A new story for the Kraithian Arc, this is technically the final installment, occurring... well, you'll see its a very long time after 'Gemstone' is planned to be, a thousand years in fact. Its thankfully because of that long time gap that I can make a start on this, since the history of the earlier stories is essentially unknown to most of the characters, with those who do know suitably alienated.

I've sort of based Eleanor around a girl I've seen and similarly had to refer to as Cute Girl for a long time. The basis is physical only, as I don't actually know her particularly well. Hopefully in the unlikely event that she reads this she won't be offended, since I expect the character I've made is considerably more of a pain than she actually is.

Dislaimer stuff now, I don't own non-original aspects of this story, such as the Pokemon franchise, but I do own my original creations, such as the plot.

Lateral Ganon

# # # Chapter Specific Notes # # #

Italics are thoughts outside of speech, and sarcasm or similar vocal changes within speech.

Kevin makes the story the most M-rated, so don't be too alarmed by him.

Gloria does not have a pronoun error.

Peter has some mentality issues.

Chapter 1 - Hell Breaks Loose

As far as anyone could tell, time stood still in these plains. Nothing moved, nothing lived, and nothing changed. This entire continent, ravaged by a stellar cataclysm Eons ago, was the worlds Deadlands. Even in the millennia that had passed, there wasn't a single attempt to re-colonise the land… shunned for the gruesome reminder that was ever-present: The Silver Dead. Frozen forever in that final moment, this entire country was shrouded in a layer of metal. Every building, every plant, every creature, perfectly preserved in form, terror etched firmly into every sentient face, never tarnishing or rusting. Despite these properties, the metal could not be removed, or even scratched, to be used for other purposes. In an age of superstition, whispers of curses passed the lips of those who dared to speak of it. Nowadays, the nation was merely a geologically curiosity taught by geography teachers. But still, no-one had actually set foot on its shores for centuries. There was simply nothing left worth the effort.

"The Gilded Land has the most curious properties on the planet." Professor Guthnor always liked to start his lessons with, remotely dimming the lights. Behind him, the projector flickered on, giving his class a panorama view of the terrain, a small chain of steel-coated mountains in the centre. He prowled forwards slowly up the central aisle amongst the benches.

"Metal as far as the eye can see. Grasses are like knives underfoot, and trees are magnificent sculptures. Every inch of the land has this coating, which has rendered it immortal essentially. Nothing alive of course, but geologically speaking, this landscape will never change: not in a million years, not in a billion years, just not ever. As far as we can predict, its tectonic plate won't be recycled through subduction or such, and simply put, it'll stay with us until the end of the world. So if you're looking for job security, make a career of studying this place." A small wave of laughter ran amongst the students for a moment, and he allowed it to subside before continuing.

"Further to just the benefit of job security, there's always the opportunity for discoveries, more so than any other subject of research. Simply put, even now we know essentially nothing about the Gilded Land. There are questions for physicists, biologists, engineers, geographers, historians, astronomers, any of which can get your face on the front page of journals." The screen behind cut to the front page of a science journal called "Earth" showing a computer generated photo of a steel coated mountain range, with a small photo of Professor Guthnor's face inset alongside. Several students in the room oohed, and the professor raised his hands modestly.

"Of course, we were working closely with some of the other departments. You could find yourselves working with just about anyone." Glancing up at the room's clock, he clapped his hands once, waking up some lazy students at the back.

"And with that, I think it's about time to end the lecture. Next time I'll be teaching you how we can use the Gilded Lands properties of preservation to gain an insight into the ancient geology of the rest of the world. As usual, I'll be happy to answer any questions anyone has." Of course, ever since the words 'end the lecture' had been said, most of the rest was drowned out by the students scraping bags around and filing notes away. To his relief though, some of the more die-hard students did have questions, and were making there way to the head of the theatre. Rubbing his hands together in glee, he sat on the edge of a separate table at the front. He tilted his head up at the first student, a girl, indicating she could speak.

"Hi, you know that journal cover you brought up?" She started. Guthnor gave a small nod, "Did you actually find anything interesting when you were out there? Because I'm sure that everyone knew it was coated in metal anyway."

