Hi guys! Sorry it's been so long since the last update, but I've been busy with schoolwork and another project that should have been finished months ago, which I shall be putting up in due course, so stay tuned.
The last chapter? All of of the songs ... let's just say it might be wise to keep them in mind. Stay tuned for more Pokemonage!
BOOK 2 - DOOM-CALLER
It is midnight in Sinnoh. A faint, cold drizzle is falling, despite the summer heat. A single figure raps on the glass doors of the huge building in the north of Veilstone City. The bright, warm interior of the building beckons to her, as though taunting the sodden person.
There is a buzz, almost imperceptible in the hiss of the building rain.
"State your business," crackles the voice of an unseen person inside.
"Access code Gamma," spits the figure, starting to shiver in their uniform.
"Welcome home, Jupiter," says the voice coolly, as the doors slide open. The person slips through the doors. A man in a white jumpsuit and a green bowl-cut sits behind a desk to the right of the doors, just out of sight from the outside world. The Grunt rifles through some papers.
"Enjoy your little break, did you?" asks the receptionist sarcastically. "Nobody turns their back on us."
"I never turned away," spits Jupiter in a contemptuous tone. She is a very tall woman; her pinkish-purple hair drawn into a bizarre pair of ponytails on the back of her head, deep violet eyes and a perpetual sneering expression due to some obscure genetic quirk, or something like that. Her jumpsuit was more elaborate than the Grunts'; surgically clean white rubber with dark grey shoulders and arms, and one of legs replaced with a strange grey rubber garter. She also wore tall white leather boots. That was a year ago. Now, the uniform is scuffed and scraped, and absolutely covered in dirt. Her hair is unkempt, but it seemed she had put up a valiant effort to keep it tidy.
"Didn't look like that to us. You buggered off, without any notice, with that Mars kid."
"That Mars kid, I'll have you know, is one of your damned Commanders, and you will do well to remember that!"
The grunt shakes his head. "Not anymore; like I said, you turned away. Master Saturn has led us to great heights this last year."
"Master Saturn?" chokes Jupiter. "How did that idiot get to be Master? What about Master Cyrus?"
The grunt looks offended. "Well, Cyrus disappeared, you and Mars quit, and Charon got arrested by that policeman who was snooping around," he says facetiously, counting them off his fingers.
"I'll take it from here, Grunt Smith," says a man coming out of the lift. Jupiter takes one look at him and grunts in displeasure.
"Nice to see you again, too," he says, motioning her to follow him into the lift. Jupiter is about to complain, but then she remembers that, officially, she isn't one of them anymore. She enters the lift, refusing to look at him.
The lift is fast and smooth, but she misses the old warp panels. The place truly is going to the dogs. It settles at the top floor with an absent-minded ping. The doors slide open noiselessly, and the pair step into the dark office. Arc lights flicker on, revealing the spartan office that is almost exactly as she remembered. Well, almost. The room used to give off a vibe of purpose, of determination, of perseverance. Now it feels as boring as any businessman's office. She sighs.
"And what brings you to my headquarters, Jupiter? I take it you aren't here to reminisce the good old days."
She stares at the man. His hair and eyes are dark blue, the hair sweeping back into two points, as though his head was a twin-tailed comet. He wears a white leather jacket and grey leather trousers; exactly the same boring uniform as last year. His name is Saturn, and he is the new Master of Team Galactic.
"This isn't your headquarters, Saturn. This is Master Cyrus' headquarters."
Saturn chuckles hollowly, pouring coffee from a thermos flask. "For a week or two, I felt the same. I rallied the remaining Grunts, desperate to keep the morale up. 'Do not desert us,' I said, 'Master Cyrus will return with the great prize that will take us to the stars.' But they were disheartened, so I tried to hold them together. Next thing I know, they prefer me over Cyrus."
"Mars found Cyrus, by the way. Not like you care."
"Did he find what he was looking for?"
"No, and neither did Mars."
"But you said ..."
"Ask her, if I can persuade her to return."
Two people, a man and a woman, appear at the door, gripping a half-conscious tramp by the arms.
"We found him, Master Saturn," barks the man. His voice has barely cracked. "He was hanging out on the Radio Tower rooftop."
"Thank you," says Saturn.
