Two: The Council

It was typical of N to ask for something as mediocre as paint and believe it would have some influence on Ghetsis' plans. A few songs, some paints, fabric and baking supplies were all it took to have N completely under control.

If Ghetsis had known using a child would be this easy he would have done it a hundred years ago. It was a pity he couldn't remember what that woman who'd birthed the child was called, or whether she was still a part of Team Plasma; otherwise, Ghetsis would have sought more children in case N failed. But it had taken a very long time to find a suitable woman and Ghetsis was confident enough that N would remain completely obedient…

Except on the way to the main Trainer route, Ghetsis found a blitzle wearing a scarf. A very finely made scarf, with a very clear 'GUCCI' printed across it.

It was a trademark Pokémon of the Nimbasa City Gym Leader, Elesa.

"…no," Ghetsis gasped, eye(s) widening.

Even though he was in his very stylish ceremonial robes, Ghetsis ran back to the tower. "N!" he shouted. "N, FOR THE LIBERATION, LET DOWN YOUR HAIR!"

Nothing.

"N!"

The door. The door he put in so the ninjas could sneak in when he was gone and watch N. Ghetsis shoved the rock covering it aside. Fumbled with the lock. Forced it open. Dashed up the stairs.

Nothing.

As he headed once more for the exit, Ghetsis noticed a strange bag under the stairs — a Trainer's bag. He pulled it open and found two pointless orbs (Kyogre and Groudon — lesser legendaries for amateurs with no sense of style), a collection of PokéBalls and a slip of paper declaring:

WANTED FOR THIEVERY

'BLACK'

Reward: 100,000 pyen or a date with the Gym Leader of your choice.

Signed: Champion Alder

The boy in the photo was very young: seventeen, perhaps. Certainly old enough to steal Ghetsis' plan. Definitely old enough to die for interference.

This called for an emergency meeting.


When Black caught up with N, he was sitting atop his mountain of hair hissing at a seviper.

"…okay then."

Black sat down next to N and pondered a way out of this. He needed his pokémon, but they were clearly still at the tower; N's dress was too tight to hide PokéBalls. So if Black could convince N to go home, he'd get his Pokémon back and be on his way.

Something about lying to N felt instinctively wrong. Black lied constantly, even before he was a thief, but he'd never met anybody so blatantly clueless. A man who runs around in tight purple dresses with seventy feet of hair and, Black realised with a downward glance, no shoes, wasn't made to survive. Looking closer at N's feet, he noticed faint smudges of what looked to be blood — but not a mark on N's skin. Odd. Perhaps he'd trodden on berries.

"Don't you think you need shoes?" Black asked.

N kept hissing at the seviper.

Suddenly, lying seemed like a very viable option.

"Hey, look at me," Black demanded.

N didn't, but he did icily say, "If you don't mind, Trainer scum, I'm having a very important conversation with this serviper."

"Uh-huh, and it's very important that we get this over and done with," Black sighed. "It'll take a couple of days to reach Nimbasa."

N slid down his hair until his feet were on the ground. He stood up with a slight wince, hissed at the serviper, before turning back to Black with an expectant look.

"Do you really not need shoes?" Black asked.

"Typical of a Trainer," N sighed. "Worrying about things that don't matter."

"It just looks like your feet have been bleeding, is all."

"They have. But they got better."

Black stared.

N stared back.

The seviper hissed.

"Okay," Black said. "Let's go then."

Black kept looking for ways to run, but it was no good. N was carrying the frying pan, the zorua was still in his hair (what was with the hair, anyway? N stabbed at Black with the frying pan whenever he looked at it) and Black's attempts at convincing N to go home were failing.

"Don't you think your parents would be worried?"

"My father is a moron," N simply said. "He doesn't understand what it means to be King."

"There isn't a monarchy in Unova," Black sighed.

"Yes there is."

"No, there isn't. There never has been."

N looked down his nose at Black. "Pathetic Trainer."

After that exchange, Black had no hesitation in leading N to a pub full of hardened criminals.

"You are hungry, aren't you?" Black asked, reaching for N's hand.

Zorua leapt forward and bit Black on the nose.

"Okay, okay!" Black groaned. "Just asking."

N cooed at Zorua, "Good boy." He looked down at Black. "Yes, I am hungry, but I will not eat any of your scummy Trainer food."

"We'll go to a top restaurant," Black assured him, "as an apology for how I've behaved."

Black didn't think he'd actually done anything wrong at all, but N nodded in satisfaction.

Asshole.

"This way," Black said, forcing a smile.

N threw back his hair (or a very small portion of it), gave a bark to his zorua, and walked by Black's side. He was walking bare foot on gravel like it was no problem. Black had to wonder what the hell was up with that.

"Are you sure you've never left that tower before?" Black suspiciously checked.

"Do not waste my time with insolence, Trainer," N sniffed.

Yeah, definitely hadn't. Weirdo.

