{ "submission_id": "3404731", "keywords": [ { "keyword_id": "24274", "keyword_name": "alakazam", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "204" }, { "keyword_id": "40693", "keyword_name": "ambipom", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "242" }, { "keyword_id": "42377", "keyword_name": "blackmail", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "947" }, { "keyword_id": "78955", "keyword_name": "blackmailing", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "49" }, { "keyword_id": "1007", "keyword_name": "blood", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "21536" }, { "keyword_id": "502060", "keyword_name": "cinderace", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1934" }, { "keyword_id": "5214", "keyword_name": "combat", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1266" }, { "keyword_id": "2490", "keyword_name": "drama", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "4641" }, { "keyword_id": "20689", "keyword_name": "dystopia", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "132" }, { "keyword_id": "123", "keyword_name": "female", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1103048" }, { "keyword_id": "2968", "keyword_name": "fighting", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "4936" }, { "keyword_id": "9651", "keyword_name": "gardevoir", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "3595" }, { "keyword_id": "682718", "keyword_name": "gimmighoul", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "27" }, { "keyword_id": "1108", "keyword_name": "gore", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "11091" }, { "keyword_id": "4501", "keyword_name": "kecleon", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "595" }, { "keyword_id": "84", "keyword_name": "lucario", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "12332" }, { "keyword_id": "165", "keyword_name": "male", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1213221" }, { "keyword_id": "683000", "keyword_name": "meowscarada", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "837" }, { "keyword_id": "1516", "keyword_name": "murder", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1924" }, { "keyword_id": "4479", "keyword_name": "ninetales", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "2107" }, { "keyword_id": "464", "keyword_name": "pokemon", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "196574" }, { "keyword_id": "13183", "keyword_name": "politics", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "492" }, { "keyword_id": "32611", "keyword_name": "rhyperior", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "39" }, { "keyword_id": "4434", "keyword_name": "seviper", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "322" }, { "keyword_id": "40697", "keyword_name": "simipour", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "207" }, { "keyword_id": "129768", "keyword_name": "sylveon", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "6237" }, { "keyword_id": "34009", "keyword_name": "thriller", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "190" } ], "hidden": "f", "scraps": "f", "favorite": "f", "favorites_count": "0", "create_datetime": "2024-08-23 17:07:10.415552+00", "create_datetime_usertime": "23 Aug 2024 19:07 CEST", "last_file_update_datetime": "2024-08-23 17:00:15.070955+00", "last_file_update_datetime_usertime": "23 Aug 2024 19:00 CEST", "username": "TheNomadicDragon", "user_id": "1077381", "user_icon_file_name": "272375_TheNomadicDragon_augustus_head_final.png", "user_icon_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/large/272/272375_TheNomadicDragon_augustus_head_final.png", "user_icon_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/medium/272/272375_TheNomadicDragon_augustus_head_final.png", "user_icon_url_small": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/small/272/272375_TheNomadicDragon_augustus_head_final.png", "file_name": "5176417_TheNomadicDragon_valor_and_hubris_rtf_.rtf", "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/5176/5176417_TheNomadicDragon_valor_and_hubris_rtf_.rtf", "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/5176/5176417_TheNomadicDragon_valor_and_hubris_rtf_.rtf", "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/5176/5176417_TheNomadicDragon_valor_and_hubris_rtf_.rtf", "thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5176/5176417_TheNomadicDragon_valor_and_hubris_rtf_.jpg", "thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5176/5176417_TheNomadicDragon_valor_and_hubris_rtf_.jpg", "thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5176/5176417_TheNomadicDragon_valor_and_hubris_rtf_.jpg", "thumb_huge_x": "120", "thumb_huge_y": "120", "thumb_large_x": "120", "thumb_large_y": "120", "thumb_medium_x": "120", "thumb_medium_y": "120", "files": [ { "file_id": "5176417", "file_name": "5176417_TheNomadicDragon_valor_and_hubris_rtf_.rtf", "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/5176/5176417_TheNomadicDragon_valor_and_hubris_rtf_.rtf", "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/5176/5176417_TheNomadicDragon_valor_and_hubris_rtf_.rtf", "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/5176/5176417_TheNomadicDragon_valor_and_hubris_rtf_.rtf", "mimetype": "text/rtf", "submission_id": "3404731", "user_id": "1077381", "submission_file_order": "0", "full_size_x": null, "full_size_y": null, "screen_size_x": null, "screen_size_y": null, "preview_size_x": null, "preview_size_y": null, "initial_file_md5": "c55b615cd5124f935d9652eed45819f1", "full_file_md5": "c55b615cd5124f935d9652eed45819f1", "large_file_md5": "", "small_file_md5": "", "thumbnail_md5": "748adc56ef26409c28c2e7cf1475faef", "deleted": "f", "create_datetime": "2024-08-23 17:00:15.070955+00", "create_datetime_usertime": "23 Aug 2024 19:00 CEST", "thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5176/5176417_TheNomadicDragon_valor_and_hubris_rtf_.jpg", "thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5176/5176417_TheNomadicDragon_valor_and_hubris_rtf_.jpg", "thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5176/5176417_TheNomadicDragon_valor_and_hubris_rtf_.jpg", "thumb_huge_x": "120", "thumb_huge_y": "120", "thumb_large_x": "120", "thumb_large_y": "120", "thumb_medium_x": "120", "thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "pools": [], "description": "Rubrum, Maestro, Fey and Asher learn of a secret they wish had never seen the light of day.\nThe Board of Directors prepares their next assignments.\nA village is besieged by forces proclaiming peace while wishing for anything but.\n\nThis is Chapter 6 of my ongoing series, as always written by fa!CrimsonFlowers\nPlease check them out if you need help bringing your own story to life!", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Rubrum, Maestro, Fey and Asher learn of a secret they wish had never seen the light of day.
The Board of Directors prepares their next assignments.
A village is besieged by forces proclaiming peace while wishing for anything but.

