, and ask.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Spark took a huge bite out of an oran berry. “Mischief can’t be the only one to show this new type, can he?”
Cleo wanted to say ‘he might be’ but didn’t want to drag everyone down more than they already were. Things were already looking bleak. Outcasts towns weren’t as populous as they once were, and now they were dragging a notorious assassin around with them.
As if she’d read her thoughts, Spark nodded to the zorua. “And what about her? What do we do with her when we do find a settlement?”
Cleo glanced back at Harlequin and shrugged. “She’s no harm to anyone so long as I keep her away from them. So… you two would have to do most of the work, I’m afraid.”
Harlequin looked up at that and shook water from their fur. “You really think it’s a good idea to drag me into an Outcast town?”
“You’re unarmed and detained,” said Cleo. “You’re hardly a threat right now.”
“Yet not one of you managed to sleep?” Harlequin laughed and flashed their canines. “I’d say my threat is still pretty much intact.”
“You didn’t exactly reach any of your comrades last night, did you?” Cleo retorted.
Harlequin’s ears pulled back and they let out a small snarl. “I have time to reach them yet.”
Cleo blinked and looked away. Harlequin might not be a physical threat, but they were still a psychological one. If none of them managed to sleep, then they would soon become as weak as day-old hatchlings.
“I’ve actually noticed something,” said Spark. “Where was the murkrow patrol last night? It seems as though Hydreigon’s soldiers are growing as few and far between as Outcast towns.”
“It’s probably because he’s driven most of us across Estellis,” said Cleo. “And wiped out several species.”
“Several hundred more like it.” Spark slumped and lowered her berry. “Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever bounce back.”
“You wont,” said Harlequin.
“Don’t make me muzzle you, zorua!” Cleo snapped.
“You can’t,” said Harlequin. “You’ve already shown you can’t touch me. And if either of your friends try, I’ll bite their faces off!”
Cleo bristled and turned away. She was much too tired to fight. She pulled her map from her bag and checked the location of the next Outcast town.
“There’s a town we can visit just a day’s walk from here,” she said.
“A day’s walk?” Spark sighed. “Another night in the open with no sleep?”
“I’m not happy about it either,” said Cleo.
“Oh dear,” Harlequin crooned. “Do you really think I’m going to keep you all up again?” They smirked at Cleo and inclined their head on one side. “Well there’s an idea.”
“Come on,” Cleo tucked her map away. “You’ve had enough of a wash. We’re moving.”
Despite Harlequin’s protests, Cleo dragged the soggy vulpine from the river. She set her satchel down by a tree and opened it to find something for breakfast, but a sudden spray of water rained down on the trio as Harlequin shook out their waterlogged coat.
“Eurgh, yuck!” Spark shook water off her whiskers. “Thanks for that, zorua!” Electricity danced over her damp fur.
“Don’t.” Cleo halted her with a raised paw and turned to Harlequin. “Have some berries. You’ll need your strength, because we’re not stopping until we reach the next town.”
She placed two oran berries and a cheri before the zorua. The latter added to make walking easier for them, since the paralysis was still apparent in their right leg.
Harlequin lowered their head threateningly. “I’m not a herbivore.”
“All pokemon eat berries,” said Cleo. “But if you’re good and actually walk for a change, I might share some of my fish.”
Harlequin licked their lips, apparently considering that a tantalising enough offer. Then they ducked their head to pick up the cheri berry and swallowed it in two bites.
They all ate their breakfast in silence, and once Cleo had finished her fish jerky she gathered up her bag.
“We need to make tracks,” she said. “At this time of year, the periods of daylight are getting shorter by the day.”
“What do you mean by that?” Mischief asked as he fell into step beside her. “Are we losing daylight?”
“It means the cold season is drawing in,” Spark explained.
“The cold season?” Mischief tapped his chin with a claw and tilted his head to the side. “What’s the cold season?”
“Are you kidding me?!” Harlequin laughed. “You don’t even know what the cold season is? How old are you?”
Mischief glanced back at the zorua. “I can’t remember. How old should I be?”
“Really?” Harlequin scoffed. “What, are you some kind of dunce? How do you even survive?”
“Oi!” Spark leapt off Cleo’s shoulder and stood sparking between her and Harlequin. “You leave my friend alone, all right? It’s not his fault he has no memories, and I won’t stand for a bully like you picking on him like that!”
Cleo turned slowly towards Spark, her heart beating in her throat.
“Besides,” Spark went on. “You don’t look very old yourself! I mean, you’re not even evolved!”
Spark seemed oblivious, or fearless, of Harlequin’s canines poking angrily from their lips. Cleo wanted to scoop her up, but the electricity buzzing from her whiskers made it a precarious endeavour. And she was standing stretched up to her full five inches of height right in the middle of what Cleo was beginning to think of as ‘the danger zone’.
“How do you become an elite assassin if you don’t fight enough to evolve?!” Spark went on. “It’s not like your carrying an everstone, either.”
“Shut up!” Harlequin barked.
“Spark!” Cleo leapt to her friend’s side, but Harlequin didn’t even twitch.
The zorua stood glaring at the dedenne, breathing heavily, a low growl resonating from deep in their throat. They were probably seething too much to have even realised Spark was within striking range.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you!” Harlequin’s voice was thick with danger.
“Really, Spark,” said Mischief softly. “He didn’t even upset me. You didn’t have to lash out like that.”
“Get back on my shoulder, Spark,” Cleo demanded, not taking her eyes off Harlequin.
Spark looked between Mischief and Cleo, then slumped. “I suppose I didn’t need to lash out. Urgh, she just really pushes my buttons.”
“Spark! Shoulder!”
Spark shook herself and clambered back up onto Cleo’s shoulder. Cleo turned her back sharply on Harlequin and marched on, ushering Mischief ahead of her until he was a safe enough distance away. Harlequin plodded along silently behind them, occasionally falling enough behind for it to tug on Cleo’s bracelet.
...
“The problem with passing through a forest,” said Spark bluntly, “is that it’s difficult to see when you’re leaving it when there’s so little canopy.”
Cleo had to agree. They’d been following the river for some time, and the forest didn’t seem to end. With the combined efforts of the cooling season and the shock of poison, the leaves of the trees alongside them were very bare, letting light leak down into it constantly. Ordinarily when traversing a forest, an increase of light meant you were either nearing the outskirts of it, or a clearing.
They’d decided to stick close to the river, given the poison had driven all pokemon living near it further into the forest, and the lack of shadows meant there’d be a reduced chance of encountering any of Hydreigon’s armies. The ground sloped up on either side, growing steeper the further they advanced. Trees stood at lop-sided angles, straining to stay upright on their thick roots that trailed down the slopes like coiling snakes. Thin willow branches swept over Cleo’s fur and licked up froth from the rapids. Skeletal remains of what would have once been a lush paradise.
The path had narrowed so much the group had to move in single file, treading carefully to avoid slipping into the river. Mischief trudged on ahead, leading the way not by choice but to keep Harlequin at the back of the party. The wind whipped up, racing through the narrow gorge and whistling through the bare branches. Mischief’s soft, creamy fur caught the breeze and whipped up, sending tufts soaring away behind them. Several times Cleo had to sweep them from her nose and whiskers.
Harlequin let out a bitter chuckle. “Oh, talk about smoke signals. Anyone’s gonna find him at this rate.”
Cleo tried to ignore the zorua, but deep down she feared they were right. She lifted her head to see past Mischief, squinting into the distance.
“It shouldn’t be much longer now,” she said. “If my calculations are right, we’ll be out of the forest pretty soon.”
Mischief glanced back at her. “What’s beyond the forest?”
“The Glen.” Cleo clambered over a fallen tree that now created an uneasy bridge across the river. “I’ve been there a few times, but I’ve never passed through it entirely.”
“How come?” Mischief asked.
“The world is big, Mischief. I haven’t been everywhere. But it will be a good opportunity to mark new places on my map.”
A deep, resounding bellow cut through the roar of the river, shaking Cleo’s insides with a deep primal fear. She froze, ducking slightly and raising her paws to her chest. She wasn’t the only one. Mischief had frozen solid with his head turned towards the noise. Spark stood rigid on Cleo’s shoulder, her ears pricked and nose twitching silently. Harlequin had one paw raised, their ears pivoting towards the terrible noise as it cut through the air once more.
“What did I tell you?” Harlequin gave Cleo a smirk that didn’t feel genuine. “Smoke signals.”
Cleo shook her head and ushered Mischief on. “No. There have been reports of noises in the forests. The Guild have investigated it, but no one has ever found anything.”
“Could it be another one of Grey’s illusions?” Mischief asked.
“Perhaps. Or something constructed to give out such a noise as a deterrent.” Cleo swallowed dryly and gave a nervous glance back up the slope. The roar sounded again, closer this time. “But to be safe, let’s speed up. I don’t really want to find out what it is.”
The group picked up their pace, scampering through the narrow gorge. Heavy footsteps exploded through the trees above them, followed by another gut-shaking roar and a sick crack. With a creak, one of the trees began to topple down towards the river, and Cleo let out a shriek. Mischief flattened himself to the floor and slid beneath the heavy trunk before it came down on top of him. Water erupted from the river with the impact, and shattered branches exploded through the air in a shower of splinters.
A hulking tyranitar thrashed above them, flailing its stubby limbs as it let out another blood-curdling howl. Thick chains hung from its limbs, clattering and clanging as it swung them around. Cleo shrieked again, turning to duck beneath the tree after Mischief. Spark had already left her shoulder and had squeezed her way through the smallest gap she could find. Harlequin shouted curses after the fleeing meowstic as they struggled to get past the fallen tree, scrabbling with their claws over the coarse bark.
“Wahay! Way to go, B! You found it!”
