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With few to no remaining leads, an obvious trap becomes the only solution.

Asher gets heated, and so does the Chairman of Bookkeeping Kane.


This is Chapter 8 of my ongoing series, with Asher, Sid, and Grimm in the lead this time, while Fey rests!

Written by \n\t\t\t\t\tCrimsonFlowers ; please send all your love to them <3", "writing": "Fool’s Gold\n\n\t“Akiva!” Chairman Maximus bellowed. He slammed his mighty fist upon the desk; the chandelier overhead shook in fear. “Are you even listening?” \n\n\tThe Gardevoir’s head then snapped upward amidst the stuffy air. She pulled her fingers away from her mouth, batted her silver bangs aside, and breathed: “I–I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t hear.” \n\n\tThe Board of Directors all sat in that familiar conference room; each week, it seemed dirtier. Smaller. Its once-pristine wallpaper was browned with tar; smoke rose from Chairman Kane’s cigarette, drifted along the ceiling, and flew into the night through a tiny crack in the window. Crumbs and wrinkled papers dotted the burgundy carpet.\n\n\tMaximus’s brows arched, his frame curdling over the conference desk. Long fingernails knocked against each other before his maw. And he said: “Akiva. We need you right now. We need you to listen.” \n\n\t“Of course,” Akiva echoed. She rubbed absently at the bags under her eyes. “I will. I’m sorry.”\n\n\t“Good,” Maximus muttered. His demeanor softened. He then nodded and asked: “Tell me. Have you heard anything?” \n\n\tAkiva, of course, hadn’t. She shook her head and replied: “No. I haven’t heard anything. Just… whispers.” \n\n\t“Of?” \n\n\tShe folded her hands onto her lap. “People are worried. Everyone is worried. Mostly the elderly. And children.” She swallowed sparse saliva. “The schoolyards are full of rumors. They say that ferals are hiding in the trees… the parks, the sewers. That sort of thing.”\n\nChairwoman Iris gave a solemn nod. She said, “That’s good. So long as we can keep the rumor mill going, we have the upper hand.” \n\nChairman Colm rolled a pencil under his index finger. Idly, the Kecleon’s prehensile tongue lolled from his jaw, licked along his eye. He blathered: “The rumor mill can only do so much, though. At the risk of sounding like Cassius, I’ll temper this, but… we need to be strong.”\n\n\t“Right,” Maximus said. A spoon bent to and fro in his shaking palm. “Obviously, we’ll have to issue a statement. Multiple statements.” \n\n\tIris laid a limp paw on the desk. She shifted papers around beneath. And she argued: “We’ll need Akiva to make a public statement, of course. Something confident.” She then sighed, added: “But that won’t be enough. We’ll need a press conference. Colm, can you handle that?” \n\n\tThe Kecleon stared blankly. Beneath his dumb mien, machinations brewed. He replied: “Of course I can.”\n\n\tAkiva could hardly bring herself to meet his gaze; or anyone’s, for that matter. She stared downtrodden at her feet, listening softly to the humdrum of voices in her mind. Throughout these disembodied feelings, these disconnected experiences, one thread connected them all: fear. Fear was abound in Augusta. \n\n\tThe Gardevoir shifted in her seat. She could hardly focus. The endless blathering of her superiors bored her; and moreover, it disgusted her. She couldn’t stop thinking about Fey’s round eyes during the Arcean Symposium. How they begged to live. How an idiotic simpleton like him… looked down on her.\n\nA hand then tapped upon Akiva’s shoulder. Shocked, she turned to see who had made such a transgression – Hermes, the Chairman of Labor. He gave her an empathetic smile. \n\n\t“Hey,” the Simipour whispered. Other Board members chattered aside them. “Are you okay?” \n\n\tAkiva gave a tight-lipped grin. She licked her lips, shifted her workstation, and replied: “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.” \n\n\tHermes raised an eyebrow. Looking askance, he probed: “Are you sure?”\n\n\t“I’m sure.”\n\n\t“You went through a lot,” he said. “It’s okay if you’re not okay. Really. I won’t think any less of you.”\n\n\t“Are you sure it would be okay?” the Psychic type asked. Her face scrunched. “Because last time I checked, it’s sort of important for us to keep our cool. You know, because we’re running an entire country.” \n\n\tThe Simipour shrunk. Words flapped and tumbled off his tongue. “I–I know that. I just thought–” \n\n\t“Yeah?” Akiva asked. She spoke through gritted teeth. “What did you think? What were you thinking?”\n\n\tHermes cleared his throat. He said: “I was thinking… I just wanted to let you know that I’m here for you. That’s all. In case you need anything.” \n\n “You know what?” Akiva shot back. “I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think you were thinking at all.”\n\n“What?” \n\n“You’re not thinking,” she spewed. “Because if you were thinking, you’d know that we don’t have the luxury of not being okay.” She laughed. “This isn’t the Pokémon daycare. Okay? This is the office where we decide the fates of thousands of Pokémon. Okay?” Her voice trembled with insecurity. “So maybe we keep private talk to a minimum.” \n\nHermes shrunk under the Psychic type’s imposing frame. Relenting, he then craned himself away, muttered: “Okay. I’m sorry.” \n\nThe pair then lapsed into awkward silence. Akiva held her head in her hands, rubbed her temples. Silently, she reached toward her hip, fumbled her fingers inside the tiny burlap sack of white pills. They jingled happily against her fingertips. She then raised two to her trembling lips, laid them upon her tongue, and swallowed. She could take them without water now. \n\nThe Gardevoir then took a deep breath, laid back in her chair. Guilt and shame gnawed at her insides. And without looking at the Simipour, she admitted: “I’m sorry.” She huffed once more, then repeated: “I’m sorry, Hermes. I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately.” \n\nHermes cleared his throat, straightened his back. He replied: “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” \n\n“No, I…” Akiva pursed her lips, gave him a quick glance. “I’m sorry. But there’s nothing to worry about. Okay? I’ll be fine. My arm is nearly fully healed, anyway. So…”\n\n\t“Of course.” \n\n\t“Yeah.” Akiva shuffled papers for no reason. She then drew an awkward breath, turned to the rest, and asked: “Iris, have you handled the most recent appeals for those posters?” \n\n\tIris squinted at a stack of papers in her paw. She asked, “Which?” \n\n\t“Uh, Lilac Avenue.” \n\n\tThe Ninetales scanned the page. And she replied: “Yeah, I did. This morning.” \n\n\t“Check again,” Akiva said. “I don’t think the planning committee received the notice.”\n\n\t“Noted.” \n\n\tFrom across the room, Kane’s voice boomed. “Are we really just going to keep doing what we’ve been doing?” he asked. “I mean, how many damn propaganda campaigns are we going to do here?” \n\n\tWithout looking up from his work, Colm replied: “As many as it takes.” \n\n\t“This entire operation is asinine,” Kane prattled. “When are we going to just squash these bugs, hm? They’re fucking – they’re insects!” \n\n\tMaximus huffed: “Yes, well. When you know exactly where these insects reside, I’d be glad to talk to you about detaining them.” \n\n\t“All I’m saying – all I’m saying,” the Gimmighoul said, “is that we need to establish a task force. Okay? A small, dedicated task force to go through and comb every damn inch of this city.” \n\n\tIris sighed. “Kane…” \n\n\t“I’m talking every nook, every cranny, every damn alleyway.” He took a drag from his cigarette and continued: “How long could that take, hm? A search of every hiding spot. A week? Two weeks?” \n\n\t“Over a month,” Maximus contended. His patience wore thin; frustration tinged his weary voice. “And even then, they could just move around. If they’re smart – and they are – then they’re moving spots every few days. They might even have collaborators who keep them hidden. We’d have to get incredibly lucky.” \n\n\tKane scoffed. “Okay, sure, it would take a while. But what’s another flimsy campaign gonna do, hm?” \n\n\tFor just a moment, fury flashed on Iris’s maw. She snapped her head toward his tiny frame and spat: “Oh, fuck you, Kane. These ‘flimsy campaigns’ are the only things keeping us alive.” \n\n\t“Well, whoopty-doo for them,” Kane mocked. He clapped his little hands. “But surely we can see where this is all going, right? They’re gonna continue launching attacks like this. Attack, after attack, after attack–” \n\n\tThe Alakazam muttered: “I am well aware.” \n\n\t“–and they want to pick us off! One by one. Lying in wait until our security is weakest.” His nicotine-stained lips flapped as he stumbled over his words. “So why not take the fight to them, hm? We can’t just wait for another emergency. We need to do something. Anything. Anything that isn’t just placating people.” \n\n\t“Kane,” Iris barked. “Shut. Up.” \n\n\tIrritated, the Ghimmighoul smacked his lips. And he said: “Public approvals are down. The surveys are scary, hm? Don’t think I didn’t look.” A devilish grin. “So if you’re gonna try and sway public opinion, you might want to try a little harder.” \n\n\tSuddenly, a psychic pressure held Kane’s jaw. Clenched up against itself, he could hardly breathe. A quick glance betrayed the cause: Maximus’s upraised hand. The Alakazam’s eyes blistered with annoyance. \n\n\t“Kane,” he growled. “You are going to leave this room right now. And you will not come back until you’re ready to show some respect. Understood?” \n\n\tThe affront spurred the tiny man to anger. Kane cried out through closed lips, tried to pry his mouth open… and abjectly failed. Next to him, Iris casually put down her paperwork. She said: “I’ll accompany him outside, if that’s alright.” \n\n\tMaximus nodded wordlessly; he obviously had more important matters to attend to. So, as if swaddling a child, Iris deftly clamped the lid of the Gimmighoul shut. She then closed her mouth around the chest’s handle, lifted it from the table, and calmly carried Kane from the room. The grand double doors slammed shut behind her. \n\n\tDown, down, down the Ninetales traveled. Past myriad conference rooms, storage rooms, and lobbies; and eventually, the pair emerged into an empty alleyway. The sky was cloudy overhead. To their sides, dull cement. One month prior, Maestro had broken into the Board’s offices through this entrance; naturally, its lock had since been replaced. \n\nSwiveling her head left, then right, Iris dropped Kane’s chest unceremoniously onto the concrete. The little man’s head thumped against the lid, then back down into a pile of cold golden coins beneath. Shaken, he then flipped open the lid to his chest. Cigarette smoke plumed outward. A cough flew from his tar-coated throat. \n\n“You could’ve been gentler,” Kane yapped. Frustrated, he then began to stack his golden coins once more; one neat pile after another. A lit cigarette still hung from his mouth. “I could’ve broken my damn neck the way you carried me.” \n\nIris shrugged, said: “And yet you didn’t.” \n\n“Asshole.” The Gimmighoul grumbled under his breath: “Why do we always fight, huh? Stupid fucking…I’m a damn chairman. I shouldn’t be carried out of the conference room like some… like some imbecile.” \n\n\t“Then you should act like a chairman,” Iris sniped. And with a flack of her tails, she ordered: “Give me one of those.” \n\n\tKane laughed. He spewed: “Oh, now you want me.” \n\n\t“I don’t want you,” the Ninetales reassured. “I want a cigarette. That’s all.” \n\n\tThe little man rolled his eyes. And begrudgingly, he fetched a cigarette from behind himself; holding it out to the fox, he joked: “It’s one of those days, huh?” \n\n\tIris frowned. “Nowadays?” she asked. “It’s always one of those days.” \n\n\tThe two shared a terse chuckle. Steadily, Iris’s tail manipulated the cigarette to her lips; and with a small huff, she shot an Ember onto its tip. Smoke billowed from her soft mouth as she sighed. And she asked: “Why are you being such an asshole today?” \n\n\t“I dunno,” Kane admitted. He chewed on his words and added: “Because we’re all fucking stressed out of our minds?” A deep grumble sounded from his chest. Little breaths, tinged with tobacco. One of them carried the words: “Am I insane, or did things used to be easier?” \n\n\t“They did,” Iris cooed. “They really did.” \n\n\t“Back when our people weren’t on the verge of a damn frenzy…” \n\n\tResigned, the Ninetales remarked: “Things were always destined to be this way.” She seemed saddened by that fact. “We have an endgame. We’ve always had one. And as we near it, we… well. Things get complicated.” She inhaled sharply, coughed it all out. “Especially with this whole… with Arceanism becoming so popular.” \n\n\t“What a fucking fluke.” \n\n\tIris chuckled exhaustedly. “Akiva, that maniac… she got her way. She made it mainstream.” She sniffled. “I’ve never seen such a meteoric rise. I mean, it’s… it’s revolutionary.” \n\n\t“What a damn experiment.” Kane cracked a crooked smile. His little yellow eyes blinked amidst the cold air. Gusts flew from the far side of the alley. And he said: “Yaknow, I’ve been meaning to talk to you…” \n\n\t“No.”\n\n\tRecoiling, Kane spat: “You didn’t even hear what I was gonna say!” \n\n\t“But I know what you were going to say.” Iris took a long drag. She could feel her tails growing warmer. “You want to talk about Maximus.”\n\n\tKane raised an eyebrow. “And you don’t?” he asked. “Maximus is so… I mean, surely you can tell what’s going on.” \n\n\tThe Ninetales coughed. She replied: “Let’s assume I don’t. Enlighten me, hm?” \n\n\t“He’s popping pills!” Kane exclaimed. “Those little white round things. The same stuff he gives Akiva. And he’s acting weird.”\n\n\t“Mmm…” \n\n\t“He’s meaner,” the Gimmighoul said. “And way more stubborn.” He then clicked his tongue and added: “Come on, Iris. You’re not stupid. I know you see it, too.”\n\n\tIris was silent. She puffed on that tiny burning stick, watching intently as its end crumbled into smoldering ash; its particles swirled upwards into the cold grey sky. Her tone was grim as she remarked: “The man’s empire is in danger. Who wouldn’t be a little irritable?” \n\n“Irritable? How about unstable?” \n\n“You’re reaching.” \n\n“I’m not,” Kane argued. “Do you see how he’s been treating Akiva? Is that fair?” He huffed, then hoisted himself onto his little feet. “And Cassius… I mean, it’s weird, right? All of this is weird. And it seems like no one can talk about it. I feel like I’m going insane!” \n\nIris was deathly still. She took a deep drag; smoke billowed from her nostrils as she then asked: “What about Cassius is disturbing you?” \n\n“Oh, well, yaknow, how we can’t talk about him anymore? Or maybe how he died so suddenly? Take your pick.” \n\nIris’s eyes narrowed. She snarled: “Cassius was like a son to him. Do not insinuate–” \n\n“And look how he’s treating his daughter,” Kane interrupted. “Look, here are the facts. I like Maximus. He’s my friend. But… is he really the best dad?” He scoffed. A coin came dislodged from his foot and tumbled to the cement. “Besides, we’ve known Maximus for over a damn century. He’s definitely changed. You must know something is wrong.” \n\nThe Ninetales sighed. “Even if something were wrong, what are we going to do? Hm?” She shuffled her paws uncomfortably. Anxiety contorted her maw. “I have no more power over him than you do.” \n\nKane smirked. “You say that, but…” \n\n“But what? You want to plan a little coup?” Iris nearly giggled at the Gimmighoul’s insanity. “You really haven’t changed, have you? Always an insecure little man.” \n\nThe Gimmighoul balled his fists. Enraged, he spat: “I’m not pushing for a damn coup! I just want some respect around here. For both of us.” \n\n“Is a spot at the table not enough?” Iris asked. “How about the ability to manage our country’s economy? Is that not enough? What would satisfy you?” \n\nKane clamped his jaw shut. Through gritted teeth, he muttered: “I just want him to listen to me. We’ve been around here just as long as him. And if you and I went to him, maybe he’d fucking listen for once. He never listens.”\n\n“And whose fault is that?” Iris barked. Pain then flashed across her maw. Remorseful, she shot a glance at the ground. Words tumbled awkwardly from her mouth. “Kane, you’re setting your sights too high.” \n\n“I’m not.” \n\n“You are.” The Ninetales coughed. “Maximus is… he’s powerful. More than all of us combined.” \n\nKane frowned. He mocked: “So you’re scared of him. Wow.” \n\n“And the fact that you’re not is disconcerting,” Iris said. She then bent her head low, brought it close to Kane’s little body. And she whispered: “The truth is… I don’t know what Maximus has or hasn’t done. And at this point, I don’t care. The fact remains that he could… he could kill us.” She shook her head. “I’m not going to go against Maximus. In any way. That is final. Understood?”\n\nThe Gimmighoul nodded his head. He puckered his lips, cleared his throat, and said: “Okay. I see you. That’s… that’s understandable.” \n\nIris flashed a frustrated glance. She said: “Kane, just promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Okay?” \n\n“Me?” Kane replied. He gave a mischievous grin, then said: “I would never.”\n\n\n\n\tUntil now, Asher didn’t know how four Pokémon could fit in a single twin-size bed. The answer came to him during the night, in a cramped hostel; when desperation struck, even the simplest pleasures seemed grandiose.\n\n\t“How’s that feel?” Asher asked. Slowly, he removed a thin cast from Fey’s tender hindleg; it fell from his fur with a soft crack. The fur beneath was matted. Fey sucked in hot air through his teeth; beside his head, a smoldering fire. \n\n\tFey replied: “It’s fine.” He grunted. “I mean, it hurts. But that’s… it’s fine.” \n\n\tThe Cinderace nodded. Deftly, gently, he peeled the last of the fabric from Fey’s flesh. “Sorry, love.”\n\n\tTo his side, huddled around the fire, Sid and Grimm squeezed against one another. Thin vines sprouted from Sid’s back and upheld a shoddy newspaper; Grimm leaned over the little Snivy’s shoulder, peeking at the tiny black lettering. He hummed and announced, “Cassius is still in the news.” \n\n\t“Really?” Asher asked. He tossed the dirty cast into the fire. “More praises? Posthumous medals?” \n\n\tSid shook his head. He peeped his little face over the top of the paper and chirped: “You gotta hear this. Apparently a bunch of girls are coming out against him.” \n\n\t“How many?” \n\n\t“Six,” Grimm explained. He scanned each face upon the page – an Umbreon, a Zoroark, two Absols, a Liepard, and a Thievul. The Gengar remarked: “They’re all Dark types.” \n\n\tAsher huffed. “I suppose a guy like him would have a type,” he joked. “And of course, it’s the type he wants banned from the Academy.” \n\n\t“Wanted,” Sid corrected. He gently licked the tip of a vine, then flipped the page with it. “Wherever Cassius is now, I don’t think he wants for much. Maestro made sure of that.” \n\n\tCrackles filled the warm air. In their dinky fireplace, two logs broke and tumbled over one another. A single ember floated from the wreck and landed upon Fey’s nose; he watched intently as it dissolved. The Sylveon then asked, “Are we really going to flee?” \n\n\t“We might not have a choice,” Grimm admitted. He donned a toothy frown, his arms folded over his rotund body. “They’re cracking down on everything. The paper even says they’re setting up security checkpoints along the main roads.” He gulped. “We might be one bad conversation away from getting caught.” \n\n\tSid, however, wasn’t paying attention. He grimaced at the page before him, shoved it toward Grimm, and barked: “Look at the fucking paper. Look at it – three whole pages about the dangers of feral Pokémon.” He flashed a depressed smile. “And here I was, thinking I’m as sweet as pie.” \n\n\tGrimm shook his head in disapproval. “Whipping Pokémon into a frenzy,” he spat. “And for what? To villainize Pokémon who have nowhere else to go? Those monsters.” \n\n\tFey listened silently to his friends’ prattle. Unmoving, he gazed into the fire. The smell of ash reminded him of the Arcean Faith Festival; an entire tent aflame, its embers dancing up above the buildings. Limping, covered in dust, throwing himself down the nearest alleyway… \n\n\tMeanwhile, Asher meditated on their options. He ran his paws gently over Fey’s flank, ruffling the boy’s fur. And he suggested: “Maybe we should listen to Rubrum. Every letter, he’s telling us to leave. We could regroup with him and Maestro in the Intermediary Zone.”\n\n\t“That’s true,” Grimm said dejectedly. “I don’t know how many more hostels will take us, anyhow. It puts a big target on their backs. Not to mention we’re already rationing our food.” He sighed. “We’re probably better off working from the outside.” \n\n“But we can’t leave,” Fey argued. With a cough, he managed to lift his head, glance backward; his tone was adamant. “We can’t give up. Not now. Too many Pokémon are counting on us.” \n\n\tThe Cinderace sighed. He cradled his hand between the Sylveon’s soft ears and replied: “Fey, we really shouldn’t be putting you in any more danger. You’d be safer outside of city bounds, where you can heal–”\n\n\t“If we leave, we might never be able to come back.” Fey let loose a small cough. “They’re tightening up the borders even more now. They might even be suspending civilian entry permits soon.”\n\nAsher frowned. He gently clutched his lover’s neck. “Fey, you suffered some pretty bad smoke inhalation. And your leg… we should really find a safer place for you to recover.” He thought for a moment, then added: “And I’m sure we can find a way back into the city, anyhow.”