A/N Boy, am I on a roll. This is a very long oneshot inspired by the line written by Crukix in their fantastic fic Regret: 'That was when all the pokeballs stopped working'. (chap 41).
Like I've mentioned before, I like the idea of giving largely unknown characters the breath of life. Hence - ta da! - Liza and Tate! Our fave psychic twin duo from Mossdeep! Let me know what you think and if you enjoy the idea of the Pokemon world dissolving into political warfare. As usual, we have realistic!Pokemon.
Also, this is very loosely tied with my other fic Ralts: the Feeling Pokemon.
Warnings: Language, slight violence, poor grammar, perceived romance (but if you take it at face value, you're really not reading this properly. I like symbolism, so shoot me).
Dad had been gone for nearly a month.
This wasn't exactly unusual – typically, he'd be away for a year, sometimes more. Dad would stay at home for maybe three months before 'the itch' (as he called it: what a stupid nickname) would start up again and he'd bluster around the space centre, orange suit rustling and papers flying everywhere. Then, quick as a wink, he was gone – the great white cylinder propelling itself into the hazy twilight sky, the orange clouds parting then fanning over the shuttle like theatre curtains after a particularly dismal scene (hurried; embarrassed). When Dad was gone, time went by so slowly - but when he was here, back home in Mossdeep city, life slowed to a crawl (murky summer days stretching on endlessly like the horizon line, punctured by Tate's quiet smile or an unsatisfactory Pokémon battle or maybe Mama waking in the night gasping and sweating).
It shouldn't have come to any surprise then when Mama told us (that is, my twin brother and I, lonely children sitting dusty-footed at the kitchen table) that she was leaving.
"For a vacation?" I asked, puzzled.
Forever, dummy, Tate's mind murmured.
Mama had gone to live in Sinnoh with our uncle and his family when we were fourteen. The gym had only been under our control for about six months.
It sometimes surprises me, when I look at Tate's face now (seventeen, nearly a man, still a soft coltish, deer-like awkwardness in his gangly limbs and hopelessly curious eyes), to think back on how much we've been through together. It makes me physically start sometimes – buttering bread for lunch, training Pokémon, star gazing – to think that out of the hundreds and thousands and billions of planets and solar systems, I met Tate and he met me. We met in our mother's belly, shook hands, and proceeded to be born together.
We have always been together. I can't think of a single instance in which we haven't been TateandLiza. Even now, in the wary, eager, exploratory age of late adolescence, we are one person. Mama used to quote medical journals (back when she had a brief affair with science, clogging up the house with Hoenn Medical), dictating that twins should be encouraged to be with other children as much as possible. They must stay away from one another, develop separately, lead different lives.
We were relatively normal children, despite our loneliness. When I say loneliness, I mean that we were never with anyone else. Thinking back on it, I don't we ever thought of it. We were one single entity. We didn't need anything more than ourselves.
Our childhood was spent trotting about the space centre, playing at being orbiting planets (you couldn't blame us; our bedtime stories sufficed of various adventures of famous astronauts). Holding hands, Tate and I would barrel into forbidden rooms; touch control panels with curious clammy paws; tug on lab coats; chase Dad's mr mime around the training models.
Mama would later blame herself. She'd rant about social isolation and overdependence until she ran out of steam and locked herself in her room.
But what she couldn't understand was that Tate and I were children of the future. We harnessed the power of the internet and the power of Pokémon without a second thought. And if things ever, ever, went wrong – we had each other.
Back then, I believed we shared a body. At night, when we lay awake in our separate beds, I felt the void between us like a living thing. It strained and sang like plucked wire until I couldn't bare it anymore and moved into Tate's bed. We lay together, feeling our shared heartbeat and the dull thudding of our blood, each in sync. It was as if early in the womb there weren't two of us, but only one; one little baby until extra arms and legs sprouted and we split apart like amoebas. Maybe our souls split as well, and that was why we could never be apart – we were magnets, forever attracted.
But listen to me, wax lyrical about Tate and I! No, the real story that needs to be told happened when we were seventeen. I'm not sure when or how it started - oh yes, we understood science, but how I wish we knew more! – all I know is that in late July, as Hoenn clung on to summer, (Tate and I flush from days at the beach and the reckless irresponsibility that came with too much power at too young an age) the pokéballs stopped working.
As you can probably imagine, chaos ensued.
"Lunatone, use light screen!"
"Solrock, sunny day, now."
Dutifully, our Pokémon soared high above the indoor battlefield. Lunatone's eyes glowed a pale blue as the air surrounding our half of the air shimmered fairy-like in the intensifying heat coming off in waves from solrock's slowly spinning form.
The challenger gritted his teeth. He was a weak-looking guy, maybe eighteen at the most. His skin was pale and he was sweating profusely – from nerves or solrock's move, I couldn't tell. The trainer's two Pokémon – an altaria and a delcatty – were poised before him, like figures on a chess board. He hadn't proved too much of a challenge yet.
A little ways above the arena, behind the special, reinforced glass, the two blurry faces of his travelling companions peered. Tate and I had battled the girl the day before – was her name May? – and she'd lost to a brilliant (if I do say so myself) performance by Ganymede and Gia. Over dinner, Tate and done impressions of her, jumping up and down and stomping her feet and practically frothing at the mouth when her swalot dissolved into a rank purple puddle right in front of her.