He smiled, leaning back as though pondering his answer.

"How do you think I got my professorship?" He replied, "Which program are you studying?"

"Physics. BSc."

"Ah… then you might be interested in the properties of the metal. If you're not busy I can find a booklist that could shed light on things."

"Umm… I've got a lecture in a few minutes, so can I just have the reference for the article?" She asked. He nodded, and handed her a slip of paper to write on.

"You can find it in Earth Volume 380, pages 255 to 290; the last 10 pages are just references."

"Thank you." The girl said before dashing off. Guthnor gave his fluffy orange beard a quick scratch before looking at one of the other students that had stayed behind. A first year student, male this time, took the initiative.

"What did it feel like being out there?" The boy asked. The Professor gave the boy another of his trademark smirks.

"A historian I'd wager."

"Geography, sir." The boy answered sheepishly. Guthnor raised his eyebrows briefly in surprise, the only hair besides his beard, before his features settled on a more endearing expression.

"Good man. Not one of these historians with their head in a cloud growing up watching Indiana Jones. No, definitely not, with the smart shoes and the chequered shirt and-"

"Professor."

"Oh. Sorry. Yes. Feelings. Yes." He looked up at the ceiling again as though a scripted answer was stapled to it, "It was a while ago, but there was a bit of a buzz about being on uncharted territory. It's also humbling knowing you're the only living thing in a hundred miles, besides your team-mates if you count historians as living. Dull chaps. And then of course, the first time you come across Silver Dead…" He paused again to shiver slightly, "You hear the stories but you can't prepare for that sort of thing. That's a true test of your mettle."

"Nice pun sir." The boy said, his own face breaking into an awkward smirk. The Professor just laughed normally at it.

"Thanks very much. And you can drop the 'sir' business, call me Adrian."

"Okay then, Adrian." The boy said awkwardly, "Peter."

"Peter. Keep on top of your studies then Pete." The professor said, waving him off to one side. On his way, Pete deliberately stood on one of his shoelaces, prying it undone. Apparently noticing it, he paused by the doorway, spending notably longer trying to tie it up than it normally would. Of course, he was just stalling for time; the last person with a question was a girl he'd taken particular notice of. Unluckily, the answer the professor had given for his question had put her in a foul mood.

"Did you go near the tower in the Central Mountains?" She asked impatiently. The professor made a shocked expression at her bluntness, and backed up on the table slightly. Weren't brunettes meant to be docile?

"Are you sure you're in this module?" He asked. The girl frowned at him.

"Eleanor. Dull historian in training." She replied tersely. He gave a single unconvinced nod.

"That explains the rudeness."

"Are you going to answer my question?"

"Not unless you fix your tone." He retorted, refusing to be riled. She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"I wanted to recall if you noticed anything out of the ordinary about the tower, or if you can describe what you know about it. I'm just interested in it."

"Well that was more information than I needed." He began, closing his eyes. She gave a quiet huff of indignation, but remained otherwise silent for him to answer. He opened his eyes again, clasping his hands together on his lap.

"I didn't put much interest in the tower; it was the historians that took the most interest in it. It's covered in the same type of metal as everywhere else, and if it was straight, it would probably be about a mile high. Some radical factions call it a wind sanctuary, a source of meteorological power, saying that monks used to say prayers daily to keep the winds blowing."

"Did they?"

"The thing about radical factions is that they're always wrong. If you're looking for fact, you've probably already researched as much as we know. Probably as much as we'll ever know."

Eleanor gave a curt thank-you, before turning and heading towards the door. Peter edged backwards against the front bench as she passed, and for a split second felt giddy when she turned her head slightly to look at him. Then it registered that her face was showing contempt. And then she was gone, out the door and somewhere else. Pete looked back over to the professor, who was polishing his glasses and yawning.

"Not a very subtle ruse you used." He said. Peter could feel his face heating up.

"Is it that obvious."
"Glances throughout the lecture? From down here, you can see everything, now, off with you. This theatre's booked for another lecture in 5 minutes, and it's another of those god-awful historian chaps."