The heads of two lycanroc appeared at either side of the tyranitar. The one who’d spoken had one of the heavy chains in her jaws, while the other stood grinning at the Outcasts while clutching the other chain in his forepaws. The tyranitar struggled against them, causing both wolves to dig their claws into the ground in a bid to restrain it.
“Yo! We found the whimsicott!” the female barked over her shoulder. “It’s over here!”
“Cleo…” Spark crouched beside Cleo’s feet, staring up at the hulking tyranitar.
She didn’t need to say anything else. Cleo couldn’t take her eyes off it. It threw its head back again, howling and flailing against its restraints. Its eyes were full of fire, a madness she’d definitely seen before. And the lycanroc had said they’d found the whimsicott. Mischief…
Cleo’s heart hammered against her chest as she put the pieces together.
Four more pokemon rushed to the edge of the gorge. A vigoroth, raichu, heliolisk and sandslash. Each one sported the crescent moon symbol on their right shoulders, and for the first time Cleo spotted the tattoo on the tyranitar and its two handlers. Although it was harder to spot beneath the dark fur of the midnight lycanroc.
“Oh ho!” said the vigoroth. “So Rio’s crazy plan worked, eh?”
“Heretics!” Spark hissed.
The vigoroth’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t use that word, rodent!”
The sandslash flexed his claws while the two electric-types sparked dangerously.
“Now, let’s see.” The vigoroth scratched his nose. “Well, this is interesting. The three pokemon we were told to apprehend have gone’n’got themselves an ally!” He chortled and folded his arms. “Shouldn’t you be serving Lord Hydreigon, eh, little zorua?”
Harlequin bared their canines. “I am not their ally! And I’m no friend of yours either!”
“Yeah, well, we’ll take you with us anyway.” The vigoroth waved a claw. “Grab ‘em!”
The four pokemon rushed them, leaving the lycanroc pair to deal with the tyranitar. Spark leapt up between the onslaught and Cleo, her body flashing as she lashed out with her discharge. The raichu intersected, raising his tail high and channelling her attack into his body.
He looked up and gave her a wicked grin. “Thanks for the boost, sweetheart!”
His cheeks sparked and a huge bolt of lightning left his body, hitting spark head on. The small dedenne flew back from him, and Cleo leapt to catch her before she hit the ground. Cleo rolled into the fallen tree, clutching Spark to her body. As she pushed herself back to her feet, she spotted the vigoroth rushing her, claws spread. She unfurled her ears, blasting him back from her with her psychic. It was enough time to quickly assess the situation and plan a path to escape. But they were in much worse shape than their enemies. Harlequin was a burden strapped to Cleo’s wrist. They couldn’t attack, and likely wouldn’t given the chance. Mischief leapt back and forth, tossing energy balls to keep the sandslash and heliolisk at bay. The tyranitar thrashed against its restraints in an attempt to get closer to the whimsicott. Cleo didn’t like the hunger in its eyes. Foam had gathered around its lips and spittle flew with every snap of its jaws.
“Easy, B!” said the midday lycanroc. “You might get to eat them later, hey?”
The midnight one laughed at that, his red eyes almost as crazed as the tyranitar’s.
Cleo’s mouth turned bone dry. If they were going to get away, then she first had to deal with Mischief’s problem. And there was always the risk he’d lose control himself. And if they let the tyranitar loose… no, she couldn’t think about that. Not yet.
Cleo rushed to Mischief’s aide, trapping the heliolisk in her psychic. Mischief quickly got the message and focused his attacks on the sandslash. The pangolin took an energy ball to the stomach and struck the ground hard on his bottom, letting out a shrill hiss. Cleo brought the heliolisk down on top of him, but a sharp pain to her neck caused her to gasp. The bubble released, letting the heliolisk fall short and land on his feet.
Cleo raised a paw to her neck, and her claws fastened around a feather dart. She looked back at the vigoroth standing a few feet away. He held a small blow dart in his claws. Cleo’s heart sank. She’d miscalculated. Assumed he was down for the count. And now they were all in trouble.
She opened her mouth to shout, but it came out as a weak breath. The world began to spin and she sank to her knees. She thought she saw Mischief turn to help her, but she wasn’t sure. A heavy fog descended on her like a blanket and she flopped to her side in the soft, dry leaves.
...
Harbinger had heard the chaos long before he saw it. A deep, bellowing roar that turned his blood cold. The shouts and cries, the crash of trees and bodies. Lightning that had lit up the bare canopy.
Curiosity had got the better of him. He followed the river back upstream until he found it, and he sat and watched, sheltered behind a brittle shrubbery. Scratch and Claw sat a little way away, bracing themselves perchance the battle turned towards them.
It was a spectacle. Heretics battling with the Outcasts. A chaos of attacks lighting up the air, backed by the bellows from the enraged beast in chains. The Outcasts had lost the battle before it had even begun. Harbinger had watched transfixed. The tyranitar was what had piqued his interest. A massive behemoth struggling against its restraints held by a stubborn pair of lycanroc. Deranged, crazed.
Then there was the whimsicott. As soon as the meowstic had fallen, his demeanour had changed. Warped, as crazed as the tyranitar. The vigoroth barely stood a chance. If it weren’t for the heliolisk who had managed to grab the blow-dart, the vigoroth would have come off a lot worse. But once the whimsicott was down, the battle was won.
The zorua… Harlequin… had turned into a feral ball of fur, snapping and barking as they tried to flee the scene to no avail. Realising their plight, the assassin had soon begun pleading for their life, for their freedom. Pathetic. Another dart, and they were down for the count. Silenced. Motionless. Harbinger’s hackles rose as a deep hatred welled up inside him. That was his job. He was the one who was meant to kill the zorua, not a group of Heretics.
The Outcast group was picked up carefully, one by one, and taken away.
Why? Why would they gather up them up? Had they not been killed after all?
Harbinger raised his head to get a clearer view. The meowstic’s limp body flopped over the vigoroth’s arms. Her chest rose and fell as if she were only sleeping.
Harbinger narrowed his eyes in thought. They were up to something. Something that certainly piqued the absol’s curiosity. He slowly rose to his feet, watching the Heretics as they vanished over the lip of the gorge. The tyranitar’s cries echoed through the forest, slowly fading into the distance.
Once he was certain he wouldn’t be spotted, Harbinger slipped from his hiding spot and, with a commanding glance back at his twin allies, he picked up the Heretics’ trail and followed.
It's refreshing to open with established characters, who have their own histories. Cleo and Spark have a fun dynamic, and Cleo's fraught relationship with Tinker gives a lot of insight into who she is and who she's been. Their conflict over the how Cleo acted at Windflower was effective at conveying a lot of world-building without sitting down and expositing.
As to the world itself, I like that the evil dragon empire isn't portrayed as consisting solely of evil dragon soldiers. The issue of juvenile dragons harassing settlements gives a fuller feeling to the world. I'm curious why the evil empire is 'dragons and dark types'--the dragons seem like the prevailing force, and if they were going to ally with anyone based on type, it feels like a type that checks draconic weaknesses would be their best bet. I also appreciated to the continued reminders that the Outcasts live a precarious, transitory existence, from the description of the temporary refuges, to Tinker's comment that maybe it's time for Windflower to uproot itself and find another location.
I would have liked to see a little more discussion between Cleo and Spark after Cleo met with Tinker. If they're partners, it seems odd to me that Spark wouldn't have an interest in what happened, even if Cleo is the more senior partner? That would have been a good opportunity to give more of a sense about who Spark is. The banter is fun, but this chapter leaves me with an impression of Sparks as pretty much the comic relief, who only worries about filling her stomach.
The final section with Harbinger was quite atmospheric. I couldn't quite follow whether the town Harbinger is about to doom is meant to be Windflower or someplace new, Are they planning to poison the waters that fed the lake? I think the closing section does a nice job providing some pay-off to the dread being set up in the earlier sections. Cleo's right to be worried, but what can she do?
Barely a sound rose from the shadows cast by the trees as the setting sun stretched its dwindling rays through the canopy of the winding woods. Just the soft sound of crunching leaves and brittle twigs as Cleo trudged through the undergrowth, keeping her wits about her as any sensible meowstic should. Every confident step was soft and calculated to avoid drawing attention from the wood’s inhabitants, which were few and far between.
Gonna go a bit in-depth on the prose here, since the opening paragraph is the introduction of the story. This opening paragraph is wordy, and doesn't quite set a tone. The first sentence stacks clauses in such a way that the emphasis of the sentence shifts and so loses emphasis. "Barely a sound rose/ from the shadows/ cast by the trees/ as the setting sun stretched its dwindling rays /through the canopy/ of the winding woods." By the end, it's not clear what part of the sentence is the important one--barely a sound? the shadows? trees? setting sun? winding woods? Trudged is a verb that suggests heavy, uncoordinated steps from tiredness--the opposite of the soft but confident steps of the next sentence. "Keeping her wits about her" is a bit of a vague description. We'd get more of a sense of tension if you described what Cleo keeping her wits about her looks like. Saying that Cleo's steps are calculated to avoid attention from the wood's inhabitants, but then that there aren't that many of those inhabitants deflates the sense of tension.
Sample rewrite for comparison:
[The sun was setting over the winding woods. Beneath the canopy of trees, the shadows were silent except for the occasional crunch of leaves. Cleo moved through the undergrowth with soft, fluid steps. At intervals, the meowstic halted, her ears twitching. The wood's inhabitants were few and far between, but she didn't intend to take any risks.]
Earlier we're told that this wood isn't really inhabited, and it doesn't seem like a commonly traveled road. Is there any reason why assassins would be lurking here? Like, what would make it worth their while?
I'm reminded of a quote, "They had been lurking in the fog for an hour now, but they had been pacing themselves and could lurk for the rest of the night if necessary, with still enough sullen menace left for a final burst of lurking around dawn."