"Hidden power, altaria! Delcatty, use attract!"
The blue-white bird squawked and shot towards my lunatone, who didn't even attempt to dodge: in flying through the light screen, altaria noticeably slowed due to the psychic power and barely grazed Ganymede's protruding nose.
Before the delcatty had time to wag its little tail, solrock began to spin like a top, just in time for Tate to say: "Flamethrower."
The devastating wave of fire exploded forth like a solar flare. The trainer – Wally: that was his name! – let out a strangled cry as his Pokémon shielded themselves from the onslaught.
Tate and I allowed ourselves to share a triumphant smirk.
"It was a good match," Tate said politely, shaking Wally's hand. "Your altaria in particular was pretty strong."
Wally smiled weakly in response and, dropping his hand, fidgeted with sudden coyness with the top button of his white shirt. "I like your… solrock."
I rolled my eyes. I didn't know what this kid was playing at, but I sure as hell knew that one comment from a pretty boy was enough to make Tate weak at the knees.
Just as my brother opened his mouth, a playful light in his eyes, I stepped forward and offered Wally a fixed smile. "Thanks for challenging us. Better luck next time, hey?"
Wally's gaze flickered towards me and, taking the hint, nodded and turned back to his friends (their faces the very image of despondency). I turned to my brother and caught his eye.
We stood there for a moment, looking at one another. Finally, I chuckled and punched him weakly in the shoulder.
"You're such an idiot."
His thoughts melted into mine with lightning-fast clarity. He grinned, Wally forgotten. I can't help it. The last time I had a social life was at our sixteenth birthday party.
I snorted. "Yeah, and the only guest was Dad."
The gym office was a tiny room tacked onto the end of the hallway, the main arena to the left and the training area to the right. Added onto the space centre only as an afterthought, the space left for the gym facilities meant that Tate and I were really the only ones who hung around. Sometimes a kid wanting to be a psychic specialist would visit, and we'd host them for a year or so, but mostly it was just us and Simon.
Simon had come to us when we were both sixteen. He'd been a trainer for five years, travelling throughout Unova and Johto before coming to Hoenn specifically to see us. His experience over us at the beginning had been noticeable – Simon was twenty one, his Pokémon extremely well trained, and a couple dozen gym badges to boot – but we quickly learned he didn't know much about psychic Pokémon at all and wanted to be a specialised breeder. Usually he helped Tate and I train our Pokémon and design breeding programs.
"Do we have any other matches for today?" I asked, hovering over my messy desk and shifting a bunch of papers to one side, feeling harassed. "My laptop's out of battery."
Tate was on the other side of the room, his (immaculate) desk parallel to mine. He tapped the keys of his own computer for a moment. "Just one," he said eventually, "it's a guy named Brendan. I think he was with Wally and the girl just now."
A vague image of a tall teenager with a stupid white hat came to mind. "Okay. Should be a piece of cake." I stretched like a cat, glancing out through the floor-to-ceiling window and over the expanse of Mossdeep town. "I'm going to go talk to Simon. Remember that beheeyem he got over from Unova? The few elygem it gave birth to are ready to start training."
Scratching his nose, Tate barely looked up as he turned off his computer and dragged a huge textbook towards him.
"Brother dear? Are you even listening?"
Shooting me an exasperated look, the boy rolled his eyes, flipping over a glossy page. "Do you ever shut up? Come talk to me when Simon's finally decided to quit trying to get espeon to squeeze out a couple of pups. I keep telling him that she's an independent modern Pokémon, but he won't listen to me."
I grinned, ignoring his jibe. Tate's other Pokémon was a strong-willed creature who loathed the other male breeding partners with a passion.
"Totally will, baby brother."
Leaving the office, I made my way down the hallway and turned off into the training arena. Fronted by huge windows that looked over the gigantic room, the sealed sliding door opened to reveal two flights of stairs that swung down towards the sandy ground. The air inside was significantly cooler than the hallway (and, additionally, Mossdeep's intensely humid climate) – psychic Pokémon, whilst not necessarily exerting much physical strength, performed better in cooler temperatures.
"Yo, Simon!" Tripping down the stairs, I leapt the last few and made my way over to the distant figure in the middle of the arena. Surrounding him were a few pieces of training equipment (huge metal blocks, mainly), his eggsecutor beside him (the Pokémon that, apparently, got him 'into' psychics in the first place), and two chimeco, whom Tate and I used to battle the younger challengers.
With a cheerful tinkle as a greeting, the chimeco floated towards me, butting me with their volleyball-sized heads to be petted. Simon caught my eye and smiled.
He was tall and relatively handsome in a nut-brown, Dewford jungle-boy kind of way – all athletic grace and vine-like brown dreadlocks in a permanent ponytail that curled over his shoulder. He had a blurry, good-natured way about him that brought to mind a water type expert – not the catty, sullen disposition of most psychic trainers (Tate and I being the obvious exception, naturally).
"What's up, Liza?" Simon reached out and brushed the tail of Una, one of the chimeco. "You should see these two training. They can lift the big blocks now."
"Oh, really?" I teased, tickling Dua, who giggled and jingled, dancing away from me. "You two want to give me a demonstration?"
The two chimeco tinkled in assent and turned in tandem to face a huge metal block some twenty metres away from us. There was a moment's silence, then their tails gripped one another like hands, and the block shuddered, lurching off the ground to hover a metre into the air. The edges of the block shivered, like a mirage in the desert, from the psychic power. Simon's eggsecutor grunted, impressed.