\n\n“And what if we can’t?” the Sylveon asked. Desperation made his voice shake. “We’re so close to finding what we need. There must be somewhere in the city, someone, that can tell us about the Spear.” \n\nAsher let out a frustrated exhale. “Yeah,” he admitted, “you might be right. But we’re all out of leads. We only have a couple days left at this hostel, too, and then… we have to move. And every time we move, we’re opening ourselves up to danger.” Anxiety caused his fists to ball up. “And I can put myself in danger, sure. But Fey… you’re injured. Who knows what the police would do to you, hm? Or Arceus forbid, prison.” \n\nFey opened his mouth to reply; but before he could get a word out, Sid called from behind his swathe of newspaper. A cacophony of crinkles then rang out, and the Snivy turned the monochromatic page toward the others. Smack-dab in the center of it laid a grainy photo of an old building; fluted pillars upheld a gaudy stone roof. Engravings of Augustan history adorned its trim. Below the photo laid the headline: ‘ON THE DILAPIDATION OF AUGUSTAN HERITAGE.’\n\n\t“Look, guys. There’s an old records hall within walking distance of us,” Sid announced. “It looks like it used to belong to the Department of Labor. It’s slated for demolition.”\n\n\tFey’s ears perked. Propping himself up on his front paws, he croaked: “Really? Bring it closer.” \n\n\tSid’s vines then extended outward, hovering the paper before the Sylveon’s face. Asher crept over his shoulder, skimming the text. Fey read it aloud:\n\n\t\"The Academy Labor Bureau was once a testament to Augustan exceptionalism, work ethic, and cultural victory,” he repeated. “In its heyday, this building brought order to the masses; it put the uncivilized and unmotivated to work. But… what has this victory been reduced to? If you were to visit this site today, you’d become acutely aware of our decline as a culture… from the bowed walls to the peeling floors, this site has been left abandoned for nearly a century. What does this say about our modern inability to preserve sites of historical significance?” \n\n\tAsher’s maw scrunched. He clapped his hand on Fey’s back and said, “Don’t read any more of that crap, dude. I don’t know how much more I can handle.” \n\n\t“That’s right,” Grimm spat. His eyes narrowed. “Civilizing the uncivilized? Cultural victory? They’re just making shit up at this point.” \n\n\tFey shook his head. “I know that,” he breathed. Fire alit behind his eyes. “But it used to belong to the Department of Labor, right? There might still be some old records left in there. Maybe they could help us find the Spear.”\n\n\tThe Snivy bit his lip; he then lowered the paper, stared into Fey’s eager eyes. “Uh huh,” he said. And looking around the room, he added: “Well… we wanted a lead, right? I suppose this is the best lead we’ve gotten in a week.” \n\n\tGrimm snarled at the assertion. “Are you sure?” he asked, and laid a spectral hand upon the Snivy’s shoulder. “According to the article, that building is over a century old. It’s probably gutted. Not to mention… why would they keep records about the Spear there?” \n\n\t“Well, superweapons need Pokémon to build them,” Sid asserted. “And if they’re on payroll, someone somewhere is managing their salaries.” \n\n\tFlabbergasted at the supposition, Asher cradled his head in his paws. “No,” he said. “No, no. This idea is crazy. We’re not breaking into an abandoned building on the off-chance the government forgot some documents there from a century ago.”\n\n\t“But–”\n\n\t“That’s not even how government buildings work,” Asher explained. “This place is set for demolition, right? It’s been completely gutted, guaranteed. Even if any records of the Spear were there, they’re long gone. Probably in a storehouse, and under lock and key.” \n\n\tFey piped up: “But this is our only lead.” He wrenched his head backward to face the paranoid Cinderace. “We don’t have any other place we can check. Every office has extra security now. Everything is on lockdown.” He sighed. “We don’t have any other options. This is our best shot at learning about the Spear.” \n\n\tAsher chuckled dejectedly. “This is our best shot?” he asked sardonically. “Fey, you’re injured. I’m not letting you waltz into an abandoned building; besides, it’ll probably be guarded.” \n\n\t“It might even be a trap,” Grimm added. “There’s no author listed for this article. I wouldn’t put it past Maximus to try and lure us out.”\n\n\tAsher nodded, his lips pursed. “Exactly. We don’t really know what the Board is thinking. Our best bet is to get beyond the walls and regroup–” \n\n\t“No!” Fey yelped. The Sylveon then squirmed uselessly against the ground, just barely managing to stand on three legs; but nonetheless, his expression was resolute. “We can’t leave Augusta. We can’t,” he said.\n\n\tThe Cinderace’s face soured. His hands fell to his sides as he muttered: “Fey…” \n\n\t“I didn’t risk my life just to give up our biggest advantage,” Fey argued. “At least within city walls, we can gather more information directly. We’re this close to finding what we need.”\n\n\tAsher shot back: “And if you die, we don’t get anything.” As his temperament curdled, he could feel warmth rising in his lungs. “Look – I’m doing this for you, Fey. We need to leave so I can keep you safe.” He scoffed. “And if you were smart, you’d agree with me.” \n\n\tThose words wounded Fey. A screwy frown made his lips curl. He asked: “Are you saying I’m stupid?” \n\n\t“N–no,” Asher breathed, obviously caught off-guard. “No, of course not. I just… I need to protect you.” He laid a soft paw upon Fey’s flank, met the boy’s glassy stare. “If something happened to you, I don’t know what I would do. Okay? I can’t…. I can’t have you chasing after ghosts and falling into a trap.” \n\n\tThe canine scoffed: “Trust me, then.”\n\n\t“Fey…”\n\n\t“You trust me, right?” Fey asked. “And if you trust me, then you’ll follow this lead. It’s the only one we have.” He grimaced as he attempted to put weight on his hindleg. “Since they’re cracking down on security, this might be the last chance we ever get to search for information. Even if it’s a trap, we have to check. We have to.”\n\n\tFor just a moment, Asher stared at Fey’s broken body; he studied the boy’s singed fur, his crushed hindleg. Just five days before, the boy’s mind had been near-cannibalized by Akiva. His lungs, too, were still coated in soot. Amidst all this, Asher wondered how Fey could still be so forthright; the Sylveon’s wet stare permeated Asher’s fiery mien. \n\n\t“Okay,” Asher relented. And cradling his head in his hands, he breathed: “Okay. Fine, I trust you. But… we’re going to have to think of a damn good plan for this. Okay? WIth lots of contingencies. We can not afford to let this go wrong.” \n\n\tA smile almost rose to Fey’s face; but quickly, it was replaced with a pained grimace. “Good,” he said. “Good, good.” And, with a labored breath, he managed to lower himself once more to the ground, his back facing the fire. Grimm and Sid shared concerned glances. \n\n\t“Well,” Grimm said. “I don’t like the idea of visiting this place, but… there are a few safety precautions we could take. Yaknow, to scope the place out beforehand.” \n\n\tAsher nodded. He was stooped over now, his hands cradled across his lap. “Okay,” he said. “What were you thinking?” \n\n\tGrimm coughed. “Well,” he began, “obviously we’ll have to travel at night. We can travel through the alleys, and hopefully avoid permit checks. Worst case, we run into some street ruffians, but… well, they won’t pose much of a problem.”\n\n\tThe Cinderace chuckled. He said, “I suppose not. I doubt many have received combat training.” \n\n\t“That said,” Grimm continued, “it’d be best if Fey stayed behind. Not only because he’d be liable to be hurt, but… well, I don’t think he could make it to the records hall in one piece. Not like this.” \n\n\tClearly hurt by the comment, Fey turned to face the fire. Tears welled in his eyes. And he said: “Fine. As long as we follow up on this, I guess I… I don’t need to be there. But I need you all to be as thorough as possible.” \n\n\tGrimm smiled. “Of course. We don’t really have a choice, do we?” And, clearing his throat, he added: “So, since I’m a Ghost type, I’ll be able to check the hall’s perimeter before we enter. If there is security patrolling the place, I’ll be able to spot them before they spot us… in theory.” \n\n\tSid asked: “In theory?” \n\n\tThe Gengar simply shrugged and explained: “I’m assuming they won’t have a Ghost type, too. Or a Dark type. Because if they do, they’ll spot us easier.” \n\n\t“I see.” Sid scratched his chin. “So no matter how we go about this, it’s risky.” \n\n\tAsher concurred. “Very risky,” he said. “I really wish we had someone like Rubrum or Maestro here for this. Especially with Maestro’s Dark type, he’s always been our crutch when it comes to stealth. Without him, we’re at a disadvantage.” \n\n\t“Not necessarily,” Sid said. His finger rested pensively on his lip, his eyes looking at nothing in particular. “My vines might be useful. We can lift ourselves up to high places – hell, I could even scale a small building if needed. That way, we can get a lookout before going in.” \n\n\tAsher smirked. “I see,” he said. “Sadly, I don’t offer very much in the way of stealth, but… if things get hairy, I’m good in a scrap. So we’re covered on that front.” \n\n\tGrimm nodded. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you fight,” he said. “Do you have any combat training?” \n\n\tNodding, Asher explained: “Standard curriculum for Fighting types includes basic training.” A furtive giggle, then: “And I’ve gotten into my fair share of scraps as a student, ha. Mostly over stupid shit. But, uh… nothing recent.” \n\n\tSilence ensued as the crew mulled over their options. Sid and Grimm struggled to envision the records hall’s environs, their eyes glued to the monochromatic picture. Asher, however, turned his eyes to Fey; the Sylveon laid there, motionless, staring at the fire. His flank barely rose and fell. \n\n\t“Fey,” Asher said. He petted the boy’s tender fur. “We’re gonna check this place out, okay? We’re not going to give up yet.” \n\n\t“Yeah.” \n\n\tAsher added: “I’m sorry for being so… stubborn.” He sighed, cursing himself for investigating such an obvious trap. “But I’m gonna keep you safe. I’m gonna keep us all safe, okay? And when I get back, we’ll plan our next move.” \n\n\tFey nodded, then paused. In a raspy voice, he said: “Okay. I love you.”\n\n\t“I love you too,” Asher replied. \n\n\n\n\n\tKane’s little arms flailed wildly as he attempted in vain to direct the lackeys above him. “Stack the boxes up like barricades,” he barked. “Like a wall. Like a damn… dam.” \n\n\tConfused, a Haunter poked his head over the pile of cardboard boxes and asked: “What’s a damn damn?”\n\n\t“No!” Kane snapped. “A dam. Like, the thing Bidoof make. Idiot.” Groaning, he then gritted his teeth and shouted: “Am I the only one with a brain around here? Fucking move it!” \n\nLike a swarm of Durants, six Ghost types scuttled around the bare records hall. Sequestered inside the warehouse on its backside, the party hurriedly constructed mounds of junk upon the catwalks on its second floor. Boxes, sandbags, desks, and tables; and behind each mound was just barely enough space for a single Pokémon to rest. Arranged in a circular pattern, the catwalks overlooked a central, well-lit spot on the warehouse floor. Smack-dab in the middle of it sat that tiny, insecure Gimmighoul. His hands white-knuckled golden coins and cigarettes, waving endlessly as his lips flapped. \n\n“I can see you,” Kane barked. “You! Misdreavus! I can see you over there. So make a damn better hiding spot.” \n\nHeaving a deep sigh from her chest, the Misdreavus wearily obeyed. Empty paint cans bolstered her meager fortification, drenched in shadow. Kane watched; the single overhead lamp, bright white, compromised his vision of the upper levels. He lazily held a hand over his eyes. \n\nFrom behind him, a fatigued voice spoke: “Are you sure you won’t need me around, sir?” \n\nAnd, annoyed by the question, Kane replied: “Need you? No, I don’t think I’ll need you.” He then turned around to face the Pokémon – a lanky Greninja, shrouded in moist blue skin and white plumes. The Greninja shot Kane a dirty look.\n\n“You seem displeased to still see me here,” the Greninja said. “But I’d like to remind you that, by helping you, I’m doing you a favor. A big one.” He sighed. “And if it’s not too hard for you, I’d prefer better manners.” \n\nKane, however, laughed at the assertion. “A favor?” he asked. “From you, Aoi? Sure. Yeah. A favor.”\n\n\t“I’m serious,” Aoi echoed. “If anyone else from the Board knew about this, you’d be in for the reaming of your life. Okay?” He smacked his lips and added: “Not to mention, this isn’t really the best plan.” \n\nKane opened his mouth wide, let out a groan. “Ooooh my Arceus. What do I pay you for, huh? To talk, or to work?” \n\nWith a stiff upper lip, Aoi simply replied: “My work is done. The perimeter is secured. The article’s been published.” He breathed in, then out. And with his chest puffed, he said: “And yet… my bank account is suspiciously light.” \n\n“Oh, that?” Kane didn’t bother looking at Aoi; with his back turned, he thrust a dismissive wave into the air and replied: “Half now, half later. That’s fair.” \n\nAoi’s eyes widened. He stated: “That wasn’t our deal.”\n\n“Yeah?” Kane asked. Still, his eyes remained fixated on a mound of coins by his feet. “And who’re you gonna cry to about it, hm? Is Maximus gonna listen to you?” He smiled. “Silly little Dark type. Don’t act beyond your station.” \n\n“I’m acting beyond my station?” Aoi spat. Despite his harsh tone, his posture remained upright and astute. “Says the Pokémon who’s scheming behind his allies’ backs. If they knew what you’re doing, they’d–” \n\nKane huffed: “And if they knew who helped out, what do you think they’d do?” Giggling at his own observation, he then added: “You’re just a jailor, Aoi. Please, for both our sakes, keep the talk below your pay grade. It’ll just make things easier.” \n\n“But–”\n\n“Besides,” the Gimmighoul continued, “it’s not like I’m leaving you out to dry. I just need a little leverage to ensure results. It’s not personal.” \n\nFurious words stewed within Aoi’s stomach. He quelled the upcoming wave of vitriol with a deep breath; and he said: “Do the others know about your… visits… to the jail?” \n\nFor just a moment, Kane stopped counting his coins; a single golden fleck fell from his hands, nearly spilled over the lip of his chest. And he replied: “What do you think?” \n\n“I don’t know,” the Greninja replied. He shuffled his feet. “That’s why I’m asking.” \n\nKane coughed. And in-between puffs of smoke, he exhaled: “Maximus knows. And that’s all that matters.”\n\n“I would’ve assumed,” Aoi said. His chest felt heavy. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” And with bated breath, he admitted: “You haven’t come around since Cassius died. I know you two had, uh… similar proclivities.” \n\n“Yeah.” For just a moment, Kane allowed nostalgia to tinge his voice. Tenderly, he asked: “Do you still have that one girl… the Dragonair? The one who did that thing with her tail.” \n\nAoi, however, was solemn in his answer. He said: “No. She died one month ago.” \n\n“Of what?” \n\n\tThe Greninja shrugged, asked: “Do you really care?” And, scooping his backpack from the ground, he affixed it to his back. Small baubles jingled from his chest – smoke bombs, shurikens, caltrops. His red eyes checked every last clip; and satisfied, he turned to leave. \n\n\t“Just for the record,” Aoi said, “this is a terrible idea, Kane. And if you fuck up, you might not survive the night.” \n\n\tKane guffawed: “What? You think I’m gonna let myself get killed? Like that fool Cassius?” \n\n\t“Yes,” Aoi replied. \n\n\t“Well, I’m not.” Kane threw a cigarette butt onto the cold cement ground. “I’m nothing like that asshole.” A cough. “You know what he did wrong? He charged right into the enemy. No thought, no strategy, nothing. Just like I said: He let himself get killed.” He lit another stick, let it hang from his mouth. “Some people… they think they’re invincible. Until they’re not, of course.” \n\n\tAmused, Aoi asked: “I take it you think you’re above that sort of thing?” \n\n\tEqually amused, the Gimmighoul replied: “I don’t just think it. I know it.” \n\n\n\n\nRising high, the surrounding rooftops offered a meager view of the abandoned records hall. Its front betrayed no activity; no light, no movement. From its front door hung a heavy chain, culminating in a chunky rusted lock. And like a thorax, a sizable warehouse protruded from the building’s torso. Grimm noted the warehouse’s distinct lack of windows. \n\nThrowing himself over the roof’s edge, the Gengar then slowly floated downward into an adjacent alley. Sid and Asher awaited his observations. \n\n“It looks fine,” Grimm told them. “Looks totally abandoned, just like the article said.” \n\nHand on his lip, Asher nodded intently. “Good,” he said. Exhaustion and hunger tinged his voice. “That’s one less thing to worry about. Granted, they could still be using Ghost or Dark types to covertly monitor the area.” \n\nGrimm shrugged at the possibility. He explained: “Yeah, but… I really didn’t see anyone. And my night vision is pretty strong. I’d have a good chance of seeing someone, even if they’re camouflaged.” He threw up his hands, flashed a toothy grin. “And judging by that old lock, I don’t think anyone is waiting inside. This place might just be abandoned after all.” \n\nFor a moment, Asher remained lost in thought. Desperately, he wanted to believe Grimm’s judgment; but something about this whole situation seemed particularly suspicious. Despite their precautions, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. That someone, somewhere, knew exactly what they were doing.\n\nPutting the feeling aside, Asher whispered: “Okay. We’ll move in closer, then. But keep an eye out for anything.” And, with a silent gesture, he ordered the trio to move across the street. Like phantoms, the robe-clad boys hurried themselves across the cobble, then crowded in front of the front door. Asher could already feel his palms warming.\n\n“Stand back,” he warned. And from beneath his cloak, the Cinderace revealed a pair of white-hot paws, which he then laid calmly upon the dilapidated chain. In only a few moments, he was able to push his hands through the molten iron; he just barely caught the lunking lock before it fell to the ground. \n\nLaying the mess down, Asher then quickly opened the double doors; and as expected, those rusty hinges broke the silence… violently. In a fit of near-panic, Asher squeezed through the tiny gap in the doorway. Grimm and Sid followed in-tow, plunging themselves into the building’s dark interior. Scant moonlight illuminated a faint path forward; thinking fast, Asher lit a small ember upon his fingertip. Grimm, too, employed a small Dazzling Gleam. Each of their eyes scanned frantically for any signs of movement; but they saw nothing. Asher breathed a sigh of relief, then softly shut the door behind them.\n\n“Okay,” the Cinderace whispered. “Spread out. We have a lot of ground to cover.”\n\n\tAnd indeed they did. The hall’s interior had the appearance of a grand bank; just beyond the door laid a long desk where Labor Bureau employees once stood. Velvet ropes, some fallen, some stained, still demarcated where the line would begin and end. And beyond that facade remained the building’s rotted guts – lines and lines of typewriters, storage cabinets, lamps, and drawers, culminating in a tiny corner office. In its heyday, this place was filled with the chatter and bustle of busy Pokémon. \n\n“This place is fucking old,” Sid muttered. He dipped his head under the ropes, lifted himself onto the secretarial desk, and asked: “Anything stick out?” \n\nGrimm, however, caught nothing of interest. He swiveled his head around the space and remarked: “If we were to find anything, it’d be in one of these drawers… probably.” Effortlessly, he phased himself through the desk and emerged on the other side. “We should probably check there first.” \n\nAsher, however, was unexpectedly preoccupied. He hopped the counter with surprising ease, but soon became fixated on the building’s walls. Water-damaged and peeling, some old posters still remained affixed to the cold stone. The sight made his stomach sink, his eyebrows upturn.\n\n“Fuck,” he said. “Everyone looks so happy.” \n\nSid asked, “Who does?” \n\n“Look.” And Asher motioned toward the myriad papers, splattered haplessly, rising toward the vaulted ceiling. “It’s the Board.” \n\nThe sight, too, stirred Sid’s stomach. Before him laid the face of a joyous Maximus, spoons upraised, mouth contorted into a wide smile. His moustache was shorter; his eyes vibrant. And Sid said: “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Maximus portrayed like this.” \n\nAsher shrugged. He replied: “I guess nowadays they want him to appear… stronger-looking.” \n\n“You think?” Sid asked. “But he’s so angry now on the posters. Like he’s always constipated.” \n\nThe Cinderace, however, brushed the comment aside. His eyes glazed over the veritable peanut gallery of faces, one-by-one. Iris the Ninetales, holding an unfurled law scroll with an outstretched paw; an announcement of Cassius’s recent election, his big eyes filled with hope; Chairman Kane, surrounded by a mountain of glistening coins, claiming responsibility for Augusta’s recent prosperity. Each poster had been printed long before Asher had hatched. \n\n“See ‘em?” Sid asked. Without warning, he laid a hand on Asher’s back, causing the boy to flinch. “These assholes have been around for a century now. More, actually,” he said. He then laid a glob of spit onto the ground and added: “Look at how hopeful they are, huh? Like everything was gonna be good forever.”