The Fluffy Duckling was a very familiar spot to Black. He had no friends there, and neither did any body else. Black was by no means a regular, but he had slipped in there several times when being cornered. Nobody, Trainer, Gym Leader, police officer or even Elite Four, was man enough to go in there and risk the assault of the notorious band of thugs. They were so chaotic that they had no name, no alliances — only rage and bulging muscles.

It was the perfect place to use to terrify N.

"Here we go," Black said, grinning as he held the door open. "Go on. High class joint, fit for a king."

N walked in, head held high. He looked around and gasped. His eyes watered, but Black had no way of knowing if that was terror or the smell.

"Great, isn't it?" Black smoothly asked, steering N through the crowd. "Don't you just love visiting fancy restaurants like this?"

N gave a pathetic whine.

"So, you're hungry, right?" Black asked. "I hear they roast whole emboar here. That's a meal worthy of a king, right? Or would you rather swanna? Or maybe —"

Black fell silent. A hand was gripping his shoulder, and it was too smelly to be N's.

"Oi, you." The hand pulled Black backwards. "Ain't you that thief the Champion himself is offerin' a reward for?"

"…no…" Black slowly said. "Of course not. I'm a model citizen."

The man laughed in Black's ear. "Then, why're ya in here?"

Black was forced to turn around. The man was twice his size and looked like he may have once been a Hiker, hopefully not one named Andy. He held up a poster beside Black.

"Oh yeah," he chuckled. "Definitely you." He wrapped an arm tightly around Black's shoulders, like he was trying to squeeze them out of their sockets. "Thanks for the hundred grand, mate. I needed that money."

"Th-that's funny," Black gasped. "I, I need to not see the Champion. S-so, how about, I get you, the money, somehow, and you let me go free?"

The man started laughing. "Oh, you're too cute, kid. Too cute."

"You're cute too," another voice oozing testosterone chuckled. "I need that money more than what you do, Chuck."

A third voice joined them. "Back off, Jackie. I need it for me little girl's birthday."

Black couldn't see for all the muscular men reaching for him. There was an extremely loud 'THUNK' and silence fell. Every eye turned to N, brandishing the frying pan over his head, looking ready to murder them all with his hair and purple dress.

Black was pretty sure that this was when he was going to die.

"Get your hands off him," N hissed in a surprisingly manly voice. "Return him to me!"

And now Black was the damsel in distress, to a freak with seventy feet of green hair and a damn purple dress with flowers and lace, and he was glad that he was going to die.

"Run along, little girl," the first man said. "Shouldn't mix yourself with us lot, right boys?"

Guffawing. Why did thugs even do that? Why had Black reduced himself to being even worse than thugs?

"I am a king," N growled like a lillipup. "And that is my guide! He is required to take me to see the lights in Nimbasa which is a real city you know and if you don't give him back, Zekrom will reign lightning down on you all and Reshiram will reign fire down and you will all die horribly for standing in the way of my dream!"

Black never should have resorted to crime. If he got out of this alive, he would return everything he'd stolen and never, ever climb up a tower uninvited again.

N stared around at the thugs. "Don't any of you have a dream?"

The thugs exchanged looks.

And then, N did the worst thing he possibly could have done. He climbed up onto the bar, stood with his hands on his hips and drew in a deep breath. And then, because he clearly had suicidal tendencies, N started to sing:

"Way down deep inside, I've got a dream, and that's why my hair does so gleam —" N started to lovingly caress his hair "— it's what gives me my life's steam, all because I have a dream."

The arms holding Black disappeared. He fell to the ground, thankfully not staring up N's dress as the biggest thug of all took a heavy step towards N.

"Oh no," Black loudly said. "No, kill me first, I don't want to see what you do to him."

"Shuddit," the thug said. He stared deeply into N's unafraid eyes. "I… I had a dream, once…"

"Oh no," Black groaned.

The thug's hand covered his heart as he sang, "I wanted to be, the very best, like no one ever was."

"Der ner ner," said his fellow thugs.

N smiled and nodded.

The largest thug continued, "To catch 'em'd be my real test, but to train 'em'd be my cause…"

N's smile fell. The bar broke out in people supplying the backing music as the largest thug climbed up onto the bar besides N, threw an arm around his shoulders and sang even louder.

"Then I travelled across the land, searching far and wide."

"DER NER NER," erupted around the room.

"Turned out I was no good; I didn't have the power inside!" The thug stopped his foot and shoved N to the side before shouting, "MY POKÉMON! They were no good! I thought it was my destiny."

"BUT YOUR POKÉMON SUCKED!"

Black climbed to his feet. The bar was too busy with the song-and-dance routine, and N finally looked appropriately terrified. His bottom lip was quivering, his eyes were filled with tears, and his fingers trembled around the frying pan. He looked pathetic. Black couldn't just leave him.

"Dammit," Black sighed.

"OH, MY BEST FRIEND BEAT ME, AND I HAD MONEY TO SEEEEEEK!"

Black slipped between the jiving thugs and to the bar. He reached for N's hand and tugged him down. N gathered up his hair and followed, holding Black's hand painfully tightly as the next "POKÉMON SUCK" chorused through the room.