Lurching once more, the block then catapulted through the air in a straight line, hitting the far wall with a massive clang.
I cheered and Simon clapped his hands. Positively vibrating with delight, the chimeco floated back towards us, chattering to one another in their secret language.
Turning back to Simon, I smiled at him. "Congratulations. It must've taken a while to get them to cooperate."
The gym trainer shrugged, infinitely modest. Changing the subject, he looked at me with renewed interest. "I guess you want to see the elygem, huh?" He laughed at my embarrassed grin. "No worries. There are three, so maybe we'll get a connection this time. If you do, are you going to use it as part of your elite team?"
Most gym leaders had several teams of Pokémon – kind of ranged in tiers. The bottom tier (made up of our chimeco, Dua and Una, in this case) was used to battle the younger trainers, the second tier for medium-level competitors, and the top for the tougher ones. Tate and I each had an elite team, which was just a pet project of ours; we rarely got an opponent that required such a level of finesse, but it was a requirement for Pokémon league rules nevertheless. Our lunatone and solrock hovered between the top tier and our elite team.
I felt suddenly uncomfortable. It had been four months since my girafarig had died in a freak accident. It wasn't anyone's fault but mine (type disadvantage, blind determination, hopeless loyalty) but since then I had been making my way along with only Ganymede (a name given to my lunatone when I was very young (I blame Hoenn Science Monthly). I resisted calling her by her name as much as possible, but sometimes resorted to just 'GM' out of laziness). I knew that by proper league regulations, Tate and I should each have a powerhouse team – four Pokémon minimum. Tate had his solrock and espeon, so at least he was halfway there. I, on the other hand…
"I hope so, yeah," I answered after too long a pause. Simon gave me a sad smiled and turned towards one of the many doors leading off the arena. Most of them were storage areas, though the door that Simon unlocked opened into a huge – well, I guess you could call it a greenhouse – that housed some of the baby Pokémon.
Absently toying with Una, I waited until Simon had disappeared into the (very cold) room and reappeared again, three blue-grey creatures floating along behind him.
"Here we go!" Simon stopped before me, gently pushing the elygem to hover at face-height to his eggsecutor, some two and a half metres off the ground. "In pedestrian terms, these three are maybe at about level thirty or so. They're not going to evolve for another year, at least – but that's only if their psychic powers get up to scratch."
The three Pokémon stared back at me blankly. They were small, perhaps only fifty centimetres in length. Their gigantic heads seemed to make their body tiny in comparison; one look at the softly flashing fingertips of the Pokémon told me they held their craniums up through psychic power. The hieroglyphics on the front of their skull lit up gently, mimicking the beating of their hearts.
Before I knew it, I'd moved into gym leader phase. Stepping away from the chimeco, I concentrated on the elygem, closing my eyes.
I focused and forced my mind to go blank. After a moment, I sent out a querying psychic pulse.
It's difficult to explain exactly what it's like connecting with a Pokémon or person – or even, for that matter, what it's like actually using mind power. I can only equate it to being in a cloyingly, oppressively dark space – like maybe the bottom of the ocean – and sending out a tiny bulb of light. Sometimes it'll go off into the blackness and you'll be able to sense, rather than see, its progress, until maybe, hopefully, it bumps into another bulb of light and the two fasten together, and suddenly you can feel everything about this invisible sentient being, their memories becoming your memories and everything you know and understand weaving between the strands of their psyche until you're not one but two, connected on another plane entirely.
When it first happened to Tate and me we literally couldn't speak for days. It's an insanely intimate and powerful experience.
Having said that, it's a different thing entirely to seek out a compatible mind. Several Pokémon or humans can go decades without meeting on the parallel universe, plane, whatever. Sure, you can connect to anyone – hello, mind readers – but you only get flashes of thought. Maybe a particular emotion coupled with a single image, or a flare of natural instincts; nothing deep or meaningful. That's why psychics can predict immediate movements or repeat fragments of thoughts. It's impossible to form a connection without that spark – only compatible minds can achieve that melting together; that sharing of psyche.
That's why it was taking me so long to connect to the elygem.
I wasn't entirely surprised; it was likely that their powers weren't yet deep enough to understand what I was trying to do. (In hindsight, perhaps I could link this 'mind-meld' with the Pokémon move destiny bond?) They'd feel a tickling sensation, so they'd know another presence was there, but so far, I wasn't getting much.
It was presumptuous of me to expect a connection right away. This was the second batch of elygem from this particular beheeyem; it was entirely possible that she and I, at our core, weren't compatible.
Just as I was about to open my mouth and break the connection, I felt it.
It was weak, like a dim light bulb, or a faded sunset, but it was there: a possibility.
Trying to break into the elygem's mind by force wouldn't be the best way to advance, so slowly, so as to note startle the young Pokémon, I retracted my mind and opened my eyes.
Simon was watching me with an intense look of concentration. When I grinned, he burst into gratified laughter.
"Awesome! I was dreading the idea of having to get that beheeyem to breed again. She's like Nettie." Remembering Tate's veiled threat over his espeon, I giggled.
I looked back at the elygem, my eyes on the far right Pokémon. The absence of visible genitalia told me the hovering psychic was female. She blinked at me curiously, intrigued by my interest.