\n\nAsher, however, wasn’t listening. He leaned closer, allowing his gaze to run along the posters’ seams. Nestled between two prints of Maximus’s jolly face, prominent over a field of sick beds, stood an unexpected Decidueye. He wore a serious expression. One wing extended, he beckoned toward the viewer, as if drawing them in. Below him was the near-illegible slogan: ‘Sullivan Says: Universal Healthcare for All!’ \n\nNoticing Asher’s gaze, Sid asked: “You looking at the bird?” \n\n“Yeah,” the rabbit replied. He frowned and said: “I forgot Akiva wasn’t always the Chair of Welfare. But… I guess not everyone can just hang around for a century.” \n\nSid nodded solemnly. He thought for a moment, bit his lip, and added: “I have always wondered how the Board managed to live so long.” \n\nAsher tapped his foot on the dirty ground. “It’s not unheard of for certain Pokémon to live to see a century,” he said. “Maybe the Board just hires long-living Pokémon. Yaknow, like Psychic and Ghost types.” \n\nA smirk rose to Sid’s face. “You really believe that?” he asked. \n\n“I don’t know,” Asher muttered. His eyes narrowed. “Do you?”\n\nShaking his head, Sid stated: “All I’m saying is, it’s a big coincidence. They’re all in very good shape for their age.” \n\nAsher was silent. He pondered his memories of the Board; all the times he’d met them during student meet-and-greets, ceremonies, and speeches. And he said: “I don’t know, Sid. I’ve seen them age. They look considerably older now than they did then.” He then pointed at Cassius and said: “I mean, look at Cassius here. He’s still a Rhydon.” \n\n“So you don’t think they found the fountain of youth?” \n\nAsher scoffed at the assertion. He replied: “No, I think they have world-class healthcare.” He then gulped, added: “But… well, if they’re trying to make Pokémon-human hybrids, then it’s possible they did something to extend their lives.” \n\nSid chuckled. “Something,” he echoed. “Very scientific of you.” \n\n“Very,” Asher said. And, having satisfied his curiosity, he set to work dissecting the myriad drawers below. Their hinges squeaked with every little tug; however, Asher was distressed to find that most of their innards had long since been gutted. Few papers remained; and those which remained suffered intense water damage. More than once, Asher tugged open a drawer, only to unveil a chunk of wet, dissolved paper. He groaned. \n\nTo his side, Sid did much the same. His vines darted deftly along the cracks and sinews of those metal boxes, prying them open, splaying them wide; but he found only trash. Rusted tools, stained folders, and detritus gathered in these long-abandoned receptacles. \n\n“I’m not finding anything,” Sid said. He then turned to Asher and asked: “How about you?” \n\nAsher shook his head and replied: “Nothing. I can barely find any papers, let alone any about the Spear.” With a sigh, he attempted to push the drawer shut; the handle then disintegrated in his grasp, its flakes tumbling onto the floor. Asher wiped the residue on his pants with an annoyed grimace. \n\nCupping his hands together, Sid then yelled: “Hey, Grimm! You find anything?” \n\nAnd like a frightened animal, Grimm poked his head from the main office. “No,” he announced. “Nothing really. Well, except for one thing.” \n\nAsher’s ears perked. He turned to face Grimm, asked: “What? You found something?” \n\nGrimm frowned. “It’s hard to explain. Just… come here,” he said. And without another word, the spectre disappeared beyond the doorframe. The pitter-patter of his tiny feet betrayed his excitement. And, looking at one another, Asher and Sid followed in-tow. Stepping over mounds of broken typewriters, dirt, and papers, they made their way toward the corner office.\n \nAnd, peeking their heads in, they could hardly believe the mess; as if the place had been pillaged, every little inch of the place was thrown about. Two filing cabinets, damaged beyond repair, had been battered into the wall; bricks poked out from the resultant hole like broken teeth, a permanent indent in the mortar. Stray wires hung from the ceiling like arteries. \n\n“Arceus,” Asher breathed. He covered his mouth, attempting to shield himself from the dust, and said: “This place has seen better days.” \n\nGrimm nodded; he stood on a pile of rubble, overlooked the tiny office. And with a flick of his wrist, he pointed toward a desk pressed against the room’s back. “Look on the desk,” he said. “I found that note glued to the underside.” \n\nAsher’s gaze then fell upon the page. Criss-crossed with sparse lettering, it appeared to have been torn from a notebook. Climbing over mounds of debris, Asher carefully stepped toward it; and once he’d reached the desk, he fingered the fragile page and read it aloud: \n\n“Dispose of all references to ongoing projects within the Academy Labor Bureau. Development of the Keys is going well, with the exception of Victory. With any luck, we will never need a ‘Ceres’ again. Alpha and Omega are nearly in the same place.” Asher took an unsteady breath, then added: “That’s it. And, uh, the page is signed by… just the letter ‘A.’”\n\nSid’s brow narrowed. Peeking in from the door, his little hands wrapped around the frame, he asked: “Does that note make sense to either of you?” \n\nGrimm shook his head. “No,” he said. “It makes no sense. Not really.” \n\nStowing the page carefully in his bag, Asher asked: “You found this under the desk?” \n\n“Glued to the underside of the desk, yeah,” Grimm explained. He gritted his teeth. “But I have no clue why it’s even here. Or what it’s talking about.” \n\nAwkwardly, Asher hopped over the dust-encrusted obstacles on the floor. And taking another look around at the wreckage, he said: “Maybe someone was trying to find this note before us.” \n\nSid scoffed. “Really?” he asked. “You think that’s why this room is trashed? It could just as easily have been a group of hoodlums.” \n\n“Maybe,” Asher said. His finger rested thoughtfully on his lip, his feet meandering toward a set of double doors toward the back of the records hall. “But the note was pretty clear, right? All references to… projects… were supposed to be thrown out. And they all were, except for… well, this note itself.” \n\nStruggling to keep up with Asher’s pace, Sid dashed alongside Asher’s heels. “In any case, the note is kinda useless,” he whined. “It’s super cryptic. Alpha and Omega. What’s that supposed to mean, anyway?” \n\n“I dunno,” Asher said. His head downturned, he wracked his brains for any ideas. Alpha, Omega, Victory, Ceres… none of those words seemed to ring a bell. They were codenames, probably, left intentionally anonymous. Except for–\n\n“Ceres Square?” Sid asked. He picked his teeth with his vine. “That’s all I can think about. Cuz they were talking about Ceres and all.”\n\nThe Cinderace sighed. “Yeah,” he conceded. “Maybe it has something to do with Ceres Square. But… something tells me this runs much deeper.” The boy then took a deep breath, ran his fingers through his hair, and said: “Okay, I guess we’ve swept the front of the building thoroughly enough. Are you all ready to go into the warehouse?” \n\nAsher looked to Sid for approval; then, to Grimm. But the Gengar stared askance, clearly preoccupied. So Asher asked once more: “Grimm, are you ready?” \n\n“No,” the ghost replied. “I’m sorry, but something is wrong.” \n\nSid raised an eyebrow. And stomping his little foot, he asked: “What? What do you mean?” \n\nGazing at the doors, Grimm paused. Then, he admitted: “I feel something beyond the door. Ghost Pokémon, I think. I’m pretty sure.” \n\nSid rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure?” He sighed. “Last time you said that, you thought ghosts invaded our bathroom at the hostel. Are you sure?” \n\n“Yes,” Grimm snapped. “Yes, I’m completely sure. There are Ghost types beyond that door. A few, at least.” \n\nAsher raised an eyebrow. He let loose a nervous laugh and asked: “Wait. Wait, wait. Could you not sense these Pokémon from outside?”\n\nThe Gengar scoffed. “No,” he said. “This place is huge, Asher. I don’t think any Ghost type could detect someone from that far away.” \n\n“I see,” Asher breathed. His eyes widened, his breathing sped, as he considered his options. “Fuck, alright. Well, we’ve been pretty loud in here… which means that, if there are Ghost types, they probably know we’re here.” He coughed up a plume of dust. “Which raises the question… if there are Ghost types in this building, why haven’t they come out to meet us?” \n\nSid shrugged, remarked: “Maybe they’re scared.” \n\n“No,” the Gengar explained. “Any group of regular Ghost types would’ve attacked us by now. Especially if they thought they outnumbered us.” He scratched at his head. “There must be something different about this group. They could be peaceful, maybe.”\n \nAsher sucked in air through his teeth. “For our sakes, let’s assume they’re belligerent,” he said. “Now, assuming they know we’re here, tell me… why would a group of Ghost types refrain from attacking their targets immediately?” \n\nSilence ensued as the group thought the matter through. Asher shot tepid glances toward the cold steel doors, suddenly dreading what laid beyond. The entire back half of the hall was windowless, meaning they couldn’t see inside from their perch across the street. \n\n“Maybe it’s a trap,” Asher posited. “Like a tripwire, set for intruders.” \n\nGrimm waved away the possibility. “No, no,” he said. “Ghost types have better tricks up our sleeves than some little trap. We need to think differently.” \n\nSid’s eyes widened. “Ambush,” he whispered. “They might be planning an ambush.” \n\nThe suggestion put Asher on edge. An ambush would make sense, he thought, given the surrounding darkness. As soon as that door opened, those Pokémon might attack; the best choice, it seemed, was to launch a preemptive strike. \n\n“We might be forced to attack first,” the Cinderace breathed. “If we just wait for these Pokémon to attack us, we’ll be sitting Psyduck.”\n\nSid scoffed. “But what if they’re peaceful? We’d be instigating conflict for no reason,” he said. “Use your head. We should open the door a little first, just to see what’s going on in there.” \n\nAnd so the couple bickered. Asher tapped an impatient, flat foot against the cement, his hands on his hips. The Snivy, in turn, gave an indignant stare at the paranoid bunny. Locked in a silent argument, they struggled not to raise their voices.\n\nDisinterested, Grimm looked off. He turned his head around, searched for anything they could’ve missed. The office was busted – nothing there. Those rows and rows of broken typewriters were useless, too. The cabinets, the drawers, the desks… they were all useless. Even the note they found was too cryptic to be of use. \n\nThen, in the corner of his eye, Grimm spotted something. Riding along the ceiling was a barely noticeable strip of light, just barely peeking through an open window thirty feet above the steel doors. A dark curtain curtailed its glow, near-closed, except for a small slit. \n\n“Guys,” Grimm hissed. “Shut up. Shut up. Look.” The Gengar then pointed upward, toward the tiny window – just big enough for a tiny Pokémon to fit through. “You see it, right? There’s a little light peeking through up there. I think there’s a curtain blocking it.” \n\nAsher’s jaw dropped at the sight. “Fuck,” he said. His ears quivered with excitement. “You’re right. There’s a window up there. And there’s light.” \n\n“Which means Grimm is probably right,” Sid complained. “There are Pokémon behind this door. And they’re probably waiting for us. We haven’t exactly been quiet.” \n\nThe Cinderace frowned. “Fuck,” he breathed. “No matter how you look at it, we’re at a really big disadvantage. We’re outnumbered, and we could be walking right into a trap. But we have to check everywhere.” He pointed a limp finger at the door. “The key to decoding that note might be in that warehouse. We can’t afford to leave without it.” \n\n“Right,” Grimm breathed. A resolute frown stretched across his round face. “Well, I can float up to the window and take a peek. That way, we’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”\n\nSid nodded. “That sounds like a good idea,” he whispered. “Do some recon, love. But don’t linger, alright?” \n\n“Yeah,” Grimm breathed. He then shot a glance at Asher’s face – solemn, scared. “I can do that,” he echoed. And with a huff, the Ghost type then began his ascent; up, up, up, as his body slowly dissipated into shadowy gas. Having reached the tiny window, Grimm then reached a trembling hand toward its curtain; and with bated breath, he pushed it aside, just enough to peek through. \n\n Immediately, Grimm’s stomach dropped. After only a few seconds, he began to float downward, until he was once more in front of the other two. And with unsteady breath, he whispered: “Kane is in there.” \n\nAsher’s face went white. “K–Kane?” he echoed. “Like, Chairman Kane? From the Board?” \n\n“Yeah,” Grimm explained. “He’s in the middle of the room, under a bright lamp. Just… sitting there. Waiting.” \n\nSid grimaced. His leafy tail whipped against the ground. He said: “Okay, that’s one Ghost type. What about the others?”\n\n“There are a few waiting on the catwalks above,” Grimm said. He squinted his eyes as he attempted to recall the details. “I–I panicked, so I didn’t get the best look. But there seems to be around… five or six of them. And they’re all hiding.” \n\nAsher looked askance; internally, he could feel his stomach curdle at the realization. All three of them had walked into a trap. He was right – the article, the seemingly abandoned building… it was all a ploy to lure them here. Kane knew they wouldn’t be able to resist. \n\n“Fuck,” Asher spat. He held his head in his paws. “Fuck, fuck. This is bad. This is really bad.” \n\nThe Snivy raised an eyebrow. “Bad?” he asked. “Sure, it’s not ideal, but… we can still walk away. No harm done.” \n\n“And lead them back to our hostel?” Asher shot back. He pounded his paws together in frustration. “Even if we left now, we wouldn’t be able to tell if one of them followed us in the dark. And I am not… I’m not putting Fey in any more danger.” He frowned. “We have to get rid of these Pokémon somehow.”\n\nGrimm scoffed. “But how?” he asked. “Are we just supposed to fall into their trap and hope they treat us nicely?” \n\n“No,” Asher replied. Heat emanated from his mouth, his core hot with frustration. “The only way we win this is if we launch a preemptive strike. Instead of walking into their trap, we need to think of our own.” And with a folded paw, he motioned for Grimm, asked: “Tell me. What Pokémon did you see?” \n\nGrimm furrowed his brow and asked: “How’s that relevant?”\n\n“Just tell me.” \n\nAnd shrugging, the Gengar explained: “Uh… I saw a Misdreavus, a Shuppet, a Gastly… oh, and a Haunter.” He hummed. “I’m sorry. That’s all I remember.” \n\nAsher, however, seemed intrigued by this information. He asked: “Really? That’s all you saw?” \n\nSid rolled his eyes, clicked his tongue. “What do you mean, ‘That’s all?’ They still outnumber us. Knowing their species doesn’t change anything.” \n\n“Yes it does,” Asher replied. He stared at the ground, chewing on his nails, his movements jittery. “Don’t either of you think it’s weird that none of them are fully evolved?” \n\nSid shrugged. “Not really,” he said. “Lots of Pokémon choose to stay unevolved. I did.” \n\n“But they’re part of a fighting team,” Asher contended. “Up until this point, when we’ve faced enemies, they’ve always been at least middle evolutions.” he raised a finger in the air and continued: “Like when we broke into the Board office, we faced a Kirlia and a Mr. Mime. And in his letters, Maestro said he faced mostly fully evolved Pokémon in Haliford.” He paused, breathed out. “So why are these Pokémon so weak?” \n\nGrimm pondered the question. “Maybe these are reserve Pokémon,” he posited. “Like, maybe the other Pokémon were occupied. The fully evolved ones, I mean.” \n\nAsher shook his head in reply. “No, no. That doesn’t make sense,” he whispered. “Chairman Kane is… well, a chairman. He should have access to the best. Only the best.” He furrowed his brow. “So why is he mingling with these… amateurs? They didn’t even secure the window right. You almost snuck right in.” \n\nThe little Snivy smirked. He teased: “So what, they’re bad at their jobs? How’s that our problem?” \n\n“It’s not a problem,” Asher replied. His tail shook with excitement. “It’s just weird. Do neither of you find that weird?”\n\nGrimm raised a tiny hand. “It is weird,” he said. “Now that I think about it, those little fortifications on the catwalk looked… amateur. Bad, actually. Barely hid anything, and they looked suspicious as hell from the outside.” \n\n“So… what does this have to do with anything?” Sid asked. He donned a screwy smile. “I mean, does it mean they’re weak?”\n\nAsher slapped his palms together, replied: “It means Kane had slim pickings when putting together this team. Look at how few Pokémon he could muster, and how weak they are…” He chuckled. “There’s only one explanation. He must not be working with his usual resources.” \n\nSid scoffed. “And why’s that?” \n\n“There’s a chance he’s doing this on his own,” Asher explained. “Without help. From anyone.” His voice became frantic, excited. “It explains everything. Why they set up such half-baked ambush. Why there are so few of them. And… why they’re all unevolved.” He smiled, added: “Why else would Kane need an ambush, right? If he were confident in his team, he would’ve captured us as soon as we neared the building.”\n\nThe group took a moment to think about Asher’s assertion. It certainly made sense – if Kane were better prepared, he likely wouldn’t have bothered with such a roundabout trap. A few elite soldiers would have handily captured them all. But, on the other hand… if they assumed wrongly, any plan of theirs would be easily foiled.\n\nGrimm gnashed his pointed teeth, looked askance. “So, what do we do?” he asked. “Assuming everything you’re saying is true – which it might not be… what can we even do with this information?” \n\nAsher replied with a simple grin. \n\nHe said: “I’ll tell you.”\n\n\n\nAs the dual steel doors swung open, a discordant harmony sang throughout the warehouse; and in the empty frame stood a lone shadow, back straight, arms laid calmly at his sides. The sight made Kane giddy. His gambit had worked.\n\n“Asher,” the little Gimmighoul greeted. “It’s so nice of you to join me.” He then gestured lazily, asked: “You didn’t bring your friends?” \n\nThe Cinderace frowned. Mustering some semblance of surprise, he replied: “Chairman Kane. I didn’t expect to see you.” He then took a deep breath and admitted: “Well, I would’ve brought them, but Fey’s a little indisposed. Akiva saw to that.” \n\n“What about Maestro? Rubrum?” \n\nAsher scoffed, then asked: “Do you really care?” \n\n“Not really,” Kane admitted. Light from the ceiling lamp glinted off his coins. He then tilted his head, beckoned forward, and said: “Aren’t you going to come in?” \n\nAsher nodded in response. He swallowed saliva, crossed his arms, and said: “Of course. Let’s… talk.” He managed a cocky smirk. “I’ve been wanting to have a little heart-to-heart with you, actually.” \n\nKane proved surprisingly receptive to the idea. “I’ve been wanting the same,” he admitted. “Come closer. I want to get a look at you.” \n\nAnd, as requested, Asher slowly edged closer. Emerging from the darkness into the bright artificial light, his scowl was now clearly revealed. He donned a dark leather hat, his body criss-crossed with tiny satchels. Kane was delighted to finally lay eyes upon him. \n\n“So this is the little troublemaker who’s been causing us so many problems,” Kane growled. “You don’t look so tough, hm?”\n\n“Appearances can be deceiving,” the Cinderace replied. \n\nKane laughed at the thinly veiled threat. “Of course they can be,” he said. “Of course, of course.” \n\nFor just a moment, Asher flicked his gaze toward the catwalks. There, in the corner of his eye, he could just barely detect Grimm and Sid sneaking through the open window; eager to draw attention, Asher asked: “So… what did you want to talk about?” \n\n“Everything,” Kane replied. A shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Tell me, and be honest. Why are you all really doing this?” \n\nAsher huffed. “Really?” he asked. “That’s your question?”\n\n“That’s my question, yes.” \n\nThe Cinderace took a deep breath, then admitted: “We’re doing this because you’re sadistic tyrants. For over a century, you’ve been killing anyone who opposes you, then covering it up.” \n\nKane huffed at those words, seemingly frustrated. He spat: “Oh, Arceus. This is about Cassius, isn’t it? In Haliford?” \n\n“Cassius isn’t the only killer among you.”\n\n“Wasn’t,” Kane corrected. He seemed quite pleased with himself. “Past tense. He’s dead now.” \n\n“So I’ve heard,” Asher said. “Maestro must’ve really done a number on him.” \n\nKane nodded, picking at his lip. “That he did, that he did,” he echoed. “But… well, I think I should let you know something. Something pertinent to you.”\n\n“And that is?” \n\nThe little ghoul gave a devilish grin. And he revealed: “Maestro didn’t kill Cassius. Maximus did.”\n\nAsher’s jaw dropped; he was caught completely off-guard by the accusation. To his side, Sid and Grimm disappeared behind he first catwalk barricade. And the rabbit barked: “Bullshit.” \n\n“It’s true.” Kane laughed at the absurdity of it all. “Last I heard, Cassius was due to make a full recovery. And then one day, Maximus visits his room, and…” Fear flashed on his face, replaced by blind glee. “Well, he wasn’t recovering anymore.”