This is Chapter 6 of my ongoing series, as always written by \n\t\t\t\t\tCrimsonFlowers
Please check them out if you need help bringing your own story to life!", "writing": "Valor and Hubris\n\n\tAsher sat swaddled between several layers of blankets, sunken into an armchair twice his size. His eyes were half-lidded, terrified, as he cradled a thin file in his arms. Pinned against his chest, the text on its front shone by torchlight – “SALVATION.” His closest friends huddled around, staring expectedly at that bold lettering.\n\n\tThe Cinderace then licked his lips, let out a sigh. He said, “I only read a little bit of it. But, guys… it’s bad.” Asher blinked, shook his head, and added: “It’s really bad.” \n\n\tMaestro, however, was undeterred. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, and outstretched his paw. “Asher,” he ordered, “give it to me. Now.” \n\nAnd of course, Asher relented. From within his little blanket fort, he conceded the thick file to Maestro’s willing paw. The feline ripped it from Asher’s palm with a quick tug, then cradled it in his dirt-stained paws. \n\n“Salvation,” Maestro echoed. Trepidation stilled his fingers as they threatened to flip the file open. “Something tells me this file is gonna be anything but.” \n\n\tFey, the Sylveon, sat at Asher’s side. His usual grin had been replaced by a grimace, as if anticipating a sucker punch. His ribbons fluttered anxiously as he asked, “Maestro… what did you see in Maximus’s office?” \n\n\tMaestro puckered his lips, shook his head. His eyes remained fixated on the file in his palms. “A lot,” he admitted. “It was… terrible in there.” \n\n\tRubrum, the Lucario, then cleared his throat. He laid face-up on the bed, his arms crossed casually behind his head, as he stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. He said, “It was full of religious iconography.” \n\n\tFey asked, “What kind?” \n\n\t“Arcean,” Rubrum explained. “Head-to-toe, the entire room was… covered in that sort of thing.” A troubled huff. “Arceus figurines, coins, and artworks. Candles, too. Candles everywhere. Even above the fireplace, there were candles.”\n\n\tAsher asked, “Did you see inside his desk or anything?” \n\n\tMaestro shrugged, replied: “I only had enough time to pick a few locks.” He sighed, admitted: “The only thing I found was wine. Lots of it. Cases of it, stored under his desk, right where all the files were supposed to go.” \n\n\tThe Cinderace let out a depressed chuckle. With a flourish of his wrist, he said: “So Chairman Maximus is a religious alcoholic. That’s it? That’s all we learned?”\n\n\t“We couldn’t find any records in time,” Rubrum muttered. “Every damn compartment in that room was locked. We had to guess which ones had important files.”\n\n\tAsher muttered, “So I guess that room was a fucking bust.” \n\n\t“No, it wasn’t,” Rubrum explained. “Sid and Grimm told me that some anonymous lawmaker was pushing religious legislation through Chairwoman Iris’s court tonight. Something about banning all criticism of Arceanism. But… now that we’ve seen Maxmimus’s office… it’s reasonable to assume that Maximus is that lawmaker.” \n\n\t“Are we sure about that?” Maestro asked. His foot tapped on the floor. “There might be some other wealthy lawmaker who’s an Arcean.”\n\n\t“That’s true,” Rubrum admitted. “But who else would benefit from criminalizing all negative mention of Arceus?”\n\n\tThe room was silent for a moment. Maestro still cradled the file in his paws, unopened. He asked, “Are Grimm and Sid asleep?” \n\n\t“Yeah,” Fey replied, and motioned toward the wall. “They’re next door. Apparently their mission took a lot outta them.” \n\n\tRubrum nodded, pattered his feet against the cold bedframe. He said, “I can imagine. Being told that you don’t belong in Augusta must be… troubling.” \n\n\tThe Lucario’s gaze then flitted toward the file in Maestro’s paws. He teased, “Are you a scaredy cat?” \n\n\t“Huh?” \n\n\tRubrum pointed limply toward the file. He said, “You took the file, but you didn’t open it. Are you afraid?” \n\n\tMaestro seemed offended by the notion. His maw scrunched in surprise as he replied, “No. I’m not afraid.” \n\n\t“Then open it,” Rubrum ordered, and sat up on the bed. “This is the fruits of our labor. Even if it’s bad… we need to know what we’ve uncovered.” \n\n\tReluctantly, Maestro then obeyed Rubrum’s words. As if looking into the barrel of a gun, Maestro opened the file and laid eyes on its innards. Immediately, he was struck by the illustration at the parchment’s top: a circular emblem, adorned like a compass, with Arceus’s head in the middle. His gaze watched outward, as if staring at the reader. Below laid a table of contents: Mission Statement, Specifications, and Expenses. \n\nWordlessly, Maestro turned the page, only to be met with the three-page Mission Statement. The four Pokémon soon crowded around the file, all eagerly digesting the text: \n\n“...As the chosen beings of our Lord Arceus, we all hold His divinity inside of us. Each an immeasurably small portion of an almighty whole. And, as beings who share in His divine grace, it is a Pokémon’s responsibility to educate his brethren on our purpose: to cherish our fellow Pokémon, and to rejoice in our people’s nourishment.\n\nBefore arriving in Illumina, our people inhabited a land of plenty; Pokémon lived in harmony with one another, in perfect equilibrium with the land and sea. One people, one land, one God. Our people grew strong; warriors conquered faraway lands, while our priestesses anointed our most esteemed Faithful. The outcasts, the weak, and the feeble were culled in favor of those most deserving of Lord Arceus’s love. Such was the wonder of Aurelis, our homeland.\n\nThis age, however, is past. Our land is barren. Crop yields fall. Blood is shed along every border. One must ask themselves now: What is the cause of this grand decline? Aye, you already know the answer: Humanity. Dissent. Corruption.\n\nThese animals – and their hatred for all Pokémon – have inevitably soured Arceus’s grace. Why must all communications and trade between our societies falter? Why must conflict grow between us like a blight? I tell you now, the blight lies not with us, but with those humans who seek to invade this land. Our land.\n\nTherein lies the problem – the reclamation of our God-given land is not an easy endeavor. It is only by our trust in Arceus our savior, and the works He oversees, that we may cleanse this continent of its conflict. \n\nHis power is thus channeled through Aurum, a material blessed with His influence. The fervor of our kind is duly resonated by Aurum, and – like a miracle – is transmitted without the use of wires throughout the land. The resonance of one is the resonance of all; and, according to His design, may be used to power mechanical works of all kinds.\n\nThis current design, however, will be our triumph. Such is the power of Aurum that our weapon may pierce the land’s crust, miles under our feet, and expunge the rot which has taken root. Humanity shall remain but a smudge on the annals of history; and this current age a stain on an otherwise glorious history of Pokémon. On the ashes of Grand City shall we build our Temple. Arceus Himself will descend from His realm and bless our proliferation.\n\nThe masses must remain unaware of our Holy Weapon’s construction for now, lest they inform our enemies. Only Seraph-rank adherents and above may inquire.\n\nThe development of this weapon is undergoing; after all, no such endeavor must be taken lightly. Our race is allowed only one chance to eradicate the impurities of this continent. Our aim must remain true. Thus, we are reminded that only one people may rule over this land of Illumina; and it will be us.” \n\nNo one spoke. A ghastly half-grin rose to Maestro’s face as he gripped the file harder, indenting the pages with his paws. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead.\n\n“I–Is this some kind of sick joke?” Maestro asked. “This…this is fucking crazy. They’re proposing genocide.”\n\nRubrum shook his head, his mouth agape. “Maestro,” he breathed, “this is real. Very real.” \n\n Asher explained, “I found it in Chairman Kane’s cabinet.” He stared blankly at the wall, his breaths deep. “It’s definitely real. Killing all humans is the end goal of Arceanism… and more than that, it’s what the Board of Directors wants.” \n\n“This can’t be their end goal. It just can’t,” Fey pouted. Small tears beaded at the edges of his eyes. “I–I know some Arceans at the Academy. Th–they can’t all believe this. Right?” \n\n Rubrum sighed, then replied: “They probably don’t, Fey. It seems that this… document… is the product of a radical sect of Arceanism.” He huffed, added: “It does seem, however, that this sect has taken ahold of the Board.” \n\n“And they have a fucking weapon made of aurum? A superweapon?” Maestro breathed. His legs wobbled. “This… is too much. I need to sit down.” \n\nRubrum then shook his head, took the file from Maestro’s shaking grip. “A weapon… yes,” he said, and rested a finger on his maw. His eyes scanned the page for further clues. “But they don’t specify what type of weapon.” \n\nAsher was struck by Rubrum’s calm demeanor. “Yeah,” the Cinderace barked. “But that doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it can pierce the fucking ground. Ya get me?” A moment of silence as the Cinderace glanced around the room, panic forcing his eyes wide. “This weapon can wipe humanity off the map. Grand City? Gone. Millions of humans? Dead.” A scoff, and then: “How are you not panicking?!” \n\n“Because I don’t have the luxury,” Rubrum replied. He steadied his breaths, polished his glasses in slow, deliberate movements. His students watched as he then replaced his glasses onto his head, lost in thought. \n\nRubrum said, “This information changes everything.” \n\n“Yeah,” Maestro echoed. “Yeah, it does.” \n\n“B–but what are we gonna do?” Fey whined. “If all this is true, then… how are we gonna stop them?” \n\nPredictably, nobody quite knew. A miasma seemed to overtake their breaths. Up until this point, the Pokémon had considered themselves scrappy freedom fighters; and deep in their hearts, they’d hoped that this matter could be settled peacefully. That possibility had just slipped away.\n\n“Rubrum is right,” Maestro said. “We can’t afford to panic. Not now.” \n\nFey asked, “What if we told the presses?” \n\n“And cause mass hysteria? Please,” Asher replied. “If the public finds out about this, there’d be a panic. Nobody would be able to control it.” He then scoffed, added: “Plus, the Board would just say the file’s fake. We’d be arrested. We need more evidence.” \n\n“What more do we need?” Fey asked. His feet pattered impatiently on the floor. “We already have the Salvation file. And it’s real!” \n\nAsher sighed. “Right,” he said. “But we don’t know what the weapon is. It could be a bomb, a sword… hell, it could be something living.” He frowned. “We don’t even know where it is. How will we prove something like this exists if we’ve never laid eyes on it?” \n\nMore silence. Fey sank into his blankets, his expression soured. A whimper fell from his lips. \n\nRubrum’s maw then curled into a deep frown. “Asher is right,” he said. “We need more evidence if we ever hope to combat the Board. Something undeniable.” He then glanced at the portfolio in Maestro’s paws, said: “That file just won’t cut it.” \n\nMaestro could feel himself shrinking with fatigue. Those dark bags under his eyes suddenly seemed massive; his eyelids drooped, his arms weak. \n\nNonetheless, he said: “Then what do we look for next?” \n\nRubrum snuck a cheeky smile in Maestro’s direction. With a nervous chuckle, he replied: “Well… I think I have a plan.” \n\n\n\nAugusta’s Labor Bureau was a notoriously tedious place. Crammed between four thick marble walls were the hopes and dreams, the fears and hatred, of every single Augustan employed within Illumina. Buried within stacks of paper, crammed within the minds of hundreds of workers, laid a complete record of the average Pokémon’s despair. \n\nRubrum had only been inside the building once or twice, as it was customary to visit whenever a tenureship was bestowed or revoked. Each time, Rubrum had stood in-line for three hours. The experience was exceptionally boring. \n\nToday, however, Rubrum made an effort to strut confidently into the monolith. The air smelled of mildew, old paper, and cleaning solution. Beneath Rubrum’s feet, the tile shone bright, reflecting the skylight above. Countless typewriters clacked away at the room’s back, each an instrument in the world’s most monotonous symphony. \n\nWith a plastered smile, Rubrum then stepped past the lengthy strings of queued Pokémon. Even without looking, he could feel their eyes burning holes in his skull. The receptionist smiled, waved away her client, as Rubrum approached. \n\n“Professor Rubrum,” the Leafeon cooed. “I’m sorry, but the line is quite long today. If you’re looking to get something signed, you’ll have to wait.” \n\nRubrum chuckled. “No, no, Cherie,” he breathed. “I’m not here for any of that. I have a meeting with Hermes.” \n\nCherie raised an eyebrow. Her tail whipped as she replied, “Truly? I didn’t receive a notice about that.” \n\n“It’s actually an emergency,” Rubrum explained. Sharp canines poked from beneath his curled lips. “Hermes and I just need to discuss an error in some recent forms he submitted. It’s Board business.” \n\n“Oh.” Cherie shuffled her feet, then hopped from her chair and ushered Rubrum beyond the front desk. “I’m sorry to hear that. Please, go ahead. I hope it’s resolved soon.” \n\n“Of course, of course. Thank you,” Rubrum said. He thus slipped past the massive row of receptionists, stared out over the sea of clacking keys. The constant cacophony was entertainingly terrible. “I’ll see you later, Cherie.” And, without a second thought, Rubrum disappeared into the sea of drones. \n\nRows upon rows of typists lined his sides. Idle conversations, the stink of coffee, made Rubrum feel nostalgic for the halls of the Augustan Academy. Soon, his colleagues would become quite suspicious of his continued absence. \n\nRubrum then reached the back of the hall, knocked on the rickety wooden door in its corner. From within, the Lucario could hear a cough, the scooching of a chair. \n\n“C’mon in,” the Simipour called. “Shit, I spilled coffee all over myself.” \n\nRubrum thus duly followed orders, entering the room and closing the door softly behind himself. Same as the rest of the hall, Hermes’s office was quite boring; muted beige walls, a dingy lamp, a notice board crammed with notices. And papers – stacks and stacks and stacks of papers. \n\n“Aw, Rubrum! I wasn’t expecting you,” Hermes chirped. The Simipour stood awkwardly in the middle of his office, dripping with coffee. Clumsily, he rubbed a stack of brown paper towels against himself. The effort, of course, was moot – the drink had already stained his fur. He asked, “To what do I owe the honor?” \n\nRubrum chuckled. “Well, Hermes, I–”\n\n“Oh!” Hermes yelped. “Hold that thought.” The clumsy monkey then turned, dug around in his desk. “I’ve actually been waiting for you, you know,” he blathered. “I mean, it’s not like many people come and visit anymore, you know? Haha. People always forget I’m part of the Board… not you, though. Never you.”\n \nRubrum shifted his gaze around the office. Every time he entered, it somehow seemed to become a little more filthy. He mumbled, “Of course I don’t forget.” \n\n“What I’m trying to say is, I appreciate it.” Hermes then turned back, cupping his hands together. “Here’s my present! I found it in the market recently, and… well, I thought of you.” \n\nA pang of sadness rang through Rubrum’s heart as he peered inside Hermes’s hands. “Oh,” he breathed. “A coin. Thank you… so much.” \n\n“A human coin,” Hermes chirped. His eyes betrayed his pride. “An ancient one, too. I got it from a merchant caravan in Caligen.”\n\n\tRubrum smiled. “Wow. How’d you swing that?” \n\nHermes shrugged. Droplets of coffee shedded from his fur as he replied: “A merchant owed me a favor. And I thought… why not get you a little gift?” \n\n“Thank you. Really, thank you,” Rubrum replied, and pocketed the coin. “I’ll inspect it a little later. And I’ll be sure to tell you all the juicy details about it.” \n\nHermes smiled. “Good, good,” he breathed, then sat down once more in his uncomfortable wooden chair. “So…” he said. “What do you need?” \n\nSuddenly, Rubrum’s expression seemed to stiffen. His back grew straight, his expression dour, as he explained: “I need something from you, actually. And it’s a big ask.”\n\nHermes hummed, said: “Okay. And what is it?”\n\n“I need complete employment records for every military contingent in Augusta,” Rubrum said. “And I mean every contingent. Throughout the whole territory.” \n\nHermes flashed an anxious smile. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, then replied: “What?” \n\n“You heard me.”\n\n“You’re terrible with jokes,” Hermes said. “What did you really come for?” \n\nRubrum shook his head, explained: “I’m not joking. I really need this. Now. And I know you have it. You know, as the Chairman of Labor and all.” \n\n“Rubrum…” Hermes said. His voice was near-breathless. “Come on. You know I can’t give that to you.” A pause, and then: “Why would you need that, anyhow?” \n\nThe Lucario replied, “That’s none of your business.” \n\n\t“None of my…” Hermes then shook his head, remarked: “Rubrum, this is immensely unprofessional.”\n\n\t“I don’t–”\n\n\t“You come into my office, ask me for an undoable favor, and get snippy with me when I ask for an explanation?” Hermes frowned. “No, no. This is completely off the table. I’m sorry.” \n\n\t“I don’t care,” Rubrum snapped, and held the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Hermes. I really am.” He then paused, added: “561 Victory Road. Apartment 4B.” \n\n\tHermes scrunched his maw, asked: “Pardon?” \n\n\t“561 Victory Road. Apartment 4B,” Rubrum repeated. “That’s your apartment. It has a nice view of the main road from the inside.” A pause, and then: “I like your antique woodwork collection.” \n\n\t“Did you…” Hermes stood from his chair, barked: “Did you enter my home?” \n\n\tRubrum replied, “Yeah. I did.” \n\n\t“Wh… what? Why?” Hermes asked. A mix of rage and fear boiled in his stomach. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” \n\n\t“What’s wrong with me? Something is more wrong with you,” Rubrum said. “A Board member shouldn’t have missing classified documents in his home.” \n\n\tHermes puckered his lips. His expression bubbled with anger as he said, “So that was you. You broke into Chairman Kane’s office.”\n\n\t“No, it wasn’t,” Rubrum hissed. “I dare say it was you. You had pages from that stolen file hidden all over your apartment.” \n\n\tTears nearly rose to Hermes’s eyes. The Simipour said, “No. No, no way. You planted those there.” A cough. “Are you… are you fucking blackmailing me? Is that what this is?” \n\n\t“Yes,” Rubrum replied, and frowned. “That’s what this is. If you don’t give me the documents I asked for, I’ll tell the Board that you’re in possession of stolen documents.” He looked away, shameful of the words falling from his lips. “The prison sentence for something like that is… quite long.” \n\n\tHermes frowned, stared at the floor. He whimpered, “What the fuck? You’re framing me.” He then shook his head, mumbled: “I thought we were friends.” \n\n\t“We are friends,” Rubrum replied. His chest pounded. “I just have something I need to protect now. That’s all.”\n\n“And what’s that?” Hermes barked. “Your students? Even I know you’re fucking them.” \n\nRubrum frowned, replied: “Yeah? You wanna talk about that? Then let’s talk about how you’re embezzling Board funds.” A scowl, then: “Maximus is one call away from sticking you in a prison cell. I got more dirt on you than you could fucking imagine.” \n\n“Embezzling…?” The words hung on Hermes’s lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” \n\nRubrum huffed. He picked a knick-knack off of Hermes’s desk – a miniature Arceus. Light reflected off of its gem-encrusted eyes. \n\n“I opened the safe in your apartment. With the help of my students, of course,” Rubrum explained. “And it’s obvious that your real books are kept there.” He then pointed a limp finger at Hermes’s filing cabinets, said: “All the expense books you keep here – they’re cooked. Guaranteed.”\n\nAcid rose in Hermes’s throat. Rage curdled in his stomach, his fists balled, as he whispered: “You fucking snake.”\n\n“How much have you stolen?” Rubrum asked. His gaze flitted between the figurine and Hermes’s molten stare. “Ten thousand? Fifty thousand credits?” \n\n“Rubrum–”\n\n“I can imagine the headlines now,” Rubrum continued. His face remained solemn, cold. “Chairman of Labor convicted of embezzlement and treason. It would suck, wouldn’t it?” \n\nA pregnant silence thus filled the room. Hermes slowly lowered himself once more into his office chair, let out a huff. He narrowed his eyes, stared at the floor. “Fine,” he pouted. “Fine. Fucking fine, you asshole.” \n\n“Fine?” Rubrum asked. “So, you’ll give me the documents?”\n\nHermes nodded, sighed. “I don’t really have much of a choice, now do I?”\n\n\n\nTucked deep within a labyrinth of winding wooden halls, nestled between two squadrons of guards, heralded by a blood-red carpet, laid a set of hand-carved mahogany doors. One hundred years ago, Chairman Maximus had paid a noteworthy craftsman to inlay them with gold, smoothing every rough edge as if caressing a lover. In the century since, this wood had not suffered so much as a fingerprint upon its glaze; its hinges had not made a sound. And beyond those doors, in a stuffy, smoky backroom, there sat seven Pokémon around a large table. \n\n“Maximus,” Kane blathered, “Don’t worry about this. They’re probably scared shitless.” \n\nMaximus, the large Alakazam that he was, seemed to sweep the world away with his hand. “In case you’ve forgotten,” he said, “those vandals broke into both of our offices. It is your problem.” \n\nKane, however, seemed nonplussed by Maximus’s grandeur. “Oh, come on,” Kane argued. A tiny lit cigarette hung limply from his lips as he counted coins idly on the counter. “It was just a stupid little heist gone wrong. They were probably just searching for some cash.” \n\n“Kane…” Iris breathed. From across the table, she stared intently into his eyes. “It would do well for you to treat this matter with the importance it should be afforded.” \n\nThe Gimmighoul rolled his eyes. “They don’t have anything,” he said. “What’d they take, hm? An outdated file from five years ago?” He chuckled. “No credible news agency in this entire damn city would take a file like that seriously. And even if they did, we’d declare it fake. Easy.” \n\nThe comment offended Cassius. With a gigantic huff, the Chairman of Defense pounded his fist on the table. Even a simple exhale made Iris’s fur blow back. “They pierced our damn defenses!” he exclaimed, and the room rocked. “Our security must be damn stupid the way some civilians found their way into our sanctum. Who’s next, huh?” \n\nIris rolled her eyes. “Careful, Cassius,” she warned. “I don’t want to have to replace another table.” She then turned to Kane, explained: “But… Cassius is right. We need to tighten our defenses in every federal building. Who can say who’s next?” \n\n“No one is next!” Kane exclaimed, a shit-eating smile adorning his tiny face. “I mean, Arceus… y’all are making a mountain out of a Drilburhill here.” He waved his arms in the air, explained: “They came in. They searched for money. They found a file – an old one, mind you – and they fucking left. They have absolutely no leverage, none whatsoever.” \n\nIris simply scoffed, returned to filing her claws. Maximus, too, shut his mouth. With a flick of his finger, Maximus then pointed at Hermes, asked: “Hermes… have you taken care to secure the Labor Bureau?” \n\nHermes, however, did not respond. Near-despondent, he seemed to stare limply at the tabletop. Memories of Rubrum danced in his mind. Maximus then asked once more: “Hermes?” \n\n“Wh–whuh?” Hermes popped upward, suddenly attentive. “What was that, sir?” \n\n\tAmused, Kane teased: “You can’t be fucking serious. Hermes, is your head in the fucking clouds right now?” \n\n\t“No, sir,” Hermes replied. Incapable, or unwilling, to make eye contact, he stared at his feet. “Could you please repeat yourself?” \n\n\t“Your security,” Maximus stated. “I trust you’ve taken the precautions which we’ve discussed?” \n\n\tHermes then nodded, licked his lips. “Of course,” he said. “Well, it’s been difficult with the front desk, but…” \n\n\t“Arceus!” Cassius bellowed. “Hermes, there are no damn buts. Did you secure the Bureau of Labor or not?” \n\n\t“Of course I did,” Hermes shot back. “I just, uh – the people who work for me, you know, they’re civilians. They’re not the brightest. I’m working with what I have, is what I’m saying.” \n\n\tMaximus raised an eyebrow. He folded his hands, asked: “Well, is our information secure?” \n\n\t“Of course,” Hermes muttered. “Of course, sir.”\n\n\t“And has anyone breached your perimeter?” Maximus asked. \n\n\t“N–no sir,” Hermes lied. “No one. I simply meant to, uh, explain that opsec training has been… laborious. That’s all.” \n\n\tA moment of silence ensued. Maximus stared intently at Hermes, slowly tapping his feet on the clean ground. He remarked: “Hermes, you seem tense.” \n\n\t“I’m sorry, sir,” Hermes replied, and let out a nervous laugh. “I just… am pretty freaked out about the break-in. W–we just don’t know what those Pokémon wanted.” \n\n\tCassius boomed, “It might’ve been those damn humans. I know some of them are hiding out in our territory.” \n\n\t“That may actually be true,” Akiva chirped. She sat near the table’s head, her posture perfectly erect. “Our guards testify that the thieves used Pokémon moves… but perhaps they’re mistaken. Or they have feral collaborators.” \n\n\tMaximus frowned. “So, what?” he asked. “Are we going to begin a mass hysteria about who’s working with the humans now? Please. We already have enough on our hands justifying our fight on feral Pokémon outside of city walls.” \n\n\t“But humans are crafty, sir,” Akiva contended. “They could have spies within the city–”\n\n\tWith a half-clenched fist, Colm then rapped his knuckle on the table. Like a bell’s toll, the sound reverberated throughout the stuffy office. And, as if standing at attention, the council members all stared at the lone Kecleon. Instinctively, Colm’s skin was permeated by mocha-colored swirls, mingling along the edges of his flesh. It almost appeared as if he were melting into the table.