Foreword: While this is a sidestory to The Hearts of the Beasts, reading it isn't required to understand the entire story. As this is going to be very dark compared to the main story, please don't feel forced to read it, either - Sometimes, a story can be just too dark for folks. I completely understand. As much as I say that the story will become more optimistic, it's still at its darker parts right now, and things still seem pretty bleak. So once again, don't feel forced to read this - Not everyone can get through something this dark.
It is HIGHLY recommended that you have at least read to the end of chapter one of The Hearts of the Beasts before reading this!
Content warnings: Character death, possession, violence, blood
Wallace's eyes were locked on the numerous papers scattered over a polished rosewood desk - THEIR desk now, they reminded themself - as they sat down for their usual end-of-week routine. It'd been the same each week following the start of the year. Steven had trusted them to be Champion, after all, and flawed as they were, they'd been able to carry the League far, perhaps moreso than Steven had in recent years.
Regardless of how far they'd come...Nothing would make the more mundane aspects of the job more palatable. Steven had been a messy sort, Wallace recalled. Back when he'd been Champion, the small office beneath the Champion's room had been covered by scattered, ink-stained papers, as well as any number of things that the ex-Champion had needed to keep himself calm for a few more moments.
Steven had never seemed like the focused type, but he'd fared far better in the office than Wallace had.
Leaning back in the soft, aged leather chair that had been in the room since long before Steven had taken his post, Wallace wondered if it had been such a good idea in the first place to agree to Steven's deal. Being Champion...Even with the fame and adoring fans it'd brought them, things they wouldn't ever deny they loved, it'd had consequences, consequences that had spread a lingering sense of unease across all of Hoenn. Consequences that had hit nobody harder than they had hit the League's members. Consequences that no doubt signaled something worse to come.
Consequences that took the form of a clean and neatly-penned letter, addressed to Wallace Riva, arriving from one Joseph Stone.
So it had been true. A deep, shaky sigh escaped Wallace as they opened the envelope and tried to stop the rapid beat of their heart. This letter could only mean one thing.
Something had happened to Steven.
They'd thought it inevitable that something would happen eventually, of course. Steven wasn't one to show restraint when it came to exploring the region's most secluded corners. He'd been off, two months before the letter's arrival, and that was it, he'd simply vanished.
Two months, and one month of searching between their League duties, searching for any sign of Steven after he'd departed for Meteor Falls for what should have been another simple expedition. A month of nothing but concern that something had forced Steven to run off for so long.
Wallace held the letter gently between thin, almost bony fingers. They stared down at it, the words barely registering in their mind at first. Everything seemed to be a blur, the only thing remaining in their mind being the room they sat in, the office with the same eggshell-white walls, the same desk, the same few books stacked on one side...It was as if Wallace was trying to convince themself that this was just a normal Friday night, that they hadn't just received a message that their dearest companion had potentially...
No. Not yet. They couldn't assume he was dead at that point. Nobody could. Steven was a fighter, never once willing to lay down his weapons for any reason. Battle resonated across his skin, deep within his flesh and bone, flowing through his veins like a blazing wildfire. No matter how quiet he'd seemed, Steven was a wild beast, and he'd react as one the moment his life was truly in danger.
That was what Wallace told themself, at the very least. It hardly made the feeling of dread that plagued their mind any less prevalent, but they repeated it in their mind nonetheless, hoping that eventually they'd start to believe it more and more true, almost palpably so.
Wallace took a deep breath, forcing themself to focus in on the message itself. It was shorter that they'd expected it to be, but it said all it had to.
In a way, Wallace was reminded of Steven. Short and to the point, just enough that the next task could begin right after everything was finished. These two...They really were father and son.
If nothing else... That was comforting.
Wallace, the letter began, Thank you for your assistance in searching for what's become of Steven throughout this past month. I'm sending this to inform you that you're needed at Devon. It seems this situation is far more dire than we'd first thought - Interpol has requested your presence in Rustboro to discuss what's happening in detail.
This is as much as I'm allowed to say on the matter, regrettably. Interpol has also requested that this note be destroyed in any way possible once you've read this.
The meeting is planned to take place tomorrow, on August sixteenth, at ten-thirty AM. Arrive early - I was hoping to speak with you myself regarding these matters.
- Joseph Stone
It was brief, far moreso than anything Joseph usually sent. Had it been stress, perhaps? Stress over the fact that Interpol had become involved, a telling sign that Steven was in very real danger, if he hadn't been caught by said danger already.