"Hey." Moving slowly, I raised a hand and held it, fingers spread out, towards the elygem.
Recognizing the familiar greeting of her kind, the psychic bobbed in the air and floated softly down to my eye level. After a pause, she rested her tiny left hand on my palm.
Simon returned the other two elygem into their pokéballs. "What will you call her?" he asked.
"Her name's Io." Surprised at myself, I stared at the elygem. The thought hadn't been my own. A thrill shot through me; she had felt my attempts at a connection! Smiling at my new Pokémon, I took the proffered pokéball from Simon and returned her, tucking the sphere into the pocket of my loose shorts.
"Thanks for this, Simon," I said. "I have a battle this afternoon, but I think tomorrow I'm free. I'll start training her then."
Suddenly, before Simon could reply, there was a blinding flash of white light. Just like before, the two remaining elygem and Io floated before us; the latter looked at me in confusion.
I shared a look with Simon. "I must've pressed the button," I muttered, grabbing my pokéball.
We both held out the spheres and returned the Pokémon again. A moment later, they reappeared, accompanied this time by Ganymede and Simon's raticate.
"What the hell?"
Behind us, the sliding door opened with a hurried swoosh.
"Guys!"
At Tate's alarmed voice, I turned to see my brother hanging over the railing at the end of the arena, a panicked look on his normally composed features. It was only then that I noticed his solrock floating behind him.
"You have to come outside now. I don't know how, but I think all the pokéballs have stopped working."
Tate and I raced out of the space centre, our Pokémon hot on our heels. Simon had stayed inside, as before he had left there had been a thunderous crash, his face had gone white and, murmuring something about shit, metagross had dashed towards the greenhouse.
At first, emerging into the bright sunlight, everything seemed blissfully under control. Until, across town, a gigantic plume of fire burst into the air, followed by an earth-shattering explosion.
I desperately wanted to return Io. The elygem had clung to my bare shoulder, frightened out of her mind. Faintly, I felt waves of panic brushing against my brain. Thankfully, there was the calming presence of Ganymede next to me, her dark red eyes honed in the direction of the explosion.
"Gia, go with Ganymede and figure out what the fuck just happened."
I barely blinked at Tate's order and instead ran down the sloping drive of the space centre, hearing the brief blip of solrock and lunatune teleporting. Tate charged along behind me, his espeon Nettie a streak of lavender fur.
We skidded along the wide, streets, white sand lodged permanently between the flat cobblestones. The infrastructure of Mossdeep seemed largely untouched, the tall narrow buildings solemn as gravestones. As we dashed into the main square, that all changed.
The Pokémon centre had a massive hole torn into its side. Heady smoke belched forth from the wound, a few charred bodies littering the immediate area. A crowd had gathered around the square, some looking desperately frightened, others murderous. But at the sight of Tate and I on the scene, a thin, ragged cheer rose – in times of crises, the people look not to the political leaders, but to the people who wield perhaps the most destructive force of all.
Before Tate had a chance to demand an explanation, (of the crowd; each other) the ground shook again, and a jet of fire torpedoed out of the gaping side of the Pokémon centre.
People screamed and toppled to either side, attempting to dodge the line of flame that hit the opposite building and caused the windows to shatter, the white façade blackening like midnight.
"Right."
Steeling himself, Tate pushed his way through the frenzied crowd – some now escaping down side streets – and disappeared into the smoke. Heart racing, I followed, the only protection I had in the form of the small fingers clutching my left shoulder.
Inside, it was chaos. Chansey and blissey swarmed the destroyed foyer of the centre, screaming in their tongue as abandoned Pokémon and human bodies swooned from their grasps, limp as rags. The smoke was coming from the main dining room, the doors blasted into nothingness and allowing the choking fumes to stream out of the building, as if it was pulled by an unknown force.
Choking, my lungs burning, I stumbled into the dining room. The room was utterly black. The only light was from a hazy orange-red glow on the far side, the flame spluttering like a dying candle. Instantly, I knew this was the source for the explosion.
At the same moment I doubled over retching, a voice cut through the smoke: "GET DOWN!"
Without thinking, I threw myself to the ground, Io beside me. Just a metre above my head, another spurt of fire shot past, the flames licking the doorway and singeing my hair; the heat was excruciating. I felt like I was going to black out.
Just as suddenly, it stopped. Barely able to breathe, I crawled backwards out of the dining room and into the foyer, shifting aside the remnants of bodies and bits of furniture. Well away from the yawning hole, I straightened up and gasped, chest burning with every laboured half-breath I took.
A tentative thought broke through my consciousness; as soon as I was aware of it, it disappeared.
Desperately, I sent out a questing pulse: nothing.
Then, there was a tiny blip and my lunatone was before me. With an effort, I collected my thoughts and straightened up, forcing a down a coughing fit.
I glanced at Ganymede; in response, a translucent oval barrier sprung around us.
"Help me," I rasped at my Pokémon. GM nodded.
It must have taken about three hours to achieve a sense of normalcy.
Outside in the square, the ground was covered in lines of Pokémon and human bodies; some were burned beyond recognition, others torn apart by various attacks by freed Pokémon.
Tate and I sat slumped against the rim of the centre fountain, the water in it having evaporated from the sheer magnitude of the explosion and subsequent fire attacks. Tate's face was black, his body slack with exhaustion. Somehow, he, Nettie, and Gia had subdued the Pokémon in the centre, but before he had managed to catch a glimpse it had disappeared.