\n\n\tColm said, “Even if there are no humans within city bounds, it would be wise to consider warning the population of their involvement with the incident.”\n\n\t“Why?” Maximus asked. With one hand, he twiddled his mustache. In the other, he idly bent a spoon forward and back. “In case you’ve forgotten, our brand is strength. It’s unity. Why admit to humans being within our walls?” \n\n\t“Because it’ll scare them,” Colm explained. Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth, swept by his his prehensile tongue. “Arcean worship attendance has fallen five percent in the last two months. At this point, we need to think of material solutions.” \n\n\tCassius frowned, crossed his arms. “What’s the use of all this?” he asked. “Our Pokémon are already damn pansies. What’s this gonna do, huh? If we publicly admit to letting humans within our walls, we’ve failed. What we need is their damn confidence, not their pity.”\n\n\t“We will have their confidence,” Colm argued. ”Think about it – Akiva is right. Humans are crafty. So are ferals. They don’t fight fair.” He then looked around the room, added: “So let’s say a few of them get through, hm? Let’s say they burgled our offices. Then… when they’re gotten rid of, we get to be the heroes.” \n\nIris nodded, said: “Colm is onto something. We’ve demonstrated this tactic before, outside of city walls. When we told the populace about the mutilated merchant caravan on the way back from Caligen, temple attendance shot up three percent.” \n\n“Exactly,” Colm said. “We can’t be afraid to show a little weakness, hm? So, we suffer a little tragedy… a dead merchant caravan, a break-in in our offices… so what?” He gave a devilish smile. “In the end, we always fix the problem. We are strong. Stronger than ever.” \n\nCassius, predictably, was opposed. “This makes no sense,” he said. “You want us to emasculate ourselves in front of the people we’re protecting? Since when have we decided to be a bunch of sensitive momma’s boy pussy willows?” \n\nColm raised an eyebrow, said: “Cassius–”\n\n“You’re a young’un, so I don’t expect you to be the sharpest tack in the bin. But have some damn humility, son,” Cassius spat. “We’re the future. People need to have faith in us. Even a moment – one goddamn moment – of weakness… and we’re open for attack.” \n\nColm, however, did not respond. He simply shot a glance at Maximus, who ruminated on Cassius’s words. His spoon bent to and fro, sandwiched between his finger and thumb, as he said: “Cassius, I’ve changed my mind. Colm is right.”\n\n“What?” Cassius barked. “Sir, I–” \n\n“No.” Maximus then delicately laid his spoon on the table, said: “We are in a moment of crisis. And it is abundantly obvious to me that, right now, we are a sinking ship.” He then motioned toward Iris, explained: “This test run… the story about the merchant caravan. It galvanized our consumer base against a palpable enemy. Iris will attest.” \n\nIris then nodded, explained: “That’s true. Our most recent lawmaking meeting showed record attendance. And the fervor in the room–” \n\n\t“Bullshit,” Cassius spat. “You’re always too fucking soft, Iris.” \n\n“With all due respect,” Maximus interrupted, “you are the Chairman of Defense, Cassius. Your duties are not domestic governance. So unless you’d like me to dip my fingers in your duties, too, you’d do well to leave domestic matters to the experts.” \n\n\tMaximus’s venom laid Cassius’s jaw agape. Betrayed, Cassius glanced from member to member – from Maximus, to Kane, to Iris, all the way down. “Is everyone going along with this?” he bellowed. “We’re gonna let ourselves be humiliated, huh?”\n\n\tKane chuckled, said: “Cassius, think of the grift on this. We could call for donations during temple hours. An entire charity dedicated to fighting the human menace. Hundreds would be happy to give.” \n\n\t“Invincible people should not need donations,” Cassius growled. And with a flick of his arm, he said: “Fine. You all want to admit that we’re effeminate little cunts? That’s fine. But I’m never gonna let you drag me down with you.” He then stood, motioned around, and bellowed: “This city needs someone to look up to. And if it can’t be you, Maximus, it is damn well gonna be me.” \n\n\tDespite Cassius’s bravado, Maximus did not falter. His face remained nonplussed as he explained: “Cassius, you will have your own time to shine soon. I have already curated the publicity which you crave.” \n\n\t“Oh, so I need my job served to me on a platter now?” Cassius barked. “Arceus, Maximus. Your judgment’s been all over the damn place lately. What’s going on with you?” \n\n\tMaximus frowned, folded his hands. “My problem is that I am cleaning up a mess your guards should have prevented,” he sniped. “You are trying to perform my job, and yet you cannot perform your own. So now, I am doing your job for you.” Silently, the Alakazam then revealed a folder, slid it across the table. \n\n\t“This is your next task,” Maximus explained. “I have chosen this mission for you in order to secure resources for the Spear.” \n\n\tCassius’s jaw dropped once more. He said, “No one assigns me tasks.” He then slid the folder backward, argued: “I set my own damn itinerary, thanks.” \n\n\t“But this time, you won’t,” Maximus breathed. He then raised a hand, using telekinesis to slide the folder back toward Cassius. “Frankly, Cassius, you are lucky that I am not pinning the fault of this break-in on you. I am effectively spreading the blame evenly among us – and, furthermore, spreading the word about humans and their feral collaborators.” A pause, and then: “This is a very good deal for you. I strongly advise you take it.”\n\n\tCassius folded his arms, growled: “You bastard.” \n\n“As I said, you will have plenty of time to shine on this new mission anyhow,” Maximus continued. “In three days, you will be traveling to a local feral village named Haliford. It is about a day’s march from the Augustan gates – south, in Crest’s Rest.” Maximus then stared into Cassius’s eyes and ordered: “You will travel alongside Colm, who will be your supervisor. And, once arrived, you will clear the village by any means necessary.” \n\n“C–clear?” Hermes choked. Maximus’s words seemed to wake him from his catatonic state. “Why? Did they do something wrong?” \n\n“Well, our most recent break-in must have repercussions,” Maximus explained. His voice was low, deadpan. “If are truly to blame this crisis on outsiders, then those outsiders must be punished. An enemy encampment so close to city walls makes us look weak.” Maximus then stared at Hermes, asked: “Do you have a problem with that?” \n\nHermes shuddered. “No,” he muttered. “Of course not.” \n\nSatisfied, Maximus then turned to Colm. He asked, “I’m sure you accept this charge, Colm.” \n\n“Of course, sir,” Colm replied. Another grin. “I would be glad to accompany Chairman Cassius.”\n\n“Good,” Maximus cooed. He then glanced at Cassius, asked: “And you? Can I trust you to behave?” \n\nA fierce anger thus bubbled behind Cassius’s mien. His face soured into a fury-filled snarl; his fists laid balled against the tabletop, yearning to wrap around Maximus’s neck. \n\n“I don’t need a fucking supervisor,” Cassius growled. \n\n“And yet apparently you do,” Maximus shot back. “I cannot risk your forces failing us once more. You will be accompanied by Chairman Colm. And if you attempt to in any way obscure his duty, you will be disbarred.” A calm smile. “Understood?” \n\nBegrudgingly, Cassius managed a nod. “Fine,” he muttered. “Fucking fine.” \n\n\n\nThe brambles pricked consistently at Maestro’s soft paws; such was the shrubbery in Haliford’s environs. Each step threatened to pierce his heel; and so he lept, for minutes at a time, from stone to stone, branch to branch. Hermes’s file on this location was correct; navigating amidst the wood was a nightmare. \n\nLuckily, he was still able to find his way. Along the winding beaten paths laid empty meal packs, torn banners, and charcoal-rich fire pits. Undoubtedly, Cassius’s contingent had trodden the same path on their way to Haliford; in their wake laid mounds of trash. Everywhere those oafs went, they made a mess. \n\nAs the Meowscarada neared the village proper, calm billows of smoke began to rise over the treeline. Long smokestacks grazed along the clouds like kisses, created dark streaks on the overcast sky. Slowly, like autumn rain, the resultant ash then sprinkled from overhead, coating the grass with a thick gray carpet of soft detritus. \n\nCuriously, Maestro allowed a flake to fall onto his tongue. It sizzled upon his saliva, then disintegrated into bits. He was left with only the faintest scent of burnt wood. \n\n“What is this place…?” Maestro muttered. And thus he plunged his feet forward into the ash-caked grasses, pushing past green-gray ferns. Slowly, those once miniature-sized structures became larger and larger, casting faint shadows over his mask. The entire plot was well-tread, dotted with Pokémon and black wooden buildings.\n\n\tAs the feline approached the village’s main entrance, he was struck by the crowd of soldiers camped by the shoddy iron-wrought gates. These, he realized, were the soldiers which had led him to this place. \n\n\tOff to the side, across a sea of tiny blue tents, stood an imposing figure – Cassius the Rhyperior, the Chairman of Defense. Despite Cassius’s face adorning posters throughout the city, Maestro barely recognized him – Cassius’s outfit was positively garish. If there were ever such a thing as reverse camouflage, this would’ve been it. \n\n\tFrom head-to-toe, Cassius was clad in burgundy and gold robes. His humongous cape dragged limply along the grass, sweeping vast swathes of ash in his wake. Strapped to his back was a disgustingly large weapon – a greataxe, twice the size of Cassius’s barrel-shaped arm. Truly, the man’s attire seemed unfitting of his station; it more so resembled a king’s garb. \n\nStranger still, the Rhyperior seemed to be talking calmly to another Pokémon – much smaller, a Kecleon. This accomplice, however, was unadorned. \n\n“Who the hell…?” Maestro mumbled. Awkwardly, he stared at the couple as his memory returned. Yes, yes… he’d definitely seen that Kecleon before. \n\nTwo years prior, Maestro had attended a New Year’s celebration in Augusta’s main square. His main memory of the event was holding Rubrum’s paw amidst the din; however, it was also the first time he’d seen members of the Board in-person. \n\n\tIn Maestro’s opinion, Cassius had hardly changed since they’d met last; then and now, he was the same boisterous, reckless warmonger. He still remembered Cassius’s embarrassing drunken rants during that celebration; stood behind a glorious podium, the man could hardly contain himself. Thinly veiled calls for increased security permeated his rambling celebratory speech… “May Augusta live for one thousand years.” \n\nColm, however… that Kecleon. He’d definitely changed. During that prior celebration, this Kecleon was still newly elected by Maximus himself. Meek, weak, small. Even his celebration speech lacked any sort of flavor. It was just so… inoffensive. \n\nThe Chairman of Peace, Maestro thought. It’s strange, then, that he would be leading an army into a small village.\n\n\tA voice from Maestro’s right then snapped him from his trance. “Registration?” a Simisear asked. The boy was young, clearly disinterested in Maestro’s presence. “Can’t let you past the gate without registration.” \n\n\t“Of course,” the Meowscarada mouthed, and handed over his identification. As the boy at the gate studied the papers, Maestro snuck another glance over the sea of tents. Like pustules, they dotted the land. The irritated Rhyperior seemed to loom over them all, his arms crossed in frustration. Truly, Maestro realized, negotiation was not that man’s strong suit. \n\n\tNoticing his stare, the guard asked: “Do you know Chairman Cassius?” \n\n\t“What?” Maestro replied, and snapped his gaze back. “No, I don’t.” \n\n\tThe guard laughed. “Oh, alright. I was just asking because… well, you’re from the Academy.” He then chuckled, added: “I applied there, you know. Never got in.” \n\n\t“Yeah,” Maestro replied, and snatched his identification back. Without thinking, he then blurted: “The place is horrible. Be glad you didn’t get in.” \n\n\t“O–oh.” The guard seemed surprised to hear such outright criticism. Unsure of how to respond, he simply muttered, “Alright. Just so I know… what’s your, uh, purpose for visiting?” \n\n\tMaestro lied, “Tourism.” \n\n\t“Right,” the guard replied, and scratched his head. “My advice? Finish your business soon.” \n\n\tThe Meowscarada nodded, asked: “Why’s that?” \n\n\t“This encampment’s illegal,” the guard explained. “By tomorrow morning, it’ll be evacuated.” \n\n\tMaestro raised an eyebrow. “Evacuated,” he echoed. “Interesting.” \n\n\tThen, as if unimpressed by the guard’s words, Maestro passed by. And thus, laid bare was the beauty of Haliford’s main street. Log-made buildings dotted the thoroughfare, perforated with plentiful market stalls and adornments. Outside a nearby pub, a Riolu shined a Rhydon’s horn. Soldiers from the nearby encampment roughhoused next to a small grocer. At the village’s backside sat four or so mineshafts, obviously keeping the entire village afloat. To their side sat those massive smokestacks; they stretched from the ground like trees, spewing that delicious ash into the hot air. Deep, deep underground, boisterous steam engines burnt charcoal and ferried along soot-stained minecarts. \n\n\tThe whole scene, Maestro thought, was quite beautiful. Seeing the locals going about their day made the nearby military encampment feel so far away.\n\n\tHesitantly, Maestro then began to make his way toward the pub, looking desperately for a place to sit down. He could tell the building was a pub because of the shoddy sign on its front – “Lenny’s.” The wooden door opened without a sound; clearly, it had been oiled recently. \n\n\tNobody stared at Maestro as he entered. That was strange, Maestro thought – he thought others would pay more attention to him. He was an outsider, after all. \n\n\tBehind the rickety counter stood the bartender: a Seviper. Her tail coiled tightly around a green bottle and poured viscous liquid into a crystal glass. Maestro approached her. \n\n\t“Can I sit down?” Maestro asked. \n\n\tThe Seviper nodded. “Sure,” she replied, and swatted the glass with her blade-like tail. It then slid across the bar – four, five feet – and slid to a halt in front of a grizzled-looking Jynx. \n\n\t“That’s a really nice trick,” Maestro teased. “I don’t suppose you’re Lenny?” \n\n\tThe Seviper could ‘t help but laugh. “Me?” she asked, her voice scratchy. “I wish I had half the charisma as that old coot. No, no…” A furtive breath, and then: “Lenny died six years ago.” \n\n\tMaestro nodded. “Sorry to hear it,” he breathed, and tapped his finger on the counter. “So, what would you recommend?” \n\n\t“Depends on what you’re going for,” the bartender replied. “Light or heavy?” \n\n\tMaestro puckered his lips, replied: “Light?” \n\n\tThe bartender gave him a smug smile. She asked: “You’ve never had a drink before, have you?” \n\n\t“Never,” Maestro admitted, and picked at his claws. “My time at the Academy has been a little too busy, I guess.” \n\n\tThe bartender recoiled. “Academy?” she asked. “And here I thought you were with the army.” \n\n\t“No, no,” Maestro replied. “I would never join with them. They’re fucking…” He then sighed, tapped the bar. “Just gimme something light, hm?” \n\n\tThe bartender nodded, suddenly intrigued. “Of course,” she replied, and began fixing his drink. “So,” she asked. “What’s a big shot like you doing in a place like this? Last time I heard, people like you barely leave city walls.” \n\n\t“Call it a little hands-on study,” Maestro said. He then frowned, admitted: “Actually, I’m here because of this… army. Do you know why they’re here?” \n\n\t“Of course I do,” the bartender explained, and mixed two clear liquids in an aluminum container. “They want the land for themselves. Our mines, too.” \n\n\tMaestro smacked his lips. He said, “Arceus. Truly?” \n\n\t“Yep.” \n\n\t“Is no one fighting back?” Maestro asked. “Everyone around here seems to kinda just be… going about their business.” \n\n\tThe Seviper guffawed at Maestro’s naivete. “Yeah?” she bluffed. “Well, people are always wanting to drink. Even during the end of the world, sweet thing.” She then whipped her tail toward the door, added: “Lucky for us, we have one little ray of hope. Our elder is out there handling negotiations with Chairman Cassius right now.” \n\n\t“Your elder…” Maestro muttered. “I don’t think I saw him.” \n\n\t“Well, I would assume negotiations are private.” The bartended then reached her spiked tail over the counter, as if offering a hand, and said: “My name is Barb.” \n\n\t“Maestro,” the Meowscarada replied. “It’s nice to meet you.” \n\n\n\n\n\t\n\tThree hundred yards away, an elderly Ambipom stooped himself over a cup of hot tea. His lips were thin and dry, his tongue nested against his palate. Inside his eyes danced embers, his chest heaving like a bellow. His curved back rested uncomfortably against navy blue canvas. \n\n\t“So, you would like to compensate us?” the Ambipom asked. His tails swept along his chin. “If I am not mistaken, this is your second offer.”\n\n\tLike a parasite, a smile crept across Colm’s face. “I’d like to remind you that our offers have been quite generous,” he explained. His hand calmly stirred within a porcelain cup. “Two thousand credits per person, providing all of you vacate the premises immediately.” \n\n\tThe elder’s maw scrunched. “You insult me,” he spat. His tails swatted at the tent’s walls. “Two thousand credits, and yet no Augustan citizenship? Even if I accepted your offer, where would my people spend this money?” \n\n\tColm nonchalantly waved his hand. “There are other settlements,” he explained. “Sweetwater, for example. I hear the weather is lovely around this time of year. Any number of those places would accept Augustan currency. I urge you to review your options.”\n\n“Sweetwater? That’s many days away,” the elder hissed.\n\n“Perhaps not Sweetwater, but–”\n\n“But what?” the elder interrupted. “You’d have us wander? Pick up our belongings, and move where the wind takes us?” \n\nAside Colm sat a boiling volcano – Cassius, his head nearly touching the tent’s top. That familiar scowl betrayed the man’s barely contained rage. With crossed arms, he barked: “I don’t care where you go. But you can’t remain here.” \n\nWith a huff, the elder then stood. His back arched like a crook, distorted with many years of intensive work. Mustering breath within his weathered lungs, he said: “Haliford has stood in this spot since the day Augusta was founded.” He motioned around. “Hundreds of Pokémon have lived and died within the walls of this village. Our dead’s ashes are scattered among the trees. Our children play in the grasses, our men work under our soil. When we die, we are buried alongside our ancestors. And you would have us abandon it? All of it?” \n\nColm’s smile didn’t move. His bodily movements were stiff, eerie, as he put his cup to the side. “Tell me,” he said, “there must be some sort of compromise we can come to here, hm? Surely you’re reasonable enough to not let your constituents come to harm.” \n\n“Constituents?” the elder mocked. “They are not my constituents. They are my family.” His tails flailed in frustration. “I know every single person in this town. I attend every birth, and I cremate our dead.” \n\nColm tilted his head. His face hurt from smiling. “Sir, really. We’re only here to help.” \n\n“I know what you want,” the elder spat. “You want our mines, hm? You want money. Well, you aren’t going to get it.” \n\nCassius stirred. Desperate for release, he fidgeted his hands, bounced his knee. As if his eyes could shoot lasers, he stared at the Ambipom’s head. Noticing this behavior, Colm laid a gentle hand on Cassius’s thigh, shot a glance in his direction. \n\nColm then took a deep breath, hunched over. His voice was steady, his smile faded. “Tell me, sir… what leverage do you have?” he asked. \n\nThe elder, however, did not understand the question. He grunted. \n\nColm said: “I mean… are you truly in the position to negotiate with us?” He didn’t blink. His jaw unhinged like a snake’s with every furtive word. “Believe it or not, sir, I am attempting to look out for you. By tomorrow morning, you must convince your… family… to evacuate. Or, well… my hands will be tied.”\n\n“You’d kill us?” the elder asked. “You would terrorize us for our land?” \n\nThe Kecleon smiled. “Of course I would,” he hissed. “I would kill you. I would kill your family. I would kill their family. I would slaughter your pets, your lovers, and your children. As far as I am concerned, they are pests in an otherwise beautiful garden.” He then shook his head, added: “If we all just worked together… if everyone gave a little, then we could all thrive. As a species. As descendants of Arceus. But if you stand in the way, then… we will have no choice.” A pang of sadness then passed over his face. He begged: “Work with me. Let me help you. Please.” \n\nThe elder’s face soured. His grip grew tight around his walking stick, his breaths heavy. “How dare you?” he spat. “You’re not an altruist. You’re not working for anyone but yourself.”\n\n“I’m working for all Pokémon,” Colm contended. “And that includes you.” \n\n“No, you’re not. You’re selfish,” the elder shot back. He then sighed: “Both of you, out of my way. Now. We’re done here.” \n\nWith a huff, the Ambipom thus began to shamble toward the tent’s exit. For a brief moment, the trio were silent, save for the shuffling of the elder’s feet along the gray-stained grass. \n\n“Wait,” Cassius called. Hot breath fell from his nostrils, blew like smoke onto his barrel chest. \n\nThe Rhyperior then stood, took a couple steps toward the elder, and lowered himself to the Ambipom’s height the best he could. Like a predator eyeing its prey, Cassius let his stare pierce the elder’s gaze. His hot, wet breath tumbled across the old Ambipom’s face.\n\nCassius’s claws then silently raised, lowered themselves softly onto the elder’s shoulders. The gesture made the Ambipom’s blood run cold. Horror passed over his face like a shadow, followed by resolution. His tails flared. \n\n“You don’t scare me,” the elder breathed. “You’re just another thug, like the rest of them.” \n\nCassius smacked his lips. Lust flashed over his face as he whispered: “You will die unafraid, then.” \n\n\tCassius then cupped his hands around the contours of the elder’s face, resting his palms around the Ambipom’s temples. And, as if crushing a watermelon, the Rhyperior suddenly squeezed his hands together.\n\n\tThe elder’s skull hardly offered any resistance to Cassius’s brutality. With a wet crunch, viscera exploded from the space where the Ambipom’s head once was. The corpse’s jaw hung distended from its exposed spinal cord, then plopped onto the floor. Crimson rain exploded from the wound and poured like a fountain onto Cassius’s face. The elder’s body then slumped at Cassius’s feet, coloring the grass red. Cassius licked his lips. \n\nMuch to his chagrin, flecks of the elder’s blood had splattered onto Colm’s torso; and with a disapproving stare, Colm revealed a handkerchief and gently wiped himself clean. Annoyance hung on his voice as he said: “You didn’t have to do that.” \n\n\tCassius, however, was ecstatic. “I don’t need to do anything,” he growled. “Colm, negotiating with these freaks is a waste of time. It’s time we show our strength.”\n\n\t“We were ordered by Maximus to negotiate,” Colm replied. With a disgusted frown, he awkwardly danced away from the growing pool of blood underneath his feet. “He isn’t going to be happy about this, you know.”\n\n\tCassius guffawed, wiped blood onto his face. “Who gives a fuck what Maximus thinks?” he asked. “I’m still carrying out his orders, aren’t I? This land will be ours within a day.” \n\n\t“I suppose,” Colm replied. He then sighed, asked: “So, how are you going to explain to the villagers that their elder isn’t coming back? We need to buy some time until tomorrow morning.” \n\n\tCassius flashed a devilish smile. “Fuck tomorrow morning,” he growled. “We’ll clear them out now.”\n\n\n\n\n\t“What’s it like inside the city?” Barb asked. With her tail, she lazily cleaned out a stout glass. “It must be busy, right?”\n\n\tMaestro laughed. “Augusta is… overwhelming,” he explained. “It’s like… if you took this village, and expanded it by a factor of twenty. No, thirty.” He then lifted his palm toward the ceiling, added: “And there are big buildings there, too… some are five floors tall.” \n\n\t“No way,” Barb remarked. For a moment, she paused her polishing. “Are there concerts?”\n\n\tMaestro raised an eyebrow. “A concert? Like, music?” \n\n\t“Yeah.” \n\n\t“Yeah, there are concerts.” Maestro looked around. “Do you not have… concerts… here?” \n\n\tBarb replied, “Only once per year. Mostly folk songs.”