The point being, the idea of evil emissaries just sort of lurking in places doesn't make sense if you're going for world-building where the forces of Darkness have actual goals/responsibilities.
Huh, how untroubled she seems here feels like it contradicts how cautious and nervous she was earlier. I think some justification is needed--is she not worried because they're so close to the edge of the wood? Or because it's only three?
Cleo released her bag strap to ball her paws into fists. It wasn’t unusual for assassins to poke jibes at their targets. But things could turn very nasty in the blink of an eye. Psychic energy hummed in her ears. An impulse.
A blinding flash lit up the trees, wiping the smirks clean off the weavile troop’s faces. One by one, the weasel pokemon flopped from the canopy to land in a sprawl in the undergrowth. Their bodies sparked and jerked as electricity danced across their limbs.
Spark placed her paws on her hips and tapped her tiny foot. “Who’s laughing now?”
Cleo rejoined her friend’s side and shook her head slowly. “Couldn’t you have gone a little easier on them?”
Spark quirked an eyebrow at her. “This coming from the meowstic who just laid waste to an army of jangmo-o?”
Cleo shrugged her shoulders. “They had it coming.”
“So did these,” said Spark. “Funny though. Hydreigon’s goons can be mouthy, but they usually just attack us. These guys were all bark and no bite.”
“Let’s see what they’ve got on them, then, eh?” Spark rubbed her paws together. “Keep an eye open in case there’s more.” She promptly vanished inside the head weavile’s bag.
Cleo stood beside the bag, watching Spark’s tail swish back and forth while keeping her ears trained on their surroundings. It was likely there was no further threat, given no one came to the weaviles’ aide, but one didn’t take risks when the sun was setting.
“Dang it!” came Spark’s muffled voice. “No berries.”
There's some redundancy here, with the darkness of the woods. I think you could say this more concisely, [The woods had grown almost entirely dark. When they finally stepped out onto cool, damp grass, the dwindling light seemed blinding.]
Just beyond that was a sprawl of wooden buildings. Not permanent dwellings, but those thrown up in haste by pokemon who were often on the move. They would stay here for a season or two, maybe even more if things stayed quiet. Some of the dwellings weren’t exactly buildings, however. Instead, they were wooden carts with taupe over the tops to keep the rain out. Cleo had seen them many times. They were dragged by strong pokemon, and were designed so those that inhabited them could make a quick getaway. Not every pokemon had warmed to the idea. Too many had been seen being blown away in storms, or dragged away by the Darkness. At least wooden shacks stayed where they were, were easy enough to throw up and tear down if need be, and would even last long enough to be returned to should such times arise.
Nice nugget of worldbuilding. I'd be curious about variation in dwellings, since pokemon have so many differences in size and needs. Grass pokemon don't really need shelter from the rain, for example! What do their temporary dwellings look like?
This paragraph could use a bit of trimming--for example, with "Some of the dwellings weren’t exactly buildings, however. Instead, they were wooden carts with taupe over the tops to keep the rain out." you don't need a separate sentence to explain that some of the dwellings aren't buildings, because the act of describing them as wooden carts shows that ie " Some of the dwellings were little more than wooden carts with . . ."
A more concise paragraph might read,
[Just beyond that was a sprawl of wooden buildings, thrown up in haste by pokemon who were often on the move. They would stay here for a season or two, maybe even more if things stayed quiet. Some of the dwellings were little more than wooden carts with taupe over the tops to keep the rain out. These were dragged by strong pokemon and designed for quick getaways. But Cleo had had seen too many of such dwellings being blown away in storms, or dragged away by the Darkness. At least wooden shacks stayed where they were, were easy enough to throw up and tear down if need be, and would even last long enough to be returned to, should such times arise.]
The line about the wooden carts being blown away by the wind is a poignant and powerful one, and I think it's stronger when attributed to something Cleo has personally witnessed, rather than to the generality 'not every pokemon had . .'
“Are you wanting to stop here first?” Tinker asked with a hint of impatience. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss your previous mission in there. There are a lot of… local refugees who’ve joined us here. And I fear discussing such matters might upset them.”
Cleo’s ears drooped slightly. She couldn’t deny she was hungry. But… She nodded her understanding and turned from the dining hall. “I can eat later.”
The truth was, the sooner she relayed her mission, the less it would be hovering over her like a dark fog.
Nice characterization moment for both of them, showing Cleo's sense of duty, and how Tinker's big-picture concerns trump his sympathy for individual discomforts.
“A couple were apprehended there,” she explained. “But their Guild is small, you know that. Most of those dragons got away. Although not unscathed.”
“You let them get away?!”
“I was busy helping someone who got hit by a dragon rage,” Cleo explained. “They had no available medic, and they needed help!”
Tinker leant on his paw and tapped his claws on the table top. “The fact those dragons got away unsettles me, Cleo.”
“Then maybe it’s about time Windflower packed up and moved on. They’re too close to the Shadow Lands as it is.”
Tinker rubbed his muzzle and groaned. “That’s not an option I want to enforce on them. You were meant to kill-”
“My job is to look after pokemon who are threatened by the Darkness,” said Cleo. “I wasn’t going to let someone die by giving chase after a bunch of kids!”
“I appreciate that, Cleo,” said Tinker. “But someone else could have done it. Those dragons are a threat.”
“Those dragons are hatchlings.”
“Hydreigon trains hatchlings!”
“Yes, in the Shadow Lands!” Cleo snapped. “He doesn’t send a group of kids off to terrorise a village!” She sighed and dragged her claws through the fur between her ears. “At least having two jangmo-o in custody will hopefully give them much needed information. Whatever they can provide, anyway. At least they’re not terrorising them anymore.”
“If they come back, Cleo-”
“Then they have two of their own as ransom. I’m sure that will terrify those children more than being chased across the town by a pawful of Guild Warriors.”
“Ransom indeed.” Tinker lowered his paw to look at her. “I hardly think Hydreigon will care. If he demands that village wiped out, then it will be wiped out. Just like your home.”
Ooh, a lot to unpack here. Interesting that Tinker thinks killing juvenile vandals would be good deterrence. If anything, seems like a town that killed hatchlings would be more likely to draw anger from the dragon empire and get attacked.
Probe is an odd verb here; the clunkiness of 'probe him as to how' undercuts the impact of this moment.
Possible rephrasing, [A chill ran down Cleo’s spine and her fur stood on end. The riolu's ruined right eye stared vacantly past her. And just how did you lose it, anyway? she imagined spitting back. But she swallowed the vehement words. The subsequent look of surprise and regret that washed over his face made it a lot easier to do so.]
Nice moment. Sums up the feeling I got from their conversation, where she wants to be angrier at him, but can't because of the sheer crumminess of the situation.
All pokemon were the same. All hated and feared absol.
He paused just behind a rocky mound, lowering his head to see past the spray of dried branches poking from it. There it was. The village. Clean, white stone reflecting the moonlight. The lake glistened with stars, rippling and disturbing them as the breeze washed over it.
A couple of pokemon hovered around the lake, gathering water into clay jars. A zangoose and a linoone. In the doorway of one of the houses stood a zigzagoon on its hind legs, steadying itself with its paw. Clearly trying to imitate its parent.
It certainly looked peaceful enough. Well… it was time to introduce himself.
This does a nice job setting up a serene atmosphere, and establishing Harbinger as ominous.
(In contrast to the opening paragraph, this is effective because you don't jam everything into one sentence, and you place emphasis on what's important. We have the image of the calm white stone reflecting moonlight and of the rippling surface of the lake. )
Harbinger lowered his leg to sit better and looked at each of the pawniard in turn. Patient, waiting. The dim light reflected off their metal hides, yet they still managed to blend to the shadows. The pokemon in that village probably hadn’t even noticed them.
Harbinger glanced back at the way they’d come. Those pokemon around the lake. He’d told them disaster was coming. He was going to make sure it did.
The moon was high in the sky, bathing the mountain in its cool silvery light. The rugged slope began to level out, the stone gradually turning to soft, comfortable grass beneath Harbinger’s feet. The worst of it was behind them now as Harbinger and his friends wound their way down, following the river as it rushed away from them, twinkling with starlight.
This sentence took me a couple reads--I originally read "they" as Harlequin and Cleo together, since the two of them were mentioned in the previous sentence. I realize "they" is the pronoun used for Harlequin to keep the gender ambiguous/androgynous, but you might want to specify the name here instead of just using the pronoun.
Haha, I like how all three of them immediately thought of using Harlequin as their test subject when getting to Outcast town.
Outcasts towns weren’t as populous as they once were, and now they were dragging a notorious assassin around with them.
Oh? Had Outcast town populations dwindled under Hydreigon's rule in general, or just recently?
“Oi!” Spark leapt off Cleo’s shoulder and stood sparking between her and Harlequin. “You leave my friend alone, all right? It’s not his fault he has no memories, and I won’t stand for a bully like you picking on him like that!”
I can't read the word "shrubbery" anymore without thinking of Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
And it ends with a view on Harbinger again! That's exciting :D
There was quite a bit of interesting development in this chapter! There was certainly quite a bit happening. I don't have much to say overall; you ended us on a nice cliffhanger, and whether we'll see the Heretic lab or more from Tinker, I'm certainly looking forward to it!
I'm back at it again to review this fic. This chapter definitely had some interesting turn of events occur in it. For one we got to see Harbinger again, and I'm surprised to see that he's still hanging around in the forest. Was he still aiming for Harlequin and Enigma the whole time or did he have some other objective he wanted to accomplish in the forest? He already committed mass murder. One would think he'd leave since he's done what he came for.
It was still funny seeing Harlequin's poor misfortune by being dragged around by Cleo's group. As humorous as it was, we're still constantly reminded of how dangerous Harley is should they get the chance, and something tells me they won't be getting along with Harley any time soon. I was expecting at least one more chapter before the Heretics would catch up to Cleo's group, and even less so was I expecting Cleo and friends to be captured.