The pokéballs still weren't working. What free space was left in the square was taken up by the populous of Mossdeep. Some were trainers, haggard Pokémon kept in close company, the rest normal citizens, weeping over the body of a family member or standing there dumbly, shell-shocked by the afternoon's events. The mayor of Mossdeep, a placid woman in her mid-fifties, was crouched a little way down the line, cradling the beloved body of a linoone.
She wasn't going to do anything. I glanced at Tate: he wouldn't be able to do it either.
Having trouble breathing with my raw throat, I unsteadily got to my feet and stood on the rim of the fountain.
As if flicking a switch, the square was silent. The only sound came from the remaining human and Pokémon nurses of the centre and medical clinic nearby; they moved like ghosts along the lines of bodies and in amongst the crowd, white uniforms in stark contrast with the black stone and bodies.
I opened my mouth to speak, but instead was overcome by a bout of coughing, which continued for a few minutes. When I had recovered, Ganymede moved closer to me, taking most of my weight.
Citizens of Mossdeep.
Ganymede's sonorous, slightly mechanical voice echoed in the silent square. I was feeding her snippets of what I wanted to say; it was up to her to make sense of it, deciphering my addled thoughts and translating them into something coherent and soothing. Often, Ganymede and I communicated using images, but she had learnt English from centuries of living with the humans. I kept meaning to ask her how, exactly.
The tragic events of this day occurred due to the widespread failure of the mass-produced capture spheres known as pokéballs.
As your gym leaders, I, Liza Sidera, and my brother, Tate Sidera, will diligently track down the cause of this malfunction. We will meet with leaders from the Hoenn and international Pokémon league to discuss and remedy this atrocity.
Until then, please keep all Pokémon under close… observation. Here, Ganymede's tone faltered. In the private glimpses into her past, I knew that my lunatone had been 'enslaved' by humans since she could remember. Although she performed every task I asked of her with ultimate obedience, sometimes I would get a flash of something dark. I hoped wildly she wasn't going to slip up and mention something about Pokémon rights; a topic she, Tate and I good-naturedly on occasion debated.
My worries were in vain, though, because Ganymede continued seamlessly, her voice as cool as an air hostess.
Keep unruly Pokémon under control and refrain from Pokémon battles. As of this hour, all gym challenges are cancelled.
Remain calm. We Mossdeep citizens will not crumple under what is, ultimately, a minor issue. Please return to your homes and go about daily business.
Thank you for your cooperation.
Later that evening, Tate and I sat huddled on the couch in our living room. I shivered and huddled closer to Tate, both of us in clean pyjamas.
After what felt like an eternity of silence, I spoke: "What's going to happen?"
Beside me, Tate kept his focus on Nettie, the small cat Pokémon curled up on his lap, purring gently. The soft candlelight made him seem childishly vulnerable. Behind him Ganymede and Gia floated like apparitions.
We didn't have anyone but each other and our Pokémon. Our father wasn't on the planet – literally – and our mother was cavorting about in Sinnoh.
Although my beautiful brother looked as if he were about to shatter into a million pieces, his voice was strong. "We're going to request an official meeting of the Pokémon league," he said, his hand never moving from its curled position around Nettie's ribcage. "I doubt they'll hold back with something this big. We better get ready to fly out in the next couple of days. Apart from that…" He looked up and stared ahead blankly. "We keep our Pokémon close. We don't let the each other out of sight.
"This may seem like extraordinary precautions." Tate's gaze met mine. "But we need to think about all the incredibly powerful Pokémon in the world. Now that they're free, there's no telling what sort of damage… I tried to check the internet – the television too, for the news – but the electricity's completely out. The electric Pokémon down at the plant must have blown something up."
At Tate's remark, I felt a surge of disquiet from Ganymede. I didn't say so, but I agreed with her: how were we to know that the Pokémon had caused the power blackout?
My brother sighed, looking far older than his seventeen years. "I'm going to get in contact with the other psychic leaders tomorrow. The league will try and get us together anyway, but better safe than sorry."
We fell silent. On my other side, Io hovered uncertainly. I felt a pang of remorse for the young Pokémon: she'd only been with me a day, yet had experienced more excitement than some Pokémon did in their entire lives. Despite my aversion to anything maternal, I curled the small body closer to me; my mind lapped with a wave of comfort from my elygem.
"Tate."
He looked at me, pupils blown in the semi-darkness.
"You were so brave today… I'm sorry I couldn't -"
"Liza," he interrupted, dragging me into a hug, his voice rough with emotion. He paused. "I've seen your mind, remember?" he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "You don't have to pretend with me."
As I started to cry, his hold on me tightened. Gia and Ganymede moved closer to us, physically barricading our young bodies from this dangerous world we now found ourselves in.
A few days later, the huge airplane touched down in Kanto. The unofficial capital of all things Pokémon, our destination was the Pokémon league; our purpose: to meet with the rest of the psychic leaders.
Despite the ongoing 'disaster', the plane was packed with people trying to flee a seemingly chaotic region, only to land in another. The pokéball crises seemed to not only have hit Mossdeep – or Hoenn, rather – but Johto, Kanto, Sinnoh, and Unova as well.