\n\n\tMaestro smiled. His dimples just barely shone from beneath his mask, his paw clenched loosely around the base of his glass. But when his mouth opened to reply, no sound emerged. \n\n\tWhat Maestro noticed first was a blast of air; it ruffled his nape, guided a cool breeze along his shoulder blades. Then came the secondary wave; as if he were tackled, it slammed his chest against the bartop, knocking the breath from his lungs. \n\nWinded, Maestro then instinctively shot a glance backward – just in time to see the pub’s door blown off its hinges. It blasted itself against the bartop to his side, splintering into pieces. With his jaw hung wide, Maestro stared helplessly at the carnage outside; fires kicked up amidst the ashen grass and clouded the village’s environs. Blood soaked the grass. \n\n\tA surprised yelp then flew from Maestro’s throat; and as if possessed, he jumped from the barstool. His feet pounded against the shaking wooden floor, and he peeked his head outside. \n\n\tTo his left, the village gate was blown wide open, its doors hanging half-melted from the hinges. That guard – the Simisear – stood there, his palms glowing red. Cassius stood next to him, grinning, one arm aimed down the village’s main road. Smoke rose from his palm. \n\n\t“Clean shot!” Cassius bellowed. “All of you! Go forth. Now.” \n\nThe sight made Maestro’s stomach churn. In Cassius’s wake laid an entire strip of destruction: Market stalls, broken glass, and small fires dotted the dry grass. Smoke filled the air. From within the settling wreckage poked bodies, shattered signage, and cloven concrete blocks. It was obvious: Cassius had fired into a crowd. \n\n Maestro could feel his vision blurring, unfocusing, as he laid eyes on the wreckage. Acid lurched in his throat, the screams of nearby onlookers drowned by a tinny screech in his ears. Instinctively, Maestro grasped at his chest, adjusted his mask. Dust particles scratched at the back of his throat. \n\n\tFrom the wreckage ran stray Pokémon – left and right, weaving and bobbing in and out of the smoke-filled street. And one by one, they were struck down by the wave of Augustan soldiers. Beside the old hotel, A navy-clad Machoke chopped a Smeargle’s neck. The Smeargle fell to the ground like a marionette, clumsily swiping at the blood-stained grass as he tried to right himself, but his struggle was futile. The Machoke’s foot stomped down on his neck with a sickening crack. Just beside him, a Typhlosion spewed flames upon a hotel’s front doors. Screams echoed from inside. \n\n\t“Fuck,” Maestro breathed, his face morphing with horror. “They’re killing everyone.” He then turned back to the bar, toward the frightened patrons within, and screamed: “They’re moving in!”\n\n\tBarb, hitherto shocked behind the counter, jumped to attention. She shot a glance toward the other patrons – two children, a Smoochum and a Pichu – and their parents, a Jynx and Pikachu. The food had been blown clear from their table, tumbled over their laps, splattered against the adjacent wall. The children winced with every blast. \n\n\tAnother glance into the street. Two soldiers were approaching the bar – Psychic types. Cruel smiles, twitching hands. Their expressions nearly made Maestro puke. He couldn’t take them all down. He needed to run.\n\n\t“Come on!” Maestro yelled, and motioned overhead. “We need to get out of here!” \n\n\tFor a moment, the Pokémon in the bar didn’t move. Frozen in place, they simply watched spindles of smoke leak through the windows. Screams reverberated within the wood. \n\n\tA manic cry then arose from Maestro’s throat, nearly running it raw. “Do you want to fucking die?” he screamed. Rage flashed across his maw, his claws unsheathed, flailing wildly. “Follow me. Now!” \n\n\tThe sudden outburst collected those Pokémon from their stupor. Barb hopped over the bar counter, slithering deftly toward the front door. The Jynx and Pikachu, too, ran. They gathered their children in their arms, smothering their little cries against their breasts, and fell into line behind Maestro. \n\n\t“I’ll provide suppressing fire,” Maestro ordered. He kept one eye fixed on those approaching Pokémon, his trigger finger itching. “When I start firing, run toward the back of the village. Hide in the mines.” \n\n\tBarb shook her head, asked: “What about you?” \n\n\t“I have combat training,” Maestro barked. A small miasma instinctively formed around his paw, his expression grave. “Get ready, okay? All of you, get ready.” \n\n\tBarb shot an affirming glance at her patrons, gave a quick nod. The children cried into their parents’ arms, begging to know what’s going on. And so they waited – that interminable moment before the world ends. \n\n\tMaestro’s breathing sped. That same feeling as when he’d met Invi – he felt it now. Unbridled rage. Fear. It left his ears ringing, his hands and feet comfortably numb. As if his body moved on its own, Maestro then raised his hand upward; index finger pointed out, thumb toward the sky. Those marching soldiers stopped – the pair of them staring at the growing Dark Pulse around Maestro’s fingertip, their mouths agape. \n\n\tAnd off it went, spiraling like a comet through the ash-soaked air, and landed flat in the center of one soldier’s chest. Spittle flew from his mouth, his breath stolen, as he tumbled forward onto the ground. His friend – a Drowzee – had clearly not expected the villagers to fight back. \n\n\t“Now!” Maestro barked, and motioned toward the unguarded mines. “Run! Now! I’ll hold them back!” \n\n\tAnd so the villagers barreled from the tavern door, spilling into the street and sprinting toward the village’s backside. Others clearly had the same idea; Pokémon scrambled to their feet all along the main strip, making a beeline for the mineshafts. Others barreled into the treeline, or took to the skies. Maestro, however, stood his ground. \n\n\tThe opposing Drowzee then raised his hands to his forehead, preparing to launch a Psychic attack. His brows scrunched, his eyes closed, as energy curdled in his brain. But alas, Maestro was quicker – he burst forward, off the tavern’s stoop, and into the midst of the battle. His fingers tingled with Dark energy – and with one swoop, as if gutting prey, Maestro landed a Night Slash across the prone Drowzee’s stomach. A critical hit, it seemed; the Psychic type tumbled under his own weight.\n\n\tA quick glance to the left, then right; alas, Maestro could not fight off an entire hoard of soldiers. A dense crowd of them piled through the broken gates now, flooding into the streets, shoulder-to-shoulder in rubble and gore. Stray embers fired from their mouths, their paws, and ignited the ash-soaked wood of the tavern. They cheered. \n\n\tMaestro’s heart raced. Most of the villagers were slow, ill-equipped for battle. The younger ones tripped over their little feet, spilling onto the grass; elders limped forward, staggering over themselves, as they climbed inside the rocky mineshafts. Those few who were battle-ready were caught by surprise, slaughtered where they stood. Without help, the village was utterly overwhelmed. \n\n\tNoticing the villagers’ escape, an Uproar then rang from Cassius’s lips. It boomed over the entire village, pounded against Maestro’s eardrums. \n\n\t“Corner them in the mines!” Cassius bellowed. “We’ll fill the entire damn underground with flames if we need to. Keep going!” \n\n\tThe soldiers thus replied in kind, raising their arms, stamping their feet. They plowed down the main thoroughfare; bolts of lightning shot down the street, aimed for the mine’s entrance – potshots, intended for fleeing villagers. With every passing moment, they drew closer.\n\n\tAnd so Maestro grimaced, frozen with fear, as his entire body tensed. All his life, he’d wondered what he’d do in a situation like this. Faced with overwhelming odds, would he risk his life? Would he die to protect another Pokémon? \n\n\tWithin him, Rubrum’s voice shouted for him to run. Maestro, however, ignored the compulsion. Slowly, the terrified boy made his way into the middle of the road, stared down at the tens of soldiers approaching his position. And with a flourish, he raised his arms wide, as if motioning his enemies closer. He was met with bloodthirsty smiles, bared fangs, and outstretched claws. \n\n\tFrom the backlines, Cassius could just barely make out Maestro’s figure. Silhouetted against the drab backdrop, his mint-colored fur was unmistakable. Cassius nudged the Kecleon at his side, said: “There’s a Meowscarada holding up our march.” \n\n\tColm’s brow narrowed. “A Meowscarada?” he asked. A hum resounded from his throat. “Interesting.” \n\n\tJust then, a blast of ash swirled around Cassius’s army; a Leaf Storm, no doubt. That pesky Meowscarada had kicked up the ash-laden grass into a massive cloud, engulfing the soldiers in a thick fog. Cries and coughs arose from the contingent as they struggled to breathe. Some turned tail; others lunged forward, desperately clawing through the shadows. \n\n\tRage curdled on Cassius’s face. “That motherfucker,” he growled. “He’s kicked up the ash. He’s lucky I don’t fire a Meteor Beam down this entire street.” \n\n\tColm laid a hand on Cassius’s thigh, said: “Calm yourself, Cassius. We… know him.” \n\n\tCassius furrowed a brow. A Dark Pulse flew overhead – no doubt fired blindly into the crowd by Maestro. “We know him? The Meowscarada?” \n\n\t“We do,” Colm admitted. He then took a deep breath, said: “If I’m not mistaken, his name is Maestro. He’s a student at the Academy under Professor Rubrum. He’s attended a few celebrations.” Colm stood on his tiptoes, peered over the crowd. “Word is, he’s the top student.”\n\n\tAnger bubbled in Cassius’s chest. Instinctively, his cannon-like hands clenched. “Then what the hell is he doing here?” he barked.\n\n\t“Disrupting our operation, obviously,” Colm replied. He then raised a hand to his chin, gritted his teeth. “Cassius, you and I should withdraw. If we’ve recognized this boy correctly, he could pose a huge PR risk.”\n\n\tAnother Dark Pulse shot overhead. Somewhere in the front lines, a Pokémon cried out in pain. His body landed with a dull thud. \n\n\t“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cassius barked. His breaths were unsteady, shallow. “No way am I rolling over and letting this whelp take out my whole army. No fucking way.”\n\n\tColm couldn't help but roll his eyes in irritation. He replied, “I’m not saying that. But we need to reinforce our perimeter. If this boy escapes, we’ll have a hard time maintaining our cover story.” \n\n\tWith a manic scowl, Cassius looked down on Colm. He puffed out his chest and growled: “Colm. Do I tell you how to do your job?” \n\n\t“No,” Colm replied. His eyes narrowed. “No, you don’t. But I was assigned here to supervise you, and–” \n\n\t“I don’t require supervision,” Cassius hissed. Coals burnt in his wide eyes, his chest a bellow for hot, acrid breath. “I don’t need you. I don’t need the Board. I don’t need anyone.” His gaze then flicked back toward the main road; projectiles fired every which way as his soldiers began to panic. Screams broke out; Maestro was picking them off, one by one amidst the dark. \n\n\t“I’ll handle this myself,” Cassius said. “So go make yourself useful, Colm, and make ‘peace’ somewhere else.” \n\n\tColm thus donned a tight-lipped frown, stepped backward. He lightly traced his fingers along the charred gate, watching helplessly as Cassius raised his arms in the air, preparing another Uproar. \n\n\t“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Colm muttered. His skin thus slowly morphed into the color of ash, and he slipped beyond the gate. \n\n\tAnd then, like a wave upon the beach, Cassius’s scream belted into the air. Its sonic wave burst through the dust cloud like a knife, threw his soldiers into the gutter like ragdolls. And as if he were parting the sea, Cassius then stepped forward, his footfalls quaking the earth. Panicked soldiers scurried out from underneath, running every which way amidst the chaos. No one dared stand in Cassius’s way.\n\nA fair number of them plainly fled backward; they flowed past Cassius’ legs like water, headed for the front gate. With a single frustrated stomp, Cassius stopped them. Gargantuan spikes emerged from the ground like fingers behind his back, skewering the deserters in the air. Bloodied gurgles fell from their throats as they quivered there, suspended by their own wounds. \n\n“Deserters have no place in my army,” Cassius bellowed. His fangs shone pure white in the dim overcast sun, his abdomen covered with dried crimson flecks. “If you fight for me, you will give your life for me. I will not suffer incompetence.” \n\nCassius garnered only fear. No soldier dared reply to him; they laid shivering on the sidelines, wounded, resting their backs against burning buildings. Not a single one had gotten through to the mines; indeed, Maestro had fended them off successfully. The Meowscarada, however, was nowhere to be seen. \n\n“Maestro!” Cassius cried. His feet stomped impatiently on the ground, cracking the dirt beneath. Blood flowed around his feet. “Show yourself, coward! I know you’re here.” \n\nFor a moment, Cassius was quiet. Sounds of suffering permeated the air – the groans of the injured, the crackles of burning wood. \n\nAnd slowly, from behind a half-destroyed barrel, Maestro revealed himself. He held his head high, his steps gentle. Blood stained his mask, splattered along his chest and arms. \n\n“Chairman Cassius,” Maestro said. He donned a crooked smile. “I didn’t think you’d grace me with your presence.” \n\nThe Rhyperior returned the smile. He then flitted his cape, reached behind himself, and unveiled his battleaxe. A gargantuan steel monolith, it absolutely dwarfed Maestro in size. Small notches covered its length, from head to shaft. With a solid swing, it handily pierced the earth at Cassius’s feet. Maestro could feel his balance shift. \n\n“You’re a real pain in my ass,” Cassius bellowed. His voice was stern, as if he were a father disciplining his child. “Do you know that? Do you even know what you’re interrupting?” \n\nMaestro replied, “A slaughter.” He then motioned around the pockmarked street and spat: “How many Pokémon did you murder with that Meteor Blast?” \n\n\tCassius replied, “Clearly not enough. They’re all running toward the mines back there.” He then shook his head, mustering a cocky grin. “It doesn’t matter. By Arceus, I’ll fill the tunnels with flame by nightfall.” \n\n\t“You’re psychotic,” Maestro yelled. Fury-laden tears clouded his vision. “There are families here. Children.” \n\n“And?” Cassius asked. He calmly motioned around, toward the Pokémon dying in the streets – soldiers and villagers alike. “These Pokémon are weak. Before our government, they would have died young.” For a moment, sympathy flashed on Cassius’s mien. “They should consider themselves lucky to have lived at all.” \n\nMaestro swallowed. His palms were drenched in sweat, his entire body tense. His heart raced as he admitted, “I know about the weapon, Cassius. I know about Operation Salvation.”\n\nThose words set Cassius on-edge. His brows narrowed, his jaw hung open, as he replied: “You… you must’ve been the little thief who broke into Kane’s office.”\n\n“Figured it out, did you?” Maestro replied. “Yeah, that was me.” \n\nCassius’s maw steeled. Briefly, he glanced around the battlefield – at the mounds of charred cinder and wood, the dying, and the dead, and he asked: “Did the humans help you?”\n\nNow, it was Maestro’s turn to be surprised. He barked, “What the fuck are you talking about?” \n\nThe Rhyperior simply shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “The truth is, Maestro… you’re just not part of our future. You Dark types could never understand it.” \n\n“Then explain it to me,” Maestro shouted. Sweat dripped from beneath his mask. “What is all this for? Why are you killing innocent people?”\n\nUnexpectedly, that question lit a fire in Cassius’s belly. The monolith’s chest heaved, his expression wild, as he declared: “This world is impure, Maestro. Humans, ferals, and invalids… you might not realize it, but we’re all in a war for our future.” Childlike wonder glinted in his eyes. “Your deaths will herald a new era of eternal peace. Arceus will give it all to us as his rightful heirs. The Spear… it will save us.” \n\nHorrified, Maestro replied: “You’re insane.” \n\n“I’m not insane,” Cassius said. “For the first time in my life, I am seeing the world clearly.” \n\nThe Rhyperior then shrugged off his cape. That garish red-and-gold mess tumbled into the ashen grass with a soft thump. Cassius then raised his battleaxe in the air, held it resolute above his head. \n\n“There is no more to discuss,” Cassius bellowed. “You will die today. Tell Arceus it was Cassius the Unbending who sent you.” \n\nAnd with a mighty thrust, the Rhyperior then thrust his battleaxe into the earth. A rumble quaked the earth; ravines cracked like spiderwebs along the thoroughfare. The ground under Maestro’s then feet gave way, crumbling messily under his feet. His paws scraped uselessly against the trench’s walls as he fell, his back slamming against its jagged floor. \n\nThe impact shook the breath from Maestro’s lungs. His head knocked solidly against the dirt, his mask’s edge chipping on the wall. And, as if yanked forward by a chain, his body jolted itself forward in an instinctive tuck-and-roll. In his wake slammed Cassius’s axe; the Rhyperior then wrenched it from the ravine with a huff. \n\nHis head pounding, his adrenaline coursing, Maestro managed to jump back onto the topsoil. Desperately, he clawed through his brain for a plan; nothing came.\n\n“You’re a spry one,” Cassius growled. Amused, he watched as Maestro stumbled backward, kicking ash from the grass. “Luckily for you, I’m happy to play with my food.” \n\n\tGritting his teeth, Maestro quipped: “How about a dinner and a show, then?” \n\n\tIn a flash, Maestro had formed an Energy Ball on his fingertips. And off it shot, careening squarely for Cassius’s solar plexus. The effort, however, was moot; as if swatting a tennis ball, Cassius dispelled the blast with his axe. \n\n\tThat blast, however, was only meant to buy time. Desperately, Maestro’s arms flailed in the air. Like a conductor directing a symphony, Maestro summoned a full-on offensive. Long-dormant seeds burst from the punctured earth as a Frenzy Plant clawed at Cassius’s feet, holding the beast in place. Cassius began to tear wildly at those thick vines, but to no avail. They coiled up his columnal legs, grew snugly around his feet.\n\n\tWith every twitch of Cassius’s flesh, those vines curled and snapped. Maestro could feel the tendons in his arms stretching, twisting, as he attempted to keep the Rhyperior stationary. Cassius snarled. \n\n\tThinking fast, Cassius then raised the battleaxe above his head and hurled it toward Maestro. The Meowscarada, however, dodged just in time; instead of piercing its intended target, the massive weapon carved its way through the tavern’s front wall. The building promptly collapsed, burying the axe up to its hilt in debris and dust. \n\n\t“You brat,” Cassius barked. Still struggling to break free, he watched as Maestro began charging a Solar Beam. The Meowscarada planted his feet solidly in the middle of the road, a green light shining from his chest. A high-pitched whir sounded from Maestro’s core, like a tea kettle boiling, as he absorbed scraps of sunlight from the overcast sky. \n\nCassius knew better than to allow Maestro to continue. Stealth Rocks deftly arose from his back, pointed themselves toward Maestro’s head. One by one, they plunged toward him. Maestro was forced to dodge left and right, bobbing in between their trajectories. Cassius knew that none of them would land a hit; they would, however, tire his opponent out. \n\nAnd so Maestro danced from one deft paw to the next, ignoring the swish of each rock plummeting past his battered frame. Sweat coated his fur in a thick film. His head swam. \n\nMuch to Maestro’s chagrin, Cassius’s initial impact had shaken him; his right ankle was twisted, and his vision was doubled. His stamina rapidly depleted with each footfall.\n\nIn a panic, Maestro thus raised his arms once more, calling forth a Petal Blizzard. And just as before, the ashen ground kicked up into the still air, clouding the battlefield with a thick haze. Cassius huffed and puffed, kicking his feet free of vines, as he then surveyed his immediate surroundings. \n\n“Really?” he barked. His voice was tinged with a sort of psychotic amusement. “You’re kicking up dust again? Eventually, you will need to fight me like a man. Face-to-face!” \n\nWith a grand bellow, Cassius then let loose another Uproar into the air. And just like before, the clouds dissipated… only to reveal a scene which Cassius had never expected. \n\nIn a circle surrounding him laid nearly twenty Substitutes, all staring directly at their aggressor. Divorced from context, the scene would have been comical; however, it only served to frustrate the manic Rhyperior. \n\n“Is this a damn game to you?” Cassius yelled. His gaze shifted from one Substitute to the next, searching for Maestro’s lithe frame among them. “I know you’re still here. Show yourself!” \n\nPredictably, Cassius’s cry received no response. For a moment, embarrassment made his chest sink; he felt he was being toyed with. The realization made his eye twitch, his fists ball. \n\nWith only a grunt, Cassius then lugged his arm upward, preparing to fire its cannon. Its tip glowed and gyrated, pulsed and bucked, as Cassius’s fury suddenly surged forward. Just as he’d fired into the crowd, a Meteor Beam blew from his cannon, decimating everything in its path. It fired first upon the Substitute before him, then swept across his field of vision as one solid beam. From right to left, Cassius decimated Substitute after Substitute, eagerly awaiting the burst of blood and gore as his beam met Maestro’s flesh.\n\nOne, two, three, four, five. Maestro was not behind any of them. The beam traveled through each like butter, craving into the environs beyond; every wooden structure which it touched was instantly reduced to ash, or otherwise cratered into the ground, until the road was hardly recognizable. \n\n“I’ll kill you,” Cassius mumbled. Through gritted teeth, a strained throat, he repeated the mantra to himself: “I will kill you.” \n\nCassius then turned left, still annihilating each. Six, seven, eight, nine. Energy burned in his chest; he had never held a Meteor Beam for this long before. It took all his energy just to remain upright, to ignore the heat building within his core. He’d never felt this warm before. \n\n“I will kill you. I will kill you.” The mantra rang through him like a song. Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen. Still no blood. Briefly, Cassius imagined sipping that ichor from Maestro’s body. The thought made him shiver. It made him frenzy. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen… \n\nAnd, as if a bug had landed on his back, Cassius felt that familiar patter of limbs on his rocky flesh. As if he were a colossus, Maestro was scaling him. The sensation sent Cassius into a panic; he swatted uselessly with his stubby left arm, giving himself a demented pat on the back, while his right arm still spewed plasma into the horizon. As his arms flailed, that energy flung itself up into the clouds, breaking up the overcast sky. For the first time in years, the clouds cleared over Haliford. \n\n“Get off me!” Cassius cried; but wherever his clunky limbs swatted, Maestro was one step ahead. And with a hop and a jump, Maestro had found his way to the nape of Cassius’s neck. Grasping for his life, Maestro desperately gripped its wide circumference, slipping his fingers between the shallow rocks on Cassius’s skin. Energy Balls danced on the tips of his fingers, each aimed squarely on Cassius’s ears. \n\nCassius could feel the energy gathering. His heartbeat raced, his breaths were unsteady. In a last ditch effort, he swung his boiling cannon toward his shoulder, hoping to knock the pesky feline onto the ground. His arm collided directly against Maestro’s temple. Instinctively, Maestro raked his claws along Cassius’s face as he was flung against the burning wreckage. \n\nFor Maestro, the next few moments were a blur. He flew through the thick air for an eternity, then crashed into a pile of splintered wood. His head knocked once more against the mess, rendering his vision a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. Something wet trickled down his palm; in his daze, Maestro thought it looked like an apple. Its juices ran down his arm, soaked his fur. \n\nA great cry then rang out from Cassius’s throat. He clutched his face close, blood running from his eye socket, and let out a mighty wail. Upon further inspection, Maestro realized that he hadn’t plucked a fruit; but rather, he’d taken Cassius’s right eye. Rolling from Maestro’s claw, it flopped lifelessly onto the ground. \n\n\t“You bastard!” Cassius screamed. For a moment, he stood immobilized by pain. “You fucking bastard! You took my eye! My eye!”\n\n\tMaestro attempted to stand, but he couldn’t move his legs. His arms, too, floundered uselessly against the grass. A whimper fell from his lips as he begged his body to move; but even the slightest shift of his head sent his ears ringing, vision swimming. \n\n\tClouded by that thick ashen miasma, Cassius finally located Maestro’s crippled body. Rage flashed across his maw, permeated every inch of him. With one claw held over his eye socket, he marched toward Maestro, stomping through a field of Stealth Rocks which he’d fired moments before. \n\n\tCassius crumpled his fist. A manic snarl stretched across his maw as he imagined bashing Maestro’s head in. The boy was broken now, immobile; he’d savor tearing the little brat limb from limb. \n\n\t“Thieves get what they deserve,” Cassius growled. Through a high-pitched whine, Maestro could just barely make out the Rhyperior’s words: “You should be honored to perish at my hand.” \n\n\tAmongst the burnt wreckage, amongst the blood and screams and crackling of fire, Maestro cried. He thought of Rubrum’s touch; he thought of the hallways of the Augustan Academy, his late nights drinking Chai tea by the fireplace. He thought of the smell of book glue, the embrace of his friends. In that moment, the realization struck him; it was all gone now. \n\n\tIn a last fit of rebellion, Maestro managed to close his fist. He hugged his fingers weakly against his palm, staring up at the shadow which heralded his death, and waited. \n\n\tBut that moment never came. With the last of his strength, Maestro summoned a Grass Knot under Cassius’s feet. Still cradling his bloody eye, the cyclops was caught off-balance; those vines coiled around his ankle, dragging the beast down onto the earth. And with a mighty roar the once-great general fell. His stubby arms reached forward pitifully in order to cushion the blow, but the effort was futile. Face-first, Cassius met the ground, and a Stealth Rock buried itself snugly into his soft neck. \n\n\tCassius, of course, had always wondered what it felt like to see his life ebbing away. However, he had never imagined the melodrama of it all; the warm trickle down his throat, the filling sensation in his lungs. \n\n\tWith one eye, Cassius stared out over the wreckage he had wrought. Sunshine bore down onto his collapsed body, illuminated the flecks of blood on Maestro’s mask. Draped there over the wreckage, his breaths shallow, the boy almost appeared saintly. Blood pooled beneath Cassius’s chest. His vision blurred; his body felt as if it were floating. \n\n\tThe last thing which Cassius witnessed was Maestro’s weak, crooked smile. ", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Valor and Hubris