The silvered grass buckled as the caterpillar tracks ran over them, thick tracks of dented undergrowth behind marking the path the vehicle had taken. Thick plumes of exhaust smoke rose above the canopy of mirrored trees, the forest rattling to the sound of the diesel engine. The truck itself had been heavily converted for this country, with every exterior surface as shiny and reflective as the landscape. A viewing tower had been bolted to the top surface in which, through very narrow slits, a yellow eye could be seen… if there was anything outside alive to see it.

Inside the owner of the eye was straining up, stood precariously on a stool welded to the cargo bay floor, his tail swishing impatiently under long robes covering the entirety of his body. He was the sole occupier of the truck, leaving driving and navigation to his computer. It wasn't as though there'd be wild Pokemon to avoid, or traffic to complicate things. Sparing a glance down, he checked for probably the fiftieth time that his knapsack was hung up on the wall by the back hatch. The Lucario's fur bristled as, after resuming his lookout, he noticed that they'd left the forest cover, and were heading out across open 'grassland'. Soon he would atone for his sins. He could make out the silhouette of his challenge ahead on the horizon, nestled amongst the mountain chain which made up the heart of these wastelands. The Temple of Winds.

The warm orange glow over the west side of the campus as evening approached would be considered a romantic backdrop for much of civilised society. But of course, this was student territory, and such practices were generally replaced with copious amounts of alcohol, the occasional drop of rohypnol, and, Peter expected, a large amount of sickened females the day after. And no-one batted an eyelid, because of course, how else were students going to get laid otherwise? Poor, hygienically dubious and desperate youths, whose idea of a banquet was an 18 inch pizza and a bucket of barbeque Delibird wings. His brother, Kevin, two years his senior and an Arts Major, had fed him the stories of his own wild nights.

"If you're not intending to use a cheesy pick up line, you're gonna get laughed straight out." Said the voice from Peter's laptop. Peter glanced over his shoulder angrily, before returning his attention to his shirt buttons. At some point, his hastily put on jeans had slipped down to his ankles, revealing his Treecko boxer shorts to the laptop's webcam. The boy on the other end of the line tutted.

"If you're expecting to sleep with her tonight, don't bother. If I was a girl, I'd take one look at those pants and put you down as an inexperienced nerd." Kevin sniggered through the laptop. Peter looked down, quickly pulling his trousers back up, before returning his attention to the coat hangers in front of him.

"I've read up. That counts for something." He replied brusquely, receiving an amused huff from Kevin, "I'm not planning on doing her any time soon. I just want to get to know her, that's all."

"And how would you feel if you started dating a girl you knew, banged her and then found out from her that you were a disappointment and wanted to leave you, never talking to you ever again? Huh?" Kevin said, leaning back on the screen triumphantly. Peter paused, staring vacantly into the depths of the wardrobe. He knew exactly how he'd feel if that happened. It wasn't as though he had any past experience; it was just some extreme form of empathy. And he could feel exactly what it would be like, to die of a broken heart. The hollow feeling in his chest; the incessant clawing of inadequacy at his ribcage; the undeniable desire to be isolated; the fear of ending it all. Silently, a tear trickled down his face. Losing someone that close would rip him in two. Hearing no immediate reply, Kevin continued.

"That's why you should just have one-night stands. No-one gets hurt. Everyone just carries on."

"That wouldn't happen." Peter replied quietly, not entirely sure how he was choosing his words, "If she wanted… that, that badly, she wouldn't last very long… I could probably satisfy her. I wouldn't let her down."

On the screen, Kevin cocked an eyebrow, although with Peter still facing his wardrobe, he didn't see it.

"She'd get bored of the same." He stated simply. Peter turned back to face the laptop, having finally done up his shirt.

"I could be imaginative."

"No, I mean bored of you. Girls are just whores, you wouldn't be her only one. Probably wouldn't even be her first."

"Shut up!" Peter said, his face reddening with anger. "She's not a whore, you don't know her."