The woman looks at Jupiter, barely suppressing a leer. Her hair is long and wavy, and a strong peachy-orange colour. She looks beautiful, but overly so, until the effect was unnerving, like a catwalk model. Her eyes are a vivid green, and surrounded by way too much black eye-liner, as though she feels she needed it, but not sure how much one should put on. She wears a white rubber chemise and over-tight gray skinny jeans, and high-heeled boots.
The man has a quick, agile build. He still wears the green hair of a Grunt, but it is scraped into a long spike at the base of his skull. His eyes are steely grey, and he wears a jacket similar to Saturn's, but with shorts that accentuate his skinny athletic legs. He is wearing trainers. Jupiter shudders in disgust. No-one in Team Galactic was allowed to wear trainers in her day.
Saturn mistakes her disapproval for confusion. "Since you and Mars disappeared, I needed some new Commanders to keep the Grunts in check. This is Mercury," he says, indicating the man, "and Venus," indicating the woman. She tosses her hair in the irritating manner of a model in a shampoo advert, and pretends to be incredibly interested in her orange, manicured nails.
"Bit young, isn't he?" she asks, pointing at Mercury. "I didn't realise we allowed babies in."
Mercury growled in rage.
"Mercury is young, but he's very bright and keen. He's very handy in blitz raids; very fast, you see?"
"How old is he, anyway?"
"Seventeen. Just because you're thirty ..."
"I'm twenty-nine, actually," snaps Jupiter.
" ... doesn't mean we can't set our sights a bit lower."
"If he fails an assignment, what do you do? Change his diapers or something?"
This jibe did it for Mercury. He yells and launches himself at Jupiter. That is his mistake; his low body weight means he wouldn't be much good in a straight fight anyway. Jupiter grabs his shoulders, kicks him somewhere very painful, and throws him to one side, where he lays, moaning weakly. It is a method of emergency measures that Cyrus had taught her, should it be impossible to take something with Pokémon battling.
"Jupiter, you are only here with my permission. If you are going to be disrespectful to my staff, I'll have to throw you out."
"Master Saturn, I would just throw her out now," pipes up Venus in the sickly sweet voice of someone trying to get there own way.
"No," Saturn says firmly. "You two may leave us now."
Mercury gets to his feet, salutes, and leaves. Venus pouts and follows suit.
Saturn turns to Jupiter. "Tell me about Cyrus."
Two humans scrambled through the twisted wreckage of what was supposed to be Veilstone. The physics of the material universe did not apply to this strange new reality, and the buildings were warped and distorted beyond recognition. They were the only life in here.
One was Jupiter herself. Jupiter's companion, Mars, was shorter and younger, with burning red hair that was even more disorganised than Jupiter's. Her eyes flashed red in the light. She wore a stiff white rubber dress with grey sleeves and trousers. Her boots were also tall and white. A large yellow G was emblazoned on her back. Her softened, rounded face contrasted the sharp, shrewd features of her partner, and her jaw was set with determination. She came to this sick parody of reality for one thing, and she will not leave without it.
Jupiter shoved Mars suddenly into a doorway of a nearby building, clamping a hand over her colleague's mouth. A thick, grey, serpentine form flew lazily up the street where they were standing moments before. It was almost 20' long, with six smoky black appendages flowing from its back, each tipped with a sharp, red, crystalline spike. They seemed to be rudimentary wings, though it did not seem to need them, floating around as though gravity was something that happened to other creatures. Its face was framed by gold fins, closing over its jaws like a crash helmet. Its eyes were as red as Mars' hair, and it never seemed to need to blink. It had six stubby legs, near the end of its massive body. Each had a single golden talon as long as Mars' arm. And it was very territorial.
It flew past, and Jupiter signalled the all-clear. Mars stepped from the cover, looking in the bruised blue-purple sky for the serpent.
Jupiter spotted her. "Mars, what're you ..?"
"HEY, YOU!" yelled Mars, looking at a shadowy form in the distance. The form turned what was presumably its head, though it was hard to tell. It could have been right in front of them, but it could have been miles away. Distance is just a measure of space, and space seemed to be on a permanent summer holiday from that hell-hole. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH CYRUS?"
"Mars, don't aggravate it!" Jupiter hissed.
"WHERE IS HE?" screamed Mars, oblivious to Jupiter's comment.
A screech like nothing that could be explained by the laws of sound rent the sky. It was almost a solid object, clubbing the breath from Mars' lungs. It sounded horribly like a hunting cry.