\tAsher sat swaddled between several layers of blankets, sunken into an armchair twice his size. His eyes were half-lidded, terrified, as he cradled a thin file in his arms. Pinned against his chest, the text on its front shone by torchlight – “SALVATION.” His closest friends huddled around, staring expectedly at that bold lettering.

\tThe Cinderace then licked his lips, let out a sigh. He said, “I only read a little bit of it. But, guys… it’s bad.” Asher blinked, shook his head, and added: “It’s really bad.”

\tMaestro, however, was undeterred. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, and outstretched his paw. “Asher,” he ordered, “give it to me. Now.”

And of course, Asher relented. From within his little blanket fort, he conceded the thick file to Maestro’s willing paw. The feline ripped it from Asher’s palm with a quick tug, then cradled it in his dirt-stained paws.

“Salvation,” Maestro echoed. Trepidation stilled his fingers as they threatened to flip the file open. “Something tells me this file is gonna be anything but.”

\tFey, the Sylveon, sat at Asher’s side. His usual grin had been replaced by a grimace, as if anticipating a sucker punch. His ribbons fluttered anxiously as he asked, “Maestro… what did you see in Maximus’s office?”

\tMaestro puckered his lips, shook his head. His eyes remained fixated on the file in his palms. “A lot,” he admitted. “It was… terrible in there.”

\tRubrum, the Lucario, then cleared his throat. He laid face-up on the bed, his arms crossed casually behind his head, as he stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. He said, “It was full of religious iconography.”

\tFey asked, “What kind?”

\t“Arcean,” Rubrum explained. “Head-to-toe, the entire room was… covered in that sort of thing.” A troubled huff. “Arceus figurines, coins, and artworks. Candles, too. Candles everywhere. Even above the fireplace, there were candles.”

\tAsher asked, “Did you see inside his desk or anything?”

\tMaestro shrugged, replied: “I only had enough time to pick a few locks.” He sighed, admitted: “The only thing I found was wine. Lots of it. Cases of it, stored under his desk, right where all the files were supposed to go.”

\tThe Cinderace let out a depressed chuckle. With a flourish of his wrist, he said: “So Chairman Maximus is a religious alcoholic. That’s it? That’s all we learned?”

\t“We couldn’t find any records in time,” Rubrum muttered. “Every damn compartment in that room was locked. We had to guess which ones had important files.”

\tAsher muttered, “So I guess that room was a fucking bust.”

\t“No, it wasn’t,” Rubrum explained. “Sid and Grimm told me that some anonymous lawmaker was pushing religious legislation through Chairwoman Iris’s court tonight. Something about banning all criticism of Arceanism. But… now that we’ve seen Maxmimus’s office… it’s reasonable to assume that Maximus is that lawmaker.”

\t“Are we sure about that?” Maestro asked. His foot tapped on the floor. “There might be some other wealthy lawmaker who’s an Arcean.”

\t“That’s true,” Rubrum admitted. “But who else would benefit from criminalizing all negative mention of Arceus?”

\tThe room was silent for a moment. Maestro still cradled the file in his paws, unopened. He asked, “Are Grimm and Sid asleep?”

\t“Yeah,” Fey replied, and motioned toward the wall. “They’re next door. Apparently their mission took a lot outta them.”

\tRubrum nodded, pattered his feet against the cold bedframe. He said, “I can imagine. Being told that you don’t belong in Augusta must be… troubling.”

\tThe Lucario’s gaze then flitted toward the file in Maestro’s paws. He teased, “Are you a scaredy cat?”

\t“Huh?”

\tRubrum pointed limply toward the file. He said, “You took the file, but you didn’t open it. Are you afraid?”

\tMaestro seemed offended by the notion. His maw scrunched in surprise as he replied, “No. I’m not afraid.”

\t“Then open it,” Rubrum ordered, and sat up on the bed. “This is the fruits of our labor. Even if it’s bad… we need to know what we’ve uncovered.”

\tReluctantly, Maestro then obeyed Rubrum’s words. As if looking into the barrel of a gun, Maestro opened the file and laid eyes on its innards. Immediately, he was struck by the illustration at the parchment’s top: a circular emblem, adorned like a compass, with Arceus’s head in the middle. His gaze watched outward, as if staring at the reader. Below laid a table of contents: Mission Statement, Specifications, and Expenses.

Wordlessly, Maestro turned the page, only to be met with the three-page Mission Statement. The four Pokémon soon crowded around the file, all eagerly digesting the text:

“...As the chosen beings of our Lord Arceus, we all hold His divinity inside of us. Each an immeasurably small portion of an almighty whole. And, as beings who share in His divine grace, it is a Pokémon’s responsibility to educate his brethren on our purpose: to cherish our fellow Pokémon, and to rejoice in our people’s nourishment.

Before arriving in Illumina, our people inhabited a land of plenty; Pokémon lived in harmony with one another, in perfect equilibrium with the land and sea. One people, one land, one God. Our people grew strong; warriors conquered faraway lands, while our priestesses anointed our most esteemed Faithful. The outcasts, the weak, and the feeble were culled in favor of those most deserving of Lord Arceus’s love. Such was the wonder of Aurelis, our homeland.

This age, however, is past. Our land is barren. Crop yields fall. Blood is shed along every border. One must ask themselves now: What is the cause of this grand decline? Aye, you already know the answer: Humanity. Dissent. Corruption.

These animals – and their hatred for all Pokémon – have inevitably soured Arceus’s grace. Why must all communications and trade between our societies falter? Why must conflict grow between us like a blight? I tell you now, the blight lies not with us, but with those humans who seek to invade this land. Our land.

Therein lies the problem – the reclamation of our God-given land is not an easy endeavor. It is only by our trust in Arceus our savior, and the works He oversees, that we may cleanse this continent of its conflict.

His power is thus channeled through Aurum, a material blessed with His influence. The fervor of our kind is duly resonated by Aurum, and – like a miracle – is transmitted without the use of wires throughout the land. The resonance of one is the resonance of all; and, according to His design, may be used to power mechanical works of all kinds.

This current design, however, will be our triumph. Such is the power of Aurum that our weapon may pierce the land’s crust, miles under our feet, and expunge the rot which has taken root. Humanity shall remain but a smudge on the annals of history; and this current age a stain on an otherwise glorious history of Pokémon. On the ashes of Grand City shall we build our Temple. Arceus Himself will descend from His realm and bless our proliferation.

The masses must remain unaware of our Holy Weapon’s construction for now, lest they inform our enemies. Only Seraph-rank adherents and above may inquire.

The development of this weapon is undergoing; after all, no such endeavor must be taken lightly. Our race is allowed only one chance to eradicate the impurities of this continent. Our aim must remain true. Thus, we are reminded that only one people may rule over this land of Illumina; and it will be us.”

No one spoke. A ghastly half-grin rose to Maestro’s face as he gripped the file harder, indenting the pages with his paws. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead.

“I–Is this some kind of sick joke?” Maestro asked. “This…this is fucking crazy. They’re proposing genocide.”

Rubrum shook his head, his mouth agape. “Maestro,” he breathed, “this is real. Very real.”

 Asher explained, “I found it in Chairman Kane’s cabinet.” He stared blankly at the wall, his breaths deep. “It’s definitely real. Killing all humans is the end goal of Arceanism… and more than that, it’s what the Board of Directors wants.”

“This can’t be their end goal. It just can’t,” Fey pouted. Small tears beaded at the edges of his eyes. “I–I know some Arceans at the Academy. Th–they can’t all believe this. Right?”

 Rubrum sighed, then replied: “They probably don’t, Fey. It seems that this… document… is the product of a radical sect of Arceanism.” He huffed, added: “It does seem, however, that this sect has taken ahold of the Board.”

“And they have a fucking weapon made of aurum? A superweapon?” Maestro breathed. His legs wobbled. “This… is too much. I need to sit down.”

Rubrum then shook his head, took the file from Maestro’s shaking grip. “A weapon… yes,” he said, and rested a finger on his maw. His eyes scanned the page for further clues. “But they don’t specify what type of weapon.”

Asher was struck by Rubrum’s calm demeanor. “Yeah,” the Cinderace barked. “But that doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it can pierce the fucking ground. Ya get me?” A moment of silence as the Cinderace glanced around the room, panic forcing his eyes wide. “This weapon can wipe humanity off the map. Grand City? Gone. Millions of humans? Dead.” A scoff, and then: “How are you not panicking?!”

“Because I don’t have the luxury,” Rubrum replied. He steadied his breaths, polished his glasses in slow, deliberate movements. His students watched as he then replaced his glasses onto his head, lost in thought.

Rubrum said, “This information changes everything.”

“Yeah,” Maestro echoed. “Yeah, it does.”

“B–but what are we gonna do?” Fey whined. “If all this is true, then… how are we gonna stop them?”

Predictably, nobody quite knew. A miasma seemed to overtake their breaths. Up until this point, the Pokémon had considered themselves scrappy freedom fighters; and deep in their hearts, they’d hoped that this matter could be settled peacefully. That possibility had just slipped away.

“Rubrum is right,” Maestro said. “We can’t afford to panic. Not now.”

Fey asked, “What if we told the presses?”

“And cause mass hysteria? Please,” Asher replied. “If the public finds out about this, there’d be a panic. Nobody would be able to control it.” He then scoffed, added: “Plus, the Board would just say the file’s fake. We’d be arrested. We need more evidence.”

“What more do we need?” Fey asked. His feet pattered impatiently on the floor. “We already have the Salvation file. And it’s real!”

Asher sighed. “Right,” he said. “But we don’t know what the weapon is. It could be a bomb, a sword… hell, it could be something living.” He frowned. “We don’t even know where it is. How will we prove something like this exists if we’ve never laid eyes on it?”

More silence. Fey sank into his blankets, his expression soured. A whimper fell from his lips.

Rubrum’s maw then curled into a deep frown. “Asher is right,” he said. “We need more evidence if we ever hope to combat the Board. Something undeniable.” He then glanced at the portfolio in Maestro’s paws, said: “That file just won’t cut it.”

Maestro could feel himself shrinking with fatigue. Those dark bags under his eyes suddenly seemed massive; his eyelids drooped, his arms weak.

Nonetheless, he said: “Then what do we look for next?”

Rubrum snuck a cheeky smile in Maestro’s direction. With a nervous chuckle, he replied: “Well… I think I have a plan.”



Augusta’s Labor Bureau was a notoriously tedious place. Crammed between four thick marble walls were the hopes and dreams, the fears and hatred, of every single Augustan employed within Illumina. Buried within stacks of paper, crammed within the minds of hundreds of workers, laid a complete record of the average Pokémon’s despair.

Rubrum had only been inside the building once or twice, as it was customary to visit whenever a tenureship was bestowed or revoked. Each time, Rubrum had stood in-line for three hours. The experience was exceptionally boring.

Today, however, Rubrum made an effort to strut confidently into the monolith. The air smelled of mildew, old paper, and cleaning solution. Beneath Rubrum’s feet, the tile shone bright, reflecting the skylight above. Countless typewriters clacked away at the room’s back, each an instrument in the world’s most monotonous symphony.

With a plastered smile, Rubrum then stepped past the lengthy strings of queued Pokémon. Even without looking, he could feel their eyes burning holes in his skull. The receptionist smiled, waved away her client, as Rubrum approached.

“Professor Rubrum,” the Leafeon cooed. “I’m sorry, but the line is quite long today. If you’re looking to get something signed, you’ll have to wait.”

Rubrum chuckled. “No, no, Cherie,” he breathed. “I’m not here for any of that. I have a meeting with Hermes.”

Cherie raised an eyebrow. Her tail whipped as she replied, “Truly? I didn’t receive a notice about that.”

“It’s actually an emergency,” Rubrum explained. Sharp canines poked from beneath his curled lips. “Hermes and I just need to discuss an error in some recent forms he submitted. It’s Board business.”

“Oh.” Cherie shuffled her feet, then hopped from her chair and ushered Rubrum beyond the front desk. “I’m sorry to hear that. Please, go ahead. I hope it’s resolved soon.”

“Of course, of course. Thank you,” Rubrum said. He thus slipped past the massive row of receptionists, stared out over the sea of clacking keys. The constant cacophony was entertainingly terrible. “I’ll see you later, Cherie.” And, without a second thought, Rubrum disappeared into the sea of drones.

Rows upon rows of typists lined his sides. Idle conversations, the stink of coffee, made Rubrum feel nostalgic for the halls of the Augustan Academy. Soon, his colleagues would become quite suspicious of his continued absence.

Rubrum then reached the back of the hall, knocked on the rickety wooden door in its corner. From within, the Lucario could hear a cough, the scooching of a chair.

“C’mon in,” the Simipour called. “Shit, I spilled coffee all over myself.”

Rubrum thus duly followed orders, entering the room and closing the door softly behind himself. Same as the rest of the hall, Hermes’s office was quite boring; muted beige walls, a dingy lamp, a notice board crammed with notices. And papers – stacks and stacks and stacks of papers.

“Aw, Rubrum! I wasn’t expecting you,” Hermes chirped. The Simipour stood awkwardly in the middle of his office, dripping with coffee. Clumsily, he rubbed a stack of brown paper towels against himself. The effort, of course, was moot – the drink had already stained his fur. He asked, “To what do I owe the honor?”

Rubrum chuckled. “Well, Hermes, I–”

“Oh!” Hermes yelped. “Hold that thought.” The clumsy monkey then turned, dug around in his desk. “I’ve actually been waiting for you, you know,” he blathered. “I mean, it’s not like many people come and visit anymore, you know? Haha. People always forget I’m part of the Board… not you, though. Never you.”
 
Rubrum shifted his gaze around the office. Every time he entered, it somehow seemed to become a little more filthy. He mumbled, “Of course I don’t forget.”

“What I’m trying to say is, I appreciate it.” Hermes then turned back, cupping his hands together. “Here’s my present! I found it in the market recently, and… well, I thought of you.”

A pang of sadness rang through Rubrum’s heart as he peered inside Hermes’s hands. “Oh,” he breathed. “A coin. Thank you… so much.”

“A human coin,” Hermes chirped. His eyes betrayed his pride. “An ancient one, too. I got it from a merchant caravan in Caligen.”

\tRubrum smiled. “Wow. How’d you swing that?”

Hermes shrugged. Droplets of coffee shedded from his fur as he replied: “A merchant owed me a favor. And I thought… why not get you a little gift?”

“Thank you. Really, thank you,” Rubrum replied, and pocketed the coin. “I’ll inspect it a little later. And I’ll be sure to tell you all the juicy details about it.”

Hermes smiled. “Good, good,” he breathed, then sat down once more in his uncomfortable wooden chair. “So…” he said. “What do you need?”