"Neither do you."

For a few seconds, Peter fumbled about with his hands, making various gestures that portrayed his vexation very clearly, before clamping both hands on the laptop lid, and slamming it shut, cracking one of the hinges. It was very much like his brother to belittle his ideals. Still, at least he didn't give his brother the opportunity to finish the conversation with his usual-

On the desk, his mobile was ringing. Too preoccupied by Kevin's question, he picked it up and flipped it open without checking the caller ID. Kevin's voice started immediately.

"Don't worry; you'll wet your dick in something yet." He said, followed by laughing. Howling in rage, Peter looked around his room.

Outside, there was a small splash as a mobile phone was thrown into the pond from one of the windows.

The Temple was an immense cylindrical structure leaning against the side of one of the mountains, three buttresses attached to surround it. Adorning its side were hundreds of small shrines, each resembling a pod of some kind. The top of the temple tapered to a pointed dome, and as with the rest of the region, was thoroughly metallic. The temple had one outward curiosity about it though, too small to note by explorers which by this point would be weary of their trek: It still had glass for its windows. And on the ledge inside one of the highest windows, a small trinket was perched, resembling a tiny Latios of the kind a jeweller would make. The trinket was fashioned of both gold and silver, and overall, would have been a collector's piece indeed. But of course, Gloria would not be content in a glass case, with a label. They were much more content being the Guardian. Then again, much more is in comparison to being stuck in a glass case, so in comparison to being out there in the world having adventures, they were bored pretty stiff. They hadn't moved for centuries, and the vines that grew throughout the structure had even wrapped around Gloria's bulbous back half, the greenish tendrils snaking over their body. Behind Gloria, the vines had taken over the remnants of the room, enveloping tables and chairs, and smothering walls. Various dial faces were cracked where the vines had, over the course of years, forced entrance, and in the centre of the room, two halves of a spherical shell that had been prised open was lathered in lianas.

The last traces of the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the truck had just entered the first foothills of the Central Mountains, making its final approach to the temple. The Lucario had spent the last few hours resting in a hammock suspended at one side of the cargo bay, watching the computer track the trucks progress on a screen on the opposite wall intently. Within half an hour, he'd be home; the wasted years restored.

The campus coffee shop had considerably less business than those which sold inebriating beverages, but it was still popular amongst the more academically minded. Naturally, Peter was a frequent visitor, and he'd noticed, on random occasions, that girl too. She always came in with a thick book, and would sit reading it from nine in the evening to midnight, ordering 6 coffees over the period. Gradually, he'd figured out that she did this after asking a question at the end of a lecture, making today an opportunity he kept telling himself he couldn't pass up.

Nevertheless, he turned up half an hour late, having procrastinated for as long as he could, before quite simply, snapped into gear and running for the coffee shop. As he pushed open the door, a few of the patrons looked at his sweaty brow and messy shirt curiously, before returning to their own affairs. To his surprise, but convenience, the coffee shop was unusually full, with every table more or less occupied. Scanning over the tables though, a copy of the 'Earth' journal tucked under his arm, he eventually spotted the long mousey hair he recognised, and slowly made his way through towards her. He silently praised any gods that might have existed from the old days for the luck that the only free chairs left were at her table. As expected, she was reading a text-book about half an inch thick, and was nearly a third of the way through it. A small hip flask was placed on the table next to her coffee in a manner that hid it from view at most angles. He chewed his lower lip slightly at the revelation, trying to think how he should react. During the time he was thinking though, she noticed him stood there, and looked up, a frown on her face.

"You're watching me." She said to him coldly. He looked at her face, and then shook his head quickly.

"Sorry, just got distracted by your book." He said, his voice squeaking slightly. She raised an eyebrow at him warily, "I was wondering if you'd mind if I sat here." He gestured to the seat opposite her.

She looked through the room, apparently looking for any other free seats. Evidently, she found none.

"Yes I mind, but I can't really stop you." She muttered. Peter grimaced again, now reluctantly sitting opposite her. It was slightly unnerving that she'd kept looking at his face ever since she'd noticed him, "You're the guy with the Treecko boxers aren't you."