"How can they, what are they, I don't," N babbled.

"Shh," Black whispered. "We're sneaking out of here."

N wibbled.

Miraculously, N followed Black over the bar and down the super-secret passage that Black had totally never had to use before to avoid a certain Normal-type Gym Leader. The way N hung close to Black was almost cute.

"Is that really all normal humans want?" N softly asked, gesturing back up towards the bar. They could still hear the faint shouts of 'POKÉMON SUCK!' "To Train pokémon for the sake of their own personal glory?"

"D'ya think that's what I want?" Black retorted.

"No," N muttered. "But being a thief of possession rather than a thief of freedom is only a fraction better."

Black frowned. "It's not like that. I — I Robin Hood. I'm good."

"There was no verb in that sentence," N observed. "I do not think you understand what a sentence is."

Black stopped. He reached out for N's arm, making him follow suit. "I don't steal for me. I steal from the rich and give to the poor. Like Robin Hood. So it's tricky grey area of morality that's fine."

N tutted. "Grey is a stupid colour. It ought not to exist. When I'm king, it won't."

N continued to follow the tunnel, head held high. Black frowned after him.

Why did it matter that N thought he was a jerk?


Before the Sages assembled, Ghetsis had had plenty of time to think. N was hardly human. Being around humans would not bode well for him. There was no way this Trainer would be able to undo Ghetsis' years of careful manipulation. All that Ghetsis needed worry about was the effect being away from N's magical hair would have on his health.

Ghetsis had always enjoyed the fact that every member of the Seven Sages had the same flare for dramatics that he had. There was nothing quite like a group of like-minded individuals, and finding a group who were not only like-minded but also enjoyed purple robes had been fantastically wonderful. Close to perfection, in fact.

"Gentlemen," Ghetsis said, arms spread in greeting, though they had been sitting and indulging in casual conversation for the past twenty minutes. "You know why we are here. We've not much time, and quite a problem here."

Rood raised a nervous hand. "Sage Ghetsis, sir, are we to be singing at this meeting?"

Ghetsis scowled, hands dropping. "Not any more we're not."

Rood cowered. Good.

"My lord," Bronius nervously said. "Is it true that N has escaped?"

"Yes, it is true," Ghetsis replied. He dropped a sky blue bag on the table. "I found this under the stairs. A Trainer has taken him."

Zinzolin gave a loud gasp and fainted in his chair.

"Again? Really?" Ghetsis sighed. "Gorm, get the smelling salts."

Zinzolin was revived and cried, "This is terrible! All of our hard work with that child, gone."

"Not necessarily gone," Ghetsis said. He offered a toothy grin as he pulled a poster from the bag. "I believe this is the culprit."

The Sages stared at the poster in disbelief.

"We are all aware of Alder's… feelings for this particular boy, are we not?" Ghetsis said.

"I wasn't," Giallo muttered.

Ghetsis slammed the poster down on the table. "My friends, we could not have picked a better person to drive the horrors of the world into N's heart. Loathed by the majority of the community. An exiled failed Trainer. Personally hunted by the Champion himself. With this boy as his companion, there is no way N will ever have the slightest sympathy for Trainers again."

Zinzolin applauded. When he realised none of the others were joining in, he glanced around, before hanging his head in shame.

"If we are lucky, he will accelerate the plan and drive N to seek the Dragons on his own," Ghetsis continued, teeth gleaming in a pre-selected light. "And, to make sure…" He snapped his fingers.

The Shadow Triad appeared on the table. Zinzolin shrieked and fainted once more. No time was wasted on his revival.

"Keep track of N," Ghetsis commanded. "Make sure all goes as I plan. If this 'Black' becomes a problem, then he must die."

"Must die, must die," the Sages echoed.

The Shadow Triad bowed deeply before disappearing once more.

Ghetsis turned to the window. As their castle was currently underground, it showed nothing but dirt, but it was still structurally impressive. "I shall, of course, have my own part to play. N is clay, and like clay, he must be carefully moulded to suit my — I mean, our — needs."

The Sages were silent.

Ghetsis turned back to them. "You are dismissed."

The Sages filed out, one by one. Only Bronius stopped, and he did so with hesitation.

"My Lord…" Bronius did not dare meet Ghetsis' eyes. "I fear that N may not react as you plan. This is an, well, attractive young man he's travelling with, and —"

"My son is not a homosexual," Ghetsis said firmly. "He is the perfect puppet, just as I made him be."

Bronius bowed. "Yes, my lord. Forgive my insolence."

"It is forgiven."

Bronius bowed once more before leaving.

Ghetsis frowned as he stared at the wanted poster. Perhaps… No, that was foolish. Bronius was a fool. There would never be anything but pokémon on N's mind, the stupid child.

Still, Ghetsis took the bag with him when he left. He could find use of it yet.


This chapter featured lyrics from 'This Jesus Must Die' from the rock opera version of Jesus Christ Superstar along with the usual mangled versions of Tangled ones.