Suddenly, Rubrum’s expression seemed to stiffen. His back grew straight, his expression dour, as he explained: “I need something from you, actually. And it’s a big ask.”

Hermes hummed, said: “Okay. And what is it?”

“I need complete employment records for every military contingent in Augusta,” Rubrum said. “And I mean every contingent. Throughout the whole territory.”

Hermes flashed an anxious smile. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, then replied: “What?”

“You heard me.”

“You’re terrible with jokes,” Hermes said. “What did you really come for?”

Rubrum shook his head, explained: “I’m not joking. I really need this. Now. And I know you have it. You know, as the Chairman of Labor and all.”

“Rubrum…” Hermes said. His voice was near-breathless. “Come on. You know I can’t give that to you.” A pause, and then: “Why would you need that, anyhow?”

The Lucario replied, “That’s none of your business.”

\t“None of my…” Hermes then shook his head, remarked: “Rubrum, this is immensely unprofessional.”

\t“I don’t–”

\t“You come into my office, ask me for an undoable favor, and get snippy with me when I ask for an explanation?” Hermes frowned. “No, no. This is completely off the table. I’m sorry.”

\t“I don’t care,” Rubrum snapped, and held the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Hermes. I really am.” He then paused, added: “561 Victory Road. Apartment 4B.”

\tHermes scrunched his maw, asked: “Pardon?”

\t“561 Victory Road. Apartment 4B,” Rubrum repeated. “That’s your apartment. It has a nice view of the main road from the inside.” A pause, and then: “I like your antique woodwork collection.”

\t“Did you…” Hermes stood from his chair, barked: “Did you enter my home?”

\tRubrum replied, “Yeah. I did.”

\t“Wh… what? Why?” Hermes asked. A mix of rage and fear boiled in his stomach. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

\t“What’s wrong with me? Something is more wrong with you,” Rubrum said. “A Board member shouldn’t have missing classified documents in his home.”

\tHermes puckered his lips. His expression bubbled with anger as he said, “So that was you. You broke into Chairman Kane’s office.”

\t“No, it wasn’t,” Rubrum hissed. “I dare say it was you. You had pages from that stolen file hidden all over your apartment.”

\tTears nearly rose to Hermes’s eyes. The Simipour said, “No. No, no way. You planted those there.” A cough. “Are you… are you fucking blackmailing me? Is that what this is?”

\t“Yes,” Rubrum replied, and frowned. “That’s what this is. If you don’t give me the documents I asked for, I’ll tell the Board that you’re in possession of stolen documents.” He looked away, shameful of the words falling from his lips. “The prison sentence for something like that is… quite long.”

\tHermes frowned, stared at the floor. He whimpered, “What the fuck? You’re framing me.” He then shook his head, mumbled: “I thought we were friends.”

\t“We are friends,” Rubrum replied. His chest pounded. “I just have something I need to protect now. That’s all.”

“And what’s that?” Hermes barked. “Your students? Even I know you’re fucking them.”

Rubrum frowned, replied: “Yeah? You wanna talk about that? Then let’s talk about how you’re embezzling Board funds.” A scowl, then: “Maximus is one call away from sticking you in a prison cell. I got more dirt on you than you could fucking imagine.”

“Embezzling…?” The words hung on Hermes’s lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rubrum huffed. He picked a knick-knack off of Hermes’s desk – a miniature Arceus. Light reflected off of its gem-encrusted eyes.

“I opened the safe in your apartment. With the help of my students, of course,” Rubrum explained. “And it’s obvious that your real books are kept there.” He then pointed a limp finger at Hermes’s filing cabinets, said: “All the expense books you keep here – they’re cooked. Guaranteed.”

Acid rose in Hermes’s throat. Rage curdled in his stomach, his fists balled, as he whispered: “You fucking snake.”

“How much have you stolen?” Rubrum asked. His gaze flitted between the figurine and Hermes’s molten stare. “Ten thousand? Fifty thousand credits?”

“Rubrum–”

“I can imagine the headlines now,” Rubrum continued. His face remained solemn, cold. “Chairman of Labor convicted of embezzlement and treason. It would suck, wouldn’t it?”

A pregnant silence thus filled the room. Hermes slowly lowered himself once more into his office chair, let out a huff. He narrowed his eyes, stared at the floor. “Fine,” he pouted. “Fine. Fucking fine, you asshole.”  

“Fine?” Rubrum asked. “So, you’ll give me the documents?”

Hermes nodded, sighed. “I don’t really have much of a choice, now do I?”



Tucked deep within a labyrinth of winding wooden halls, nestled between two squadrons of guards, heralded by a blood-red carpet, laid a set of hand-carved mahogany doors. One hundred years ago, Chairman Maximus had paid a noteworthy craftsman to inlay them with gold, smoothing every rough edge as if caressing a lover. In the century since, this wood had not suffered so much as a fingerprint upon its glaze; its hinges had not made a sound. And beyond those doors, in a stuffy, smoky backroom, there sat seven Pokémon around a large table.

“Maximus,” Kane blathered, “Don’t worry about this. They’re probably scared shitless.”

Maximus, the large Alakazam that he was, seemed to sweep the world away with his hand. “In case you’ve forgotten,” he said, “those vandals broke into both of our offices. It is your problem.”

Kane, however, seemed nonplussed by Maximus’s grandeur. “Oh, come on,” Kane argued. A tiny lit cigarette hung limply from his lips as he counted coins idly on the counter. “It was just a stupid little heist gone wrong. They were probably just searching for some cash.”

“Kane…” Iris breathed. From across the table, she stared intently into his eyes. “It would do well for you to treat this matter with the importance it should be afforded.”

The Gimmighoul rolled his eyes. “They don’t have anything,” he said. “What’d they take, hm? An outdated file from five years ago?” He chuckled. “No credible news agency in this entire damn city would take a file like that seriously. And even if they did, we’d declare it fake. Easy.”

The comment offended Cassius. With a gigantic huff, the Chairman of Defense pounded his fist on the table. Even a simple exhale made Iris’s fur blow back. “They pierced our damn defenses!” he exclaimed, and the room rocked. “Our security must be damn stupid the way some civilians found their way into our sanctum. Who’s next, huh?”

Iris rolled her eyes. “Careful, Cassius,” she warned. “I don’t want to have to replace another table.” She then turned to Kane, explained: “But… Cassius is right. We need to tighten our defenses in every federal building. Who can say who’s next?”

“No one is next!” Kane exclaimed, a shit-eating smile adorning his tiny face. “I mean, Arceus… y’all are making a mountain out of a Drilburhill here.” He waved his arms in the air, explained: “They came in. They searched for money. They found a file – an old one, mind you – and they fucking left. They have absolutely no leverage, none whatsoever.”

Iris simply scoffed, returned to filing her claws. Maximus, too, shut his mouth. With a flick of his finger, Maximus then pointed at Hermes, asked: “Hermes… have you taken care to secure the Labor Bureau?”

Hermes, however, did not respond. Near-despondent, he seemed to stare limply at the tabletop. Memories of Rubrum danced in his mind. Maximus then asked once more: “Hermes?”

“Wh–whuh?” Hermes popped upward, suddenly attentive. “What was that, sir?”

\tAmused, Kane teased: “You can’t be fucking serious. Hermes, is your head in the fucking clouds right now?”

\t“No, sir,” Hermes replied. Incapable, or unwilling, to make eye contact, he stared at his feet. “Could you please repeat yourself?”

\t“Your security,” Maximus stated. “I trust you’ve taken the precautions which we’ve discussed?”

\tHermes then nodded, licked his lips. “Of course,” he said. “Well, it’s been difficult with the front desk, but…”

\t“Arceus!” Cassius bellowed. “Hermes, there are no damn buts. Did you secure the  Bureau of Labor or not?”

\t“Of course I did,” Hermes shot back. “I just, uh – the people who work for me, you know, they’re civilians. They’re not the brightest. I’m working with what I have, is what I’m saying.”

\tMaximus raised an eyebrow. He folded his hands, asked: “Well, is our information secure?”

\t“Of course,” Hermes muttered. “Of course, sir.”

\t“And has anyone breached your perimeter?” Maximus asked.

\t“N–no sir,” Hermes lied. “No one. I simply meant to, uh, explain that opsec training has been… laborious. That’s all.”

\tA moment of silence ensued. Maximus stared intently at Hermes, slowly tapping his feet on the clean ground. He remarked: “Hermes, you seem tense.”

\t“I’m sorry, sir,” Hermes replied, and let out a nervous laugh. “I just… am pretty freaked out about the break-in. W–we just don’t know what those Pokémon wanted.”

\tCassius boomed, “It might’ve been those damn humans. I know some of them are hiding out in our territory.”

\t“That may actually be true,” Akiva chirped. She sat near the table’s head, her posture perfectly erect. “Our guards testify that the thieves used Pokémon moves… but perhaps they’re mistaken. Or they have feral collaborators.”

\tMaximus frowned. “So, what?” he asked. “Are we going to begin a mass hysteria about who’s working with the humans now? Please. We already have enough on our hands justifying our fight on feral Pokémon outside of city walls.”

\t“But humans are crafty, sir,” Akiva contended. “They could have spies within the city–”

\tWith a half-clenched fist, Colm then rapped his knuckle on the table. Like a bell’s toll, the sound reverberated throughout the stuffy office. And, as if standing at attention, the council members all stared at the lone Kecleon. Instinctively, Colm’s skin was permeated by mocha-colored swirls, mingling along the edges of his flesh. It almost appeared as if he were melting into the table.

\tColm said, “Even if there are no humans within city bounds, it would be wise to consider warning the population of their involvement with the incident.”

\t“Why?” Maximus asked. With one hand, he twiddled his mustache. In the other, he idly bent a spoon forward and back. “In case you’ve forgotten, our brand is strength. It’s unity. Why admit to humans being within our walls?”

\t“Because it’ll scare them,” Colm explained. Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth, swept by his his prehensile tongue. “Arcean worship attendance has fallen five percent in the last two months. At this point, we need to think of material solutions.”

\tCassius frowned, crossed his arms. “What’s the use of all this?” he asked. “Our Pokémon are already damn pansies. What’s this gonna do, huh? If we publicly admit to letting humans within our walls, we’ve failed. What we need is their damn confidence, not their pity.”

\t“We will have their confidence,” Colm argued. ”Think about it – Akiva is right. Humans are crafty. So are ferals. They don’t fight fair.” He then looked around the room, added: “So let’s say a few of them get through, hm? Let’s say they burgled our offices. Then… when they’re gotten rid of, we get to be the heroes.”

Iris nodded, said: “Colm is onto something. We’ve demonstrated this tactic before, outside of city walls. When we told the populace about the mutilated merchant caravan on the way back from Caligen, temple attendance shot up three percent.”

“Exactly,” Colm said. “We can’t be afraid to show a little weakness, hm? So, we suffer a little tragedy… a dead merchant caravan, a break-in in our offices… so what?” He gave a devilish smile. “In the end, we always fix the problem. We are strong. Stronger than ever.”

Cassius, predictably, was opposed. “This makes no sense,” he said. “You want us to emasculate ourselves in front of the people we’re protecting? Since when have we decided to be a bunch of sensitive momma’s boy pussy willows?”

Colm raised an eyebrow, said: “Cassius–”

“You’re a young’un, so I don’t expect you to be the sharpest tack in the bin. But have some damn humility, son,” Cassius spat. “We’re the future. People need to have faith in us. Even a moment – one goddamn moment – of weakness… and we’re open for attack.”

Colm, however, did not respond. He simply shot a glance at Maximus, who ruminated on Cassius’s words. His spoon bent to and fro, sandwiched between his finger and thumb, as he said: “Cassius, I’ve changed my mind. Colm is right.”

“What?” Cassius barked. “Sir, I–”

“No.” Maximus then delicately laid his spoon on the table, said: “We are in a moment of crisis. And it is abundantly obvious to me that, right now, we are a sinking ship.” He then motioned toward Iris, explained: “This test run… the story about the merchant caravan. It galvanized our consumer base against a palpable enemy. Iris will attest.”

Iris then nodded, explained: “That’s true. Our most recent lawmaking meeting showed record attendance. And the fervor in the room–”

\t“Bullshit,” Cassius spat. “You’re always too fucking soft, Iris.”

“With all due respect,” Maximus interrupted, “you are the Chairman of Defense, Cassius. Your duties are not domestic governance. So unless you’d like me to dip my fingers in your duties, too, you’d do well to leave domestic matters to the experts.”

\tMaximus’s venom laid Cassius’s jaw agape. Betrayed, Cassius glanced from member to member – from Maximus, to Kane, to Iris, all the way down. “Is everyone going along with this?” he bellowed. “We’re gonna let ourselves be humiliated, huh?”

\tKane chuckled, said: “Cassius, think of the grift on this. We could call for donations during temple hours. An entire charity dedicated to fighting the human menace. Hundreds would be happy to give.”

\t“Invincible people should not need donations,” Cassius growled. And with a flick of his arm, he said: “Fine. You all want to admit that we’re effeminate little cunts? That’s fine. But I’m never gonna let you drag me down with you.” He then stood, motioned around, and bellowed: “This city needs someone to look up to. And if it can’t be you, Maximus, it is damn well gonna be me.”

\tDespite Cassius’s bravado, Maximus did not falter. His face remained nonplussed as he explained: “Cassius, you will have your own time to shine soon. I have already curated the publicity which you crave.”

\t“Oh, so I need my job served to me on a platter now?” Cassius barked. “Arceus, Maximus. Your judgment’s been all over the damn place lately. What’s going on with you?”

\tMaximus frowned, folded his hands. “My problem is that I am cleaning up a mess your guards should have prevented,” he sniped. “You are trying to perform my job, and yet you cannot perform your own. So now, I am doing your job for you.” Silently, the Alakazam then revealed a folder, slid it across the table.

\t“This is your next task,” Maximus explained. “I have chosen this mission for you in order to secure resources for the Spear.”

\tCassius’s jaw dropped once more. He said, “No one assigns me tasks.” He then slid the folder backward, argued: “I set my own damn itinerary, thanks.”

\t“But this time, you won’t,” Maximus breathed. He then raised a hand, using telekinesis to slide the folder back toward Cassius. “Frankly, Cassius, you are lucky that I am not pinning the fault of this break-in on you. I am effectively spreading the blame evenly among us – and, furthermore, spreading the word about humans and their feral collaborators.” A pause, and then: “This is a very good deal for you. I strongly advise you take it.”

\tCassius folded his arms, growled: “You bastard.”

“As I said, you will have plenty of time to shine on this new mission anyhow,” Maximus continued. “In three days, you will be traveling to a local feral village named Haliford. It is about a day’s march from the Augustan gates – south, in Crest’s Rest.” Maximus then stared into Cassius’s eyes and ordered: “You will travel alongside Colm, who will be your supervisor. And, once arrived, you will clear the village by any means necessary.”

“C–clear?” Hermes choked. Maximus’s words seemed to wake him from his catatonic state. “Why? Did they do something wrong?”

“Well, our most recent break-in must have repercussions,” Maximus explained. His voice was low, deadpan. “If are truly to blame this crisis on outsiders, then those outsiders must be punished. An enemy encampment so close to city walls makes us look weak.” Maximus then stared at Hermes, asked: “Do you have a problem with that?”

Hermes shuddered. “No,” he muttered. “Of course not.”

Satisfied, Maximus then turned to Colm. He asked, “I’m sure you accept this charge, Colm.”

“Of course, sir,” Colm replied. Another grin. “I would be glad to accompany Chairman Cassius.”

“Good,” Maximus cooed. He then glanced at Cassius, asked: “And you? Can I trust you to behave?”

A fierce anger thus bubbled behind Cassius’s mien. His face soured into a fury-filled snarl; his fists laid balled against the tabletop, yearning to wrap around Maximus’s neck.

“I don’t need a fucking supervisor,” Cassius growled.

“And yet apparently you do,” Maximus shot back. “I cannot risk your forces failing us once more. You will  be accompanied by Chairman Colm. And if you attempt to in any way obscure his duty, you will be disbarred.” A calm smile. “Understood?”

Begrudgingly, Cassius managed a nod. “Fine,” he muttered. “Fucking fine.”



The brambles pricked consistently at Maestro’s soft paws; such was the shrubbery in Haliford’s environs. Each step threatened to pierce his heel; and so he lept, for minutes at a time, from stone to stone, branch to branch. Hermes’s file on this location was correct; navigating amidst the wood was a nightmare.

Luckily, he was still able to find his way. Along the winding beaten paths laid empty meal packs, torn banners, and charcoal-rich fire pits. Undoubtedly, Cassius’s contingent had trodden the same path on their way to Haliford; in their wake laid mounds of trash. Everywhere those oafs went, they made a mess.

As the Meowscarada neared the village proper, calm billows of smoke began to rise over the treeline. Long smokestacks grazed along the clouds like kisses, created dark streaks on the overcast sky. Slowly, like autumn rain, the resultant ash then sprinkled from overhead, coating the grass with a thick gray carpet of soft detritus.

Curiously, Maestro allowed a flake to fall onto his tongue. It sizzled upon his saliva, then disintegrated into bits. He was left with only the faintest scent of burnt wood.

“What is this place…?” Maestro muttered. And thus he plunged his feet forward into the ash-caked grasses, pushing past green-gray ferns. Slowly, those once miniature-sized structures became larger and larger, casting faint shadows over his mask. The entire plot was well-tread, dotted with Pokémon and black wooden buildings.

\tAs the feline approached the village’s main entrance, he was struck by the crowd of soldiers camped by the shoddy iron-wrought gates. These, he realized, were the soldiers which had led him to this place.

\tOff to the side, across a sea of tiny blue tents, stood an imposing figure – Cassius the Rhyperior, the Chairman of Defense. Despite Cassius’s face adorning posters throughout the city, Maestro barely recognized him – Cassius’s outfit was positively garish. If there were ever such a thing as reverse camouflage, this would’ve been it.

\tFrom head-to-toe, Cassius was clad in burgundy and gold robes. His humongous cape dragged limply along the grass, sweeping vast swathes of ash in his wake. Strapped to his back was a disgustingly large weapon – a greataxe, twice the size of Cassius’s barrel-shaped arm. Truly, the man’s attire seemed unfitting of his station; it more so resembled a king’s garb.

Stranger still, the Rhyperior seemed to be talking calmly to another Pokémon – much smaller, a Kecleon. This accomplice, however, was unadorned.

“Who the hell…?” Maestro mumbled. Awkwardly, he stared at the couple as his memory returned. Yes, yes… he’d definitely seen that Kecleon before.

Two years prior, Maestro had attended a New Year’s celebration in Augusta’s main square. His main memory of the event was holding Rubrum’s paw amidst the din; however, it was also the first time he’d seen members of the Board in-person.  