"Oh jeez." He put a hand over his face, and the girl shot him a malicious smirk.

"I knew it. You're that guy in fresher's week that was-"

"I know, I know"

"Pantsed like a dozen times."

"I was there you know." He hissed, very clear that it was something he didn't want to be reminded of, "Can I just read?"

"Now you've been as inconvenienced as me, yes."

Peter huffed and hurriedly opened the magazine, almost tearing it along the spine in his eagerness to put something between him and this girl. He'd finish the coffee he'd pre-emptively ordered, and then he'd be out. Unknown to him, she'd be coming with him.

The first strike of the adamantium blade shot a cascade of sparks over the metal doorway, seven clunks accompanying the fizz as the blade was dragged through to the bottom. Within an instant, the treatment was repeated for the doors opposite side, the razor effortlessly shearing the ancient deadbolts holding the doorway in place. Barging against the entrance, it collapsed ahead of him, throwing up a cloud of ancient dust. The Lucario smirked, watching as the dust cleared to reveal the open chamber beyond; the way inside the Temple. Exactly as foretold, the Temple itself did not share the impenetrable properties of the rest of the land. Making a few last minute adjustments to his combat trousers, he leapt forwards, eddies of mist churning in his wake.

Everywhere inside was coated in metal, although here it appeared to be more structured… riveted panels and ventilation grates. There were many more deadbolted doors, but a blade slicing down the sides like a hot knife through butter made short work of all of them, the screeching, clangs and bangs of demolished doors ringing through the temple. The Lucario had ten minutes before the guardians could do anything about him, and there were fifteen heavily fortified iron-clad floors between him and his master.

High up in the Temple, Gloria opened their eyes, the tiny ruby and tiny amber both sparkling in alarm.

Even though Peter was half-heartedly reading the Earth Journal, his thoughts weren't so academic. Mentally he was sifting through a list of girls he'd taken notice of here.

I wonder what Angry Girl does for hobbies. He thought, the pet-name referring to a fiery red-head who looked to be in a somewhat constant state of annoyance. He shook his head slightly.

Probably beating some poor boy up in the bars.

He continued through the list, occasionally nodding, wincing, and tutting. Invariably though, all the comparisons made their way back to Cute Girl. The girl currently in front of him. The girl who at some point, seemed to notice something a little off.

"You haven't turned a page for ten minutes." She said, taking a sip from a new cup of coffee, and glaring at him, "And you're making noises."

Oh fuck.

"Uh, I just had an idea and I was thinking it over in my head." He replied quickly. The girl gave a small nod, and a faint grin formed behind the cup in her hands.

"Not an academic one."

"You wound me." Peter said melodramatically, closing his eyes and tutting at her, "It was actually an idea on-"

He glanced down at the page he'd stopped on. One page was an advert for gas chromatographs, and the other was just a list of references. Neither of them gave him the inspiration to come up with a convincing lie.

"Private." He finished, not noticing the lack of coherence. The girl sniggered at him callously.

"Your type always thinking about privates." She said, putting the cup down next to the hip flask on the table. Silently, she unscrewed the lid, and held the mouth of the bottle up next to her coffee, pausing a little. She looked back up at him, and gave him a small smile, "You don't mind right?"

Peter wrinkled his nose up at the flask, the faint odour of vodka rapidly reaching him, but resentfully closed his eyes and looked back down at the table.

"Damn you." He sighed quietly. She gave a triumphant smirk, and tipped a small shot-glass worth of the liquor into the cup, before downing the mixture in a single hearty gulp.

"I've never been 'damned' for my habits before." She said, setting the cup back on its saucer, "Are you one of these religion people?"

Peter glanced away awkwardly. There hadn't been accepted religions for centuries, ever since mathematicians had been able to conclusively disprove miracles. But of course, an omniscient, omnipotent, immortal being is harder to kill than simple logic, and through the ages, a few of them had sneaked into the literature. When he was younger, he was amazed by their powers and made a hobby of reading as many of the stories as he could find.