An ache lingered in Wallace's chest.
They'd wished they could get used to it, but it seemed like the feeling would never fade. Stress followed them like a Skitty chasing its tail, stress over everything their mind could fixate on, creating six new problems for every one solved. In a way, they were that Skitty, chasing these problems again and again without rest as if they'd finally gain a sense of control over the ever-uncertain future ahead of them.
As if it'd do anything to stand there, running in circles over and over until they finally tired themself out. It was the very antithesis of progress, to not be able to bring themself to actually take action.
It'd been the same thing, again and again. In that sense, perhaps, despite everything they'd told Steven…Wallace wondered if they were simply afraid of change in that regard. Had it been the crisis affecting them? Their new role as both Champion and guardian? It'd been overwhelming, at first, having Hoenn in their hands - Though Hoenn would never know a thing. If there was anything Wallace had learned from being a performer, it was that anyone would fall for a convincing enough smile.
Sighing, they picked up the bag they'd left beside their desk and slung it over their shoulder, stowing the letter away in it before stepping out of their office for the night and into the dark lower halls of the League, a hallway built much like those between the Elites' rooms above but containing what was perhaps the most important part of the League (namely, everyone's living quarters), the hall was eerily quiet that night. The lights had been shut off to allow everyone to get a little rest, and it seemed like everyone had turned in early on such a night.
Everyone except Phoebe, at least. The night was her domain; there was no doubt in Wallace's mind that she'd be somewhere nearby, her watchful eye on the darkest corners of Ever Grande in case someone thought they could get close to the place she'd devoted her life to.
The soft pattering of bare feet against a cold floor didn't surprise Wallace in the slightest. Turning around to face Phoebe, Wallace greeted her with a soft smile.
"Good evening, Phoebe," they said, "I take it something's come up for you to return so soon?"
Phoebe skidded to a halt, letting out a soft laugh at Wallace's question.
"Oh, no," she replied, "It's nothing like that at all. I think the summer heat finally got to me, though - I'm exhausted, even at this hour."
Wallace shook their head, chuckling. Even if she was quite the night owl, Phoebe wasn't immune to whatever might be hitting her fellow Elites. It was good to know that even she'd felt exhausted now that late summer had hit Hoenn. It was enough to sap anyone's energy, and it'd hit the League particularly hard. (Save for Drake, though very little seemed to affect him as far as the weather went, and though it was certainly understandable for someone who'd been traveling the world as long as he had, it was hard for Wallace to not be a bit envious of such a fact.)
"Ahaha…Yes, it's been having that effect on us all, I'm sure." Wallace's tone was soft and airy as they spoke, though they couldn't tell if it was more to reassure those around them or whether they were trying to reassure themself. "I'd rest now if I could, but…"
"You're heading out again?" Phoebe concluded, "You don't have to worry about the League while we're here. Go on out and keep investigating - We're with you the whole way."
Oh, they wished they could tell her more. No, Phoebe, it's not as simple as you think, because suddenly Interpol, Interpol, has taken interest, and even I'm not sure if I'll survive this one.
Wouldn't it be nice, they told themself, if they could just tell her more. Unfortunately, confidentiality was a fact of life when it came to Interpol's affairs - As far as anyone was concerned, when they came out of this one, Wallace would have simply found Steven, alive or not, on their own.
If they found Steven this time.
Wallace bowed before beginning to turn away.
"Thank you, Phoebe," they breathed, "I'll need all the luck I can get this time. If I need any of you at all, I'll be sure to call you over."
"Of course…Wallace?" Phoebe's words suddenly decrescendoed into barely a whisper. "We're counting on you. Please…Please bring Steven back."
There was a hint of desperation in her voice, as if she was on the verge of finally giving up and admitting defeat. Admitting that Steven had died.
Wallace would refuse to admit defeat at such a time, however.
"Of course. Good night, Phoebe."
With those final words, the two parted, one to stay at the League, the other to leave for what they'd hoped would be their last trip to Meteor Falls.
If he was even still there.
No, Wallace thought, Interpol has found something. You must put your trust in them.
Because, come what may, you will come back to Ever Grande, and you will bring Steven back with you. Everything…
Everything will be fine.
Wallace slowly climbed the stairs of the Devon building, stifling a yawn. It'd been a long night simply making the trip to Rustboro on such short notice, and it'd practically left them dead on their feet. Though the fresh (if a little sterile) smell of the building was wonderful compared to the filthy city air (they'd never be able to get used to it, not after they'd spent so many years in Sootopolis), it did nothing to ease Wallace's mind when the stakes had increased so dramatically.