\n \nA ball of lead churned in Asher’s stomach. His lip quivering, his little tail whipping, he asked: “Wh–why are you telling me this?” \n\n“Because I sense we’re similar,” Kane said. “And I want you to know what I’m dealing with.” He sighed, broke eye contact. Insecurity flashed on his face. “Chairman Maximus is… he’s strong. Stronger than any of us, or any of you. Okay? And…” He seemed to be at a loss for words. “It’s better to be allied with Maximus than against him. Do you understand?” \n\nAsher’s eyes narrowed. “So you think that justifies all the shit you do? All the shit all of you do?” \n\n“You’re not listening.” \n\n“No, you’re not listening.” Asher’s fists balled. “You might not think you’re culpable in this just because you’re an accountant. But you are.” Asher took another step forward. “Think about how many soldiers you paid to kill innocent Pokémon over in Haliford. Was that not your fault?” \n\nKane laughed. “This is so… okay, you want me to really explain how things are?” He stood from his throne upon the pile of coins, gestured around himself. “Do you see this hall? Do you know who built it? Us. Think of every bite of food you’ve ever eaten. Who regulated the harvest and sale of it all? Us.” He rolled his eyes at Asher’s feet. “We’ve ruled over every nook and cranny of this academy for over a century. Can you even imagine that? We were euthanizing assholes just like you eighty years before you were even born.” \n\n“Yeah,” Asher replied. “I know. I saw your little underground lab.” \n\nThe mention of it made Kane groan. “Ohhhhh my Arceus,” he complained. “All that alpha and omega bullshit. What a fucking mess.” \n\nAsher’s ears perked. “Alpha and–” \n\n“--My point is,” Kane interrupted, “I’m trying to spare you, kid.” He put his fingers behind his head, as if mimicking rabbit ears. “So put your listening ears on, okay? Reality check! Maximus owns fucking everything.” He wore a tight scowl. “Do you know how fucking long I’ve been trying to do things differently? He treats us like we’re nothing. Less than nothing. And somehow, he treats his enemies even worse.” With a sigh, he warned: “Look, you do not want to be on his bad side.”\n\n“And yet I am,” Asher said. His eyes flickered toward the catwalk – Sid and Grimm silently treaded across, headed for the next mound of rubbish. \n\nOblivious to Asher’s gaze, Kane continued: “I can offer you a way out.” He hung a pointed finger toward Asher’s gut, asked: “You’re hungry, aren’t you? You look skinnier than in the photos. It must be hard for you to get food.” \n\nThe statement struck an unexpected chord with Asher. Awkwardly shuffling his feet, he shot back: “What does that matter?” \n\n“Well,” Kane said, “if you helped us out instead of fighting us, then I could ensure your safety. All of your safeties.” Another shit-eating grin. “All the food, water, and warm beds you could want. What do you think of that?”\n\nAsher frowned. The thought of such luxuries made him squirm. He didn’t want to entertain the notion, but if it kept Kane talking… well, it was worth it. So in a tepid tone, he asked: “Tell me… if I did consider your offer, what would that mean for me?” \n\nKane gave a confident chuckle. He admitted: “Well, the specifics are up for debate, of course. But I can assure your safety. You have my guarantee.” He cleared his throat. “Of course, we’d like some information in return.” \n\nAsher tilted his head, gritted his teeth. It caused him physical pain to speak so amicably. But nonetheless, he asked: “Like what?” \n\n“Well, for one, the locations of all your friends,” Kane blathered. “I mean, the offer is open to all of them. They’d be fools not to take it.” \n\n“Right…”\n\nKane swept his hand around the room. He continued: “And, of course, I’d need to know everything you know. And everyone who’s helped you. Just for a little added security. You understand.” \n\n“Yeah,” Asher breathed. He managed to nod, his lips just barely holding back the urge to curse. “But, um… before we get into all that… I have a question for you. If that’s alright.” \n\n“Shoot.” \n\nScrambling through his mind for topics, Asher finally asked: “Why do you seem so… upset, with Maximus?” \n\nKane rolled his eyes, as if the answer were self-evident. He replied: “The better question is… why aren’t I upset with him?” He sighed, then continued: “Don’t get me wrong. It takes a certain type of man to do what he does. But he’s damn insane. Fucking…” He waved his hand in the air. “Him, Iris, and I should all be equals. But what does he do? Delegate all of the most boring, inconsequential crap. To us.” He slammed his fists down. “Fucking criminal! We should be a damn triumvirate, not this stupid bullshit. Pill-popping little…” \n\nA small rumble sounded from the catwalk – the sound of a Pokémon’s head hitting the metal grating, then slumping to the floor. Asher tensed, attempting desperately not to avert his gaze from Kane’s little eyes; the self-absorbed ghoul didn’t even notice. \n\nAsher then nodded, duly surprised at Kane’s divulgence of such sensitive information. He asked: “And, providing I take your deal, what place would we have in this… triumvirate? Me and my friends, I mean.” \n\nKane assured: “Whatever place you’d like.” He flashed a malicious grin. “I’ve already gotten approval from my superiors.” \n\n“Have you?” Asher asked. “Because I have a sneaking suspicion you didn’t.” \n\nThe Gimmighoul leaned back, affronted. “Excuse me?” \n\nAsher took another step forward – he was becoming dangerously close. “I don’t think you told your superiors that you’re here. I think you’re all alone.” \n\nKane was taken aback by the sudden change in tone. He said: “Come on, kid. Anger doesn’t look good on you.” \n\nAsher stepped forward once more. “Doesn’t it?”\n\n“Are you trying to intimidate me?” the Gimmighoul barked. “Because I assure you, this won’t go down the way you think.” \n\nNow it was the Cinderace’s turn to smile. He stepped forward again – nearly within arm’s reach – and remarked: “I think it will.”\n\n \tWhat happened next was a blur. Reaching up into the air, as if raising a blade, Kane bellowed: “Go! Now!” And down from the rafters came his cavalry – a glorious stampede, consisting of a single Haunter, claws greedily outstretched, falling ungracefully from the catwalk. For just a moment, a Night Shade began to emerge from his gaseous body – but from Grimm’s outstretched hand came a mid-air Shadow Ball. It flew from his palm with ease, knocked against the Haunter’s cheek, and sent the poor monster flying against the cement wall. His face knocked against it with a wet splat, his body collapsing onto the ground. Kane was left in astonished silence, his cheeks reddening. \n\nAsher, arms crossed, asked: “Anyone else you want to call for help?”\n\nKane, however, found himself at a loss for words. Emotions traveled through him at lightspeed – disbelief, fear, and fury. He flailed his arms against his makeshift throne, his little belly pulled taut. “No!” he cried. “No, no, no! You’re not… you’re not doing this to me!” \n\nCalmly, Grimm and Sid then descended from the catwalk. The Gengar floated down, while the Snivy propelled using his vines. Obscenities flowed from Kane’s sputtering mouth. \n\n“You fucking assholes!” he shouted. His arms quivered. “Do you have any clue what you just did? Huh? Do you have any clue at all?” \n\nAsher let out a cocky chuckle. “You mean, pre-empting your pathetic ambush? You left the damn window open.” He raised his hands, preparing to drop air quotes. “Your ‘soldiers’ didn’t see what hit them.” \n\nKane gnashed his teeth. “You’re going to pay for this,” he said. “When the Board finds out about this, they are going to kill you. Another smudge on the damn floor, you little brat–” \n\nThe Cinderace, however, wasn’t listening. Like a teacher scolding a child, he lowered himself to a squat, levelling himself with the Gimmighoul. And he said: “Okay. Now’s the part where we talk for real. Sound good to you?” \n\n“Maximus is going to turn your skin inside-out,” Kane threatened. “He’s going to tear your mind apart with a fucking glance.” \n\nAsher smirked. “You’re such a pussy,” he spat. “You hate this man so much, and yet you’ve been his lapdog for over a century. How’s it feel to have no spine?”\n\n“I don’t know,” Kane shot back. “How’s it feel to have a cripple for a boyfriend?” \n\nThose words enraged Asher. He could feel the warmth building in his core, spreading throughout his arms, his legs, his clenched paws. But despite that, despite his fatigue, his hunger, his lack of sleep, he said: “Tell me about alpha and omega. Now.” \n\nKane giggled. His demeanor utterly mismatched his situation. And he teased: “Or what, hm? Are you going to kill me?” Another giggle. “Asshole. If you lay a single finger on me, Maximus will be hunting for you even harder than he has been.” He shrugged, hands outstretched on either side. “Face it, kid. You’re fucked. All of you. You’re in no position to negotiate.” \n\n“Alpha. And. Omega.” Asher dug into his bag, flashed the ancient paper in front of Kane’s face. “What does this mean? And what does it have to do with the Spear?”\n\nKane rolled his eyes. “The Spear this, the Spear that… does no one in this fucking country think about anything else?”\n\n“Talk.” \n\n“Or what?” Kane barked. “What’ll you do, hm? Because obviously, you don’t know who you’re talking to. So let me clue you in.” He leaned forward, every word a breathy hiss. “Every weapon the soldiers wielded in that little podunk feral village? Mine. Every single payout this city has ever seen? Mine. The wages we pay our employees? Mine.” He then leaned back, affronted. “I own all of you! I fucking made you! None of you would be alive without me managing your entire fucking economy! Okay? You’re nothing! I might as well be a fucking god to you because you’re so small!” \n\nAsher remained stone-faced. He hovered the page just beyond Kane’s reach, his breaths steady, as he repeated: “Talk.” \n\n“Why, so you can get revenge for your little boytoy?” Kane laughed nervously. “That fucking ingrate. Did you see what he did to our Faith Symposium? Eight months of work, down the drain. We should’ve skinned that dirty animal.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Asher. “I know he had help, too. Humans, ferals, I don’t give a fuck – I know he had help.” \n\nAsher’s maw twitched. Deftly, he stashed the paper away, gripped the edges of Kane’s chest. Its metal frame heated under his grasp. The word fell again from his lips: “Talk.” \n\n“He’s going to die,” the Gimmighoul bluffed. “We have teams sweeping the entire city. Right now. Checking every single hostel, every alley. And you know what we’ll do when we catch him?” Kane smiled. “We have a nice little prison beneath the Academy. He’ll be taken there, and we’ll make him wish he were dead.” \n\nThe Cinderace grimaced. Flat teeth burgeoned from beneath his snarling lips. “Tell me about the Spear,” he whispered, “or you will die tonight. Are we clear?” \n\nKane simply snickered. “Really? Did I strike a chord?” he mocked. “You’re scared for him, aren’t you? You’re scared we’ll find him.” \n\n“Shut. Up.” \n\n“And what if I don’t?” Kane mocked. “Let’s face it. If you kill me, you’ll have the Board on your ass by morning.” He glanced at his hand, casually picking at his tiny claws. “This little rebellion is useless, anyhow. Your boyfriend is probably going to die from an infection soon. And even if he lives, I’ll be hacking off his head in a week.” He grinned. “Maybe I’ll even let you watch. Would you like that?” \n\nFury and sadness mingled upon Asher’s maw. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes, his hands shaking, warmth spreading from his palms into the golden coins at Kane’s feet. “You destroyed my life,” Asher spat. “I don’t have a home. I don’t have a job. I can’t sleep. My friends are… they’re…”\n\n\t“And whose fault is that?” Kane asked. He narrowed his eyes, a sinister grin upon his flat head. “Face it, kid. You’re in way over your head. So let’s just–”\n\n \tBut before Kane could finish, Asher had already released his grip on Kane’s chest. Deliberately, slowly, he then moved his paws to Kane’s face, holding it gently. Frustration curdled within his chest, choked his throat. Kane gave an apprehensive smirk. \n\n“What?” the little man teased. “Are you gonna fry me? Huh?” \n\nAsher choked back tears. “You’ve made my life hell,” he said. “I had a life, and you took it away from me. Tell me what you know .” \n\nHeat emanated from Asher’s palms – a low, steady heat, like a comfortable fire. Kane remained undeterred. He said: “You’re pathetic. Are you going to warm me to death?”\n\n“Asher,” Grimm interjected. He stood awkwardly behind the pair of them, his arms crossed, his stance anxious. He shot nervous glances toward Asher, then back at the doors. “Maybe we should just go. We’ve dispatched his underlings, so no one will follow us–” \n\nThe Cinderace shook his head. With a shaky voice, he barked: “No! We can’t go until we get what we came here for.” \n\nSid sighed. He said, “Asher–”\n\n\t“No!” Asher then gripped Kane’s face tighter. Frightened desperation made his eyes wild. “I’m not letting Fey’s injuries be in vain. Never… I’m never letting him get hurt again.” \n\nThe heat in Asher’s palms was growing unpleasant now; nonetheless, Kane mustered a strong face. And in the face of his demise, he spat: “How about this, hm? Let go of my head now, and maybe I’ll consider not lobotomizing your boy toy.” \n\nAsher’s hands shook. His spine arched, his breaths unsteady, as he curled himself over the Gimmighoul’s chest. “Stop it,” he muttered. “Stop it, stop it…” \n\nKane then gripped Asher’s fat fingers. Weakly, he tugged at the rabbit’s ironclad grip. “Cut this bullshit,” Kane ordered. “I’m done letting you threaten me. You’re no different than all the other Pokémon who’ve attacked me for doing my job. So unless you want to end up in a ditch–”\n\n\t“Tell me about the Spear!” Asher cried. “Tell me! Tell me right fucking now!” Salty tears flowed from his eyes now, dripped onto his cheeks. His hot palms made Kane’s face red; sweat beaded upon the Gimmighoul’s forehead, wrinkled with anxiety. \n\nKane tugged harder at Asher’s hands, but the rabbit’s fingers were securely locked around the Gimmighoul’s head. The pain made Kane panic. Frantically, he began to kick and pull, attempting to break free. “As if I’d tell you anything!” he bellowed. “Fucking feral fuck! I’ve been building this country for one hundred fucking years! Ungrateful piece of shit!” \n\nAsher’s ears were ringing now. Seldom had he allowed such heat to coalesce within him; he could feel his insides on the verge of boiling, just barely insulated by his fur. Kane’s skin, too, began to sizzle, the smell of it permeating the warehouse. Little spindles of smoke arose from his cheeks and scalp. The tiny man’s jaw still flailed wildly, his arms and legs kicking, scratching, punching. Empty threats flew from his lips.\n\n“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill Fey!” Kane screeched. “I’ll pass him around the prison until there’s nothing. Fucking. Left!” The smell of his own burning flesh sent him into an unmitigated frenzy. His tears evaporated against his superheated flesh. “Let go! Let go now! Fuck you! Fuck you!”\n\nAsher, however, couldn’t hear his pleas. His palms sizzled madly, sloughs of Kane’s burnt flesh finally melting from his skull. A low, droning groan fell from Asher’s lips; an expression of pain. Snot boiled in his nasal passages and stained the fur beneath his nose. Like a heat vent, deathly hot air poured from his mouth. He sobbed. \n\nIt was then that Kane realized he was dying. Asher’s palms slowly indented into his flesh, pressing against his bare skull. All that anger which he carried within his heart melted away, revealing the terror beneath. Still clawing at Asher’s white-hot paws, he cried out for help. He bawled. \n\n“Iris!” he screamed. “Iris! Anyone, help! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” \n\nLooking on, Sid balled his hands. He had never smelled burning flesh before; and, shooting a furtive glance at Grimm, he then plunged forward, pulling at Asher’s white-hot shoulder. “Asher, stop!” he yelled. “Stop! Stop! You’re going to kill him!” \n\nSid, however, was far too weak. Each blow of his vines, each tug of his hands, couldn’t break the Cinderace’s grip. His efforts were futile. So he turned and yelled: “Grimm! Grimm, I need help!” \n\nBut the Gengar was frozen. Panic made his legs leaden, his joints stiff. He could hardly even form a word. Two billows of smoke rose from Kane, one on either side of his head. Near-inaudibly, only to himself, Grimm whispered: “I–I’m sorry. I can’t… I can’t….” \n\nKane was screaming now. All his tears had been boiled away, evaporated, seasoning his burnt skin like jerky. His jaw’s hinges just barely held on; his scalp, his cheeks, the nape of his neck, all burnt, covered in shallow boils. The words ‘I’m sorry’ hardly escaped his raw vocal cords. \n\n“Tell me about the Spear,” Asher commanded. He coughed on his own spittle. His breaths were shallow, panicked, as he gazed at the little man’s swollen eyes. “Tell me. Tell me. Tell me now.” \n\nBut Kane was choking. Asher’s thumbs, pressed up against his throat, had burnt away a substantial chunk of flesh. Every bit of swallowed spittle dripped down his now-exposed trachea. Red, black, pink meat contracted like clockwork against Asher’s paws. The man looked like a frightened child. \n\n“The beginning,” Kane choked. His words were wracked with weak whimpers. Shallow breaths, tinged with ash, just barely escaped his burnt throat. “The beginning. The beginning…” \n\nAnd yet, Asher didn’t stop. Fury made his grip tighter, his hands hotter, his eyes watery. Kane could feel his limbs growing limp as the oxygen failed to enter his blackened lungs. He could barely move his lips. \n\n“I’m sorry,” Kane muttered. He sniffled black mucus. It drooled from his half-baked lips. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” \n\nThose words gave Asher pause; for a moment, he met Kane’s stare – that horrified, frantic, sniveling stare. He then noticed his hands; wrapped around Kane’s neck, they’d fried nearly the entirety of it. Blackened char flaked from his grip-locked fingers. What was once Kane’s flesh became wet, bloody-pink sludge. Exposed tendons just barely held together the structure of his neck. \n\nWith a frightened sob, Asher then loosened his grip. He fell backwards onto his stubby tail, scooching himself back, distancing himself from the boiling little mound of greyish skin. His paws could hardly maintain friction with the ground; blood and viscera smeared against the cold cement, knocking Asher’s posture loose. He fell over, scrambled back up, and reflexively wiped the tears from his face, only to smear a mixture of blood and ash onto his cheeks. The smell of burnt flesh was strong now; he cried out in terror, frantically swiping the gore from his fur, glancing horrified at his own hands. Uncontrollably, a scream sang from his sore throat. \n\n“No!” he screamed. “No, no, no, no!” Like a marionette whose strings had been cut, the boy then crumpled to the floor, avoiding the empty gaze of that corpse. Stifled wails spewed from his mouth. \n\n“Oh, Arceus, I’m sorry!”\n\nSid, his heart in his throat, could only look on. Asher’s groans shook him, made his insides feel tingly and unstable; and in a daze, amidst the sounds of Asher’s suffering, he walked toward Kane’s chest. \n\nUpon gazing inside, he saw what Asher had done. Kane had been reduced to nothing. Just a few spindling, burnt shreds of flesh upon a tiny, untouched body. Blood wetted the corpse’s fingernails from where he’d clawed at Asher’s paws.\n\nSwallowing the urge to vomit, his limbs light as a feather, Sid then gently closed the chest. Behind him, he could hear Asher’s sobs becoming quieter; and turning on his heel, he swiveled to face him. \n\n“Asher,” Sid whispered. “Let’s… let’s go. We need to go now. I–”\n\n\tThe Snivy then stopped in his tracks. Across the warehouse, standing in the frame of those double doors, stood a quadrupedal Pokémon. Asher stared in horror at its shadowy frame, Grimm still frozen in his tracks. No one spoke. Somehow, this figure had gone completely unnoticed.\n\nSid yelled: “Who’s there?” Vines protracted from his back, ready to strike. “S–say your name. Now! Or you die!” \n\nAnd hesitantly, the figure then stepped into the light – Fey. With a notable limp, the Sylveon entered the warehouse, just barely keeping himself upright. His horrified gaze remained fixated on Asher, that tiny crumpled ball on the ground. And with much effort, he made his way toward him. \n\n“Fey,” Asher choked. His stomach dropped upon realizing what Fey had seem him do. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I–I had to kill him… I…” \n\nWordlessly, Fey took scared, unsteady breaths. And, having reached the rabbit, he gently caressed the boy with his ribbons. Blood stained his pristine fur. The rabbit whimpered, barely able to put together a coherent sentence. \n\n“I’m sorry you saw that,” Asher sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”\n\nFey, however, could hardly respond. The shock of it all had made him numb. His eyes remained fixated on the trail of blood, the smell of burnt flesh. It reminded him of the Faith Symposium. It reminded him of Akiva. It reminded him of needless death. \n\n“I–I did it to protect you,” Asher choked. With glassy eyes, seeking any sort of comfort, he gazed upward at his lover. “I did it for you, Fey.” \n\nThe Sylveon nodded, his face blank. He then shot a glance of barely-concealed disgust toward Asher, and said: “I know.” \n\n ", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Fool’s Gold