That was somewhat poor judgment on Tinker's part to send them out into the woods like that in the first place and I still don't know why they took Harlequin with them. Wouldn't they have been more useful being kept prisoner than being tolled around by Cleo's group? You'd think keeping one of Hydriegon's aces behind bars indefinitely would've been the smarter move. Alas, I wonder what Rio and the heretics are going to do to them now. Considering the fact that Dedenne are part fairy in the games, something tells me Spark isn't going to like where things are going.
It's refreshing to open with established characters, who have their own histories. Cleo and Spark have a fun dynamic, and Cleo's fraught relationship with Tinker gives a lot of insight into who she is and who she's been. Their conflict over the how Cleo acted at Windflower was effective at conveying a lot of world-building without sitting down and expositing.
Thank you! =D I try to make the characters feel real, and I love writing their interactions. Especially Cleo and Spark. Their sister relationship is just so heartwarming at times.
I'm curious why the evil empire is 'dragons and dark types'--the dragons seem like the prevailing force, and if they were going to ally with anyone based on type, it feels like a type that checks draconic weaknesses would be their best bet.
Living in fear of the Darkness means most Outcasts are diurnal, so meowstic have lost their night-vision. It's not that she can't see at all, but it's somewhat diminished. So she relies more on her hearing.
I might need to remove that. I don't know why it's there. I'll mull it over.
Thanks for the feedback. There are things I do need to reconsider for the opening chapter. I kept the opening paragraph after all the positivity I'd had on WattPad on my first write-up, but it might need a second thought with the feedback I've had on here. It's not something I'm going to be hasty to fix, given I do think the stark contrast in feedback - some love it, some hate it - may show my writing style is akin to Marmite. I don't want to change my style, given I've spent so many years working on it. But if there really is an issue, I'll think over a way to do so without butchering it.
This sentence took me a couple reads--I originally read "they" as Harlequin and Cleo together, since the two of them were mentioned in the previous sentence. I realize "they" is the pronoun used for Harlequin to keep the gender ambiguous/androgynous, but you might want to specify the name here instead of just using the pronoun.
This chapter definitely had some interesting turn of events occur in it. For one we got to see Harbinger again, and I'm surprised to see that he's still hanging around in the forest. Was he still aiming for Harlequin and Enigma the whole time or did he have some other objective he wanted to accomplish in the forest? He already committed mass murder. One would think he'd leave since he's done what he came for.
Harbinger is a nomad, and he'll tend to stick around somewhere he feels safe for a bit before moving on. It's safe to say he's lost track of Enigma and Harlequin at this stage, given he wanted to hold back earlier on when his trap failed.
That was somewhat poor judgment on Tinker's part to send them out into the woods like that in the first place and I still don't know why they took Harlequin with them.
Tinker's thoughts here was that Harlequin would be more valuable as a ransom than a prisoner. His theory is that Hydreigon wouldn't want to accidentally kill his ace... Tinker can make hasty decisions that look good on paper but might not be ideal. Cleo can be the voice of reason sometimes, but she's not going to fight him. We'll just have to see how this goes down!
16 - The Clean Place
Tinker sat with his arms folded across the table, resting his head on them while deep in thought. The egg lay in a make-shift nest before him - a jumble of blankets and a few of the fluffy feathers he’d harvested from its old nest. He’d managed to get it beating again, but was the nest actually warm enough?
The door clicked open behind him and his ear pricked up as Skipper shuffled into the room.
“Ye still watchin’ that thing?” he asked.
Tinker nodded and let out a small sigh. “Yes. But I fear a few blankets and a pawful of feathers can’t hold a candle to a mother.”
Skipper stopped behind him and placed his flippers on the back of his chair. “Ye ever thought o’actually usin’ a candle?”
“It might sound like a good idea, but I fear it’ll just set the blanket on fire.”
“Ah, right ye are. An’ that won’t do th’egg much good, aye?”
Tinker pushed himself up and scratched his nose. “It’s a wonder the mother actually left it. Perhaps they were killed by the poison?”
“Perhaps, aye.” Skipper clicked his tongue. “Ye could always ask one o’th’mothers ‘ere to warm it for ye? Although I’m not sure how she might react… I mean… ‘tis a dragon, Tink.”
“It has actually crossed my mind to ask one of the mother ‘mon here,” said Tinker. “There is a ninetales who has two pups of her own. But I think few pokemon would see this the way I do.”
“Right enough.” Skipper raised his flippers in a shrug. “I still dinnae ken why ye wanna hatch an altaria egg. Although ye did make a few good points. Perhaps ye can sway th’Elites or somethin’? ‘Cos if ye dump this egg on someone an’ they find out what it is, they could send all o’ New City into an uproar.”
Tinker stared down at the bundle on his desk. “That’s what I fear.”
The thought had crossed his mind several times already. More than once he’d questioned his own sanity. Sure, all baby pokemon hatched innocent. But it would still grow up to be a dragon. One of the very pokemon types the Outcasts had been warring against. The egg would hatch as a swablu and believe the first pokemon it saw was its mother or father. Like any other hatchling, it would ideally grow up with its own parents beliefs and morals. If the Outcasts could raise it to be on their side, they would be exploiting one of the Darkness’ weaknesses. Dragon-type moves were effective against their own typing. Tinker and the rest of New City could raise the little hatchling into a formidable warrior who would strife to wipe out the Darkness and bring peace back to Estellis. With no ice-types left in the world, the Outcasts had been at a severe disadvantage. So having such a pokemon on their side could turn the tide of battle in their favour.
But would anyone else see it that way?
Tinker flopped back into his seat with a sigh. “I’m taking a massive risk here, aren’t I, Skip?”
“Aye, that ye are.” Skipper folded his arms over the back of Tinker’s chair. “But ye heart’s in th’right place. Ye’ve got New City’s best interests in mind, and ye rescuin’ a defenceless egg.”
Tinker opened his eyes to stare at the blankets. Part of it had fallen away, revealing the egg’s creamy surface. He quickly fixed it and sat back in his seat.
“But ye can’t keep it a secret forever, Tink,” Skipper explained. “’Cos once it hatches, it’s gonna grow up fast like any other tyke ‘ere. It won’t be long before it’s runnin’ round New City wantin’ t’play wi’ th’other pokemon. Sooner or later, ye gonna ‘ave t’come clean.”
Tinker pinched the bridge of his muzzle. “You’re right. I can’t just hatch it without telling those who live here.” His paw flopped into his lap. “I’ll call a meeting of the Guild Elites. I’ll come clean and tell them about the egg, then we’ll take it from there.”
“An’ if they want it gone?” Skipper asked.
“What else can I do? If they believe the pokemon inside will grow up to be a massive threat…” Tinker gave a weak shrug and stared at the bundle of blankets, “then I have no choice. I’ll have to destroy it.”
...
Cleo groaned and cracked her eyes open, only to be greeted by dazzling lights that shocked pain into her head. She clasped her paws over her face and rolled to the side, letting out a long hiss. She tried again, parting her claws to peer at her surroundings. It hurt less, but the light was still dazzling. As it faded, she could make out a pristine white floor that lead up to a barrier of iron bars, criss-crossed so the smallest of pokemon would have a hard time squeezing their way out.
Her limbs felt like lead. What was in those blow darts? She flopped onto her back and sat up slowly, licking her lips. Her mouth felt like a desert.
“Where am I?” she croaked, rubbing at her throat.
“The Clean Place.”
Those words hadn’t been said with as much joy and innocence as when she’d first heard them. She turned her head to see Mischief sat against the wall, looking as rough and beaten up as she felt. His right eye was puffy and he seemed unable to stop fussing at it.
“The Clean Place…” Cleo mumbled as she looked out through the bars. Beyond was a white room, the walls dazzling as they reflected the artificial light above them. Cleo had never seen lights like them, and she was beginning to wish they’d go away. Several more cells made up the walls of the room, with curious faces peering out at her and her party. Their low voices became clearer, more distinct, soon replacing the throbbing that Cleo had assumed was all in her head.
She shuffled back against the cold wall, giving the cell another glance. Spark lay beside her, motionless but still breathing, while Harlequin lay in the middle of the cell looking as confused as Cleo was.
“It’s a Heretic lab,” said Cleo.
Mischief turned to look at her. “What’s a lab?”
“A laboratory,” Cleo said, as though it would be more helpful. Then she added, “It’s where they do experiments, I’m guessing. I don’t know why Heretics have them.” She rubbed her face with both paws. “Although the pieces are starting to fall into place.”
“So this is where I’m from?” Mischief waved a paw at the outside. “Did I… did I work here?”
Cleo snorted and gave a pained grimace as she adjusted her sore body into a more comfortable position. “I think it’s safe to say you were on the same side of the bars as we are now.”
A strange grating noise filled the cell. Cleo turned to look at Harlequin. They appeared to be laughing, their eyes closed with amusement, but the noise was more akin to a strangled cough.
“A test subject.” Harlequin fixed one eye on Cleo and pushed themselves up until they were sitting rather uncomfortably. “Makes a lot of sense.”
Mischief leant forwards on his knees. “What do you mean it makes a lot of sense?”
“Ignore her.” Cleo waved a paw at him and turned to address the smirking zorua. “Do you know what they do here?”
Harlequin’s smirk widened and they tilted their head to the side. “The Heretics have loads of labs like this across Estellis, but what they do is kept secret.”
“So you’ve no idea?”
“Haven’t the foggiest.”
Cleo folded her paws in her lap and gazed out at the laboratory. None of them knew for certain what the Heretics did, but she was starting to get a good idea. With Mischief’s recognition of it, the Heretic’s comments and that tyranitar… It was most likely to do with that pokerus strain. Cleo flinched at the memory of that behemoth. Enraged, crazed. The look in its eyes was identical to Mischief’s when he lost control. Did they really create those pokemon here? Turning living things into weapons? Her blood boiled at the thought of it.