Then again, didn't they live for drama? For that vibrant, explosive ending to everything in their life, and for the glory that came with such victories?
No, they couldn't, not when there was a life, possibly lives at stake.
It felt like an eternity before they stood in the president's office, staring, from across the room, straight into Joseph Stone's eyes. The lines of age rimmed his deep brown eyes, but his gaze was nonetheless attentive as he sat behind his desk, looking at Wallace with a grave expression.
To Wallace, it felt like Joseph's gaze pierced right through them like an arrow to the chest.
They began to approach his desk, only to stop when he stood up, gesturing for Wallace to sit down on one of the nearby sofas.
"It's good of you to have come," Joseph sighed, "I apologize for having to call for you on such short notice."
"There's no need to apologize," Wallace replied, sitting down on the northernmost sofa, "Any new information regarding the situation is welcome."
It was a lie, though hardly an obvious one - Wallace had always, after all, been quite the actor.
Joseph took his place on the opposite side of the table Wallace had sat at.
"I'm afraid," Joseph continued, "There may be a chance that we're searching for a body."
It was as if Wallace's chest had hit the ground. A body?! That couldn't be right. Steven was always going to be a fighter. Wherever he'd gone, Wallace had believed for two months that he'd been fine, and though they wanted to continue to believe such, the weight in Joseph's voice was enough to make them realize that maybe they were wrong. Maybe something had taken Steven's life this time.
"I...What? S-Sir, please," Wallace stammered, "E-Explain. What might have…?"
Joseph lay his arms down on the table, folding his hands. He looked down, closing his eyes, his voice beginning to break in a way Wallace had never once heard before. This was someone they'd known for years, someone who had been like a second father to them long after their own had passed, yet the way the cracks began to show in his normally polite, professional demeanor...It was new to them.
"I mean," Joseph breathed, "Interpol has reported the presence of an unknown Pokémon in Meteor Falls...A creature known as Nihilego. They've called it an Ultra Beast. Nihilego is parasitic, from what I understand. It takes hold of its hosts with a neurotoxin, stimulating their minds and bringing out their latent potential so that they'll protect it and only it. Though they're only chances…"
Joseph paused, taking a deep breath.
"According to the reports, we may be searching for the result of the chaos it's caused, or we may find that Steven is no longer the man we knew."
All instincts devoted to defending one creature...Or worse, dead. It'd provide an explanation for why he'd been gone for so long, yet both ideas...Even as Wallace was given a moment to digest such information, they could hardly believe it. Steven had been Champion. He'd been stronger than anyone Wallace had known. He wasn't going out without a violent fight.
"...Interpol's agents should be arriving soon." Joseph looked over to the western side of the room, finally opening his eyes. "Before then...Wallace. We're all depending on you now. If anyone can bring Steven back to us, it's you."
"Thank...Thank you, sir," Wallace whispered, "I won't let you down."
"Hoh...There's no need for such formality in such times. Call me what you always have."
Wallace nodded, trying to swallow the lump in their throat.
"Yes, of course...Mr. Stone. I'll come back with him. I swear on this."
Only two agents arrived. Their names were Anabel and Looker, and they sat on opposite sides of the table, with Anabel next to Wallace.
It'd given Wallace a chance to observe the agent. Her lavender hair, tied into a ponytail and cascading over her back, was expertly groomed. Wallace had been able to tell that much at a glance. However, what struck Wallace the most was Anabel's neck - Beneath the collar of her shirt, they could see a few streaks over her pale skin. Scarring. No doubt from previous missions, but no less unsettling in such a situation.
Wallace had heard much the same from Interpol's agents. Steven could be dead, Steven could have lost all sense of self. Steven could still be fine, if shaken. He could have left Meteor Falls, even if all supposed sightings of him had been in the area. Something had happened to him, and while Interpol scoured the rest of the region, Wallace had been assigned to return to Meteor Falls.
"...This time," the head agent, Anabel, continued, "You'll have proper support, Riva. Looker and I are here to assist you in every way we can. If all goes as it should, we'll have found him from these sightings and come out without a single casualty."
"Indeed," Looker added on, "My arrival will not be for some time, however. I will be investigating the surroundings before entering the falls."
"Are your orders clear? You'll be provided with a headset," Anabel explained, "And you'll be in close contact with the two of us. Mr. Stone...We'll be contacting you from time to time throughout the mission. Is this acceptable?"