Jupiter slapped Mars hard in the face. "Run like hell!" she yelled at the dazed woman. Mars got the hint. They ran as fast as the weird world would permit them; sometimes Torkoal pace, sometimes fast to the point of ludicrous. But the monster was almost immediately behind them. Mars screamed as she tripped on a rock. Jupiter turned. It was hovering right in front of Mars, trying to work out whether she was a threat. Mars was lying back, propped up on her elbows, paralysed with terror. Its huge face was a foot from hers. Its eyes were easily the size of her whole head. It opened its head-fins, revealing a horny beak that was more than big enough to swallow her whole. It screeched again, almost deafening Mars. She started mumbling and whimpering under her breath. Her trousers suddenly felt uncomfortably clammy. She shut her eyes, facing away from the monster, and screamed.
Jupiter picked up a rock and threw it at the rearing creature. "Hey!" she yelled. "Leave her alone!"
Whether or not it noticed the rock, it heard her shout, and saw her, waving her arms and shouting. Its unfathomable logic told it that this new target was considerably better than the terrified wreck lying in front of it. It flew at Jupiter, following the purple hair like a beacon.
Mars opened one eye. Realising that the creature was no longer interested in her, she legged it, putting as much distance between her and the monster.
"Mars!" Jupiter yelled, but Mars didn't seem to hear. She swore under her breath and ran, the monster hot on her heels. She ran through twisting streets and impossible alleys, the creature's screeches ringing in her ears. She ducked under a table of an abandoned restaurant, and prayed to every god she could think of that it wouldn't find her. Its head appeared feet away, scanning the alley, but thankfully it didn't notice her. She didn't dare to move, or even breathe. It flew off, bellowing in annoyance at being cheated of its prize.
Jupiter found Mars at what was supposed to be Galactic Headquarters. She seemed to be crying.
" ... Cyrus, please! Come back! We need you!"
"I don't care," spat a male voice.
Jupiter entered the room. Mars was kneeling on the ground, pleading as though about to be executed. A man stood with his back to her, arms folded behind his back, and staring out of a smashed window at the monster in the distance.
"Master Cyrus, Team Galactic can still be great! We can still create our new universe, and you can be our glorious leader!"
Cyrus chuckled and shook his head. His blue spiky hair still seemed to have retained some kind of organisation, unlike Mars and Jupiter's. "And why would I want to endure another world with you in it?"
Fat tears rolled down Mars' filthy cheeks, smacking as they bounced of her rubber uniform. "I don't understand, Master ..."
"No, you're right there, actually." He turned face her, crouching down to her eye-level. "I have never told anyone about the true extent of my plans, except that annoying brat who then went on to ruin all my hopes." His face was devoid of emotion, no humanity left in his eyes.
"The t-true extent?" gasped Mars. Cyrus was no longer the passionate and inspiring leader she knew. Something had drained him; all that was left was an empty husk.
"It is true that I wanted to create a new universe. But you were so fanatical you never asked who for."
Mars flushed. "For Team Galactic, to be ruled by you, with me at your side!"
"No," he said. "Not for Team Galactic. For me, and me alone. Humanity has ruined our own universe, so I would create a new one, only for me."
"No, Master!" wailed Mars, clinging to his leg as he tried to walk away. "You need us! You need me!"
Cyrus kicked her off. Mars yelped like a puppy. "Like I said; why would I want to waste my life with you? You're pathetic, the lot of you." He saw Jupiter hovering uncertainly near the door. "Do with her as you will," he said curtly, before leaving.
"CYRUS! COME BACK!" screamed Mars, before she started crying again. Jupiter walked up to her, but received a look of purest venom.
"Leave me alone, Jupiter! Just because you were never his favourite!"
Jupiter shook her head sadly, and left the room as well.
"See you around, Mars."
Mars curled up in a ball, and whispered "Cyrus," before crying herself to sleep.
"That seems a little harsh," says Saturn, "Even for Cyrus."
"Cyrus wanted a perfect world; one without emotion or spirit. He exploited us to reach it."
"And Mars?"
"I think she just idolised Cyrus. Maybe she had a crush on him, but I don't know. She was pretty damn cut up about it all when he admitted his plan."
"We all idolised Cyrus. It was why we chose Team Galactic. But those days are past; now our goals are to work more subtly towards a perfect world."