Whatever they were doing, she feared they were about to find out very soon and the answer wouldn’t be leaving these walls.
“No.” Spark shuffled beside Cleo and raised a paw in dismissal. “No more dancing…”
Satisfied her friend was okay, Cleo turned to address Mischief. “How much of that battle do you remember?”
Mischief lowered his paw from his swollen eye to answer, but he was cut off as the double doors across the room swung open.
“Oh, I doubt he remembers much of it!” The speaker almost purred with satisfaction.
Cleo let out a gasp and tried to push herself to her feet. A male meowstic approached the cell, strutting with his paws tucked behind his back. He looked over his prisoners and finally settled on Mischief.
“I think you’ll find,” said Rio, “that this whimsicott suffers from some degree of memory loss.”
Mischief perked up at that and his eyes widened. “You have my memories?”
“No, you fool. You had them removed, although you won’t remember that.” The Heretic gave Mischief an unsettling smirk. “Pity.” He then turned to Cleo who sat with her mouth flapping open like a beached goldeen. “You seem surprised. At a loss for words. What’s the problem?”
Cleo shook her head sharply and fixed him with an amber stare. “You’re a meowstic.”
“Yes. Well done.” He clapped his paws.
“No, you… how?” she gasped. “I thought all meowstic were wiped out years ago. The fire… I only escaped by chance!”
“Well, there are two standing in this room so I guess you were wrong.” He turned his attention to the other two pokemon.
“No, how?” Cleo demanded, turning frantic. “How did you escape that fire? Did anyone else?”
He fixed her with an intimidating glare. “I ran. I have legs, I used them.”
“What, and you joined some Heretic lab?” Cleo spat. “Your family would be so proud.”
Rio’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Cleo found herself pressed against the wall by an invisible force. It was only brief, but enough to cause her aching bones to complain. She slid down the tiles onto her bottom as the meowstic turned back to Harlequin.
“Now,” he said. “This is an interesting development. I tried to put you in a separate cell, but you seem rather attached to your friend here.” He gestured to Cleo. “I imagine that’s not by choice?”
Harlequin’s canines poked out of their lips. “Not remotely.”
“Very well. We’ll have to leave you stuck in here for now.” He gave the zorua a half-smile. “You can explain your situation to Enigma later, when he gets here.”
Harlequin’s blue eyes widened with fear and the fur prickled along their spine.
Rio turned his attention onto Mischief and tutted. “As for you, I would like to know how you lost our tracking device.”
“We destroyed it,” said Cleo.
“Oh?” The mewostic raised an eyebrow. “So you found it?”
“What is he talking about?” Mischief asked. “What’s a tracking device?”
“It means you were being tracked,” she explained, not taking her eyes off the male meowstic. “By these Heretics.”
Mischief raised his paws in a weak shrug. “What for?”
Rio narrowed his eyes at Cleo. “How much do you know?”
Cleo kept her mouth shut, but all eyes in the room fixed on her. Save for Spark, who wiped a sleepy paw over her nose and rolled over.
“Cleo doesn’t know anything,” said Mischief. “If she did, she’d tell me.”
“No. He’s right.” Cleo grimaced as a sour taste filled her mouth. This wasn’t how she’d wanted him to find out. She sighed and rolled her head back against the wall. “Spark and I already know you’re a Heretic.”
Mischief stiffened then turned to examine his right shoulder. His face fell and his jaw went slack as he looked between it and Cleo.
The other meowstic chuckled and his face creased with laughter. He shook his head and placed a paw against the cell to steady himself. “Oh, so you found the mark as well as his tracking device?”
Mischief shook his head slowly. “So I’m a Heretic?!”
All amusement left Rio’s face and he examined his claws. “Mm-hmm. Born and raised. You were actually a highly valued member of our program.”
“You mean your wicked pokerus program?” Cleo spat.
Rio looked up with a start. “You know about that?”
“More than you’d expect,” said Cleo. “We looted a vial of the stuff off some weavile in the Winding Woods and had it examined. We know you’ve been trading for it with the Shadow Lands.”
“Really?” Rio’s smirk returned and he tucked his paws neatly behind his back again. “You’re not as informed as you might think, kitten. We’ve not been trading with the Shadow Lands. We’ve been trading with outlaws.”
Cleo’s mouth fell open. “Outlaws?”
“Yes. Outlaws. They get brushed under the rug by you Outcasts, don’t they?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You like to pretend they don’t exist.” He stood back from the cell then turned towards the door. “Well, I’d better go and prepare for our guest. I’ll see all of you again soon.”
The double doors swung shut behind him, blending back in with the immaculate white wall. No windows to show what was beyond it. Not a single glimmer of hope.
The cell was silent, save for the hushed voices of the pokemon in the cells surrounding them. They’d fallen silent during the meowstic’s visit, and Cleo caught the odd string of discussion about their conversation. The tension in the air fell thick and heavy on Cleo, almost pressing her into the ground. She wanted to curl up and go to sleep, to wake up and have it all be nothing more than a bad dream.
“So you knew all along?” Mischief’s voice was small and feeble. It stabbed at her like a dagger. “You knew all along and didn’t tell me?”
Cleo tilted her head back against the cold wall. “I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”
“Is there anything else you’re not telling me?” he asked bitterly.
Cleo flinched and turned her face away from him. The can of wurmple was open. If she didn’t tell him now, it would only make matters worse.
She closed her eyes and sighed. “You also have pokerus.” When he didn’t reply, she added, “It’s a mutated strain that seems to make you lose control… and send you… well, mad.”
“I’m not mad!”
She turned back to him, but he wouldn’t meet her eye. “You know all those battles you have no memory of? There’s a reason for that, and we believe this is why.” She lifted a paw and shook her head. “Pokerus used to be a beneficial parasite that would aid those who have it to grow stronger than they would have otherwise. After a while, it would stop and the pokemon couldn’t be infected by the same parasite twice. This strain, however… it goes beyond that. And rather than being a benefit, it turns whoever is suffering with it into…” She paused, searching for the right word.
“A monster?” Harlequin offered.
Cleo shot the zorua a glare. “Way to be gentle about it!”
Mischief’s orange eyes glistened with tears and he shook his head at Cleo. “I’m a monster?”
“No!” Cleo dug her claws into her leg. “Look… I don’t know what their plan is here. But whatever they were wanting to use you for, it isn’t happening now. Okay? Not if I can help it.”
Mischief turned pale and stared down at his paws. “Was it me?”
“Was what you?”
“Was it me who killed the noivern?”
Cleo was silent, but the longer she dragged it out the more his face seemed to fall as the truth sank in.
She closed her eyes and nodded. “Yes.”
He covered his face with both paws and sank down against the wall.
“That’s how we found out you can take down a dragon,” Cleo explained.
“So there’s a lot you’ve not told me?” he said. “Why? Don’t you trust me?”
“Truthfully, Mischief, I find it hard to trust anyone,” said Cleo. “At first, no. I didn’t trust you. But… you’re becoming a valuable friend.”
Harlequin turned to examine the door to their cell. “A friend wouldn’t lie.”
“You’re not helping!” Cleo snapped.
“I wasn’t trying to.” Harlequin fastened their jaws around the lock and gave it a hefty tug.
“I didn’t lie,” Cleo told Mischief. “I only kept that information from you because you had a lot to take in. How would you have reacted knowing all that at once? Because I’m worried it would have broken you, and seeing you like this only confirms my fears.”
Mischief was silent and impossible to read with his arm flopped over his face.
Cleo shook her head slowly. “I will admit, part of me was worried that when you found out, you might rejoin the Heretics.”
“And why would I do that?” he asked.
“Because it’s where you’re from,” she answered. “You might have wanted to find out more about yourself, since you have no memories.”
“You let me follow you when I was lost.” He pushed himself up so he could look at her. “You gave me a friend. Why would I throw all that away?!” He paused and closed his eyes briefly. “I’m not your enemy!”
“I know that now,” Cleo whispered.
“I hate to disturb this cushy moment,” said Harlequin, “but you all seem to be unaware that our belongings have been taken.”
Cleo looked down at herself, noticing for the first time that her satchel was missing. Her map, her Guild badge… she groaned and dragged a paw down her face.
“The bad news is I had picks in my bag,” said Harlequin. “If I had them, I could get us all out of here in no time flat.”
“Us?” Cleo ventured.
Harlequin’s muzzle creased. “Of course! Given I’m attached to you, aren’t I? I don’t exactly have much choice.”
“Why are you so desperate to get us out of here? Isn’t this Enigma a friend of yours?”
“Under normal circumstances, yes. But I doubt he’ll be very happy to find that not only have I failed my mission, I’ve been captured by Outcasts and now Heretics!”
Harlequin spun to face the door and attacked the lock with tooth and claw. The bars shook and reverberated with the zorua’s frantic attempts to remove the lock.
A disgruntled groan came from Spark and she sat up, rubbing her large eyes with one paw and yawning widely.
“Can’t a girl get some sleep around here?” She looked around at the cell and her brow furrowed. “Hang on… this isn’t my bed.”
“Oi, sparky!” Harlequin twisted to look at her. “Stick your whiskers in this lock and bust it open!”
Spark folded her arms and frowned at the zorua. “Not with that attitude.”
Cleo lowered her muzzle into one paw. “Spark, forget the formalities. Just give it a try.”
Spark mumbled something under her breath and hopped over to the lock. She craned her head back to look at it then looked up at Harlequin and tapped a foot impatiently.
“Too high,” she said.
Harlequin’s lip curled back and they tutted. They grabbed Spark by the scruff, lifting the flailing rodent to the lock. It went too quickly for Spark to retaliate. By the time the threat had registered, she was perched neatly on the top of the lock.