"No." He replied flatly, "Just kinda interested."

It was unusual to see both her eyebrows shoot up together, in a look that could only be described as intrigue. She looked back down at her textbook, flicking back through the pages.

"An interest in religions?" She asked, still scrutinising her book. Peter nodded slightly, not particularly wanting to be branded some kind of cultist. Apparently finding her page, she smiled at him, sincerely for the first time.

"What do you know about the Eonic Gods?"

He tilted his head slightly, and gave a non-committal shrug. Technically, the Eonic Gods should have been the most well known, or should have evolved into the prevalent religion of the world, but for some odd reason, they had descended into obscurity. At some point in the past, the gene pools of Eons and Humans had become mixed together, also presenting a mixing of cultures. With humans being sceptical about their own gods, the Eonic Gods would have been allowed to fill the vacuum. Somehow though, the knowledge had become scarce when Latias and Latios in their pure forms had become extinct in the world. The girl gave an exasperated sigh.

"That's a no then. Can we scan com chips, and you call me if you find out anything?"

Wait a sec, I'm not your lapdog..

"I don't even know your name."

"Eleanor."

The door in front of him was stronger than the rest, the edges precision milled to not even give a millimetre to slide the knife down. Tapping it, he could hear it was thick, mostly hollow, and filled with various mechanisms ensuring it remained locked. It was for this reason that he was carrying his knapsack. Reaching into it, he pulled out several orange brick-sized pieces of slightly sticky plastic, pressing them into the corners of the doorway. Explosives. Wiring them up to a detonator as a matter of course, he trailed the fuse back around a corner. Sparing a last glance to ensure the charges were in place, he fired; the sound reverberating through the Temple like a thunder crack.

Despite the long slumber, Gloria didn't suffer the dozy time that fleshy creatures would have. Ripping free of their vine coating, they flew straight at the nearest vent, their alloyed form easily punching through the inferior metal grate.

Before the debris could settle, the Lucario was running through again, his heart pounding against his ribs. Ever since he was a cub, the Cult Elders had told him the stories of the power of God, and the laws it had imposed to keep the world in order, laws that only the cult still abided by. He asked the Elders 'Where is God now?' when he heard the tale, knowing of the depravity that pervaded the world he'd been born into, and that God must have been gone. The Elders always looked solemn when they recalled how an uprising of mortals ignorant of the natural order had taken place, tricking and imprisoning God; a story which always made him cry whenever he recalled it. As the decades passed, his tears dried to be replaced with a fiery zealotry to find the accursed prison, and release their Master. In his apprentice years, besides dying his fur permanently green, he'd raided vast amounts of archives for any shred of knowledge on the subject, buying or stealing any ancient tomes in marketplaces that took his fancy. Piece by piece, the gaps in the stories were filled. Now an Elder in his own right, there was no better time to make the expedition.

This room was far more open than the corridors he'd been running through. Circular in shape, and probably over a dozen floors high, he'd entered onto one of many balconies ringing the central space, slender pillars of red and blue marble rising to breach the levels. Had a historian entered, they'd have drooled over those pillars, monuments to Ancient Eonic architecture as they were. Whilst not a historian however, the Lucario was still drooling. Pulling back his hood and raising his thick goggles to ensure his eyes weren't deceiving him, he slowly lumbered forwards, his jaw falling open and in his excitement, forgetting control of his bladder. His padded feet touching the floor the only sound, he slowly approached the edge of the balcony, resting his hands on the railing for support. Looking up, his suspicions were confirmed. Hovering in the empty space, a rope of thick stone coiled up, its surface interrupted with glyph-like ridges, small flat outgrowths in groups of four, and further up a pair of expertly carved taloned arms. At the uppermost end of the statue, a pointed head was fashioned, baring vicious fangs, and four tips pointed back along the body. Only a matter of metres away, trapped by the ancient heretics, was his eternal Master. The God of Death. The Bane of Eons. The Master of Altitude. The Beast Rayquaza.