The journey from Hoenn had taken five or so hours; the trip to the Pokémon league headquarters would take another two. As Tate and I blearily bundled into one of the few bullet trains of the Kanto region (a relatively new invention, hailing all the way from Unova, which was the figurehead of modern technology), it occurred to me how bizarre this all was. Tate and I hadn't met with the other psychic leaders since our appointment as gym leaders – and even then, under duress.
The arguments against our appointment had rarely strayed from the one prevailing complaint: we were too young. And yeah, we might have been fourteen by our appointment, but so had Bugsy, the bug gym leader from Johto! There hadn't been any opposition to his position, which only lead me to assume that Tate and I were merely widely disliked and tolerated by the rest of the psychic leaders.
This separation of Pokémon type specialists was a calculated move by the league champions. The conferences including all the gym leaders and elite members almost always tended to erupt in bawling matches. It seemed, just like their Pokémon, type specialists loathed anyone who held a type advantage over their own authority. It was all very childish and exhausting and Tate and I hated it all.
Pulling into the underground train station of the league headquarters came all too quickly. It seemed like within moments we were hurried towards our bedrooms to dispose of our baggage, before being ushered into a huge room on the twentieth or so floor. Casting an imperious gaze over the significantly smaller building of the Kanto league, the skyscraper rose up from behind, a sulky, glass-fronted modern calamity. It housed all the respective departments of the Pokémon league, including separate floors for each region. There were league headquarters in every region, of course, but this was the mothership.
The conference room glared at the surrounding mountainous vista, the entire curving far wall a sheet of thick glass. Dominated by a round table, around which were the four other psychic leaders of our country. Forcing myself to avoid eye contact with Tate, (teenage eye rolling techniques at the ready) we moved around the table and sat on the side with the huge glass window on our right. Behind us floated our lunatone and solrock; Tate's espeon sat in the chair beside him, whilst my elygem made herself comfortable in my lap.
After a moment, the young man in a black face mask across the table broke into a slow, mocking applause.
"Brah-voe, young leaders of Hoenn. Bravo." Will sprawled in his high back black chair, one hand held in the air as if he were signalling to a restaurant waiter. "Not only are you twenty minutes late to our conference, you trope in here with all your ragtag Pokémon as well." He shot a venomous look our way and added pointedly, "the invitation requested senior Pokémon only."
My eyes flickered to the xatu standing, still as a statue, beside his chair. It stared back at me unblinkingly.
Adjusting his glasses, sitting ramrod straight, Lucian shone a thin, cold smile at Will. "Perhaps," he began, his voice curiously flat and lacking in any intonation, "instead of squabbling with the children, we could get to the root of our meeting?"
Lucian's gallade, a magnificent creature standing at about three metres total, made a small sound of assent. In response to this, the alakazam on the opposite of the room turned to the silent girl beside him, long whiskers moving gently as he murmured in his trainer's ear.
Sabrina nodded to whatever her Pokémon said and – she did it so quickly, I thought for a moment I was imagining things – cast a penetrating look at Tate and I. I stiffened and double-checked my mental wards. I could feel Ganymede send me a delicate wave of reassurance.
"Very well."
As one, the room turned to regard the short woman sitting with her back to the window. The weak Kanto winter light cast an eerie glow about her figure. Caitlin looked at us each in turn, serene face as enigmatic as a mask. Her musharna lay on the table top before her, great belly swollen as a swine. If it were anyone else, I'd label this the height of rudeness (the Pokémon league was very strict about decorum and public appearance) but considering it was Caitlin's senior Pokémon – the Caitlin of the Unova elite four and one of the masters of the Battle Frontier – it arguably had a stronger grip in the hierarchy than the rest of us did; here, Caitlin was leader. The musharna slept on, oblivious to the eyes now needling its pink-purple shiny hide.
"We are all here for obvious reasons, so I shan't go into all that now. The object of today's meeting is simple: discuss and hopefully resolve the mass failure of pokéballs across our country.
"From what I understand, and have been told -" Caitlin folded her hands on the table top, "the cause of the pokéball failure is unknown. At first, it was thought to be a simple power shortage. As you all know, pokéballs can operate, of course, with or without electrical interference, but that was simply an assumption thrown out in the bedlam. When the pokéballs continued to malfunction, a country-wide call back was issued."
Caitlin paused, gathering her thoughts. I chanced a glance at Tate; he was utterly riveted on the physically diminutive, most powerful woman in the room.
"Various companies around the country – Silph corporation, for one – still cannot come up with an answer. So, it is up to us, the most senior of Pokémon trainers." She looked as if she were about to sigh, shrug her shoulders, do anything to indicate the frustrating position we all found ourselves in, but she forged onwards, the maiden voyage continuing come hell or high water. "Although the failure of pokéballs is arguably our most important issue, we do not have the scientific knowledge necessary to aid the creators of pokéballs. What we must do is address what has happened as a result of all this."
Unfurling her hands, Caitlin revealed a small remote; she pressed a button. In the middle of the table, a holographic image appeared. It flickered constantly, the colours insanely saturated and the image grainy. But what was clear were the images it was showing.
Snippets of video footage played in a constant loop, only about thirty seconds in length.
A charmeleon tore open the stomach of its trainer; a flock of pidgeotto broke out of Fortree gym, setting upon nearby Pokémon and people with fervour; a wailord was released in the middle of a town, crushing nearby buildings; a rampaging onix; a swarm of deadly bug Pokémon; bloodthirsty arcanine – the images were never ending.