"Quite so," Joseph replied, "All of you...Thank you. Nothing has been more reassuring than knowing that my son's case is in your hands."
"That will be all, then," Anabel finished, "Riva...If you would. Please follow us out."
"Yessir," Wallace replied, immediately standing with the two agents, "Mr. Stone...I'll be back soon. Farewell for now."
Joseph had fallen silent once more, and nobody stayed to see if he'd speak up.
Not when there was so much at stake.
"Riva! Before we leave for Fallarbor, I must speak with you!"
Standing on the shores of Route 115, not a soul to be seen except themself and Looker, Wallace nearly jumped at the sound of the agent's voice.
"Ah, Looker," they replied, "Yes? Is there something you've failed to mention?"
Looker shook his head, stepping beside Wallace. Getting a closer look at him, Wallace wondered how long it'd been since he was last in the field - While there were scars across his neck and hands, they'd faded to the point that they were barely visible.
Yet the man had a single Poké Ball on him. Only one Pokémon, in stark contrast to their and Anabel's six each.
"There is something dire I have not mentioned." Looker kept his voice hushed as he looked to Wallace, narrowing his eyes. "My boss, she is not as she seems. Interpol calls her a Faller. The Beasts believe she is able to take them to their home dimension, and when they see her, they are immediately attracted to her presence."
Faller? This was the first Wallace had heard of the term. There had to be some reason Anabel hadn't mentioned the term. Someone like her, she clearly wasn't the type to simply forget such important details.
"...Please elaborate," Wallace replied, feeling the thick tension in the air, "Why are you telling me this?"
"I am telling you," Looker continued, "Because she is in danger if she gets too close. The Beasts, they aren't simply drawn to her. She is a target. They will attack if they see her, and I cannot imagine they would let up."
The idea of these creatures being hostile in such a way...Wallace had only seen illustrations during the briefing. They couldn't imagine what sort of attacks Nihilego could strike with, but there was little doubt in their mind that it wouldn't be a pleasant way to go.
"You want me to protect her," Wallace concluded, "In the event she might be in danger."
"Indeed." Looker turned to the vast ocean ahead. "My boss...She is prone to overworking, even when it could mean death for her. Even if she is strong, she cannot stand up to the Beasts forever. If she has worked to exhaustion, you must stop her."
"I understand."
Wallace reached for one of the Poké Balls on the belt they were wearing. During such a time, their outfit for challenges would only get in the way. The most they'd brought from it was the long cape, which had been folded neatly in their bag. They'd opted for simple garb, even if the cropped top might have seem a bit impractical for such a situation. (It'd been unfortunate that they hadn't at least had a chance to take care of their laundry before leaving - Perhaps if they had, there wouldn't be so much exposed skin on them.) Without their hat, they'd been forced to tie their long hair back into a tightly-packed bun, and they hoped it wouldn't come undone any time soon.
It was so odd. They hardly looked as formal as the agents they were working with. They'd had the chance to change into something casual back at Rustboro's Pokémon Center, and they'd taken it, but a part of them wondered if that was truly the best choice to make.
At the very least, Anabel being gone assured them that they weren't wasting precious time.
Tapping the button on their Milotic's ball, Wallace allowed the fish Pokémon to stretch out for a moment before she slithered into the water, cooing at them gently as she waited for them to climb onto her back.
"I'll see you soon, then, Looker. Farewell!"
Wallace climbed onto the back of their Milotic, who then turned towards the looming mountains ahead of her.
Without another sound, she began to swim forward, twenty feet of fish swaying gently in the water. Looking back, Wallace noticed Anabel appearing on the beach, talking with Looker about something. It didn't seem important, not with the lack of surprise Looker seemed to be showing.
Turning back, Wallace closed their eyes, taking a deep breath. The salty tang of seawater filled their nostrils once more as Milotic began to swim faster through the calm waters.
It'd be a long, hard fight, but they wouldn't let themself fall during such a time.
They were needed in Meteor Falls. They'd fight this Nihilego if they had to. They'd do whatever it took to ensure that their mission was completed, that they could go back to Mr. Stone and at the very least inform him of his son's fate.
They had so much to discuss with Steven if he came back alive.
No. Not if. When. When he came back alive. There was no room in Wallace's mind for doubt, they'd hold onto the hope that Steven was alive. Otherwise, they'd never be able to make it through the mission.
They had a job to do, and they intended to do it right.
For Steven's sake.