\t“Akiva!” Chairman Maximus bellowed. He slammed his mighty fist upon the desk; the chandelier overhead shook in fear. “Are you even listening?”

\tThe Gardevoir’s head then snapped upward amidst the stuffy air. She pulled her fingers away from her mouth, batted her silver bangs aside, and breathed: “I–I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t hear.”

\tThe Board of Directors all sat in that familiar conference room; each week, it seemed dirtier. Smaller. Its once-pristine wallpaper was browned with tar; smoke rose from Chairman Kane’s cigarette, drifted along the ceiling, and flew into the night through a tiny crack in the window. Crumbs and wrinkled papers dotted the burgundy carpet.

\tMaximus’s brows arched, his frame curdling over the conference desk. Long fingernails knocked against each other before his maw. And he said: “Akiva. We need you right now. We need you to listen.”

\t“Of course,” Akiva echoed. She rubbed absently at the bags under her eyes. “I will. I’m sorry.”

\t“Good,” Maximus muttered. His demeanor softened. He then nodded and asked: “Tell me. Have you heard anything?”

\tAkiva, of course, hadn’t. She shook her head and replied: “No. I haven’t heard anything. Just… whispers.”

\t“Of?”

\tShe folded her hands onto her lap. “People are worried. Everyone is worried. Mostly the elderly. And children.” She swallowed sparse saliva. “The schoolyards are full of rumors. They say that ferals are hiding in the trees… the parks, the sewers. That sort of thing.”

Chairwoman Iris gave a solemn nod. She said, “That’s good. So long as we can keep the rumor mill going, we have the upper hand.”

Chairman Colm rolled a pencil under his index finger. Idly, the Kecleon’s prehensile tongue lolled from his jaw, licked along his eye. He blathered: “The rumor mill can only do so much, though. At the risk of sounding like Cassius, I’ll temper this, but… we need to be strong.”

\t“Right,” Maximus said. A spoon bent to and fro in his shaking palm. “Obviously, we’ll have to issue a statement. Multiple statements.”

\tIris laid a limp paw on the desk. She shifted papers around beneath. And she argued: “We’ll need Akiva to make a public statement, of course. Something confident.” She then sighed, added: “But that won’t be enough. We’ll need a press conference. Colm, can you handle that?”

\tThe Kecleon stared blankly. Beneath his dumb mien, machinations brewed. He replied: “Of course I can.”

\tAkiva could hardly bring herself to meet his gaze; or anyone’s, for that matter. She stared downtrodden at her feet, listening softly to the humdrum of voices in her mind. Throughout these disembodied feelings, these disconnected experiences, one thread connected them all: fear. Fear was abound in Augusta.

\tThe Gardevoir shifted in her seat. She could hardly focus. The endless blathering of her superiors bored her; and moreover, it disgusted her. She couldn’t stop thinking about Fey’s round eyes during the Arcean Symposium. How they begged to live. How an idiotic simpleton like him… looked down on her.

A hand then tapped upon Akiva’s shoulder. Shocked, she turned to see who had made such a transgression – Hermes, the Chairman of Labor. He gave her an empathetic smile.

\t“Hey,” the Simipour whispered. Other Board members chattered aside them. “Are you okay?”

\tAkiva gave a tight-lipped grin. She licked her lips, shifted her workstation, and replied: “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.”

\tHermes raised an eyebrow. Looking askance, he probed: “Are you sure?”

\t“I’m sure.”

\t“You went through a lot,” he said. “It’s okay if you’re not okay. Really. I won’t think any less of you.”

\t“Are you sure it would be okay?” the Psychic type asked. Her face scrunched. “Because last time I checked, it’s sort of important for us to keep our cool. You know, because we’re running an entire country.”

\tThe Simipour shrunk. Words flapped and tumbled off his tongue. “I–I know that. I just thought–”

\t“Yeah?” Akiva asked. She spoke through gritted teeth. “What did you think? What were you thinking?”

\tHermes cleared his throat. He said: “I was thinking… I just wanted to let you know that I’m here for you. That’s all. In case you need anything.”

 “You know what?” Akiva shot back. “I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think you were thinking at all.”

“What?”

“You’re not thinking,” she spewed. “Because if you were thinking, you’d know that we don’t have the luxury of not being okay.” She laughed. “This isn’t the Pokémon daycare. Okay? This is the office where we decide the fates of thousands of Pokémon. Okay?” Her voice trembled with insecurity. “So maybe we keep private talk to a minimum.”

Hermes shrunk under the Psychic type’s imposing frame. Relenting, he then craned himself away, muttered: “Okay. I’m sorry.”

The pair then lapsed into awkward silence. Akiva held her head in her hands, rubbed her temples. Silently, she reached toward her hip, fumbled her fingers inside the tiny burlap sack of white pills. They jingled happily against her fingertips. She then raised two to her trembling lips, laid them upon her tongue, and swallowed. She could take them without water now.

The Gardevoir then took a deep breath, laid back in her chair. Guilt and shame gnawed at her insides. And without looking at the Simipour, she admitted: “I’m sorry.” She huffed once more, then repeated: “I’m sorry, Hermes. I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately.”

Hermes cleared his throat, straightened his back. He replied: “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“No, I…” Akiva pursed her lips, gave him a quick glance. “I’m sorry. But there’s nothing to worry about. Okay? I’ll be fine. My arm is nearly fully healed, anyway. So…”

\t“Of course.”

\t“Yeah.” Akiva shuffled papers for no reason. She then drew an awkward breath, turned to the rest, and asked: “Iris, have you handled the most recent appeals for those posters?”

\tIris squinted at a stack of papers in her paw. She asked, “Which?”

\t“Uh, Lilac Avenue.”

\tThe Ninetales scanned the page. And she replied: “Yeah, I did. This morning.”

\t“Check again,” Akiva said. “I don’t think the planning committee received the notice.”

\t“Noted.”

\tFrom across the room, Kane’s voice boomed. “Are we really just going to keep doing what we’ve been doing?” he asked. “I mean, how many damn propaganda campaigns are we going to do here?”

\tWithout looking up from his work, Colm replied: “As many as it takes.”

\t“This entire operation is asinine,” Kane prattled. “When are we going to just squash these bugs, hm? They’re fucking – they’re insects!”

\tMaximus huffed: “Yes, well. When you know exactly where these insects reside, I’d be glad to talk to you about detaining them.”

\t“All I’m saying – all I’m saying,” the Gimmighoul said, “is that we need to establish a task force. Okay? A small, dedicated task force to go through and comb every damn inch of this city.”

\tIris sighed. “Kane…”

\t“I’m talking every nook, every cranny, every damn alleyway.” He took a drag from his cigarette and continued: “How long could that take, hm? A search of every hiding spot. A week? Two weeks?”

\t“Over a month,” Maximus contended. His patience wore thin; frustration tinged his weary voice. “And even then, they could just move around. If they’re smart – and they are – then they’re moving spots every few days. They might even have collaborators who keep them hidden. We’d have to get incredibly lucky.”

\tKane scoffed. “Okay, sure, it would take a while. But what’s another flimsy campaign gonna do, hm?”

\tFor just a moment, fury flashed on Iris’s maw. She snapped her head toward his tiny frame and spat: “Oh, fuck you, Kane. These ‘flimsy campaigns’ are the only things keeping us alive.”

\t“Well, whoopty-doo for them,” Kane mocked. He clapped his little hands. “But surely we can see where this is all going, right? They’re gonna continue launching attacks like this. Attack, after attack, after attack–”

\tThe Alakazam muttered: “I am well aware.”

\t“–and they want to pick us off! One by one. Lying in wait until our security is weakest.” His nicotine-stained lips flapped as he stumbled over his words. “So why not take the fight to them, hm? We can’t just wait for another emergency. We need to do something. Anything. Anything that isn’t just placating people.”

\t“Kane,” Iris barked. “Shut. Up.”

\tIrritated, the Ghimmighoul smacked his lips. And he said: “Public approvals are down. The surveys are scary, hm? Don’t think I didn’t look.” A devilish grin. “So if you’re gonna try and sway public opinion, you might want to try a little harder.”

\tSuddenly, a psychic pressure held Kane’s jaw. Clenched up against itself, he could hardly breathe. A quick glance betrayed the cause: Maximus’s upraised hand. The Alakazam’s eyes blistered with annoyance.

\t“Kane,” he growled. “You are going to leave this room right now. And you will not come back until you’re ready to show some respect. Understood?”

\tThe affront spurred the tiny man to anger. Kane cried out through closed lips, tried to pry his mouth open… and abjectly failed. Next to him, Iris casually put down her paperwork. She said: “I’ll accompany him outside, if that’s alright.”

\tMaximus nodded wordlessly; he obviously had more important matters to attend to. So, as if swaddling a child, Iris deftly clamped the lid of the Gimmighoul shut. She then closed her mouth around the chest’s handle, lifted it from the table, and calmly carried Kane from the room. The grand double doors slammed shut behind her.

\tDown, down, down the Ninetales traveled. Past myriad conference rooms, storage rooms, and lobbies; and eventually, the pair emerged into an empty alleyway. The sky was cloudy overhead. To their sides, dull cement. One month prior, Maestro had broken into the Board’s offices through this entrance; naturally, its lock had since been replaced.

Swiveling her head left, then right, Iris dropped Kane’s chest unceremoniously onto the concrete. The little man’s head thumped against the lid, then back down into a pile of cold golden coins beneath. Shaken, he then flipped open the lid to his chest. Cigarette smoke plumed outward. A cough flew from his tar-coated throat.

“You could’ve been gentler,” Kane yapped. Frustrated, he then began to stack his golden coins once more; one neat pile after another. A lit cigarette still hung from his mouth. “I could’ve broken my damn neck the way you carried me.”

Iris shrugged, said: “And yet you didn’t.”

“Asshole.” The Gimmighoul grumbled under his breath: “Why do we always fight, huh? Stupid fucking…I’m a damn chairman. I shouldn’t be carried out of the conference room like some… like some imbecile.”

\t“Then you should act like a chairman,” Iris sniped. And with a flack of her tails, she ordered: “Give me one of those.”

\tKane laughed. He spewed: “Oh, now you want me.”

\t“I don’t want you,” the Ninetales reassured. “I want a cigarette. That’s all.”

\tThe little man rolled his eyes. And begrudgingly, he fetched a cigarette from behind himself; holding it out to the fox, he joked: “It’s one of those days, huh?”

\tIris frowned. “Nowadays?” she asked. “It’s always one of those days.”

\tThe two shared a terse chuckle. Steadily, Iris’s tail manipulated the cigarette to her lips; and with a small huff, she shot an Ember onto its tip. Smoke billowed from her soft mouth as she sighed. And she asked: “Why are you being such an asshole today?”

\t“I dunno,” Kane admitted. He chewed on his words and added: “Because we’re all fucking stressed out of our minds?” A deep grumble sounded from his chest. Little breaths, tinged with tobacco. One of them carried the words: “Am I insane, or did things used to be easier?”

\t“They did,” Iris cooed. “They really did.”

\t“Back when our people weren’t on the verge of a damn frenzy…”

\tResigned, the Ninetales remarked: “Things were always destined to be this way.” She seemed saddened by that fact. “We have an endgame. We’ve always had one. And as we near it, we… well. Things get complicated.” She inhaled sharply, coughed it all out. “Especially with this whole… with Arceanism becoming so popular.”

\t“What a fucking fluke.”

\tIris chuckled exhaustedly. “Akiva, that maniac… she got her way. She made it mainstream.” She sniffled. “I’ve never seen such a meteoric rise. I mean, it’s… it’s revolutionary.”

\t“What a damn experiment.” Kane cracked a crooked smile. His little yellow eyes blinked amidst the cold air. Gusts flew from the far side of the alley. And he said: “Yaknow, I’ve been meaning to talk to you…”

\t“No.”

\tRecoiling, Kane spat: “You didn’t even hear what I was gonna say!”

\t“But I know what you were going to say.” Iris took a long drag. She could feel her tails growing warmer. “You want to talk about Maximus.”

\tKane raised an eyebrow. “And you don’t?” he asked. “Maximus is so… I mean, surely you can tell what’s going on.”

\tThe Ninetales coughed. She replied: “Let’s assume I don’t. Enlighten me, hm?”

\t“He’s popping pills!” Kane exclaimed. “Those little white round things. The same stuff he gives Akiva. And he’s acting weird.”

\t“Mmm…”

\t“He’s meaner,” the Gimmighoul said. “And way more stubborn.” He then clicked his tongue and added: “Come on, Iris. You’re not stupid. I know you see it, too.”

\tIris was silent. She puffed on that tiny burning stick, watching intently as its end crumbled into smoldering ash; its particles swirled upwards into the cold grey sky. Her tone was grim as she remarked: “The man’s empire is in danger. Who wouldn’t be a little irritable?”

“Irritable? How about unstable?”

“You’re reaching.”

“I’m not,” Kane argued. “Do you see how he’s been treating Akiva? Is that fair?” He huffed, then hoisted himself onto his little feet. “And Cassius…  I mean, it’s weird, right? All of this is weird. And it seems like no one can talk about it. I feel like I’m going insane!”

Iris was deathly still. She took a deep drag; smoke billowed from her nostrils as she then asked: “What about Cassius is disturbing you?”

“Oh, well, yaknow, how we can’t talk about him anymore? Or maybe how he died so suddenly? Take your pick.”

Iris’s eyes narrowed. She snarled: “Cassius was like a son to him. Do not insinuate–”

“And look how he’s treating his daughter,” Kane interrupted. “Look, here are the facts. I like Maximus. He’s my friend. But… is he really the best dad?” He scoffed. A coin came dislodged from his foot and tumbled to the cement. “Besides, we’ve known Maximus for over a damn century. He’s definitely changed. You must know something is wrong.”

The Ninetales sighed. “Even if something were wrong, what are we going to do? Hm?” She shuffled her paws uncomfortably. Anxiety contorted her maw. “I have no more power over him than you do.”

Kane smirked. “You say that, but…”

“But what? You want to plan a little coup?” Iris nearly giggled at the Gimmighoul’s insanity. “You really haven’t changed, have you? Always an insecure little man.”

The Gimmighoul balled his fists. Enraged, he spat: “I’m not pushing for a damn coup! I just want some respect around here. For both of us.”

“Is a spot at the table not enough?” Iris asked. “How about the ability to manage our country’s economy? Is that not enough? What would satisfy you?”

Kane clamped his jaw shut. Through gritted teeth, he muttered: “I just want him to listen to me. We’ve been around here just as long as him. And if you and I went to him, maybe he’d fucking listen for once. He never listens.”

“And whose fault is that?” Iris barked. Pain then flashed across her maw. Remorseful, she shot a glance at the ground. Words tumbled awkwardly from her mouth. “Kane, you’re setting your sights too high.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” The Ninetales coughed. “Maximus is… he’s powerful. More than all of us combined.”

Kane frowned. He mocked: “So you’re scared of him. Wow.”

“And the fact that you’re not is disconcerting,” Iris said. She then bent her head low, brought it close to Kane’s little body. And she whispered: “The truth is… I don’t know what Maximus has or hasn’t done. And at this point, I don’t care. The fact remains that he could… he could kill us.” She shook her head. “I’m not going to go against Maximus. In any way. That is final. Understood?”

The Gimmighoul nodded his head. He puckered his lips, cleared his throat, and said: “Okay. I see you. That’s… that’s understandable.”

Iris flashed a frustrated glance. She said: “Kane, just promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Okay?”

“Me?” Kane replied. He gave a mischievous grin, then said: “I would never.”



\tUntil now, Asher didn’t know how four Pokémon could fit in a single twin-size bed. The answer came to him during the night, in a cramped hostel; when desperation struck, even the simplest pleasures seemed grandiose.

\t“How’s that feel?” Asher asked. Slowly, he removed a thin cast from Fey’s tender hindleg; it fell from his fur with a soft crack. The fur beneath was matted. Fey sucked in hot air through his teeth; beside his head, a smoldering fire.

\tFey replied: “It’s fine.” He grunted. “I mean, it hurts. But that’s… it’s fine.”

\tThe Cinderace nodded. Deftly, gently, he peeled the last of the fabric from Fey’s flesh. “Sorry, love.”

\tTo his side, huddled around the fire, Sid and Grimm squeezed against one another. Thin vines sprouted from Sid’s back and upheld a shoddy newspaper; Grimm leaned over the little Snivy’s shoulder, peeking at the tiny black lettering. He hummed and announced, “Cassius is still in the news.”

\t“Really?” Asher asked. He tossed the dirty cast into the fire. “More praises? Posthumous medals?”

\tSid shook his head. He peeped his little face over the top of the paper and chirped: “You gotta hear this. Apparently a bunch of girls are coming out against him.”

\t“How many?”

\t“Six,” Grimm explained. He scanned each face upon the page – an Umbreon, a Zoroark, two Absols, a Liepard, and a Thievul. The Gengar remarked: “They’re all Dark types.”

\tAsher huffed. “I suppose a guy like him would have a type,” he joked. “And of course, it’s the type he wants banned from the Academy.”

\t“Wanted,” Sid corrected. He gently licked the tip of a vine, then flipped the page with it. “Wherever Cassius is now, I don’t think he wants for much. Maestro made sure of that.”

\tCrackles filled the warm air. In their dinky fireplace, two logs broke and tumbled over one another. A single ember floated from the wreck and landed upon Fey’s nose; he watched intently as it dissolved. The Sylveon then asked, “Are we really going to flee?”

\t“We might not have a choice,” Grimm admitted. He donned a toothy frown, his arms folded over his rotund body. “They’re cracking down on everything. The paper even says they’re setting up security checkpoints along the main roads.” He gulped. “We might be one bad conversation away from getting caught.”

\tSid, however, wasn’t paying attention. He grimaced at the page before him, shoved it toward Grimm, and barked: “Look at the fucking paper. Look at it – three whole pages about the dangers of feral Pokémon.” He flashed a depressed smile. “And here I was, thinking I’m as sweet as pie.”

\tGrimm shook his head in disapproval. “Whipping Pokémon into a frenzy,” he spat. “And for what? To villainize Pokémon who have nowhere else to go? Those monsters.”