Spark smoothed out her fur and her cheeks spluttered with static. “Give a girl some warning, hey?”
“Just bust the lock open.” Harlequin looked away from her, still snarling. “Be glad I didn’t eat you, Snack Size.”
Spark clenched her fists and the static flared up into a spiral of electricity. She caught Cleo’s eye, and the meowstic shook her head slowly. Spark let out a sigh and peered over the edge of lock to examine the keyhole. She made a thoughtful noise and turned her head to stick her whiskers inside.
“All right, here we go,” she said. “One lock, busted open in three, two, one!”
Electricity flew from her whiskers, then a look of surprise crossed her face. She pushed herself up from the lock and frowned down at it.
“Huh… Nothing’s happening.”
Harlequin roared and threw their head back, marching from the door. “Non-conductive! Great!”
Spark watched after the zorua as they curled up with their back to them as far away as the collar would allow. The dedenne hopped from her perch, landing on all fours, and stood before Cleo.
“So… Harlequin’s riled, Mischief looks glum.” Spark spread her paws in a shrug. “I might need filling in here.”
...
Rio paced back and forth in his office, glancing from the lone window to spot any sign of his returning messenger. He’d sent the chatot out to find Enigma shortly after the whimsicott had been apprehended, and there was no sign of either of them yet. Rio was beginning to grow more and more anxious as his mind swirled with a million thoughts at once.
A light tap resounded from the door and Rio froze, his breath halting as he turned to face it.
The door cracked open and Tantrum poked his head through the gap. “You in here, boss?”
Rio let out the breath he’d been holding and sank back against the edge of his desk. “Oh. It’s only you.”
“Nice to see you too,” the vigoroth muttered as he slipped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. “You seem restless. Guess Enigma ain’t shown up then?”
“Not so much as a jingle.” Rio glanced back to the window. “I’m not sure we’re doing the right thing here, Tantrum.”
Tantrum paled and flopped into Rio’s desk chair. “Tell me you ain’t havin’ second thoughts?”
“I have reason for them.” Rio cocked an ear, just on the off-chance Enigma was lurking somewhere. Nothing. “I think it’s best we don’t relinquish the whimsicott.”
“But that’s the reason Enigma’s comin’ here, ain’t it?” Tantrum scoffed. “’Cos it killed Boomer.”
Rio nodded but said nothing, glancing over the abundance of files adorning his walls.
“Come on, boss,” Tantrum went on. “If you don’t give up the whimsicott, Enigma’s gonna wipe us all out! Hydreigon’s steamed right now, ain’t he? ‘Cos that whimsicott took out his ace.”
“And foiled our plans before we could get them off the ground,” said Rio. “If Boomer had made it back to the Shadow Lands, the plan would be in motion. He’d go back there with information about Type18, but no one would know he was a ticking time-bomb set to go off during his next training session. A huge chunk of the Shadow Lands would be wiped out from that dragon alone!” Rio’s claws dug into his pads as he clenched his fists. “I hadn’t calculated Boomer would run into any of the weapons we unleashed. No one was tracking Boomer. He was sent to return to the Shadow Lands, and if anyone found a tracker on him they’d trace him back to us. They’d know that something was up. I made a fatal error, Tantrum. One I’m paying for now.” He shook his head slowly and perched on the edge of his desk. “If we’d held back and not released those experiments… Boomer would have made it back.”
“Like you said, you couldn’t calculate that.” Tantrum shrugged. “Were an unfortunate accident. But we can’t keep that whimsicott. Not now Enigma’s comin’ back for it.”
“But it took out a noivern, Tantrum,” Rio explained. “We might have several Type18 candidates in our program, but that whimsicott is on a whole other level. If a pokemon has that much power, then imagine what it could do?! We could turn it into a weapon that could rival Project B!”
Tantrum spread his paws. “Or we could just infect another with Type18 and train it up. It’ll take a little while but-”
Rio smacked his paw onto the desk, silencing the vigoroth. “We don’t have much time, Tantrum. I’ve waited long enough for a chance like this!”
Tantrum dragged his claws down his face and sighed.
“Project B could wipe out half of Estellis alone,” Rio explained. “So far, nothing else has shown as much power as that tyranitar. Until now. If that whimsicott is truly on the path to become a weapon like that, then we’d be an unstoppable force. Nothing here can stand a chance against Project B. That’s why we’ve had to move it outside!”
“I know all that.”
“Then why are you fighting this?” Rio asked. “You know what our plan is, and if we give up the whimsicott, it would be nothing more than a set-back.”
“And if we hang onto it then we’re as good as dead! That’s a set-back if ever there was one!”
Rio closed his eyes and sighed. Tantrum was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. “Something like this doesn’t fall into our paws every day, Tantrum.”
“No, but if we let Enigma take the whimsicott, then we’ll be in Hydreigon’s good books,” Tantrum explained. “It’ll cover us up for a bit longer, and-”
“And Hydreigon will know everything,” said Rio. “He’ll find out about Type18 and fight back. Start a war. Boomer’s infection was meant to hinder that. He’d go off, and most of Hydreigon’s armies - maybe even Hydreigon himself - will be wiped out. Tell me now that it’s a good idea to send information back to him about Type18 with no other plan to fall back on?”
Tantrum opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut again.
Rio nodded. “You see where I’m coming from now?”
Tantrum shrugged and sank forward on the desk. “I suppose. Urgh, why can’t things be simple?”
“Make preparations to start on Project C,” Rio told him. “Grab the whimsicott and assess how quickly his pokerus infection is advancing. The faster we get a move on, the faster we can release the thing.”
“And what are we gonna tell Enigma?”
“I’ll think of a way to deal with him,” Rio explained. “I’ll tell him we lost the whimsicott or something, but he’s free to take its friends and Harlequin.”
Tantrum scratched his snout and looked up at Rio. “What’s the deal with that zorua?”
“It seems he’s a prisoner to the Outcasts.” Rio slipped from his desk and chuckled. “I’m sure Hydreigon will be thrilled about that.”
Just finished reading this new chapter. While I did enjoy reading through it, I couldn't help but feel that the chapter was a little bit too short. That's not inherently a problem by itself, but more that I feel it ended a bit too quickly.
I'm not sure how I feel about Tinker deciding to raise the Swablu as a weapon against the darkness. It does make sense since they're in a bleak period filled with war, but poor Swablu should be given the choice, no? Doesn't help that he intends to destroy the egg should the council decide the Swablu is too dangerous to be kept alive. Sure would be interesting to see where that goes.
Mischief learning the whole truth about what happened didn't quite hit me emotionally as I thought it would. It could be either because I read the chapter while tired or if it's because of how short and brief the chapter ultimately felt for me in the end. I'm also curious about the implication that all the remaining Meowstic species were living in the same location to get near wiped out by Hydriegon. It's pretty interesting seeing the contrast between Rio and Cleo.
Also, I couldn't help but find it funny seeing just how much Rio didn't think things through. It's a bit hilarious that him releasing his experiments is ultimately what threw a wrench into his plans to begin with and now he's stuck between a rock and a hard place. With Enigma slowly looming over them, I wonder how he plans to deal with the situation. The cliffhangers just really make me wish the chapters were longer and covered more material. Though the fact that these update on a weekly basis makes it a bit better. In any case, I'm looking forward to next week's chapter.
Here for Chapter 16! Wow, so many already--for some reason, I felt like we were on 14 ^_^;
The egg lay in a make-shift nest before him - a jumble of blankets and a few of the fluffy feathers he’d harvested from its old nest. He’d managed to get it beating again, but was the nest actually warm enough?
Get what beating? The egg? Must be a near fully-formed Swablu in there, if that's the case!
lol Tinker can try sitting on the egg himself and see if it'll hatch XD Though I agree, it just wouldn't be the same as a mother's care!
The thought had crossed his mind several times already. More than once he’d questioned his own sanity. Sure, all baby pokemon hatched innocent. But it would still grow up to be a dragon. One of the very pokemon types the Outcasts had been warring against. The egg would hatch as a swablu and believe the first pokemon it saw was its mother or father. Like any other hatchling, it would ideally grow up with its own parents beliefs and morals. If the Outcasts could raise it to be on their side, they would be exploiting one of the Darkness’ weaknesses. Dragon-type moves were effective against their own typing. Tinker and the rest of New City could raise the little hatchling into a formidable warrior who would strife to wipe out the Darkness and bring peace back to Estellis. With no ice-types left in the world, the Outcasts had been at a severe disadvantage. So having such a pokemon on their side could turn the tide of battle in their favour.
Interesting to see this. While Tinker definitely brings up good, reasonable points, this feels completely utilitarian. It's in character for him, but it also shows how much he needs to grow in seeing other Pokemon as people, not just weapons to be used.
“What else can I do? If they believe the pokemon inside will grow up to be a massive threat…” Tinker gave a weak shrug and stared at the bundle of blankets, “then I have no choice. I’ll have to destroy it.”
Later in the chapter, as Cleo thinks about how the Heretic lab turned Mischief and the Tyranitar into weapons, I feel like it juxtaposes Tinker raising the Swablu. He doesn't refer to the Swablu as a weapon, and while he clearly doesn't intend to abuse it as the Heretics abused Mischief and Tyranitar, he's still viewing and planning on keeping it for utilitarian ways.
Interesting to see Cleo and Rio interact! I wonder what 'fire' Cleo is referring to? It seems to have impacted her psyche, since she's so afraid of fires and Houndoom now.
Side-note: I wonder if "Cleo" and "Rio" sounding somewhat similar was intentional.
Side-side-note: one of my best friends in real life is named "Cloe" and every time I see "Cleo," I think I see "Cloe" at first XD
He gave the zorua a half-smile. “You can explain your situation to Enigma later, when he gets here.”
Harlequin’s blue eyes widened with fear and the fur prickled along their spine.