\tIn Maestro’s opinion, Cassius had hardly changed since they’d met last; then and now, he was the same boisterous, reckless warmonger. He still remembered Cassius’s embarrassing drunken rants during that celebration; stood behind a glorious podium, the man could hardly contain himself. Thinly veiled calls for increased security permeated his rambling celebratory speech… “May Augusta live for one thousand years.”

Colm, however… that Kecleon. He’d definitely changed. During that prior celebration, this Kecleon was still newly elected by Maximus himself. Meek, weak, small. Even his celebration speech lacked any sort of flavor. It was just so… inoffensive.

The Chairman of Peace, Maestro thought. It’s strange, then, that he would be leading an army into a small village.

\tA voice from Maestro’s right then snapped him from his trance. “Registration?” a Simisear asked. The boy was young, clearly disinterested in Maestro’s presence. “Can’t let you past the gate without registration.”

\t“Of course,” the Meowscarada mouthed, and handed over his identification. As the boy at the gate studied the papers, Maestro snuck another glance over the sea of tents. Like pustules, they dotted the land. The irritated Rhyperior seemed to loom over them all, his arms crossed in frustration. Truly, Maestro realized, negotiation was not that man’s strong suit.

\tNoticing his stare, the guard asked: “Do you know Chairman Cassius?”

\t“What?” Maestro replied, and snapped his gaze back. “No, I don’t.”

\tThe guard laughed. “Oh, alright. I was just asking because… well, you’re from the Academy.” He then chuckled, added: “I applied there, you know. Never got in.”

\t“Yeah,” Maestro replied, and snatched his identification back. Without thinking, he then blurted: “The place is horrible. Be glad you didn’t get in.”

\t“O–oh.” The guard seemed surprised to hear such outright criticism. Unsure of how to respond, he simply muttered, “Alright. Just so I know… what’s your, uh, purpose for visiting?”

\tMaestro lied, “Tourism.”

\t“Right,” the guard replied, and scratched his head. “My advice? Finish your business soon.”

\tThe Meowscarada nodded, asked: “Why’s that?”

\t“This encampment’s illegal,” the guard explained. “By tomorrow morning, it’ll be evacuated.”

\tMaestro raised an eyebrow. “Evacuated,” he echoed. “Interesting.”

\tThen, as if unimpressed by the guard’s words, Maestro passed by. And thus, laid bare was the beauty of Haliford’s main street. Log-made buildings dotted the thoroughfare, perforated with plentiful market stalls and adornments. Outside a nearby pub, a Riolu shined a Rhydon’s horn. Soldiers from the nearby encampment roughhoused next to a small grocer. At the village’s backside sat four or so mineshafts, obviously keeping the entire village afloat. To their side sat those massive smokestacks; they stretched from the ground like trees, spewing that delicious ash into the hot air. Deep, deep underground, boisterous steam engines burnt charcoal and ferried along soot-stained minecarts.

\tThe whole scene, Maestro thought, was quite beautiful. Seeing the locals going about their day made the nearby military encampment feel so far away.

\tHesitantly, Maestro then began to make his way toward the pub, looking desperately for a place to sit down. He could tell the building was a pub because of the shoddy sign on its front – “Lenny’s.” The wooden door opened without a sound; clearly, it had been oiled recently.

\tNobody stared at Maestro as he entered. That was strange, Maestro thought – he thought others would pay more attention to him. He was an outsider, after all.

\tBehind the rickety counter stood the bartender: a Seviper. Her tail coiled tightly around a green bottle and poured viscous liquid into a crystal glass. Maestro approached her.

\t“Can I sit down?” Maestro asked.

\tThe Seviper nodded. “Sure,” she replied, and swatted the glass with her blade-like tail. It then slid across the bar – four, five feet – and slid to a halt in front of a grizzled-looking Jynx.

\t“That’s a really nice trick,” Maestro teased. “I don’t suppose you’re Lenny?”

\tThe Seviper could ‘t help but laugh. “Me?” she asked, her voice scratchy. “I wish I had half the charisma as that old coot. No, no…” A furtive breath, and then: “Lenny died six years ago.”

\tMaestro nodded. “Sorry to hear it,” he breathed, and tapped his finger on the counter. “So, what would you recommend?”

\t“Depends on what you’re going for,” the bartender replied. “Light or heavy?”

\tMaestro puckered his lips, replied: “Light?”

\tThe bartender gave him a smug smile. She asked: “You’ve never had a drink before, have you?”

\t“Never,” Maestro admitted, and picked at his claws. “My time at the Academy has been a little too busy, I guess.”

\tThe bartender recoiled. “Academy?” she asked. “And here I thought you were with the army.”

\t“No, no,” Maestro replied. “I would never join with them. They’re fucking…” He then sighed, tapped the bar. “Just gimme something light, hm?”

\tThe bartender nodded, suddenly intrigued. “Of course,” she replied, and began fixing his drink. “So,” she asked. “What’s a big shot like you doing in a place like this? Last time I heard, people like you barely leave city walls.”

\t“Call it a little hands-on study,” Maestro said. He then frowned, admitted: “Actually, I’m here because of this… army. Do you know why they’re here?”

\t“Of course I do,” the bartender explained, and mixed two clear liquids in an aluminum container. “They want the land for themselves. Our mines, too.”

\tMaestro smacked his lips. He said, “Arceus. Truly?”

\t“Yep.”

\t“Is no one fighting back?” Maestro asked. “Everyone around here seems to kinda just be… going about their business.”

\tThe Seviper guffawed at Maestro’s naivete. “Yeah?” she bluffed. “Well, people are always wanting to drink. Even during the end of the world, sweet thing.” She then whipped her tail toward the door, added: “Lucky for us, we have one little ray of hope. Our elder is out there handling negotiations with Chairman Cassius right now.”

\t“Your elder…” Maestro muttered. “I don’t think I saw him.”

\t“Well, I would assume negotiations are private.” The bartended then reached her spiked tail over the counter, as if offering a hand, and said: “My name is Barb.”

\t“Maestro,” the Meowscarada replied. “It’s nice to meet you.”




\t
\tThree hundred yards away, an elderly Ambipom stooped himself over a cup of hot tea. His lips were thin and dry, his tongue nested against his palate. Inside his eyes danced embers, his chest heaving like a bellow. His curved back rested uncomfortably against navy blue canvas.

\t“So, you would like to compensate us?” the Ambipom asked. His tails swept along his chin. “If I am not mistaken, this is your second offer.”

\tLike a parasite, a smile crept across Colm’s face. “I’d like to remind you that our offers have been quite generous,” he explained. His hand calmly stirred within a porcelain cup. “Two thousand credits per person, providing all of you vacate the premises immediately.”

\tThe elder’s maw scrunched. “You insult me,” he spat. His tails swatted at the tent’s walls. “Two thousand credits, and yet no Augustan citizenship? Even if I accepted your offer, where would my people spend this money?”

\tColm nonchalantly waved his hand. “There are other settlements,” he explained. “Sweetwater, for example. I hear the weather is lovely around this time of year. Any number of those places would accept Augustan currency. I urge you to review your options.”

“Sweetwater? That’s many days away,” the elder hissed.

“Perhaps not Sweetwater, but–”

“But what?” the elder interrupted. “You’d have us wander? Pick up our belongings, and move where the wind takes us?”

Aside Colm sat a boiling volcano – Cassius, his head nearly touching the tent’s top. That familiar scowl betrayed the man’s barely contained rage. With crossed arms, he barked: “I don’t care where you go. But you can’t remain here.”

With a huff, the elder then stood. His back arched like a crook, distorted with many years of intensive work. Mustering breath within his weathered lungs, he said: “Haliford has stood in this spot since the day Augusta was founded.” He motioned around. “Hundreds of Pokémon have lived and died within the walls of this village. Our dead’s ashes are scattered among the trees. Our children play in the grasses, our men work under our soil. When we die, we are buried alongside our ancestors. And you would have us abandon it? All of it?”

Colm’s smile didn’t move. His bodily movements were stiff, eerie, as he put his cup to the side. “Tell me,” he said, “there must be some sort of compromise we can come to here, hm? Surely you’re reasonable enough to not let your constituents come to harm.”

“Constituents?” the elder mocked. “They are not my constituents. They are my family.” His tails flailed in frustration. “I know every single person in this town. I attend every birth, and I cremate our dead.”

Colm tilted his head. His face hurt from smiling. “Sir, really. We’re only here to help.”

“I know what you want,” the elder spat. “You want our mines, hm? You want money. Well, you aren’t going to get it.”

Cassius stirred. Desperate for release, he fidgeted his hands, bounced his knee. As if his eyes could shoot lasers, he stared at the Ambipom’s head. Noticing this behavior, Colm laid a gentle hand on Cassius’s thigh, shot a glance in his direction.

Colm then took a deep breath, hunched over. His voice was steady, his smile faded. “Tell me, sir… what leverage do you have?” he asked.

The elder, however, did not understand the question. He grunted.

Colm said: “I mean… are you truly in the position to negotiate with us?” He didn’t blink. His jaw unhinged like a snake’s with every furtive word. “Believe it or not, sir, I am attempting to look out for you. By tomorrow morning, you must convince your… family… to evacuate. Or, well… my hands will be tied.”

“You’d kill us?” the elder asked. “You would terrorize us for our land?”

The Kecleon smiled. “Of course I would,” he hissed. “I would kill you. I would kill your family. I would kill their family. I would slaughter your pets, your lovers, and your children. As far as I am concerned, they are pests in an otherwise beautiful garden.” He then shook his head, added: “If we all just worked together… if everyone gave a little, then we could all thrive. As a species. As descendants of Arceus. But if you stand in the way, then… we will have no choice.” A pang of sadness then passed over his face. He begged: “Work with me. Let me help you. Please.”

The elder’s face soured. His grip grew tight around his walking stick, his breaths heavy. “How dare you?” he spat. “You’re not an altruist. You’re not working for anyone but yourself.”

“I’m working for all Pokémon,” Colm contended. “And that includes you.”

“No, you’re not. You’re selfish,” the elder shot back. He then sighed: “Both of you, out of my way. Now. We’re done here.”

With a huff, the Ambipom thus began to shamble toward the tent’s exit. For a brief moment, the trio were silent, save for the shuffling of the elder’s feet along the gray-stained grass.

“Wait,” Cassius called. Hot breath fell from his nostrils, blew like smoke onto his barrel chest.

The Rhyperior then stood, took a couple steps toward the elder, and lowered himself to the Ambipom’s height the best he could. Like a predator eyeing its prey, Cassius let his stare pierce the elder’s gaze. His hot, wet breath tumbled across the old Ambipom’s face.

Cassius’s claws then silently raised, lowered themselves softly onto the elder’s shoulders. The gesture made the Ambipom’s blood run cold. Horror passed over his face like a shadow, followed by resolution. His tails flared.

“You don’t scare me,” the elder breathed. “You’re just another thug, like the rest of them.”

Cassius smacked his lips. Lust flashed over his face as he whispered: “You will die unafraid, then.”

\tCassius then cupped his hands around the contours of the elder’s face, resting his palms around the Ambipom’s temples. And, as if crushing a watermelon, the Rhyperior suddenly squeezed his hands together.

\tThe elder’s skull hardly offered any resistance to Cassius’s brutality. With a wet crunch, viscera exploded from the space where the Ambipom’s head once was. The corpse’s jaw hung distended from its exposed spinal cord, then plopped onto the floor. Crimson rain exploded from the wound and poured like a fountain onto Cassius’s face. The elder’s body then slumped at Cassius’s feet, coloring the grass red. Cassius licked his lips.

Much to his chagrin, flecks of the elder’s blood had splattered onto Colm’s torso; and with a disapproving stare, Colm revealed a handkerchief and gently wiped himself clean. Annoyance hung on his voice as he said: “You didn’t have to do that.”

\tCassius, however, was ecstatic. “I don’t need to do anything,” he growled. “Colm, negotiating with these freaks is a waste of time. It’s time we show our strength.”

\t“We were ordered by Maximus to negotiate,” Colm replied. With a disgusted frown, he awkwardly danced away from the growing pool of blood underneath his feet. “He isn’t going to be happy about this, you know.”

\tCassius guffawed, wiped blood onto his face. “Who gives a fuck what Maximus thinks?” he asked. “I’m still carrying out his orders, aren’t I? This land will be ours within a day.”

\t“I suppose,” Colm replied. He then sighed, asked: “So, how are you going to explain to the villagers that their elder isn’t coming back? We need to buy some time until tomorrow morning.”

\tCassius flashed a devilish smile. “Fuck tomorrow morning,” he growled. “We’ll clear them out now.”




\t“What’s it like inside the city?” Barb asked. With her tail, she lazily cleaned out a stout glass. “It must be busy, right?”

\tMaestro laughed. “Augusta is… overwhelming,” he explained. “It’s like… if you took this village, and expanded it by a factor of twenty. No, thirty.” He then lifted his palm toward the ceiling, added: “And there are big buildings there, too… some are five floors tall.”

\t“No way,” Barb remarked. For a moment, she paused her polishing. “Are there concerts?”

\tMaestro raised an eyebrow. “A concert? Like, music?”

\t“Yeah.”

\t“Yeah, there are concerts.” Maestro looked around. “Do you not have… concerts… here?”

\tBarb replied, “Only once per year. Mostly folk songs.”

\tMaestro smiled. His dimples just barely shone from beneath his mask, his paw clenched loosely around the base of his glass. But when his mouth opened to reply, no sound emerged.

\tWhat Maestro noticed first was a blast of air; it ruffled his nape, guided a cool breeze along his shoulder blades. Then came the secondary wave; as if he were tackled, it slammed his chest against the bartop, knocking the breath from his lungs.

Winded, Maestro then instinctively shot a glance backward – just in time to see the pub’s door blown off its hinges. It blasted itself against the bartop to his side, splintering into pieces. With his jaw hung wide, Maestro stared helplessly at the carnage outside; fires kicked up amidst the ashen grass and clouded the village’s environs. Blood soaked the grass.

\tA surprised yelp then flew from Maestro’s throat; and as if possessed, he jumped from the barstool. His feet pounded against the shaking wooden floor, and he peeked his head outside.

\tTo his left, the village gate was blown wide open, its doors hanging half-melted from the hinges. That guard – the Simisear – stood there, his palms glowing red. Cassius stood next to him, grinning, one arm aimed down the village’s main road. Smoke rose from his palm.

\t“Clean shot!” Cassius bellowed. “All of you! Go forth. Now.”

The sight made Maestro’s stomach churn. In Cassius’s wake laid an entire strip of destruction: Market stalls, broken glass, and small fires dotted the dry grass. Smoke filled the air. From within the settling wreckage poked bodies, shattered signage, and cloven concrete blocks. It was obvious: Cassius had fired into a crowd.

 Maestro could feel his vision blurring, unfocusing, as he laid eyes on the wreckage. Acid lurched in his throat, the screams of nearby onlookers drowned by a tinny screech in his ears. Instinctively, Maestro grasped at his chest, adjusted his mask. Dust particles scratched at the back of his throat.

\tFrom the wreckage ran stray Pokémon – left and right, weaving and bobbing in and out of the smoke-filled street. And one by one, they were struck down by the wave of Augustan soldiers. Beside the old hotel, A navy-clad Machoke chopped a Smeargle’s neck. The Smeargle fell to the ground like a marionette, clumsily swiping at the blood-stained grass as he tried to right himself,  but his struggle was futile. The Machoke’s foot stomped down on his neck with a sickening crack. Just beside him, a Typhlosion spewed flames upon  a hotel’s front doors. Screams echoed from inside.

\t“Fuck,” Maestro breathed, his face morphing with horror. “They’re killing everyone.” He then turned back to the bar, toward the frightened patrons within, and screamed: “They’re moving in!”

\tBarb, hitherto shocked behind the counter, jumped to attention. She shot a glance toward the other patrons – two children, a Smoochum and a Pichu – and their parents, a Jynx and Pikachu. The food had been blown clear from their table, tumbled over their laps, splattered against the adjacent wall. The children winced with every blast.

\tAnother glance into the street. Two soldiers were approaching the bar – Psychic types. Cruel smiles, twitching hands. Their expressions nearly made Maestro puke. He couldn’t take them all down. He needed to run.

\t“Come on!” Maestro yelled, and motioned overhead. “We need to get out of here!”

\tFor a moment, the Pokémon in the bar didn’t move. Frozen in place, they simply watched spindles of smoke leak through the windows. Screams reverberated within the wood.

\tA manic cry then arose from Maestro’s throat, nearly running it raw. “Do you want to fucking die?” he screamed. Rage flashed across his maw, his claws unsheathed, flailing wildly. “Follow me. Now!”

\tThe sudden outburst collected those Pokémon from their stupor. Barb hopped over the bar counter, slithering deftly toward the front door. The Jynx and Pikachu, too, ran. They gathered their children in their arms, smothering their little cries against their breasts, and fell into line behind Maestro.

\t“I’ll provide suppressing fire,” Maestro ordered. He kept one eye fixed on those approaching Pokémon, his trigger finger itching. “When I start firing, run toward the back of the village. Hide in the mines.”

\tBarb shook her head, asked: “What about you?”

\t“I have combat training,” Maestro barked. A small miasma instinctively formed around his paw, his expression grave. “Get ready, okay? All of you, get ready.”

\tBarb shot an affirming glance at her patrons, gave a quick nod. The children cried into their parents’ arms, begging to know what’s going on. And so they waited – that interminable moment before the world ends.

\tMaestro’s breathing sped. That same feeling as when he’d met Invi – he felt it now. Unbridled rage. Fear. It left his ears ringing, his hands and feet comfortably numb. As if his body moved on its own, Maestro then raised his hand upward; index finger pointed out, thumb toward the sky. Those marching soldiers stopped – the pair of them staring at the growing Dark Pulse around Maestro’s fingertip, their mouths agape.

\tAnd off it went, spiraling like a comet through the ash-soaked air, and landed flat in the center of one soldier’s chest. Spittle flew from his mouth, his breath stolen, as he tumbled forward onto the ground. His friend –  a Drowzee – had clearly not expected the villagers to fight back.

\t“Now!” Maestro barked, and motioned toward the unguarded mines. “Run! Now! I’ll hold them back!”

\tAnd so the villagers barreled from the tavern door, spilling into the street and sprinting toward the village’s backside. Others clearly had the same idea; Pokémon scrambled to their feet all along the main strip, making a beeline for the mineshafts. Others barreled into the treeline, or took to the skies. Maestro, however, stood his ground.

\tThe opposing Drowzee then raised his hands to his forehead, preparing to launch a Psychic attack. His brows scrunched, his eyes closed, as energy curdled in his brain. But alas, Maestro was quicker – he burst forward, off the tavern’s stoop, and into the midst of the battle. His fingers tingled with Dark energy – and with one swoop, as if gutting prey, Maestro landed a Night Slash across the prone Drowzee’s stomach. A critical hit, it seemed; the Psychic type tumbled under his own weight.

\tA quick glance to the left, then right; alas, Maestro could not fight off an entire hoard of soldiers. A dense crowd of them piled through the broken gates now, flooding into the streets, shoulder-to-shoulder in rubble and gore. Stray embers fired from their mouths, their paws, and ignited the ash-soaked wood of the tavern. They cheered.