\tFey listened silently to his friends’ prattle. Unmoving, he gazed into the fire. The smell of ash reminded him of the Arcean Faith Festival; an entire tent aflame, its embers dancing up above the buildings. Limping, covered in dust, throwing himself down the nearest alleyway…

\tMeanwhile, Asher meditated on their options. He ran his paws gently over Fey’s flank, ruffling the boy’s fur. And he suggested: “Maybe we should listen to Rubrum. Every letter, he’s telling us to leave. We could regroup with him and Maestro in the Intermediary Zone.”

\t“That’s true,” Grimm said dejectedly. “I don’t know how many more hostels will take us, anyhow. It puts a big target on their backs. Not to mention we’re already rationing our food.” He sighed. “We’re probably better off working from the outside.”

“But we can’t leave,” Fey argued. With a cough, he managed to lift his head, glance backward; his tone was adamant. “We can’t give up. Not now. Too many Pokémon are counting on us.”

\tThe Cinderace sighed. He cradled his hand between the Sylveon’s soft ears and replied: “Fey, we really shouldn’t be putting you in any more danger. You’d be safer outside of city bounds, where you can heal–”

\t“If we leave, we might never be able to come back.” Fey let loose a small cough. “They’re tightening up the borders even more now. They might even be suspending civilian entry permits soon.”

Asher frowned. He gently clutched his lover’s neck. “Fey, you suffered some pretty bad smoke inhalation. And your leg… we should really find a safer place for you to recover.” He thought for a moment, then added: “And I’m sure we can find a way back into the city, anyhow.”

“And what if we can’t?” the Sylveon asked. Desperation made his voice shake. “We’re so close to finding what we need. There must be somewhere in the city, someone, that can tell us about the Spear.”

Asher let out a frustrated exhale. “Yeah,” he admitted, “you might be right. But we’re all out of leads. We only have a couple days left at this hostel, too, and then… we have to move. And every time we move, we’re opening ourselves up to danger.” Anxiety caused his fists to ball up. “And I can put myself in danger, sure. But Fey… you’re injured. Who knows what the police would do to you, hm? Or Arceus forbid, prison.”

Fey opened his mouth to reply; but before he could get a word out, Sid called from behind his swathe of newspaper. A cacophony of crinkles then rang out, and the Snivy turned the monochromatic page toward the others. Smack-dab in the center of it laid a grainy photo of an old building; fluted pillars upheld a gaudy stone roof. Engravings of Augustan history adorned its trim. Below the photo laid the headline: ‘ON THE DILAPIDATION OF AUGUSTAN HERITAGE.’

\t“Look, guys. There’s an old records hall within walking distance of us,” Sid announced. “It looks like it used to belong to the Department of Labor. It’s slated for demolition.”

\tFey’s ears perked. Propping himself up on his front paws, he croaked: “Really? Bring it closer.”

\tSid’s vines then extended outward, hovering the paper before the Sylveon’s face. Asher crept over his shoulder, skimming the text. Fey read it aloud:

\t"The Academy Labor Bureau was once a testament to Augustan exceptionalism, work ethic, and cultural victory,” he repeated. “In its heyday, this building brought order to the masses; it put the uncivilized and unmotivated to work. But… what has this victory been reduced to? If you were to visit this site today, you’d become acutely aware of our decline as a culture… from the bowed walls to the peeling floors, this site has been left abandoned for nearly a century. What does this say about our modern inability to preserve sites of historical significance?”

\tAsher’s maw scrunched. He clapped his hand on Fey’s back and said, “Don’t read any more of that crap, dude. I don’t know how much more I can handle.”

\t“That’s right,” Grimm spat. His eyes narrowed. “Civilizing the uncivilized? Cultural victory? They’re just making shit up at this point.”

\tFey shook his head. “I know that,” he breathed. Fire alit behind his eyes. “But it used to belong to the Department of Labor, right? There might still be some old records left in there. Maybe they could help us find the Spear.”

\tThe Snivy bit his lip; he then lowered the paper, stared into Fey’s eager eyes. “Uh huh,” he said. And looking around the room, he added: “Well… we wanted a lead, right? I suppose this is the best lead we’ve gotten in a week.”

\tGrimm snarled at the assertion. “Are you sure?” he asked, and laid a spectral hand upon the Snivy’s shoulder. “According to the article, that building is over a century old. It’s probably gutted. Not to mention… why would they keep records about the Spear there?”

\t“Well, superweapons need Pokémon to build them,” Sid asserted. “And if they’re on payroll, someone somewhere is managing their salaries.”

\tFlabbergasted at the supposition, Asher cradled his head in his paws. “No,” he said. “No, no. This idea is crazy. We’re not breaking into an abandoned building on the off-chance the government forgot some documents there from a century ago.”

\t“But–”

\t“That’s not even how government buildings work,” Asher explained. “This place is set for demolition, right? It’s been completely gutted, guaranteed. Even if any records of the Spear were there, they’re long gone. Probably in a storehouse, and under lock and key.”

\tFey piped up: “But this is our only lead.” He wrenched his head backward to face the paranoid Cinderace. “We don’t have any other place we can check. Every office has extra security now. Everything is on lockdown.” He sighed. “We don’t have any other options. This is our best shot at learning about the Spear.”

\tAsher chuckled dejectedly. “This is our best shot?” he asked sardonically. “Fey, you’re injured. I’m not letting you waltz into an abandoned building; besides, it’ll probably be guarded.”

\t“It might even be a trap,” Grimm added. “There’s no author listed for this article. I wouldn’t put it past Maximus to try and lure us out.”

\tAsher nodded, his lips pursed. “Exactly. We don’t really know what the Board is thinking. Our best bet is to get beyond the walls and regroup–”

\t“No!” Fey yelped. The Sylveon then squirmed uselessly against the ground, just barely managing to stand on three legs; but nonetheless, his expression was resolute. “We can’t leave Augusta. We can’t,” he said.

\tThe Cinderace’s face soured. His hands fell to his sides as he muttered: “Fey…”

\t“I didn’t risk my life just to give up our biggest advantage,” Fey argued. “At least within city walls, we can gather more information directly. We’re this close to finding what we need.”

\tAsher shot back: “And if you die, we don’t get anything.” As his temperament curdled, he could feel warmth rising in his lungs. “Look – I’m doing this for you, Fey. We need to leave so I can keep you safe.” He scoffed. “And if you were smart, you’d agree with me.”

\tThose words wounded Fey. A screwy frown made his lips curl. He asked: “Are you saying I’m stupid?”

\t“N–no,” Asher breathed, obviously caught off-guard. “No, of course not. I just… I need to protect you.” He laid a soft paw upon Fey’s flank, met the boy’s glassy stare. “If something happened to you, I don’t know what I would do. Okay? I can’t…. I can’t have you chasing after ghosts and falling into a trap.”

\tThe canine scoffed: “Trust me, then.”

\t“Fey…”

\t“You trust me, right?” Fey asked. “And if you trust me, then you’ll follow this lead. It’s the only one we have.” He grimaced as he attempted to put weight on his hindleg. “Since they’re cracking down on security, this might be the last chance we ever get to search for information. Even if it’s a trap, we have to check. We have to.”

\tFor just a moment, Asher stared at Fey’s broken body; he studied the boy’s singed fur, his crushed hindleg. Just five days before, the boy’s mind had been near-cannibalized by Akiva. His lungs, too, were still coated in soot. Amidst all this, Asher wondered how Fey could still be so forthright; the Sylveon’s wet stare permeated Asher’s fiery mien.

\t“Okay,” Asher relented. And cradling his head in his hands, he breathed: “Okay. Fine, I trust you. But… we’re going to have to think of a damn good plan for this. Okay? WIth lots of contingencies. We can not afford to let this go wrong.”

\tA smile almost rose to Fey’s face; but quickly, it was replaced with a pained grimace. “Good,” he said. “Good, good.” And, with a labored breath, he managed to lower himself once more to the ground, his back facing the fire. Grimm and Sid shared concerned glances.

\t“Well,” Grimm said. “I don’t like the idea of visiting this place, but… there are a few safety precautions we could take. Yaknow, to scope the place out beforehand.”

\tAsher nodded. He was stooped over now, his hands cradled across his lap. “Okay,” he said. “What were you thinking?”

\tGrimm coughed. “Well,” he began, “obviously we’ll have to travel at night. We can travel through the alleys, and hopefully avoid permit checks. Worst case, we run into some street ruffians, but… well, they won’t pose much of a problem.”

\tThe Cinderace chuckled. He said, “I suppose not. I doubt many have received combat training.”

\t“That said,” Grimm continued, “it’d be best if Fey stayed behind. Not only because he’d be liable to be hurt, but… well, I don’t think he could make it to the records hall in one piece. Not like this.”

\tClearly hurt by the comment, Fey turned to face the fire. Tears welled in his eyes. And he said: “Fine. As long as we follow up on this, I guess I… I don’t need to be there. But I need you all to be as thorough as possible.”

\tGrimm smiled. “Of course. We don’t really have a choice, do we?” And, clearing his throat, he added: “So, since I’m a Ghost type, I’ll be able to check the hall’s perimeter before we enter. If there is security patrolling the place, I’ll be able to spot them before they spot us… in theory.”

\tSid asked: “In theory?”

\tThe Gengar simply shrugged and explained: “I’m assuming they won’t have a Ghost type, too. Or a Dark type. Because if they do, they’ll spot us easier.”

\t“I see.” Sid scratched his chin. “So no matter how we go about this, it’s risky.”

\tAsher concurred. “Very risky,” he said. “I really wish we had someone like Rubrum or Maestro here for this. Especially with Maestro’s Dark type, he’s always been our crutch when it comes to stealth. Without him, we’re at a disadvantage.”

\t“Not necessarily,” Sid said. His finger rested pensively on his lip, his eyes looking at nothing in particular. “My vines might be useful. We can lift ourselves up to high places – hell, I could even scale a small building if needed. That way, we can get a lookout before going in.”

\tAsher smirked. “I see,” he said. “Sadly, I don’t offer very much in the way of stealth, but… if things get hairy, I’m good in a scrap. So we’re covered on that front.”

\tGrimm nodded. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you fight,” he said. “Do you have any combat training?”

\tNodding, Asher explained: “Standard curriculum for Fighting types includes basic training.” A furtive giggle, then: “And I’ve gotten into my fair share of scraps as a student, ha. Mostly over stupid shit. But, uh… nothing recent.”

\tSilence ensued as the crew mulled over their options. Sid and Grimm struggled to envision the records hall’s environs, their eyes glued to the monochromatic picture. Asher, however, turned his eyes to Fey; the Sylveon laid there, motionless, staring at the fire. His flank barely rose and fell.

\t“Fey,” Asher said. He petted the boy’s tender fur. “We’re gonna check this place out, okay? We’re not going to give up yet.”

\t“Yeah.”

\tAsher added: “I’m sorry for being so… stubborn.” He sighed, cursing himself for investigating such an obvious trap. “But I’m gonna keep you safe. I’m gonna keep us all safe, okay? And when I get back, we’ll plan our next move.”

\tFey nodded, then paused. In a raspy voice, he said: “Okay. I love you.”

\t“I love you too,” Asher replied.




\tKane’s little arms flailed wildly as he attempted in vain to direct the lackeys above him. “Stack the boxes up like barricades,” he barked. “Like a wall. Like a damn… dam.”

\tConfused, a Haunter poked his head over the pile of cardboard boxes and asked: “What’s a damn damn?”

\t“No!” Kane snapped. “A dam. Like, the thing Bidoof make. Idiot.” Groaning, he then gritted his teeth and shouted: “Am I the only one with a brain around here? Fucking move it!”

Like a swarm of Durants, six Ghost types scuttled around the bare records hall. Sequestered inside the warehouse on its backside, the party hurriedly constructed mounds of junk upon the catwalks on its second floor. Boxes, sandbags, desks, and tables; and behind each mound was just barely enough space for a single Pokémon to rest. Arranged in a circular pattern, the catwalks overlooked a central, well-lit spot on the warehouse floor. Smack-dab in the middle of it sat that tiny, insecure Gimmighoul. His hands white-knuckled golden coins and cigarettes, waving endlessly as his lips flapped.

“I can see you,” Kane barked. “You! Misdreavus! I can see you over there. So make a damn better hiding spot.”

Heaving a deep sigh from her chest, the Misdreavus wearily obeyed. Empty paint cans bolstered her meager fortification, drenched in shadow. Kane watched; the single overhead lamp, bright white, compromised his vision of the upper levels. He lazily held a hand over his eyes.

From behind him, a fatigued voice spoke: “Are you sure you won’t need me around, sir?”

And, annoyed by the question, Kane replied: “Need you? No, I don’t think I’ll need you.” He then turned around to face the Pokémon – a lanky Greninja, shrouded in moist blue skin and white plumes. The Greninja shot Kane a dirty look.

“You seem displeased to still see me here,” the Greninja said. “But I’d like to remind you that, by helping you, I’m doing you a favor. A big one.” He sighed. “And if it’s not too hard for you, I’d prefer better manners.”

Kane, however, laughed at the assertion. “A favor?” he asked. “From you, Aoi? Sure. Yeah. A favor.”

\t“I’m serious,” Aoi echoed. “If anyone else from the Board knew about this, you’d be in for the reaming of your life. Okay?” He smacked his lips and added: “Not to mention, this isn’t really the best plan.”

Kane opened his mouth wide, let out a groan. “Ooooh my Arceus. What do I pay you for, huh? To talk, or to work?”

With a stiff upper lip, Aoi simply replied: “My work is done. The perimeter is secured. The article’s been published.” He breathed in, then out. And with his chest puffed, he said: “And yet… my bank account is suspiciously light.”

“Oh, that?” Kane didn’t bother looking at Aoi; with his back turned, he thrust a dismissive wave into the air and replied: “Half now, half later. That’s fair.”

Aoi’s eyes widened. He stated: “That wasn’t our deal.”

“Yeah?” Kane asked. Still, his eyes remained fixated on a mound of coins by his feet. “And who’re you gonna cry to about it, hm? Is Maximus gonna listen to you?” He smiled. “Silly little Dark type. Don’t act beyond your station.”

“I’m acting beyond my station?” Aoi spat. Despite his harsh tone, his posture remained upright and astute. “Says the Pokémon who’s scheming behind his allies’ backs. If they knew what you’re doing, they’d–”

Kane huffed: “And if they knew who helped out, what do you think they’d do?” Giggling at his own observation, he then added: “You’re just a jailor, Aoi. Please, for both our sakes, keep the talk below your pay grade. It’ll just make things easier.”

“But–”

“Besides,” the Gimmighoul continued, “it’s not like I’m leaving you out to dry. I just need a little leverage to ensure results. It’s not personal.”

Furious words stewed within Aoi’s stomach. He quelled the upcoming wave of vitriol with a deep breath; and he said: “Do the others know about your… visits… to the jail?”

For just a moment, Kane stopped counting his coins; a single golden fleck fell from his hands, nearly spilled over the lip of his chest. And he replied: “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” the Greninja replied. He shuffled his feet. “That’s why I’m asking.”

Kane coughed. And in-between puffs of smoke, he exhaled: “Maximus knows. And that’s all that matters.”

“I would’ve assumed,” Aoi said. His chest felt heavy. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” And with bated breath, he admitted: “You haven’t come around since Cassius died. I know you two had, uh… similar proclivities.”

“Yeah.” For just a moment, Kane allowed nostalgia to tinge his voice. Tenderly, he asked: “Do you still have that one girl… the Dragonair? The one who did that thing with her tail.”

Aoi, however, was solemn in his answer. He said: “No. She died one month ago.”

“Of what?”

\tThe Greninja shrugged, asked: “Do you really care?” And, scooping his backpack from the ground, he affixed it to his back. Small baubles jingled from his chest – smoke bombs, shurikens, caltrops. His red eyes checked every last clip; and satisfied, he turned to leave.

\t“Just for the record,” Aoi said, “this is a terrible idea, Kane. And if you fuck up, you might not survive the night.”

\tKane guffawed: “What? You think I’m gonna let myself get killed? Like that fool Cassius?”

\t“Yes,” Aoi replied.

\t“Well, I’m not.” Kane threw a cigarette butt onto the cold cement ground. “I’m nothing like that asshole.” A cough. “You know what he did wrong? He charged right into the enemy. No thought, no strategy, nothing. Just like I said: He let himself get killed.” He lit another stick, let it hang from his mouth. “Some people… they think they’re invincible. Until they’re not, of course.”

\tAmused, Aoi asked: “I take it you think you’re above that sort of thing?”

\tEqually amused, the Gimmighoul replied: “I don’t just think it. I know  it.”




Rising high, the surrounding rooftops offered a meager view of the abandoned records hall. Its front betrayed no activity; no light, no movement. From its front door hung a heavy chain, culminating in a chunky rusted lock. And like a thorax, a sizable warehouse protruded from the building’s torso. Grimm noted the warehouse’s distinct lack of windows.

Throwing himself over the roof’s edge, the Gengar then slowly floated downward into an adjacent alley. Sid and Asher awaited his observations.

“It looks fine,” Grimm told them. “Looks totally abandoned, just like the article said.”

Hand on his lip, Asher nodded intently. “Good,” he said. Exhaustion and hunger tinged his voice. “That’s one less thing to worry about. Granted, they could still be using Ghost or Dark types to covertly monitor the area.”

Grimm shrugged at the possibility. He explained: “Yeah, but… I really didn’t see anyone. And my night vision is pretty strong. I’d have a good chance of seeing someone, even if they’re camouflaged.” He threw up his hands, flashed a toothy grin. “And judging by that old lock, I don’t think anyone is waiting inside. This place might just be abandoned after all.”

For a moment, Asher remained lost in thought. Desperately, he wanted to believe Grimm’s judgment; but something about this whole situation seemed particularly suspicious. Despite their precautions, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. That someone, somewhere, knew exactly what they were doing.

Putting the feeling aside, Asher whispered: “Okay. We’ll move in closer, then. But keep an eye out for anything.” And, with a silent gesture, he ordered the trio to move across the street. Like phantoms, the robe-clad boys hurried themselves across the cobble, then crowded in front of the front door. Asher could already feel his palms warming.

“Stand back,” he warned. And from beneath his cloak, the Cinderace revealed a pair of white-hot paws, which he then laid calmly upon the dilapidated chain. In only a few moments, he was able to push his hands through the molten iron; he just barely caught the lunking lock before it fell to the ground.

Laying the mess down, Asher then quickly opened the double doors; and as expected, those rusty hinges broke the silence… violently. In a fit of near-panic, Asher squeezed through the tiny gap in the doorway. Grimm and Sid followed in-tow, plunging themselves into the building’s dark interior. Scant moonlight illuminated a faint path forward; thinking fast, Asher lit a small ember upon his fingertip. Grimm, too, employed a small Dazzling Gleam. Each of their eyes scanned frantically for any signs of movement; but they saw nothing. Asher breathed a sigh of relief, then softly shut the door behind them.

“Okay,” the Cinderace whispered. “Spread out. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

\tAnd indeed they did. The hall’s interior had the appearance of a grand bank; just beyond the door laid a long desk where Labor Bureau employees once stood. Velvet ropes, some fallen, some stained, still demarcated where the line would begin and end. And beyond that facade remained the building’s rotted guts – lines and lines of typewriters, storage cabinets, lamps, and drawers, culminating in a tiny corner office. In its heyday, this place was filled with the chatter and bustle of busy Pokémon.

“This place is fucking old,” Sid muttered. He dipped his head under the ropes, lifted himself onto the secretarial desk, and asked: “Anything stick out?”

Grimm, however, caught nothing of interest. He swiveled his head around the space and remarked: “If we were to find anything, it’d be in one of these drawers… probably.” Effortlessly, he phased himself through the desk and emerged on the other side. “We should probably check there first.”

Asher, however, was unexpectedly preoccupied. He hopped the counter with surprising ease, but soon became fixated on the building’s walls. Water-damaged and peeling, some old posters still remained affixed to the cold stone. The sight made his stomach sink, his eyebrows upturn.

“Fuck,” he said. “Everyone looks so happy.”

Sid asked, “Who does?”

“Look.” And Asher motioned toward the myriad papers, splattered haplessly, rising toward the vaulted ceiling. “It’s the Board.”