Boomer's infection? Was he infected with Pokerus, too? O_O
Ooooh things aren't looking good for the Outcasts or the Heretics. The dialogue didn't explicitly say this, but I take it that Rio and his lab already alerted Enigma that they had Harlequin? Or at least told him to come by? Good thing he gets to do something after being eliminated in Mafia. Things are really exciting! The most interesting part of this chapter for me was seeing how it contrasted the different Pokemon seeing each other in utilitarian ways, what with Tinker and the Swablu, Rio and the Tyranitar and Mischief, and to an extent, even Cleo and Mischief. She even admits that it took him a while to become her friend and, now that she view him that way, she tells him the truth instead covering it up to save face or help his feelings. I like how you contrasted all of these in this chapter, and I think it worked well and was effective.
I really liked this chapter, even if mainly for the character interactions we see--Cleo was very surprised to come across one of her own! I'm looking forward to seeing what happens there. Thanks so much for posting this; it's always a pleasure to read <3
Just finished reading this new chapter. While I did enjoy reading through it, I couldn't help but feel that the chapter was a little bit too short. That's not inherently a problem by itself, but more that I feel it ended a bit too quickly.
Sorry about that! ^^; Some of the chapters do end up shorter than I'd like, but sometimes they just end naturally. This one is also a bit on the short side, but hopefully the amount of information it contains makes up for that!
Also, I couldn't help but find it funny seeing just how much Rio didn't think things through. It's a bit hilarious that him releasing his experiments is ultimately what threw a wrench into his plans to begin with and now he's stuck between a rock and a hard place.
I imagine it as a heartbeat. So either it's the swablu's heart beating, or just a sound a healthy egg makes. I'll leave it to the readers' perspective.
It's actually accidental iirc! I'm not sure why I called him Rio. Cleo is named after the meowstic I had on my team in my first playthrough of Pokemon Y!
I like what you said about your friend having a similar name. I've never seen 'Chloe' spelt as 'Cloe' before (if it's pronounced the same?) I like it!
The dialogue didn't explicitly say this, but I take it that Rio and his lab already alerted Enigma that they had Harlequin? Or at least told him to come by?
The most interesting part of this chapter for me was seeing how it contrasted the different Pokemon seeing each other in utilitarian ways, what with Tinker and the Swablu, Rio and the Tyranitar and Mischief, and to an extent, even Cleo and Mischief. She even admits that it took him a while to become her friend and, now that she view him that way, she tells him the truth instead covering it up to save face or help his feelings. I like how you contrasted all of these in this chapter, and I think it worked well and was effective.
I really like how you've put this together, because this wasn't intentional. I love how this has worked out in the end. Thank you =D
17 - Project B
Harbinger skulked inside the trees, just at the edge of the laboratory’s cloak. It was an unusual thing made up entirely of psychic energy. Only a strong psychic-type could create such a thing, but it wasn’t perfect. Harbinger didn’t have to move very close to spot the squat white building crouching in the middle of the clearing. The ground around it had been trampled flat, either from training or from the beast snoring on the other side of the building. Harbinger had spotted that thing straight away. It had curled up right after it had finished its meal and hadn’t stirred since.
Its position meant Harbinger had to be further away from the window than he’d have liked, but he’d still heard every word the sleazy meowstic had said. He’d not seen the pokemon, but he had the feline accent typical of a meowstic. Harbinger hadn’t encountered many at all, and several had fallen victim to his disasters. After what he’d heard, this meowstic was on track to be on the receiving end of another.
Absol were feared to bring natural disasters wherever they went, perceived as nothing more than an omen. But the truth wasn’t that they brought them. It was that they could detect them. The subtle sounds in the air that preceded a landslide, the faint scent that came before a storm, or the tremble in the ground that warned of an earthquake. An absol’s senses were much more heightened than any other pokemon. But it had given the poor pokemon a bad reputation. One that left them exiled, feared, hated.
Harbinger silently seethed, keeping both crimson eyes on the building. He could barely see the window, but the shadows of the two pokemon briefly moved beyond it. Scratch and Claw crouched beneath the window, the sun bouncing off their glossy hides. The security around the lab was oddly lacking. Most likely relying on the tyranitar to deter anyone who boldly ventured into an open clearing, breaching the cloaking barrier.
What he’d heard had made his blood turn cold. The things those Heretics were planning… no, they weren’t Heretics. Not in the general sense of the term, anyway. They didn’t revere Hydreigon, they wanted to launch a war against him. Their plan was more than just flawed, it was dangerous. It could spell disaster for all of Estellis if someone didn’t stop it.
No… he was being too hasty. He didn’t know enough. He’d need much more information to go by before he threw a spanner in their works.
Scratch and Claw skittered back to him, glancing over their shoulders to make sure they’d not been seen. The meowstic’s voice didn’t give away any indication the pawniard had been sighted. He just continued on relaying his plan, showing no desire to leave his office any time soon.
Harbinger waited until the twins were within the trees before voicing his concerns. He sat up, keeping a watch on the laboratory.
“Did you hear everything?” he asked.
The twins nodded, and Scratch shuffled his blades together.
“An army…” Claw ran a blade over his head, making a faint screech. “They’re going to start a war, aren’t they?”
“There’s already a war,” said Harbinger. “We just happen to be on the losing end of it.”
Harbinger sat silently, his ear twitching at Scratch’s nervous fussing. He jerked his head towards movement at the back of the lab. A sandslash and heliolisk had emerged, walking away from Harbinger. The former was clutching a bucket, berating his colleague for something Harbinger didn’t care enough to eavesdrop on. They vanished through the trees heading towards a lake Harbinger knew very well in the middle of the forest. A lake he hadn’t tainted. Oh, what a fortunate thing it would have been had he known of this place much earlier.
“That meowstic said something about pokerus,” Harbinger said.
The twins looked up at him and Scratch nodded.
“If I were to put the pieces together,” Harbinger said slowly, “I would guess this is no ordinary strain of pokerus. If it’s what they’re using for their ‘weapons’, utilising living pokemon, then it would suggest they’ve done something to it.” He licked his lips and bristled. “This leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I need you to get me that information.”
Claw’s golden eyes widened. “You want us to go inside?”
“Yes.” Harbinger looked up towards where the tyranitar was dozing out of sight. “But don’t worry. I’ll create a diversion and draw everyone outside. You’ll be free to slip in and out quickly as soon as the meowstic and his friend leave that office.”
The two pawniard shifted uneasily and exchanged worried glances. But Claw’s demeanour altered and he gave an affirmative nod.
“I think I know what to look for,” he said. “Clear the path and we’ll find it.”
Harbinger gave them a fond smile and nodded. “I’ll meet you both back here.”
He ducked and followed the tree-line around the clearing, his thick-furred feet making almost no sound over the dry foliage. Various voices reached his ears from the different points inside the building. Jovial, familiar with one another. Laboratory or not, it was clear the pokemon that worked there also lived there.
The tyranitar lay curled up against the dented metal sheet adorning the wall. Bones lay scattered about it, picked clean and gnawed from its ravenous meal. The stink of fresh blood filled the air with every rumbling snore, and it moved slightly to lift a stubby paw to scratch its chin, before rolling over onto its back with a hefty sigh.
Harbinger instinctively froze, training all his senses onto the hulking threat. It stilled again, settling back into rhythmic snores. Harbinger glanced past it, trying to spot Scratch and Claw, but there was no sight of them from this angle. Harbinger turned his attention back to the tyranitar. Thick chains were fastened around its claws, the ends of which were clamped firmly into the iron plate and the rocky ground surrounding the building. Deeply fastened in, if Harbinger were to guess. The strength of that thing suggested it was fully capable of uprooting any flimsy attempts to detain it. Each chain link was as thick as the tyranitar’s arms. They looked too heavy for Harbinger to carry easily, yet the tyranitar had made it look effortless. They wouldn’t be trivial to break, either. Harbinger’s selection of slashing moves would have very little effect, but his best option would be night slash. It would be enough to wake the tyranitar and wouldn’t be hindered by the iron chains, either.
He threw his head back and lashed out with his horn, sending a curving shadow of dark energy towards the tyranitar’s chains. It bounced off the metal with a clang. One of the tyranitar’s red eyes snapped open, fixing on the trees where Harbinger was lurking. Harbinger sent out another two attacks, bashing the tyranitar’s limbs where the chains were fixed. The beast opened its jaws wide in a mighty roar, sending a few stray leaves down from the canopy. It spotted Harbinger instantly and struggled to its feet, thrashing against its restraints. The weakened chains creaked and the iron plate behind it groaned with the effort of holding it back.
Another night slash, and Harbinger turned to duck into the forest. The almighty crack that followed made his blood turn cold. The behemoth roared again, turning into a howling bellow as it stomped after him. Harbinger gave a glance back. It had reached the end of its restraints, freeing only one leg. Its tail cleaved through the air as it twisted, gnawing at the chains that bound its stubby arms.
Voices joined its frantic cries as the two lycanroc rushed to check on it, and Harbinger let out a sigh of relief when he spotted the meowstic. The blue cat demanded an explanation, keeping his distance from the tyranitar.
Another crack and it had freed one of its arms. The lycanroc yelped with panic, the female running in circles as she tried to look for a way to bring it back under control.
A smirk spread across Harbinger’s muzzle and he doubled back to trace the tree-line back towards Scratch and Claw. There was no sign of them when he reached their meeting point. He ducked further into the foliage, eyes flitting in all directions as the tyranitar’s deafening bellows drowned out most of the other noise. It trembled down his horn and into his head, and he wanted nothing more than to put the clearing far behind him.
A shimmer of silver and red drew his eye to the back of the building and he let out a sigh of relief as Scratch and Claw scurried back to him, hugging the shadows. Scratch clutched a heavy binder in both arms, glancing back as he ducked into the trees after his brother.