Boys were dense creatures, Eleanor knew, but since hearing her name, he hadn't even moved, his jaw just hung slackly on that typical idiot mug. Evidently needing to top up his attention, she held her chip up in her fingertips.

"Chip. Yes or no." She said, changing her tone to remind him of her impatience. He erred gormlessly, and she was sorely tempted to boot him under the table. Had he been a date, she would have done since she'd have been wearing high heels.

"Look, you'll know things. Stories, practices, little titbits." She whispered, leaning forwards and resting on her elbows, resting her chin on laced fingers, "I'd like to know what you know. Helps with studies and things."

Apparently suddenly regaining awareness of the situation, he blinked and rubbed his eyes.

"I don't know." He replied, dragging the hand across his cheekbone, "Just children stories."

"They don't have those in books anymore." She encouraged. He let out a small groan of annoyance, "Peter…"

"Why me? Am I special?" He asked, surprising her by looking straight in her face. A disturbing tactic to be sure, but not one she was unused to, and she simply looked away. Manipulation was quite natural to her, as with any girl, and she knew how to play coy.

"Maybe?" She said, giving him a furtive glance just long enough for him to definitely notice, before looking away again and playing with her fingers, "A nice chat you know?"

She inwardly smirked as she saw the defenceless male fold in front of her, and slowly reaching down to fumble in his pockets for his com chip. Holding her own chip up again, she watched as he moved his chip next to it apprehensively. After a second, the small beep confirmed the exchange, and the smirk developed on her face.

"Thanks." She said, returning her attention to her textbook to hide her triumph, "I'll call you this evening."

"Don't mention it." He said awkwardly, having resigned himself to being interrogated by her daily until she was satisfied she'd heard all the stories. He wasn't looking forwards to it.

She gave him a reassuring smile, albeit one which still looked predatory, before turning the page in her book again.

Peter slowly put his chip back in his pocket, feeling slightly dejected. Sure, he'd got a hot girl's number, but not for the reasons that his brother would have wanted to get numbers off girls for. Then again, thinking about it, he wasn't sure if he wanted numbers for that reason. Suddenly though he was finding it a lot harder to try and maintain his train of thought, there was something clanking to his left, loud metal clinks. And then came the roar: a screeching, ravenous, blood curdling roar; the sound of a mighty predator moving in for the kill. He spun around in his chair to look east, the direction the sound was coming from, the same direction that Eleanor was glaring at in defiance.

The Lucario looked past the statue, searching the ceiling of the area. It didn't take long to spot the glowing blue stone embedded there, faint tendrils of an archaic energy seeping down from it and fizzling out of view after a few metres. Switching his gaze to the space under the statue, a similar stone, purple in hue, was set in place with its energy radiating up. He knew these stones from his research. The bottom one was a Deoxys core. The top one was a more stable mimic controlling it. Together, they were the locks the heathens had placed here. He tutted at the idiocy of those people, and slowly reach back onto his pack, untying a small version of rocket launcher from its side. Cradling it in his arms, he took careful aim at the orb in the ceiling.

"May God have feastings on your souls."

And he fired.

The rocket blasted up through the room, vapour trails of blazing hot gases corkscrewing out behind it. For the first time in a millennium, the chamber was filled with roaring as it careered towards the top core, impacting with the crystal with a tumultuous shattering. White hot shards of the now annihilated core showered down to the ground, twinkling in the halogen light. The casing that had supported the crystal had been blackened and warped by the impact, only hanging on to the ceiling by a few wires, which themselves were on fire. After a few seconds, the device gave way, snapping off the roof and plummeting towards the floor, narrowly missing the head of the Rayquaza. In a cacophony of crushing metal, it landed on the bottom core, piercing the unstable crystal and prising apart its support. Inside the heap of debris, the Deoxys crystal let out a screeching sound, much akin to nails on a blackboard. Outside, waves of energy now leeched unchecked from the damaged core, the tendrils from before diffusing as the energy escaped. From the walls of the room, creaking and clinking sounds were making themselves known, the floor beneath the Lucario trembling as ancient safeguards tried to control what was rapidly becoming a losing battle. Gears on the walls were spinning and clinking, driving some unknown mechanism. As the shaking became more violent, dust could be seen falling from the crevices as it was dislodged. Finally, the remnants of the core below simply exploded, showering the decks below with white-hot metal shrapnel and purple fragments of crystal. Now with the locks broken, God would be released. The glyphs on the Rayquazas body began to glow, the tower rumbling in earnest.