The sight, too, stirred Sid’s stomach. Before him laid the face of a joyous Maximus, spoons upraised, mouth contorted into a wide smile. His moustache was shorter; his eyes vibrant. And Sid said: “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Maximus portrayed like this.”

Asher shrugged. He replied: “I guess nowadays they want him to appear… stronger-looking.”

“You think?” Sid asked. “But he’s so angry now on the posters. Like he’s always constipated.”

The Cinderace, however, brushed the comment aside. His eyes glazed over the veritable peanut gallery of faces, one-by-one. Iris the Ninetales, holding an unfurled law scroll with an outstretched paw; an announcement of Cassius’s recent election, his big eyes filled with hope; Chairman Kane, surrounded by a mountain of glistening coins, claiming responsibility for Augusta’s recent prosperity. Each poster had been printed long before Asher had hatched.

“See ‘em?” Sid asked. Without warning, he laid a hand on Asher’s back, causing the boy to flinch. “These assholes have been around for a century now. More, actually,” he said. He then laid a glob of spit onto the ground and added: “Look at how hopeful they are, huh? Like everything was gonna be good forever.”

Asher, however, wasn’t listening. He leaned closer, allowing his gaze to run along the posters’ seams. Nestled between two prints of Maximus’s jolly face, prominent over a field of sick beds, stood an unexpected Decidueye. He wore a serious expression. One wing extended, he beckoned toward the viewer, as if drawing them in. Below him was the near-illegible slogan: ‘Sullivan Says: Universal Healthcare for All!’

Noticing Asher’s gaze, Sid asked: “You looking at the bird?”

“Yeah,” the rabbit replied. He frowned and said: “I forgot Akiva wasn’t always the Chair of Welfare. But… I guess not everyone can just hang around for a century.”

Sid nodded solemnly. He thought for a moment, bit his lip, and added: “I have always wondered how the Board managed to live so long.”

Asher tapped his foot on the dirty ground. “It’s not unheard of for certain Pokémon to live to see a century,” he said. “Maybe the Board just hires long-living Pokémon. Yaknow, like Psychic and Ghost types.”

A smirk rose to Sid’s face. “You really believe that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Asher muttered. His eyes narrowed. “Do you?”

Shaking his head, Sid stated: “All I’m saying is, it’s a big coincidence. They’re all in very good shape for their age.”

Asher was silent. He pondered his memories of the Board; all the times he’d met them during student meet-and-greets, ceremonies, and speeches. And he said: “I don’t know, Sid. I’ve seen them age. They look considerably older now than they did then.” He then pointed at Cassius and said: “I mean, look at Cassius here. He’s still a Rhydon.”

“So you don’t think they found the fountain of youth?”

Asher scoffed at the assertion. He replied: “No, I think they have world-class healthcare.” He then gulped, added: “But… well, if they’re trying to make Pokémon-human hybrids, then it’s possible they did something to extend their lives.”

Sid chuckled. “Something,” he echoed. “Very scientific of you.”

“Very,” Asher said. And, having satisfied his curiosity, he set to work dissecting the myriad drawers below. Their hinges squeaked with every little tug; however, Asher was distressed to find that most of their innards had long since been gutted. Few papers remained; and those which remained suffered intense water damage. More than once, Asher tugged open a drawer, only to unveil a chunk of wet, dissolved paper. He groaned.

To his side, Sid did much the same. His vines darted deftly along the cracks and sinews of those metal boxes, prying them open, splaying them wide; but he found only trash. Rusted tools, stained folders, and detritus gathered in these long-abandoned receptacles.

“I’m not finding anything,” Sid said. He then turned to Asher and asked: “How about you?”

Asher shook his head and replied: “Nothing. I can barely find any papers, let alone any about the Spear.” With a sigh, he attempted to push the drawer shut; the handle then disintegrated in his grasp, its flakes tumbling onto the floor. Asher wiped the residue on his pants with an annoyed grimace.

Cupping his hands together, Sid then yelled: “Hey, Grimm! You find anything?”

And like a frightened animal, Grimm poked his head from the main office. “No,” he announced. “Nothing really. Well, except for one thing.”

Asher’s ears perked. He turned to face Grimm, asked: “What? You found something?”

Grimm frowned. “It’s hard to explain. Just… come here,” he said. And without another word, the spectre disappeared beyond the doorframe. The pitter-patter of his tiny feet betrayed his excitement. And, looking at one another, Asher and Sid followed in-tow. Stepping over mounds of broken typewriters, dirt, and papers, they made their way toward the corner office.
 
And, peeking their heads in, they could hardly believe the mess; as if the place had been pillaged, every little inch of the place was thrown about. Two filing cabinets, damaged beyond repair, had been battered into the wall; bricks poked out from the resultant hole like broken teeth, a permanent indent in the mortar. Stray wires hung from the ceiling like arteries.

“Arceus,” Asher breathed. He covered his mouth, attempting to shield himself from the dust, and said: “This place has seen better days.”

Grimm nodded; he stood on a pile of rubble, overlooked the tiny office. And with a flick of his wrist, he pointed toward a desk pressed against the room’s back. “Look on the desk,” he said. “I found that note glued to the underside.”

Asher’s gaze then fell upon the page. Criss-crossed with sparse lettering, it appeared to have been torn from a notebook. Climbing over mounds of debris, Asher carefully stepped toward it; and once he’d reached the desk, he fingered the fragile page and read it aloud:

“Dispose of all references to ongoing projects within the Academy Labor Bureau. Development of the Keys is going well, with the exception of Victory. With any luck, we will never need a ‘Ceres’ again. Alpha and Omega are nearly in the same place.” Asher took an unsteady breath, then added: “That’s it. And, uh, the page is signed by… just the letter ‘A.’”

Sid’s brow narrowed. Peeking in from the door, his little hands wrapped around the frame, he asked: “Does that note make sense to either of you?”

Grimm shook his head. “No,” he said. “It makes no sense. Not really.”

Stowing the page carefully in his bag, Asher asked: “You found this under the desk?”

“Glued to the underside of the desk, yeah,” Grimm explained. He gritted his teeth. “But I have no clue why it’s even here. Or what it’s talking about.”

Awkwardly, Asher hopped over the dust-encrusted obstacles on the floor. And taking another look around at the wreckage, he said: “Maybe someone was trying to find this note before us.”

Sid scoffed. “Really?” he asked. “You think that’s why this room is trashed? It could just as easily have been a group of hoodlums.”

“Maybe,” Asher said. His finger rested thoughtfully on his lip, his feet meandering toward a set of double doors toward the back of the records hall. “But the note was pretty clear, right? All references to… projects… were supposed to be thrown out. And they all were, except for… well, this note itself.”

Struggling to keep up with Asher’s pace, Sid dashed alongside Asher’s heels. “In any case, the note is kinda useless,” he whined. “It’s super cryptic. Alpha and Omega. What’s that supposed to mean, anyway?”

“I dunno,” Asher said. His head downturned, he wracked his brains for any ideas. Alpha, Omega, Victory, Ceres… none of those words seemed to ring a bell. They were codenames, probably, left intentionally anonymous. Except for–

“Ceres Square?” Sid asked. He picked his teeth with his vine. “That’s all I can think about. Cuz they were talking about Ceres and all.”

The Cinderace sighed. “Yeah,” he conceded. “Maybe it has something to do with Ceres Square. But… something tells me this runs much deeper.” The boy then took a deep breath, ran his fingers through his hair, and said: “Okay, I guess we’ve swept the front of the building thoroughly enough. Are you all ready to go into the warehouse?”

Asher looked to Sid for approval; then, to Grimm. But the Gengar stared askance, clearly preoccupied. So Asher asked once more: “Grimm, are you ready?”

“No,” the ghost replied. “I’m sorry, but something is wrong.”

Sid raised an eyebrow. And stomping his little foot, he asked: “What? What do you mean?”

Gazing at the doors, Grimm paused. Then, he admitted: “I feel something beyond the door. Ghost Pokémon, I think. I’m pretty sure.”

Sid rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure?” He sighed. “Last time you said that, you thought ghosts invaded our bathroom at the hostel. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Grimm snapped. “Yes, I’m completely sure. There are Ghost types beyond that door. A few, at least.”

Asher raised an eyebrow. He let loose a nervous laugh and asked: “Wait. Wait, wait. Could you not sense these Pokémon from outside?”

The Gengar scoffed. “No,” he said. “This place is huge, Asher. I don’t think any Ghost type could detect someone from that far away.”

“I see,” Asher breathed. His eyes widened, his breathing sped, as he considered his options. “Fuck, alright. Well, we’ve been pretty loud in here… which means that, if there are Ghost types, they probably know we’re here.” He coughed up a plume of dust. “Which raises the question… if there are Ghost types in this building, why haven’t they come out to meet us?”

Sid shrugged, remarked: “Maybe they’re scared.”

“No,” the Gengar explained. “Any group of regular Ghost types would’ve attacked us by now. Especially if they thought they outnumbered us.” He scratched at his head. “There must be something different about this group. They could be peaceful, maybe.”
 
Asher sucked in air through his teeth. “For our sakes, let’s assume they’re belligerent,” he said. “Now, assuming they know we’re here, tell me… why would a group of Ghost types refrain from attacking their targets immediately?”

Silence ensued as the group thought the matter through. Asher shot tepid glances toward the cold steel doors, suddenly dreading what laid beyond. The entire back half of the hall was windowless, meaning they couldn’t see inside from their perch across the street.

“Maybe it’s a trap,” Asher posited. “Like a tripwire, set for intruders.”

Grimm waved away the possibility. “No, no,” he said. “Ghost types have better tricks up our sleeves than some little trap. We need to think differently.”

Sid’s eyes widened. “Ambush,” he whispered. “They might be planning an ambush.”

The suggestion put Asher on edge. An ambush would make sense, he thought, given the surrounding darkness. As soon as that door opened, those Pokémon might attack; the best choice, it seemed, was to launch a preemptive strike.

“We might be forced to attack first,” the Cinderace breathed. “If we just wait for these Pokémon to attack us, we’ll be sitting Psyduck.”

Sid scoffed. “But what if they’re peaceful? We’d be instigating conflict for no reason,” he said. “Use your head. We should open the door a little first, just to see what’s going on in there.”  

And so the couple bickered. Asher tapped an impatient, flat foot against the cement, his hands on his hips. The Snivy, in turn, gave an indignant stare at the paranoid bunny. Locked in a silent argument, they struggled not to raise their voices.

Disinterested, Grimm looked off. He turned his head around, searched for anything they could’ve missed. The office was busted – nothing there. Those rows and rows of broken typewriters were useless, too. The cabinets, the drawers, the desks… they were all useless. Even the note they found was too cryptic to be of use.

Then, in the corner of his eye, Grimm spotted something. Riding along the ceiling was a barely noticeable strip of light, just barely peeking through an open window thirty feet above the steel doors. A dark curtain curtailed its glow, near-closed, except for a small slit.  

“Guys,” Grimm hissed. “Shut up. Shut up. Look.” The Gengar then pointed upward, toward the tiny window – just big enough for a tiny Pokémon to fit through. “You see it, right? There’s a little light peeking through up there. I think there’s a curtain blocking it.”

Asher’s jaw dropped at the sight. “Fuck,” he said. His ears quivered with excitement. “You’re right. There’s a window up there. And there’s light.”

“Which means Grimm is probably right,” Sid complained. “There are Pokémon behind this door. And they’re probably waiting for us. We haven’t exactly been quiet.”

The Cinderace frowned. “Fuck,” he breathed. “No matter how you look at it, we’re at a really big disadvantage. We’re outnumbered, and we could be walking right into a trap. But we have to check everywhere.” He pointed a limp finger at the door. “The key to decoding that note might be in that warehouse. We can’t afford to leave without it.”

“Right,” Grimm breathed. A resolute frown stretched across his round face. “Well, I can float up to the window and take a peek. That way, we’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

Sid nodded. “That sounds like a good idea,” he whispered. “Do some recon, love. But don’t linger, alright?”

“Yeah,” Grimm breathed. He then shot a glance at Asher’s face – solemn, scared. “I can do that,” he echoed. And with a huff, the Ghost type then began his ascent; up, up, up, as his body slowly dissipated into shadowy gas. Having reached the tiny window, Grimm then reached a trembling hand toward its curtain; and with bated breath, he pushed it aside, just enough to peek through.

 Immediately, Grimm’s stomach dropped. After only a few seconds, he began to float downward, until he was once more in front of the other two. And with unsteady breath, he whispered: “Kane is in there.”

Asher’s face went white. “K–Kane?” he echoed. “Like, Chairman Kane? From the Board?”

“Yeah,” Grimm explained. “He’s in the middle of the room, under a bright lamp. Just… sitting there. Waiting.”

Sid grimaced. His leafy tail whipped against the ground. He said: “Okay, that’s one Ghost type. What about the others?”

“There are a few waiting on the catwalks above,” Grimm said. He squinted his eyes as he attempted to recall the details. “I–I panicked, so I didn’t get the best look. But there seems to be around… five or six of them. And they’re all hiding.”

Asher looked askance; internally, he could feel his stomach curdle at the realization. All three of them had walked into a trap. He was right – the article, the seemingly abandoned building… it was all a ploy to lure them here. Kane knew they wouldn’t be able to resist.

“Fuck,” Asher spat. He held his head in his paws. “Fuck, fuck. This is bad. This is really bad.”

The Snivy raised an eyebrow. “Bad?” he asked. “Sure, it’s not ideal, but… we can still walk away. No harm done.”

“And lead them back to our hostel?” Asher shot back. He pounded his paws together in frustration. “Even if we left now, we wouldn’t be able to tell if one of them followed us in the dark. And I am not… I’m not putting Fey in any more danger.” He frowned. “We have to get rid of these Pokémon somehow.”

Grimm scoffed. “But how?” he asked. “Are we just supposed to fall into their trap and hope they treat us nicely?”

“No,” Asher replied. Heat emanated from his mouth, his core hot with frustration. “The only way we win this is if we launch a preemptive strike. Instead of walking into their trap, we need to think of our own.” And with a folded paw, he motioned for Grimm, asked: “Tell me. What Pokémon did you see?”

Grimm furrowed his brow and asked: “How’s that relevant?”

“Just tell me.”

And shrugging, the Gengar explained: “Uh… I saw a Misdreavus, a Shuppet, a Gastly… oh, and a Haunter.” He hummed. “I’m sorry. That’s all I remember.”

Asher, however, seemed intrigued by this information. He asked: “Really? That’s all you saw?”

Sid rolled his eyes, clicked his tongue. “What do you mean, ‘That’s all?’ They still outnumber us. Knowing their species doesn’t change anything.”

“Yes it does,” Asher replied. He stared at the ground, chewing on his nails, his movements jittery. “Don’t either of you think it’s weird that none of them are fully evolved?”

Sid shrugged. “Not really,” he said. “Lots of Pokémon choose to stay unevolved. I did.”

“But they’re part of a fighting team,” Asher contended. “Up until this point, when we’ve faced enemies, they’ve always been at least middle evolutions.” he raised a finger in the air and continued: “Like when we broke into the Board office, we faced a Kirlia and a Mr. Mime. And in his letters, Maestro said he faced mostly fully evolved Pokémon in Haliford.” He paused, breathed out. “So why are these Pokémon so weak?”

Grimm pondered the question. “Maybe these are reserve Pokémon,” he posited. “Like, maybe the other Pokémon were occupied. The fully evolved ones, I mean.”

Asher shook his head in reply. “No, no. That doesn’t make sense,” he whispered. “Chairman Kane is… well, a chairman. He should have access to the best. Only the best.” He furrowed his brow. “So why is he mingling with these… amateurs? They didn’t even secure the window right. You almost snuck right in.”

The little Snivy smirked. He teased: “So what, they’re bad at their jobs? How’s that our problem?”

“It’s not a problem,” Asher replied. His tail shook with excitement. “It’s just weird. Do neither of you find that weird?”

Grimm raised a tiny hand. “It is weird,” he said. “Now that I think about it, those little fortifications on the catwalk looked… amateur. Bad, actually. Barely hid anything, and they looked suspicious as hell from the outside.”

“So… what does this have to do with anything?” Sid asked. He donned a screwy smile. “I mean, does it mean they’re weak?”

Asher slapped his palms together, replied: “It means Kane had slim pickings when putting together this team. Look at how few Pokémon he could muster, and how weak they are…” He chuckled. “There’s only one explanation. He must not be working with his usual resources.”

Sid scoffed. “And why’s that?”

“There’s a chance he’s doing this on his own,” Asher explained. “Without help. From anyone.” His voice became frantic, excited. “It explains everything. Why they set up such half-baked ambush. Why there are so few of them. And… why they’re all unevolved.” He smiled, added: “Why else would Kane need an ambush, right? If he were confident in his team, he would’ve captured us as soon as we neared the building.”

The group took a moment to think about Asher’s assertion. It certainly made sense – if Kane were better prepared, he likely wouldn’t have bothered with such a roundabout trap. A few elite soldiers would have handily captured them all. But, on the other hand… if they assumed wrongly, any plan of theirs would be easily foiled.

Grimm gnashed his pointed teeth, looked askance. “So, what do we do?” he asked. “Assuming everything you’re saying is true – which it might not be… what can we even do with this information?”

Asher replied with a simple grin.

He said: “I’ll tell you.”



As the dual steel doors swung open, a discordant harmony sang throughout the warehouse; and in the empty frame stood a lone shadow, back straight, arms laid calmly at his sides. The sight made Kane giddy. His gambit had worked.

“Asher,” the little Gimmighoul greeted. “It’s so nice of you to join me.” He then gestured lazily, asked: “You didn’t bring your friends?”

The Cinderace frowned. Mustering some semblance of surprise, he replied: “Chairman Kane. I didn’t expect to see you.” He then took a deep breath and admitted: “Well, I would’ve brought them, but Fey’s a little indisposed. Akiva saw to that.”

“What about Maestro? Rubrum?”

Asher scoffed, then asked: “Do you really care?”

“Not really,” Kane admitted. Light from the ceiling lamp glinted off his coins. He then tilted his head, beckoned forward, and said: “Aren’t you going to come in?”

Asher nodded in response. He swallowed saliva, crossed his arms, and said: “Of course. Let’s… talk.” He managed a cocky smirk. “I’ve been wanting to have a little heart-to-heart with you, actually.”

Kane proved surprisingly receptive to the idea. “I’ve been wanting the same,” he admitted. “Come closer. I want to get a look at you.”

And, as requested, Asher slowly edged closer. Emerging from the darkness into the bright artificial light, his scowl was now clearly revealed. He donned a dark leather hat, his body criss-crossed with tiny satchels. Kane was delighted to finally lay eyes upon him.

“So this is the little troublemaker who’s been causing us so many problems,” Kane growled. “You don’t look so tough, hm?”

“Appearances can be deceiving,” the Cinderace replied.

Kane laughed at the thinly veiled threat. “Of course they can be,” he said. “Of course, of course.”

For just a moment, Asher flicked his gaze toward the catwalks. There, in the corner of his eye, he could just barely detect Grimm and Sid sneaking through the open window; eager to draw attention, Asher asked: “So… what did you want to talk about?”

“Everything,” Kane replied. A shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Tell me, and be honest. Why are you all really doing this?”

Asher huffed. “Really?” he asked. “That’s your question?”

“That’s my question, yes.”

The Cinderace took a deep breath, then admitted: “We’re doing this because you’re sadistic tyrants. For over a century, you’ve been killing anyone who opposes you, then covering it up.”

Kane huffed at those words, seemingly frustrated. He spat: “Oh, Arceus. This is about Cassius, isn’t it? In Haliford?”

“Cassius isn’t the only killer among you.”

“Wasn’t,” Kane corrected. He seemed quite pleased with himself. “Past tense. He’s dead now.”

“So I’ve heard,” Asher said. “Maestro must’ve really done a number on him.”

Kane nodded, picking at his lip. “That he did, that he did,” he echoed. “But… well, I think I should let you know something. Something pertinent to you.”

“And that is?”

The little ghoul gave a devilish grin. And he revealed: “Maestro didn’t kill Cassius. Maximus did.”

Asher’s jaw dropped; he was caught completely off-guard by the accusation. To his side, Sid and Grimm disappeared behind he first catwalk barricade. And the rabbit barked: “Bullshit.”