Harbinger nodded for them to follow him and he led them away from the clearing until the tyranitar’s cries faded out behind them into a dull drone.
The nervous pawniard dropped the folder at his feet and stood back, rubbing his claws together as he stared towards the chaos. Harbinger tuned it out, flipping the folder open with a paw. The front page graced him with the title of its contents;
‘Project B’.
The very project the meowstic and his friend had kept bringing up in their discussion. A smirk spread across Harbinger’s muzzle. The twins had done well. This was exactly the information he needed.
The documents weren’t exactly written by someone with great penmanship. It took a moment for Harbinger to get used to the scrawl that looked more like a joltik had trodden in ink before taking a stroll across the paper.
‘After years of testing, we’ve finally created a pokerus mutation that seems to yield better results. This is fantastic news after the failure that is now known as Project A. Our new subject, Project B, is showing much more positive results. So far, there has been no signs of self-mutilation. Even more positive are the huge results that it’s demonstrating with its phenomenal attack power. Like our first subject, Project X, we believe it has gone the extra mile, pushing the subject beyond its estimated strength. However, it is still early days. This could always be natural for this particular subject.’
Harbinger’s brow furrowed as he read over the entry again. So they actually had created a mutant strain of pokerus? This was becoming more interesting than he’d first thought. The way they’d written it suggested they feared the documents may find their way into the wrong paws. All identity for Project B (the tyranitar, he assumed) was kept secret. Paranoia, or a blatant disregard to the pokemon’s identity and individuality?
He really wanted to get his paws on the information concerning ‘Project A’ to paint a bigger picture, but throwing Scratch and Claw back into the lab to find it was too much of a risk, and it wouldn’t be long before they’d finally managed to calm down the tyranitar. Already its howls had quietened down, and if they suspected an outside party attempting its release then the Heretics may very well have increased their security.
He frowned through the trees then turned back to the file.
‘My initial suspicions were correct. After today’s training session, the calculations for Project B’s attack strength were off the charts! This is exciting news. The new mutant pokerus strain is definitely doing the desired job. Our sources have been instructed to produce more of it, and hopefully we can create more like Project B. Our next plan of action is to increase its defence, but this isn’t proving an easy task at present. Project B seems to really enjoy combat, and each attack thrown its way is retaliated against by an attack of its own. We may need to throw it into combat with other pokemon to increase its attack and defence simultaneously.’
“Then what were you using?” Harbinger muttered.
Scratch and Claw both twitched to look back at him, but Claw joined his side to read over the documents, leaving his brother to keep watch.
‘Project B seems most at ease during combat. It has started to demonstrate a foul mood and has begun demanding training sessions. Only while fighting does it seem most at peace, almost euphoric. We’re not complaining, however. A compliant subject is the best we can ask of. Some of our other subjects are much more stubborn. Some of my staff are putting this down to boredom. The training sessions are the highlight of Project B’s day, and the only times it is allowed out of its cell. I am wondering whether to give it more freedom in exchange for compliance? This will need some thinking, since it might try to break free and return home. The only solution to that is to extract all its memories, but that comes with risks and I’m not ready to implement such a thing yet until we know exactly what the nature of this pokerus strain is. So far, just like the prototype that manifested here, it isn’t contagious.’
Harbinger wasn’t sure whether he found that reassuring. If it wasn’t contagious, then it wouldn’t spread. But if it had mutated once naturally, then what was to stop it from mutating again?
‘We decided to increase Project B’s training sessions in order to cater to its growing mood swings. However, things took a dire turn. During the afternoon session, Project B suddenly turned. I can only describe its outburst as ‘madness’. Everything that moved was a target, and we had to tranquilise it with spore darts in order to rescue what was left of my staff. We lost two, and one is fatally wounded. Once Project B came to, it was once again calm. Not even a hint of a mood swing. What’s more, it has no memories of the attack. When told, it was utterly shocked. Whether or not this is a one-off, no one wants to go near Project B after this. I shall have to find some new trainers for the job.’
Harbinger’s stomach turned. Was the meowstic even upset by all this? The way he’d worded it suggested it was more of a chore. Having to find new trainers… he was willing to put others at risk like that? Harbinger’s fur stood up along his spine and he slammed the file shut with a heavy paw.
“What kind of vile…?!” He took a deep breath and turned his face from it.
Scratch shifted beside him and rubbed his claws together. “Is this what they’ve done to that tyranitar?”
Harbinger nodded stiffly. But the way it acted… it wasn’t the pokemon described in the documents. Perhaps Project B was a different test subject? One of many, even?
Harbinger flipped the file back open and rifled through it until he was back where he’d left off.
‘Two new handlers have been recruited for Project B. They seem rather fearless, yet still cautious. If they keep this up, then they may be the perfect pair to deal with it. They had to talk Project B back into fighting. It was oddly stubborn. We’ve had no more begging for training sessions, and its mood swings are more depressive than agitated and angry. Maybe we shouldn’t have tried to jog its memory about its attacks on its handlers? After today, we won’t mention any more outbursts to it. And if these new handlers do a good enough job and survive, we won’t need to either.
‘So far, we’ve discovered that each battle results in another outburst of madness. It appears the heat of battle is the main trigger. Nothing else has set it off. During combat, it grows euphoric as if it really enjoys fighting. A stark contrast to the stubbornness before each session. It seems to fear them now, but once it’s into them its as if we’re training a different pokemon. Spore darts are in high demand to keep it down. They seem the most effective way to control it. Fortunately we have enough grass-types handy to extract it from. As Project B grows in strength, so do the number of darts needed to bring it back down after each session.’
Harbinger was almost foaming at the mouth. He dug his claws into the ground, forcing himself to read on. If anyone was crazy in that lab then it was the meowstic. He had no respect for his employees or the pokemon he was keeping there as test subjects.
The log entries were long and tedious, most of them the same. Project B is trained, it turns, almost kills its handlers on more than one occasion. Yet they kept coming back to train it. Harbinger had to question their sanity. Like Project B, they were as faceless and nameless as it was.
He turned page after page until he reached something that made his blood freeze.
‘Project B has completely turned. The morning’s session was the same as any other, but once it woke up from its spore-induced sleep, the madness hadn’t worn off. It managed to break out of its enclosure and went on a rampage through the laboratory. All means were used to try to halt it. Thunderwave, hypnosis… nothing worked. It had developed an immunity to such attacks. It mutilated fifteen of our subjects. Ten of them didn’t survive, and much to our horror it seemed to want to eat them. We had to bring it down again with spore darts, although it took seven to have any level of effect. We need to find some other way to detain it. We don’t want to lose Project B. Not after we’ve come so far.’
Harbinger turned the page, his heart racing.
‘The only means to keep Project B detained is to use heavy chains. It can’t break them, no matter how much it tries. We’ve had to chain it outside to keep it away from the other subjects. It is notoriously difficult to feed, turning its nose up at berries and jerky. It’s almost as if it’s reverted to some kind of primal state. We’ve had to source a provider of fresh meat for it. Its handlers have agreed to deal with it and keep it happy, although ‘happy’ isn’t the word I’d use to describe it.
‘Its madness will simply not wear off. I’ve tried to access its mind, and it’s like a swirling cascade of confusion. There’s nothing I can do to snap it out of it. But needless to say, its strength is phenomenal. The madness removes all moral barriers, turning it into some kind of killing machine. A biological weapon. If we had more like Project B, then we’d have the most powerful army Estellis has ever seen. I’ve already started work on a new program to develop these weapons. But training them in the lab is much too risky. I’ll keep all future records in another document, and this one will continue to log Project B’s progress.’
Harbinger’s stomach had twisted so much he thought he was going to be sick.
The meowstic was still doing this. Raising pokemon to be weapons of war behind those clean, white walls.
Harbinger frowned through the trees as he digested all this, but it only added to his growing nausea. He needed to do something about it. Put an end to the meowstic and his abhorrent creations. Perhaps he could turn the tyranitar on him? No… that was too risky.
He needed to do something else. Something the meowstic, should he survive, would find it very hard to recover from. The problem was, he was too far away from anything Harbinger could mask as a natural disaster. No mountain slopes, no rivers to flood, and earthquakes were out of Harbinger’s power. Out of his, but not the tyranitar’s. It would be a small earthquake, one the meowstic could trace back to his ‘Project B’. And that was only if the tyranitar actually knew the attack.
Harbinger would have to do something else. Something that would, unfortunately, look like sabotage and not a natural disaster.
“You’re thinking,” said Claw.
Harbinger nodded slowly.
The pawniard shuffled his feet beside him, drawing the attention of his nervous twin. “You want to destroy that place, don’t you?”
“I have to,” said Harbinger. “I have no choice. You saw what was in that folder. If we leave them to continue this…” He waved a paw as he tried to think up the right words, “creation of abominations, then they have to be stopped. No question about it.” He shook his head and sighed. “We can’t let them unleash these things onto Estellis. The world is in a dire enough state as it is. We don’t need pokemon rampaging, out of control of their own faculties, killing and destroying everything in sight. If that happens, then there’ll be nothing left.”
Scratch looked between Harbinger and his brother, then flicked through the folder to scan the information.
“And what if the pokerus mutates?” Claw asked. “If we all end up catching it…”
“We’ll all become like that tyranitar,” said Harbinger. “Out of control. Insane. We’d all turn on each other.”
Claw closed his eyes and grimaced. “Then… what do you suggest we do?”
“Simple.” Harbinger stood and looked down at the twins. “Tonight, we go inside and wreak havoc.”
Claw’s eyes widened, and Scratch looked up sharply from the folder.
“First, we find all the building’s weak points. Places that are left unguarded,” Harbinger went on. “Then we release all their test subjects, destroy all their data and run.” He turned to look back towards the lab. “If they want to breed chaos, then I’ll show them chaos. They’ll be sorry they ever made this ‘Project B’.”