Gloria finally entered the Sanctuary chamber the Beast had been housed in, but too late. They saw that the safeguards had been shattered, and reanimation was beginning. At the tip of the beasts tail, the stone was reverberating, sloughing the granite layers like a snake to reveal the green skin beneath it. With cracks like gunshots, the wave of rock being thrown off proceeded up along its body. Before long, there was enough tail free to writhe around desperately. Within another second, the first node was free. Despite the chaos of trying to navigate falling dust streams, Gloria began to fly towards the Beast's head. By the time they'd reached it, the Rayquaza's arms had been freed, and there was only a matter of time before-

The stone ensnaring its head cracked and blasted off with explosive force, the shard of stone which had made up the left side of its face sweeping Gloria out of the air. Landing on one of the upper decks, the impact crushed a dent into the metal floor trapping them under the shard.

The second the stone that had been its mouth had gone, the Rayquaza finished the roar it had started a thousand years ago, the roar the Eons would hear as its hunting call. The sound shook the hall harder than the hall had been shaking itself, inadvertently practically deafening the Lucario. But the Lucario didn't care; he was too busy gazing at his God in thorough adoration. As the roar ended, the Rayquaza stopped, and looked around to see where it was. True, it had no idea how much time had passed, but it did know that it had been trapped, and its assailants might still be here. It took a few moments to spot the tiny Lucario on one of the platforms, waving and calling out to it. It moved down to be eye-level with the Lucario.

"My Lord!" He cried out to the Rayquaza, "We have waited centuries for you to return to us, to restore the world to as it should."

The Rayquaza gave a quiet growl of understanding his words.

"Many religions have come and gone in your absence, but we held strong Master. You are the one true god! I knew one day I would be the one to bring you back to us, that one day you would bring redemption to the virtuous and-"

Whatever the Lucario had intended to say would never be known, as the Rayquaza snapped its head forwards and swallowed the Lucario whole.

"Too long, did not listen." It muttered to itself. Taking only a second to look around its prison, it fired a hyper beam at the wall, burning a hole straight through. Wasting no time, it slithered through the hole and back into the world.

If there was anyone around to hear it, someone would just be able to hear the faint scratching underneath a particularly thick piece of stone.

Peter was still watching the wall fearfully. That sound was not natural and not friendly. Looking across to Eleanor, she still had the sour look on her face, similarly aimed in that direction.

"Hey, what are you looking at me for?" A boy on the next table between their table and the wall asked. Eleanor frowned at him.

"I thought I heard you say something about me. My mistake." She answered matter of factly, before looking at her book. The boy turned to Peter instead.

"Then what's your reason chump." He called over. Peter bumbled a bit, and Eleanor surreptitiously watched him.

"Oh, err. I saw her looking at you, and I was wondering why she was looking at you. Nice hair by the way, I'm thinking of getting mine cut like that."

The boy gave him a disturbed look, before resuming his attention to his burger. Eleanor tapped Peter's foot with hers, tapping a finger on the desk lightly for him to come closer.

"You're a bad liar." She whispered to him.

"So?"

"If I ask you questions in future, don't lie to me." She said, closing her book and standing up, "It doesn't end well."

Before she could let him ask another question, she'd walked out. Either his reactions were the same as a Slowpoke, or that girl was just too damn fast. Probably the former when he took another few minutes to think about it. Whilst he was thinking though, he'd noticed he wasn't the only one that had suddenly developed a peculiar interest in the east wall. A handful of the other patrons were showing signs of discomfort, particularly the one which had randomly fainted.

Five minutes later, for absolutely no apparent reason, he jumped up, and bolted out of the doorway, half a cup of coffee still steaming in his place.