"So where does he come into it all?" spits Jupiter, glancing at the stirring tramp.
"That's one of our mercenaries. The Pest Controller."
"What does he do towards creating a perfect world, beg for funding?"
"The whole tramp thing is a disguise, to help him blend in. No-one notices a tramp, so it's perfect for under-the-table dealings and his main objective."
"Which is?" says Jupiter, genuinely interested.
"He has been cleansing the human and Pokémon race of mutants. Hence, the Pest Controller."
Jupiter lets out an appreciative whistle. "You really did think of everything with him, didn't you? Racial cleansing, eh?"
"Let's just say I get it from my Master."
"So is it just mutants?"
"He also does vagrants, illegal immigrants, fraudsters, con artists and thieves."
"Risky, considering we were once thieves ourselves."
Saturn waves this away. "He's been borrowing my Toxicroak. And he's turned out a one hundred percent success rate."
The Pest Controller lets out a little cough, but not little enough for Jupiter not to hear.
"You have something to say?" she adds venomously.
He blanches. "Err ... well, about that ... um ... not quite ... one hundred percent. And that ... err ... Toxicroak ..." He trails off, turning his hat in his hands.
"What do you mean, not quite one hundred percent?" says Saturn in a dangerous tone.
"Well, err ... one subject did ... err ... get away ..."
"Which ... one?"
"That ... err ... Absol ... in Rustboro City."
Saturn's expression turns icy. "You assured me it would be an easy job."
"Err ..."
"Stop mumbling, man!"
"Well, I got the Absol done in, like you said. I was watching her, to make sure, like. But then he must have heard, 'cos he came running. He took her to the Pokémon Centre, so I guessed he was looking for SecretPotion. I Teleported to Cianwood City, and sold his brother some phoney SecretPotion. He must have noticed it was fake, 'cos next time I was in Johto, I got nabbed by his brother. He dragged me to the Radio Tower, and I saw that the mutant was still alive. She threatened to, like, do me in or something, and it killed your Toxicroak."
"Who is this you are talking about?" asks Jupiter, confused.
Saturn reaches for a manila folder on his desk. In it is an eighty-page report on someone she has never heard of. A passport-like photo is stapled to the first page, showing a gaunt young man with long, green hair. Ruby and sapphire sigils hang from his elfin ears.
"This is Henry Parkinson. He may not look like much, but don't let that fool you. He is, quite frankly, a genius. He's an eighteen-year-old high school student, good grades, applying for Rustboro University of Natural Sciences. He did a lot of work a couple of years ago with Devon Corp. on fossil resurrection, and he's also worked in the fields of Pokéballs, medicines, Pokémon psychotherapy, the full works. He's also bassist and pianist in a popular band, as well as one of the vocalists."
"So why is he of interest to Galactic?"
"Here's the juicy bit. He's recently been working on Pokémon mutation and shadowforming. It seems that he's discovered some of Team Cipher's old work on the XD Project."
"You want him to work for us, don't you?"
"He seems to have developed a hopeless case of Do-Gooder Syndrome; he wants to use his research for the good of the world. What I'm hoping for is to steal his research, and finish off what he started, for the good of our world."
"So what's the Pest Controller doing with an Absol?"
Saturn flips to page forty-seven. Another photo is stapled to the page. It seems to be a snapshot from a CCTV system; a slightly grainy shot of a woman with a black face and snow-white fur, arm-in-arm with Henry.
"This is his Absol. According to our sources, he seemed to get it from nowhere; one morning, he just seemed to have got the Pokémon. She seems to be his research assistant in his latest project. She must in some way have an item that anthropomorphised her, but appears to suffer no ill effects, and she certainly seems to have prodigious battling talent. The dicey thing is that Henry frequently shows affection for her, as though they share a bond greater than Trainer and Pokémon."
"They are an item? That's socially unacceptable."
"I'm not sure on the specifics, but their relationship seems to be a sort of passive romance. That was where we hit a road block."
"What's that?"
"If she died, Henry would have been so grief-stricken he may have been driven to suicide. His schoolmates seem to say they wouldn't put it past him. But if she was left alone, there's no telling the damage she might have done. Until that idiot," he says, pointing at the Pest Controller, "acted on his own initiative, we could have been able to wrangle a deal with him. But now, it seems, he wants blood."
"What're you going to do now?"
Saturn's eyes glint. "Plan B."