The room was deathly silent. Caitlin spoke over the video footage.
"Scenes of destruction are rampant. Authorities are doing their best to subdue the Pokémon responsible, but casualties have been incredibly high. There have been reports of Pokémon turning against under-experienced trainers, trained Pokémon attacking wild Pokémon – the various Safari zones have been veritable bloodbaths."
"Does anyone know why the Pokémon are attacking one another?" Will interrupted.
"No. Pokéballs have never held any kind of method of subduing the Pokémon inside – like drugs or so forth."
"Is there anyway the psychic Pokémon under our control can be used to create some sort of… safe zone?"
I turned to look at Tate in surprise; my brother always had odd but brilliant solutions to any problem. He leaned on the table, eyes shining in determination.
"We're all from different regions. Surely we could all make a single safe point, away from all the wild Pokémon. Light screen, protect – even just a psychic force field would surely be enough."
Caitlin observed Tate with interest. "It is a good idea," she replied slowly, "although Pokémon typing would work against us. Ghost and dark Pokémon would be immune to our efforts. Additionally, that brings us to another problem." Suddenly, she looked incredibly grave. "Out of all the Pokémon gone wild, bug types are proving the most troublesome; they travel, more so than other species of Pokémon, in groups – families, hives -" she waved a hand dismissively; psychic trainers loathed bug Pokémon on principle, "these swarms are made up mainly of trained Pokémon breaking free to regroup with their original families. As such, swarms of beedrill, vespiquen – the list goes on – have been attacking people more than any other type of Pokémon. Even water types, usually contained in schools, or what have you, are only returning to the ocean to be with their kind in peace. Flying types are taking to the sky. It seems as though the resulting destruction of the mass-release of Pokémon has trigged some sort of survival instinct in Pokémon. They are returning to their homes.
"It is in these areas, where Pokémon types collide, that we have the most damage."
Breaking her stoic façade, Caitlin allowed herself to rub her temples. She turned off the images of massacre and tossed the remote on the table with a clatter. The stony look she had maintained all meeting showed its cracks and she held her head in her hands, staring at the table top with a glassy look.
"It seems that no matter what solution we come to, there are obstacles in every direction."
I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding. Tightening my grip around Io's middle, I tried to get my brain into gear. Surely there was a result! There must be some solution, just out of reach.
Liza.
I started at Ganymede's voice in my head. Glancing around guilty at my sombre companions, I relaxed when I realised they too were all probably conversing with their Pokémon.
Yes?
What I am about to suggest is not very… proactive to your human need for socialisation. It is neither very ethical.
I frowned. What do you mean?
A country-wide quarantine must be issued.
Suddenly, Tate's voice resonated in my mind: Can you explain, Ganymede?
Is it like Tate's idea, with the psychic force fields? I added.
Yes and no, replied my lunatone. Each town must separate itself entirely from the surrounding region. With my limited knowledge of the Hoenn landscape, I am unsure of many islands outside of Dewford and Mossdeep – but these isolated units could cut themselves off. A control of the populous and Pokémon would be easy within a small space.
People from the mainland would flock to the island cities, though, Tate said, his tone indicating he was frowning in thought. Isolationism would be revolutionised. Trade would be affected. Mossdeep is hardly able to sustain itself.
What about Pacifidlog, Sootopolis and Ever Grande? I asked, glancing at Tate, who looked back at me in thinly-veiled desperation. They can't last long by themselves either. Maybe Sootopolis could, considering it's so difficult to access and about a million years old, but the others would die off.
Ganymede was silent for a moment. That is why it could be considered… unethical.
I broke off the connection, forcing my brother and my Pokémon out of my mind. My hands were shaking. Mossdeep and the other island cities had always been at least slightly self-sufficient – but the increase of trade throughout the regions had meant that now, essentially, it was impossible for Mossdeep to function without outside help. Or was it?
Biting my lip, I stared down at Io's dome like head. It could be possible for Mossdeep to survive… The only way we wouldn't die out would be if we formed some sort of alliance with one of the other island cities. Everyone on the sea would want to be allied with Sootopolis – but that wasn't topographically possible for Dewford or Pacifidlog. The former was too close to Slateport and Petalburg, anyway – would they join forces?
Listen to yourself! My hands clenched into fists. What you're suggesting is a complete divorce from the rest of Hoenn – your home region! To leave the mainland to itself while you happily survive on your safe little island…
Suddenly, I was terribly homesick. I was struck with terror. What if Simon hadn't been able to keep things under control at home? True, we hadn't had any mauling seel or whatever, but it could happen – couldn't it? Why wasn't Mossdeep plagued with the terror seen on the videos across the country?
I was jolted out of my thoughts by a movement to my left. I looked at Tate, who caught my eye and grimaced.
Oh, no.
Tate! My mind screamed, don't say a word! Don't let anyone –
"I propose a countrywide quarantine, with all city states remaining as independent safe zones, safety courtesy of the corresponding gym. Type specialisation would be paramount, as would the cease of trade, travel, and superfluous communication until the situation at hand is resolved."
The meeting room ceased of all minute activity. Around the table, several pairs of eyes stared at us incredulously.
Beneath the table, Tate took my hand.
Predictably, Will was the first to jump to his feet.