“It’s true.” Kane laughed at the absurdity of it all. “Last I heard, Cassius was due to make a full recovery. And then one day, Maximus visits his room, and…” Fear flashed on his face, replaced by blind glee. “Well, he wasn’t recovering anymore.”
 
A ball of lead churned in Asher’s stomach. His lip quivering, his little tail whipping, he asked: “Wh–why are you telling me this?”

“Because I sense we’re similar,” Kane said. “And I want you to know what I’m dealing with.” He sighed, broke eye contact. Insecurity flashed on his face. “Chairman Maximus is… he’s strong. Stronger than any of us, or any of you. Okay? And…” He seemed to be at a loss for words. “It’s better to be allied with Maximus than against him. Do you understand?”

Asher’s eyes narrowed. “So you think that justifies all the shit you do? All the shit all of you do?”

“You’re not listening.”

“No, you’re not listening.” Asher’s fists balled. “You might not think you’re culpable in this just because you’re an accountant. But you are.” Asher took another step forward. “Think about how many soldiers you paid to kill innocent Pokémon over in Haliford. Was that not your fault?”

Kane laughed. “This is so… okay, you want me to really explain how things are?” He stood from his throne upon the pile of coins, gestured around himself. “Do you see this hall? Do you know who built it? Us. Think of every bite of food you’ve ever eaten. Who regulated the harvest and sale of it all? Us.” He rolled his eyes at Asher’s feet. “We’ve ruled over every nook and cranny of this academy for over a century. Can you even imagine that? We were euthanizing assholes just like you eighty years before you were even born.”

“Yeah,” Asher replied. “I know. I saw your little underground lab.”

The mention of it made Kane groan. “Ohhhhh my Arceus,” he complained. “All that alpha and omega bullshit. What a fucking mess.”

Asher’s ears perked. “Alpha and–”

“--My point is,” Kane interrupted, “I’m trying to spare you, kid.” He put his fingers behind his head, as if mimicking rabbit ears. “So put your listening ears on, okay? Reality check! Maximus owns fucking everything.” He wore a tight scowl. “Do you know how fucking long I’ve been trying to do things differently? He treats us like we’re nothing. Less than nothing. And somehow, he treats his enemies even worse.” With a sigh, he warned: “Look, you do not want to be on his bad side.”

“And yet I am,” Asher said. His eyes flickered toward the catwalk – Sid and Grimm silently treaded across, headed for the next mound of rubbish.

Oblivious to Asher’s gaze, Kane continued: “I can offer you a way out.” He hung a pointed finger toward Asher’s gut, asked: “You’re hungry, aren’t you? You look skinnier than in the photos. It must be hard for you to get food.”

The statement struck an unexpected chord with Asher. Awkwardly shuffling his feet, he shot back: “What does that matter?”

“Well,” Kane said, “if you helped us out instead of fighting us, then I could ensure your safety. All of your safeties.” Another shit-eating grin. “All the food, water, and warm beds you could want. What do you think of that?”

Asher frowned. The thought of such luxuries made him squirm. He didn’t want to entertain the notion, but if it kept Kane talking… well, it was worth it. So in a tepid tone, he asked: “Tell me… if I did consider your offer, what would that mean for me?”

Kane gave a confident chuckle. He admitted: “Well, the specifics are up for debate, of course. But I can assure your safety. You have my guarantee.” He cleared his throat. “Of course, we’d like some information in return.”

Asher tilted his head, gritted his teeth. It caused him physical pain to speak so amicably. But nonetheless, he asked: “Like what?”

“Well, for one, the locations of all your friends,” Kane blathered. “I mean, the offer is open to all of them. They’d be fools not to take it.”  

“Right…”

Kane swept his hand around the room. He continued: “And, of course, I’d need to know everything you know. And everyone who’s helped you. Just for a little added security. You understand.”

“Yeah,” Asher breathed. He managed to nod, his lips just barely holding back the urge to curse. “But, um… before we get into all that… I have a question for you. If that’s alright.”

“Shoot.”

Scrambling through his mind for topics, Asher finally asked: “Why do you seem so… upset, with Maximus?”

Kane rolled his eyes, as if the answer were self-evident. He replied: “The better question is… why aren’t I upset with him?” He sighed, then continued: “Don’t get me wrong. It takes a certain type of man to do what he does. But he’s damn insane. Fucking…” He waved his hand in the air. “Him, Iris, and I should all be equals. But what does he do? Delegate all of the most boring, inconsequential crap. To us.” He slammed his fists down. “Fucking criminal! We should be a damn triumvirate, not this stupid bullshit. Pill-popping little…”

A small rumble sounded from the catwalk – the sound of a Pokémon’s head hitting the metal grating, then slumping to the floor. Asher tensed, attempting desperately not to avert his gaze from Kane’s little eyes; the self-absorbed ghoul didn’t even notice.

Asher then nodded, duly surprised at Kane’s divulgence of such sensitive information. He asked: “And, providing I take your deal, what place would we have in this… triumvirate? Me and my friends, I mean.”

Kane assured: “Whatever place you’d like.” He flashed a malicious grin. “I’ve already gotten approval from my superiors.”

“Have you?” Asher asked. “Because I have a sneaking suspicion you didn’t.”

The Gimmighoul leaned back, affronted. “Excuse me?”

Asher took another step forward – he was becoming dangerously close. “I don’t think you told your superiors that you’re here. I think you’re all alone.”

Kane was taken aback by the sudden change in tone. He said: “Come on, kid. Anger doesn’t look good on you.”

Asher stepped forward once more. “Doesn’t it?”

“Are you trying to intimidate me?” the Gimmighoul barked. “Because I assure you, this won’t go down the way you think.”

Now it was the Cinderace’s turn to smile. He stepped forward again – nearly within arm’s reach – and remarked: “I think it will.”

 \tWhat happened next was a blur. Reaching up into the air, as if raising a blade, Kane bellowed: “Go! Now!” And down from the rafters came his cavalry – a glorious stampede, consisting of a single Haunter, claws greedily outstretched, falling ungracefully from the catwalk. For just a moment, a Night Shade began to emerge from his gaseous body – but from Grimm’s outstretched hand came a mid-air Shadow Ball. It flew from his palm with ease, knocked against the Haunter’s cheek, and sent the poor monster flying against the cement wall. His face knocked against it with a wet splat, his body collapsing onto the ground. Kane was left in astonished silence, his cheeks reddening.

Asher, arms crossed, asked: “Anyone else you want to call for help?”

Kane, however, found himself at a loss for words. Emotions traveled through him at lightspeed – disbelief, fear, and fury. He flailed his arms against his makeshift throne, his little belly pulled taut. “No!” he cried. “No, no, no! You’re not… you’re not doing this to me!”

Calmly, Grimm and Sid then descended from the catwalk. The Gengar floated down, while the Snivy propelled using his vines. Obscenities flowed from Kane’s sputtering mouth.

“You fucking assholes!” he shouted. His arms quivered.  “Do you have any clue what you just did? Huh? Do you have any clue at all?”

Asher let out a cocky chuckle. “You mean, pre-empting your pathetic ambush? You left the damn window open.” He raised his hands, preparing to drop air quotes. “Your ‘soldiers’ didn’t see what hit them.”

Kane gnashed his teeth. “You’re going to pay for this,” he said. “When the Board finds out about this, they are going to kill you. Another smudge on the damn floor, you little brat–”

The Cinderace, however, wasn’t listening. Like a teacher scolding a child, he lowered himself to a squat, levelling himself with the Gimmighoul. And he said: “Okay. Now’s the part where we talk for real. Sound good to you?”

“Maximus is going to turn your skin inside-out,” Kane threatened. “He’s going to tear your mind apart with a fucking glance.”

Asher smirked. “You’re such a pussy,” he spat. “You hate this man so much, and yet you’ve been his lapdog for over a century. How’s it feel to have no spine?”

“I don’t know,” Kane shot back. “How’s it feel to have a cripple for a boyfriend?”

Those words enraged Asher. He could feel the warmth building in his core, spreading throughout his arms, his legs, his clenched paws. But despite that, despite his fatigue, his hunger, his lack of sleep, he said: “Tell me about alpha and omega. Now.”

Kane giggled. His demeanor utterly mismatched his situation. And he teased: “Or what, hm? Are you going to kill me?” Another giggle. “Asshole. If you lay a single finger on me, Maximus will be hunting for you even harder than he has been.” He shrugged, hands outstretched on either side. “Face it, kid. You’re fucked. All of you. You’re in no position to negotiate.”

“Alpha. And. Omega.” Asher dug into his bag, flashed the ancient paper in front of Kane’s face. “What does this mean? And what does it have to do with the Spear?”

Kane rolled his eyes. “The Spear this, the Spear that… does no one in this fucking country think about anything else?”

“Talk.”

“Or what?” Kane barked. “What’ll you do, hm? Because obviously, you don’t know who you’re talking to. So let me clue you in.” He leaned forward, every word a breathy hiss. “Every weapon the soldiers wielded in that little podunk feral village? Mine. Every single payout this city has ever seen? Mine. The wages we pay our employees? Mine.” He then leaned back, affronted. “I own all of you! I fucking made you! None of you would be alive without me managing your entire fucking economy! Okay? You’re nothing!  I might as well be a fucking god to you because you’re so small!”

Asher remained stone-faced. He hovered the page just beyond Kane’s reach, his breaths steady, as he repeated: “Talk.”

“Why, so you can get revenge for your little boytoy?” Kane laughed nervously. “That fucking ingrate. Did you see what he did to our Faith Symposium? Eight months of work, down the drain. We should’ve skinned that dirty animal.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Asher. “I know he had help, too. Humans, ferals, I don’t give a fuck – I know  he had help.”

Asher’s maw twitched. Deftly, he stashed the paper away, gripped the edges of Kane’s chest. Its metal frame heated under his grasp. The word fell again from his lips: “Talk.”

“He’s going to die,” the Gimmighoul bluffed. “We have teams sweeping the entire city. Right now. Checking every single hostel, every alley. And you know what we’ll do when we catch him?” Kane smiled. “We have a nice little prison beneath the Academy. He’ll be taken there, and we’ll make him wish he were dead.”

The Cinderace grimaced. Flat teeth burgeoned from beneath his snarling lips. “Tell me about the Spear,” he whispered, “or you will die tonight. Are we clear?”

Kane simply snickered. “Really? Did I strike a chord?” he mocked. “You’re scared for him, aren’t you? You’re scared we’ll find him.”

“Shut. Up.”

“And what if I don’t?” Kane mocked. “Let’s face it. If you kill me, you’ll have the Board on your ass by morning.” He glanced at his hand, casually picking at his tiny claws. “This little rebellion is useless, anyhow. Your boyfriend is probably going to die from an infection soon. And even if he lives, I’ll be hacking off his head in a week.” He grinned. “Maybe I’ll even let you watch. Would you like that?”

Fury and sadness mingled upon Asher’s maw. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes, his hands shaking, warmth spreading from his palms into the golden coins at Kane’s feet. “You  destroyed my life,” Asher spat. “I don’t have a home. I don’t have a job. I can’t sleep. My friends are… they’re…”

\t“And whose fault is that?” Kane asked. He narrowed his eyes, a sinister grin upon his flat head. “Face it, kid. You’re in way over your head. So let’s just–”

 \tBut before Kane could finish, Asher had already released his grip on Kane’s chest. Deliberately, slowly, he then moved his paws to Kane’s face, holding it gently. Frustration curdled within his chest, choked his throat. Kane gave an apprehensive smirk.

“What?” the little man teased. “Are you gonna fry me? Huh?”

Asher choked back tears. “You’ve made my life hell,” he said. “I had a life, and you took it away from me. Tell me what you know .”

Heat emanated from Asher’s palms – a low, steady heat, like a comfortable fire. Kane remained undeterred. He said: “You’re pathetic. Are you going to warm me to death?”

“Asher,” Grimm interjected. He stood awkwardly behind the pair of them, his arms crossed, his stance anxious. He shot nervous glances toward Asher, then back at the doors. “Maybe we should just go. We’ve dispatched his underlings, so no one will follow us–”

The Cinderace shook his head. With a shaky voice, he barked: “No! We can’t go until we get what we came here for.”

Sid sighed. He said, “Asher–”

\t“No!” Asher then gripped Kane’s face tighter. Frightened desperation made his eyes wild. “I’m not letting Fey’s injuries be in vain. Never… I’m never letting him get hurt again.”

The heat in Asher’s palms was growing unpleasant now; nonetheless, Kane mustered a strong face. And in the face of his demise, he spat: “How about this, hm? Let go of my head now, and maybe I’ll consider not lobotomizing your boy toy.”

Asher’s hands shook. His spine arched, his breaths unsteady, as he curled himself over the Gimmighoul’s chest. “Stop it,” he muttered. “Stop it, stop it…”

Kane then gripped Asher’s fat fingers. Weakly, he tugged at the rabbit’s ironclad grip. “Cut this bullshit,” Kane ordered. “I’m done letting you threaten me. You’re no different than all the other Pokémon who’ve attacked me for doing my job. So unless you want to end up in a ditch–”

\t“Tell me about the Spear!” Asher cried. “Tell me! Tell me right fucking now!” Salty tears flowed from his eyes now, dripped onto his cheeks. His hot palms made Kane’s face red; sweat beaded upon the Gimmighoul’s forehead, wrinkled with anxiety.

Kane tugged harder at Asher’s hands, but the rabbit’s fingers were securely locked around the Gimmighoul’s head. The pain made Kane panic. Frantically, he began to kick and pull, attempting to break free. “As if I’d tell you anything!” he bellowed. “Fucking feral fuck! I’ve been building this country for one hundred fucking years! Ungrateful piece of shit!”

Asher’s ears were ringing now. Seldom had he allowed such heat to coalesce within him; he could feel his insides on the verge of boiling, just barely insulated by his fur. Kane’s skin, too, began to sizzle, the smell of it permeating the warehouse. Little spindles of smoke arose from his cheeks and scalp. The tiny man’s jaw still flailed wildly, his arms and legs kicking, scratching, punching. Empty threats flew from his lips.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill Fey!” Kane screeched. “I’ll pass him around the prison until there’s nothing. Fucking. Left!” The smell of his own burning flesh sent him into an unmitigated frenzy. His tears evaporated against his superheated flesh. “Let go! Let go now! Fuck you! Fuck you!”

Asher, however, couldn’t hear his pleas. His palms sizzled madly, sloughs of Kane’s burnt flesh finally melting from his skull. A low, droning groan fell from Asher’s lips; an expression of pain. Snot boiled in his nasal passages and stained the fur beneath his nose. Like a heat vent, deathly hot air poured from his mouth. He sobbed.

It was then that Kane realized he was dying. Asher’s palms slowly indented into his flesh, pressing against his bare skull. All that anger which he carried within his heart melted away, revealing the terror beneath. Still clawing at Asher’s white-hot paws, he cried out for help. He bawled.

“Iris!” he screamed. “Iris! Anyone, help! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Looking on, Sid balled his hands. He had never smelled burning flesh before; and, shooting a furtive glance at Grimm, he then plunged forward, pulling at Asher’s white-hot shoulder. “Asher, stop!” he yelled. “Stop! Stop! You’re going to kill him!”

Sid, however, was far too weak. Each blow of his vines, each tug of his hands, couldn’t break the Cinderace’s grip. His efforts were futile. So he turned and yelled: “Grimm! Grimm, I need help!”

But the Gengar was frozen. Panic made his legs leaden, his joints stiff. He could hardly even form a word. Two billows of smoke rose from Kane, one on either side of his head. Near-inaudibly, only to himself, Grimm whispered: “I–I’m sorry. I can’t… I can’t….”

Kane was screaming now. All his tears had been boiled away, evaporated, seasoning his burnt skin like jerky. His jaw’s hinges just barely held on; his scalp, his cheeks, the nape of his neck, all burnt, covered in shallow boils. The words ‘I’m sorry’ hardly escaped his raw vocal cords.

“Tell me about the Spear,” Asher commanded. He coughed on his own spittle. His breaths were shallow, panicked, as he gazed at the little man’s swollen eyes. “Tell me. Tell me. Tell me now.”

But Kane was choking. Asher’s thumbs, pressed up against his throat, had burnt away a substantial chunk of flesh. Every bit of swallowed spittle dripped down his now-exposed trachea. Red, black, pink meat contracted like clockwork against Asher’s paws. The man looked like a frightened child.

“The beginning,” Kane choked. His words were wracked with weak whimpers. Shallow breaths, tinged with ash, just barely escaped his burnt throat. “The beginning. The beginning…”

And yet, Asher didn’t stop. Fury made his grip tighter, his hands hotter, his eyes watery. Kane could feel his limbs growing limp as the oxygen failed to enter his blackened lungs. He could barely move his lips.

“I’m sorry,” Kane muttered. He sniffled black mucus. It drooled from his half-baked lips. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Those words gave Asher pause; for a moment, he met Kane’s stare – that horrified, frantic, sniveling stare. He then noticed his hands; wrapped around Kane’s neck, they’d fried nearly the entirety of it. Blackened char flaked from his grip-locked fingers. What was once Kane’s flesh became wet, bloody-pink sludge. Exposed tendons just barely held together the structure of his neck.

With a frightened sob, Asher then loosened his grip. He fell backwards onto his stubby tail, scooching himself back, distancing himself from the boiling little mound of greyish skin. His paws could hardly maintain friction with the ground; blood and viscera smeared against the cold cement, knocking Asher’s posture loose. He fell over, scrambled back up, and reflexively wiped the tears from his face, only to smear a mixture of blood and ash onto his cheeks. The smell of burnt flesh was strong now; he cried out in terror, frantically swiping the gore from his fur, glancing horrified at his own hands. Uncontrollably, a scream sang from his sore throat.

“No!” he screamed. “No, no, no, no!” Like a marionette whose strings had been cut, the boy then crumpled to the floor, avoiding the empty gaze of that corpse. Stifled wails spewed from his mouth.

“Oh, Arceus, I’m sorry!”

Sid, his heart in his throat, could only look on. Asher’s groans shook him, made his insides feel tingly and unstable; and in a daze, amidst the sounds of Asher’s suffering, he walked toward Kane’s chest.

Upon gazing inside, he saw what Asher had done. Kane had been reduced to nothing. Just a few spindling, burnt shreds of flesh upon a tiny, untouched body. Blood wetted the corpse’s fingernails from where he’d clawed at Asher’s paws.

Swallowing the urge to vomit, his limbs light as a feather, Sid then gently closed the chest. Behind him, he could hear Asher’s sobs becoming quieter; and turning on his heel, he swiveled to face him.

“Asher,” Sid whispered. “Let’s… let’s go. We need to go now. I–”

\tThe Snivy then stopped in his tracks. Across the warehouse, standing in the frame of those double doors, stood a quadrupedal Pokémon. Asher stared in horror at its shadowy frame, Grimm still frozen in his tracks. No one spoke. Somehow, this figure had gone completely unnoticed.

Sid yelled: “Who’s there?” Vines protracted from his back, ready to strike. “S–say your name. Now! Or you die!”

And hesitantly, the figure then stepped into the light – Fey. With a notable limp, the Sylveon entered the warehouse, just barely keeping himself upright. His horrified gaze remained fixated on Asher, that tiny crumpled ball on the ground. And with much effort, he made his way toward him.

“Fey,” Asher choked. His stomach dropped upon realizing what Fey had seem him do. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I–I had to kill him…  I…”

Wordlessly, Fey took scared, unsteady breaths. And, having reached the rabbit, he gently caressed the boy with his ribbons. Blood stained his pristine fur. The rabbit whimpered, barely able to put together a coherent sentence.

“I’m sorry you saw that,” Asher sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

Fey, however, could hardly respond. The shock of it all had made him numb. His eyes remained fixated on the trail of blood, the smell of burnt flesh. It reminded him of the Faith Symposium. It reminded him of Akiva. It reminded him of needless death.

“I–I did it to protect you,” Asher choked. With glassy eyes, seeking any sort of comfort, he gazed upward at his lover. “I did it for you, Fey.”

The Sylveon nodded, his face blank. He then shot a glance of barely-concealed disgust toward Asher, and said: “I know.”

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