\tMaestro’s heart raced. Most of the villagers were slow, ill-equipped for battle. The younger ones tripped over their little feet, spilling onto the grass; elders limped forward, staggering over themselves, as they climbed inside the rocky mineshafts. Those few who were battle-ready were caught by surprise, slaughtered where they stood. Without help, the village was utterly overwhelmed.

\tNoticing the villagers’ escape, an Uproar then rang from Cassius’s lips. It boomed over the entire village, pounded against Maestro’s eardrums.

\t“Corner them in the mines!” Cassius bellowed. “We’ll fill the entire damn underground with flames if we need to. Keep going!”

\tThe soldiers thus replied in kind, raising their arms, stamping their feet. They plowed down the main thoroughfare; bolts of lightning shot down the street, aimed for the mine’s entrance – potshots, intended for fleeing villagers. With every passing moment, they drew closer.

\tAnd so Maestro grimaced, frozen with fear, as his entire body tensed. All his life, he’d wondered what he’d do in a situation like this. Faced with overwhelming odds, would he risk his life? Would he die to protect another Pokémon?

\tWithin him, Rubrum’s voice shouted for him to run. Maestro, however, ignored the compulsion. Slowly, the terrified boy made his way into the middle of the road, stared down at the tens of soldiers approaching his position. And with a flourish, he raised his arms wide, as if motioning his enemies closer. He was met with bloodthirsty smiles, bared fangs, and outstretched claws.

\tFrom the backlines, Cassius could just barely make out Maestro’s figure. Silhouetted against the drab backdrop, his mint-colored fur was unmistakable. Cassius nudged the Kecleon at his side, said: “There’s a Meowscarada holding up our march.”

\tColm’s brow narrowed. “A Meowscarada?” he asked. A hum resounded from his throat. “Interesting.”

\tJust then, a blast of ash swirled around Cassius’s army; a Leaf Storm, no doubt. That pesky Meowscarada had kicked up the ash-laden grass into a massive cloud, engulfing the soldiers in a thick fog. Cries and coughs arose from the contingent as they struggled to breathe. Some turned tail; others lunged forward, desperately clawing through the shadows.

\tRage curdled on Cassius’s face. “That motherfucker,” he growled. “He’s kicked up the ash. He’s lucky I don’t fire a Meteor Beam down this entire street.”

\tColm laid a hand on Cassius’s thigh, said: “Calm yourself, Cassius. We… know him.”

\tCassius furrowed a brow. A Dark Pulse flew overhead – no doubt fired blindly into the crowd by Maestro. “We know him? The Meowscarada?”

\t“We do,” Colm admitted. He then took a deep breath, said: “If I’m not mistaken, his name is Maestro. He’s a student at the Academy under Professor Rubrum. He’s attended a few celebrations.” Colm stood on his tiptoes, peered over the crowd. “Word is, he’s the top student.”

\tAnger bubbled in Cassius’s chest. Instinctively, his cannon-like hands clenched. “Then what the hell is he doing here?” he barked.

\t“Disrupting our operation, obviously,” Colm replied. He then raised a hand to his chin, gritted his teeth. “Cassius, you and I should withdraw. If we’ve recognized this boy correctly, he could pose a huge PR risk.”

\tAnother Dark Pulse shot overhead. Somewhere in the front lines, a Pokémon cried out in pain. His body landed with a dull thud.

\t“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cassius barked. His breaths were unsteady, shallow.  “No way am I rolling over and letting this whelp take out my whole army. No fucking way.”

\tColm couldn't help but roll his eyes in irritation. He replied, “I’m not saying that. But we need to reinforce our perimeter. If this boy escapes, we’ll have a hard time maintaining our cover story.”

\tWith a manic scowl, Cassius looked down on Colm. He puffed out his chest and growled: “Colm. Do I tell you how to do your job?”

\t“No,” Colm replied. His eyes narrowed. “No, you don’t. But I was assigned here to supervise you, and–”

\t“I don’t require supervision,” Cassius hissed. Coals burnt in his wide eyes, his chest a bellow for hot, acrid breath. “I don’t need you. I don’t need the Board. I don’t need anyone.” His gaze then flicked back toward the main road; projectiles fired every which way as his soldiers began to panic. Screams broke out; Maestro was picking them off, one by one amidst the dark.

\t“I’ll handle this myself,” Cassius said. “So go make yourself useful, Colm, and make ‘peace’ somewhere else.”

\tColm thus donned a tight-lipped frown, stepped backward. He lightly traced his fingers along the charred gate, watching helplessly as Cassius raised his arms in the air, preparing another Uproar.

\t“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Colm muttered. His skin thus slowly morphed into the color of ash, and he slipped beyond the gate.

\tAnd then, like a wave upon the beach, Cassius’s scream belted into the air. Its sonic wave burst through the dust cloud like a knife, threw his soldiers into the gutter like ragdolls. And as if he were parting the sea, Cassius then stepped forward, his footfalls quaking the earth. Panicked soldiers scurried out from underneath, running every which way amidst the chaos. No one dared stand in Cassius’s way.

A fair number of them plainly fled backward; they flowed past Cassius’ legs like water, headed for the front gate. With a single frustrated stomp, Cassius stopped them. Gargantuan spikes emerged from the ground like fingers behind his back, skewering the deserters in the air. Bloodied gurgles fell from their throats as they quivered there, suspended by their own wounds.

“Deserters have no place in my army,” Cassius bellowed. His fangs shone pure white in the dim overcast sun, his abdomen covered with dried crimson flecks. “If you fight for me, you will give your life for me. I will not suffer incompetence.”

Cassius garnered only fear. No soldier dared reply to him; they laid shivering on the sidelines, wounded, resting their backs against burning buildings. Not a single one had gotten through to the mines; indeed, Maestro had fended them off successfully. The Meowscarada, however, was nowhere to be seen.

“Maestro!” Cassius cried. His feet stomped impatiently on the ground, cracking the dirt beneath. Blood flowed around his feet. “Show yourself, coward! I know you’re here.”

For a moment, Cassius was quiet. Sounds of suffering permeated the air – the groans of the injured, the crackles of burning wood.

And slowly, from behind a half-destroyed barrel, Maestro revealed himself. He held his head high, his steps gentle. Blood stained his mask, splattered along his chest and arms.

“Chairman Cassius,” Maestro said. He donned a crooked smile. “I didn’t think you’d grace me with your presence.”

The Rhyperior returned the smile. He then flitted his cape, reached behind himself, and unveiled his battleaxe. A gargantuan steel monolith, it absolutely dwarfed Maestro in size. Small notches covered its length, from head to shaft. With a solid swing, it handily pierced the earth at Cassius’s feet. Maestro could feel his balance shift.

“You’re a real pain in my ass,” Cassius bellowed. His voice was stern, as if he were a father disciplining his child. “Do you know that? Do you even know what you’re interrupting?”

Maestro replied, “A slaughter.” He then motioned around the pockmarked street and spat: “How many Pokémon did you murder with that Meteor Blast?”

\tCassius replied, “Clearly not enough. They’re all running toward the mines back there.” He then shook his head, mustering a cocky grin. “It doesn’t matter. By Arceus, I’ll fill the tunnels with flame by nightfall.”

\t“You’re psychotic,” Maestro yelled. Fury-laden tears clouded his vision. “There are families here. Children.”

“And?” Cassius asked. He calmly motioned around, toward the Pokémon dying in the streets – soldiers and villagers alike. “These Pokémon are weak. Before our government, they would have died young.” For a moment, sympathy flashed on Cassius’s mien. “They should consider themselves lucky to have lived at all.”

Maestro swallowed. His palms were drenched in sweat, his entire body tense. His heart raced as he admitted, “I know about the weapon, Cassius. I know about Operation Salvation.”

Those words set Cassius on-edge. His brows narrowed, his jaw hung open, as he replied: “You… you must’ve been the little thief who broke into Kane’s office.”

“Figured it out, did you?” Maestro replied. “Yeah, that was me.”

Cassius’s maw steeled. Briefly, he glanced around the battlefield – at the mounds of charred cinder and wood, the dying, and the dead, and he asked: “Did the humans help you?”

Now, it was Maestro’s turn to be surprised. He barked, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The Rhyperior simply shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “The truth is, Maestro… you’re just not part of our future. You Dark types could never understand it.”

“Then explain it to me,” Maestro shouted. Sweat dripped from beneath his mask. “What is all this for? Why are you killing innocent people?”

Unexpectedly, that question lit a fire in Cassius’s belly. The monolith’s chest heaved, his expression wild, as he declared: “This world is impure, Maestro. Humans, ferals, and invalids… you might not realize it, but we’re all in a war for our future.” Childlike wonder glinted in his eyes. “Your deaths will herald a new era of eternal peace. Arceus will give it all to us as his rightful heirs. The Spear… it will save us.”

Horrified, Maestro replied: “You’re insane.”

“I’m not insane,” Cassius said. “For the first time in my life, I am seeing the world clearly.”

The Rhyperior then shrugged off his cape. That garish red-and-gold mess tumbled into the ashen grass with a soft thump. Cassius then raised his battleaxe in the air, held it resolute above his head.

“There is no more to discuss,” Cassius bellowed. “You will die today. Tell Arceus it was Cassius the Unbending who sent you.”

And with a mighty thrust, the Rhyperior then thrust his battleaxe into the earth. A rumble quaked the earth; ravines cracked like spiderwebs along the thoroughfare. The ground under Maestro’s then feet gave way, crumbling messily under his feet. His paws scraped uselessly against the trench’s walls as he fell, his back slamming against its jagged floor.

The impact shook the breath from Maestro’s lungs. His head knocked solidly against the dirt, his mask’s edge chipping on the wall. And, as if yanked forward by a chain, his body jolted itself forward in an instinctive tuck-and-roll. In his wake slammed Cassius’s axe; the Rhyperior then wrenched it from the ravine with a huff.

His head pounding, his adrenaline coursing, Maestro managed to jump back onto the topsoil. Desperately, he clawed through his brain for a plan; nothing came.

“You’re a spry one,” Cassius growled. Amused, he watched as Maestro stumbled backward, kicking ash from the grass. “Luckily for you, I’m happy to play with my food.”

\tGritting his teeth, Maestro quipped: “How about a dinner and a show, then?”

\tIn a flash, Maestro had formed an Energy Ball on his fingertips. And off it shot, careening squarely for Cassius’s solar plexus. The effort, however, was moot; as if swatting a tennis ball, Cassius dispelled the blast with his axe.

\tThat blast, however, was only meant to buy time. Desperately, Maestro’s arms flailed in the air. Like a conductor directing a symphony, Maestro summoned a full-on offensive. Long-dormant seeds burst from the punctured earth as a Frenzy Plant clawed at Cassius’s feet, holding the beast in place. Cassius began to tear wildly at those thick vines, but to no avail. They coiled up his columnal legs, grew snugly around his feet.

\tWith every twitch of Cassius’s flesh, those vines curled and snapped. Maestro could feel the tendons in his arms stretching, twisting, as he attempted to keep the Rhyperior stationary. Cassius snarled.

\tThinking fast, Cassius then raised the battleaxe above his head and hurled it toward Maestro. The Meowscarada, however, dodged just in time; instead of piercing its intended target, the massive weapon carved its way through the tavern’s front wall. The building promptly collapsed, burying the axe up to its hilt in debris and dust.

\t“You brat,” Cassius barked. Still struggling to break free, he watched as Maestro began charging a Solar Beam. The Meowscarada planted his feet solidly in the middle of the road, a green light shining from his chest. A high-pitched whir sounded from Maestro’s core, like a tea kettle boiling, as he absorbed scraps of sunlight from the overcast sky.

Cassius knew better than to allow Maestro to continue. Stealth Rocks deftly arose from his back, pointed themselves toward Maestro’s head. One by one, they plunged toward him. Maestro was forced to dodge left and right, bobbing in between their trajectories. Cassius knew that none of them would land a hit; they would, however, tire his opponent out.

And so Maestro danced from one deft paw to the next, ignoring the swish of each rock plummeting past his battered frame. Sweat coated his fur in a thick film. His head swam.

Much to Maestro’s chagrin, Cassius’s initial impact had shaken him; his right ankle was twisted, and his vision was doubled. His stamina rapidly depleted with each footfall.

In a panic, Maestro thus raised his arms once more, calling forth a Petal Blizzard. And just as before, the ashen ground kicked up into the still air, clouding the battlefield with a thick haze. Cassius huffed and puffed, kicking his feet free of vines, as he then surveyed his immediate surroundings.

“Really?” he barked. His voice was tinged with a sort of psychotic amusement. “You’re kicking up dust again? Eventually, you will need to fight me like a man. Face-to-face!”

With a grand bellow, Cassius then let loose another Uproar into the air. And just like before, the clouds dissipated… only to reveal a scene which Cassius had never expected.

In a circle surrounding him laid nearly twenty Substitutes, all staring directly at their aggressor. Divorced from context, the scene would have been comical; however, it only served to frustrate the manic Rhyperior.

“Is this a damn game to you?” Cassius yelled. His gaze shifted from one Substitute to the next, searching for Maestro’s lithe frame among them. “I know you’re still here. Show yourself!”

Predictably, Cassius’s cry received no response. For a moment, embarrassment made his chest sink; he felt he was being toyed with. The realization made his eye twitch, his fists ball.

With only a grunt, Cassius then lugged his arm upward, preparing to fire its cannon. Its tip glowed and gyrated, pulsed and bucked, as Cassius’s fury suddenly surged forward. Just as he’d fired into the crowd, a Meteor Beam blew from his cannon, decimating everything in its path. It fired first upon the Substitute before him, then swept across his field of vision as one solid beam. From right to left, Cassius decimated Substitute after Substitute, eagerly awaiting the burst of blood and gore as his beam met Maestro’s flesh.

One, two, three, four, five. Maestro was not behind any of them. The beam traveled through each like butter, craving into the environs beyond; every wooden structure which it touched was instantly reduced to ash, or otherwise cratered into the ground, until the road was hardly recognizable.

“I’ll kill you,” Cassius mumbled. Through gritted teeth, a strained throat, he repeated the mantra to himself: “I will kill you.”

Cassius then turned left, still annihilating each. Six, seven, eight, nine. Energy burned in his chest; he had never held a Meteor Beam for this long before. It took all his energy just to remain upright, to ignore the heat building within his core. He’d never felt this warm before.

“I will kill you. I will kill you.” The mantra rang through him like a song. Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen. Still no blood. Briefly, Cassius imagined sipping that ichor from Maestro’s body. The thought made him shiver. It made him frenzy. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…

And, as if a bug had landed on his back, Cassius felt that familiar patter of limbs on his rocky flesh. As if he were a colossus, Maestro was scaling him. The sensation sent Cassius into a panic; he swatted uselessly with his stubby left arm, giving himself a demented pat on the back, while his right arm still spewed plasma into the horizon. As his arms flailed, that energy flung itself up into the clouds, breaking up the overcast sky. For the first time in years, the clouds cleared over Haliford.

“Get off me!” Cassius cried; but wherever his clunky limbs swatted, Maestro was one step ahead. And with a hop and a jump, Maestro had found his way to the nape of Cassius’s neck. Grasping for his life, Maestro desperately gripped its wide circumference, slipping his fingers between the shallow rocks on Cassius’s skin. Energy Balls danced on the tips of his fingers, each aimed squarely on Cassius’s ears.

Cassius could feel the energy gathering. His heartbeat raced, his breaths were unsteady. In a last ditch effort, he swung his boiling cannon toward his shoulder, hoping to knock the pesky feline onto the ground. His arm collided directly against Maestro’s temple. Instinctively, Maestro raked his claws along Cassius’s face as he was flung against the burning wreckage.

For Maestro, the next few moments were a blur. He flew through the thick air for an eternity, then crashed into a pile of splintered wood. His head knocked once more against the mess, rendering his vision a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. Something wet trickled down his palm; in his daze, Maestro thought it looked like an apple. Its juices ran down his arm, soaked his fur.

A great cry then rang out from Cassius’s throat. He clutched his face close, blood running from his eye socket, and let out a mighty wail. Upon further inspection, Maestro realized that he hadn’t plucked a fruit; but rather, he’d taken Cassius’s right eye. Rolling from Maestro’s claw, it flopped lifelessly onto the ground.

\t“You bastard!” Cassius screamed. For a moment, he stood immobilized by pain. “You fucking bastard! You took my eye! My eye!”

\tMaestro attempted to stand, but he couldn’t move his legs. His arms, too, floundered uselessly against the grass. A whimper fell from his lips as he begged his body to move; but even the slightest shift of his head sent his ears ringing, vision swimming.

\tClouded by that thick ashen miasma, Cassius finally located Maestro’s crippled body. Rage flashed across his maw, permeated every inch of him. With one claw held over his eye socket, he marched toward Maestro, stomping through a field of Stealth Rocks which he’d fired moments before.

\tCassius crumpled his fist. A manic snarl stretched across his maw as he imagined bashing Maestro’s head in. The boy was broken now, immobile; he’d savor tearing the little brat limb from limb.

\t“Thieves get what they deserve,” Cassius growled. Through a high-pitched whine, Maestro could just barely make out the Rhyperior’s words: “You should be honored to perish at my hand.”

\tAmongst the burnt wreckage, amongst the blood and screams and crackling of fire, Maestro cried. He thought of Rubrum’s touch; he thought of the hallways of the Augustan Academy, his late nights drinking Chai tea by the fireplace. He thought of the smell of book glue, the embrace of his friends. In that moment, the realization struck him; it was all gone now.

\tIn a last fit of rebellion, Maestro managed to close his fist. He hugged his fingers weakly against his palm, staring up at the shadow which heralded his death, and waited.

\tBut that moment never came. With the last of his strength, Maestro summoned a Grass Knot under Cassius’s feet. Still cradling his bloody eye, the cyclops was caught off-balance; those vines coiled around his ankle, dragging the beast down onto the earth. And with a mighty roar the once-great general fell. His stubby arms reached forward pitifully in order to cushion the blow, but the effort was futile. Face-first, Cassius met the ground, and a Stealth Rock buried itself snugly into his soft neck.

\tCassius, of course, had always wondered what it felt like to see his life ebbing away. However, he had never imagined the melodrama of it all; the warm trickle down his throat, the filling sensation in his lungs.

\tWith one eye, Cassius stared out over the wreckage he had wrought. Sunshine bore down onto his collapsed body, illuminated the flecks of blood on Maestro’s mask. Draped there over the wreckage, his breaths shallow, the boy almost appeared saintly. Blood pooled beneath Cassius’s chest. His vision blurred; his body felt as if it were floating.

\tThe last thing which Cassius witnessed was Maestro’s weak, crooked smile. ", "pools_count": 0, "title": "Valor and Hubris [Commission]", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/rtf", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "5", "name": "Strong Violence", "description": "Strong violence, blood, serious injury or death", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "61" }