"That's utterly reediculuss!" he squawked, slamming his hands down on the table. His xatu let out a single caw. "And what about us elite members, hmm? I get how this whole little one man is an island thing helps you out, but for those of us who have bigger fish to fry -!"
"I agree absolutely." Lucian glared at us, his monotone voice somehow more chilling than Will's dramatic shriek. "To even suggest such treason is completely unethical."
"Treason!" Before I knew it, I was on my feet, Io floating, displaced, at my side. Her fingers were flashing wildly in warning. I could feel her emotions snugly against my own: they surged like a hurricane. "We're not a fucking monarchy! Tate's suggestion – and, on a side note, my own – is anything but stupid! Yeah, it's a risk, but in the long term we might be protecting ourselves against almost definite destruction!"
"From the way you're talking," Lucian replied tartly, his arms tightly crossed, eyes practically shooting laser beams, "this sounds more like anarchy."
"What do you mean 'destruction'?" Caitlin's voice was steely and sent an icy chill down my spine. "These are Pokémon, not weapons. To imply that they are somehow the cause of all this…"
"No!" I said, exasperated. "They're not the cause of this at all. We are."
This was met with another moment of silence. Lucian snorted derisively. "Oh, God. Spare us this hippie bullshit, why don't you? The fact remains that what you're suggesting is essentially war."
When Sabrina spoke, we all looked at her in utter astonishment. Sheepishly, I realised that I had forgotten she was there at all.
"If we're talking war," Sabrina said, her tone quiet but hard as stone, "who is the enemy? Pokémon… or each other?"
"That's what I call treason!" Will spat.
"Bringing politics into this isn't helping anyone," Caitlin snapped with sudden force. "Nor is the subject of war. We have not fulfilled our objective, which is to come up with a solution for the failure of pokéballs!"
"Well, what can we say?" Tate was on his feet beside me. "Every bright idea we have gets shot down in flames! No matter what we come up with, it's never going to fulfil everyone's wishes!"
"Out of everything we've heard today, the twin-children have the best idea." Sabrina's eyes moved around the table slowly. If she were a different sort of person, I'd say she was enjoying the attention. "I, for one, will be returning to Saffron city and defending it against – well," she paused, somewhat shyly, "I don't know who I'll be defending against, but no one's getting past alakazam."
With that, she and her senior Pokémon left the room.
Will spluttered with indignation.
"She's not going get away with this!" he exclaimed, turning to look at the rest of us. "This is against everything the Pokémon league stands for! Won't the other gym leaders and elite members think it strange that only the psychic trainers are the ones putting up this front?"
"Thinking about joining Sabrina, are you?" Lucian asked coldly. Will snapped his mouth shut and burned behind his mask.
"All I'm saying," he hissed between gritted teeth, "is if it comes to blows, I'd rather be on the side of the law."
In a burst of anger, Caitlin slammed her fist down on the table and stood up. We all gaped at her; the elite member had always seemed so composed, but as the conversation slowly turned more mutinous…
Can we trust her? I asked Tate suddenly.
After a pause: I don't know, Lizzy.
Caitlin breathed heavily through her nose. "I propose an adjournment." Drawing herself up to her full height (which was not very impressive) the young woman before us met our gaze one by one. "We will discuss this further tomorrow."
As she moved gracefully around the table towards the door, her musharna stood, yawned, and lumbered over the wooden table top. When it reached the edge, it stepped off and continued walking in thin air, following its trainer out of the room.
Lucian was the next to stand; he left without another word.
Never being one to want for Will's poisonous company, Tate and I got to our feet and followed Lucian out.
In the back of my mind, I could feel a faint thrill of victory.
Whether it was from me or my Pokémon was something else entirely.
Looking out over the twinkling Kanto landscape, Tate and I stood before the glass window of our lounge suite. The electricity in this region was never an issue, so the soft yellow lamps cast a gentle glow upon our opulent, modern surroundings.
Night fell quickly in the Kantonese mountains; outside it was an inky blue-black, interrupted only by distant lights of cabins or camping fires. It felt as if we were staring into space.
"Is it really treason?" Tate asked eventually. I sent him a questioning probe with my mind. "I mean," he added, "could we get arrested - for quarantining our home and defending our people? Is that against the law?"
Hoenn law? I asked. Or Kanto law? If it's the former, we're only reacting in a time of crises which will ultimately lead to the greater good. But by Kanto law, we're rejecting the official leadership of the Pokémon league.
"Yes, but they're hardly the government." Tate bit his thumbnail in earnest thought. "Or are they? I don't know; I have no clue about these sort of things. Damn it all!" He began to pace in front of me. "Why do we know so little? I don't know a thing about the organization I'm apart of – employed by, rather. The league tells us to run the gym, we do it. But there are all these tripwires, loose ends, hoops, that we have to jump through. But the thing is, Liza -" he stopped and looked at me, "I'm not sure I want to be their lapdog anymore."
My heart swelled with affection. I grinned at my twin, my mirror image, our face reflected back at me in the icy surface of the window and the bright black night beyond.
"It's you and me, Tate," I said, taking his hand in mine. "It always will be."
His expression softened, eyes taking in my features as if they were made of glass. TateandLiza.
I kissed his mouth, gentle as a hummingbird, as a spring breeze, an exploding star.
"Tate and Liza," I murmured and kissed him again.