Chapter 10: Phantasm of Fate
A cold metal table below him. Darkness and shadows surrounding him all over again. He immediately knew in his heart that had been here before, or in a similar state of existence at the very least. And yet this sense of somehow knowing the setting and recognizing it as familiar as the back of his hand made it even more terrible than it should have been. The alien sensation of complete awareness – feeling the presence of his immediate surroundings as a recreated moment – was absolutely nauseating as he felt constrained to relive it.
Where had he known this sensation from before? The steel table. The icy coldness. The inky void that engulfed the world around him. It had to be the Progenitor Project. It was dreadful to recall the powerful memory of long needles piercing deep into his eyes, injecting their noxious fluid as near as possible into brain's visual receptors. Though it was not truly his own experience – for it was not him on that cold table. On that day, there was no researcher on any table, only a Pokemon. So, why? Why were his memories in such stark conflict with objective facts? Conceivably, he should be able to remember the perspective where he was the researcher rather than the test subject. However, in all of his memories of the event, he felt the table's coldness vividly beneath himself during the scene exactly like he did right now. What did that mean? If there was more than one memory of the same event, then did that mean the human memory was overwritten?
Two perspectives could have existed independently so long as there were two respective observers. In other words, two different memories causing the same result would have to collapse to one from a single subject's perspective. Otherwise there would be an irreparably fatal conflict in continuity of the subject's viewpoint. It was a variation of the classic: "What came first, the Torchic or the egg?" scenario. "Both" was simply not an acceptable answer for the universe because that inherently would defy causation. Feyera couldn't both cause the experiment and not cause the experiment at the same time in his mind.
With Progenitor, the cause and effect were closely situated; so much so, a contradiction in his observation of the events would likely prove disastrous. It was obvious that the heart had supplanted a memory that was not originally his own, eradicating the other side that once was his. But what did that have to do with causation? It was quite simple – Feyera's actions as a researcher caused the experience for the Pokemon he now had the memories of. He had played a vital role in that Pokemon's life by blinding it for the sake of scientific advancement. And because of that initial cause, was he not further responsible for the outcome as he tried to bring about an end to the unnatural life he had inflicted upon it? What if this side of the story existed as an inseparable part of his actions taken?
These ensuing questions of consciousness and memory were anything but simple to decipher. What would that mean for all the human memories he carried in his mind? Why was he always so sure that he actually experienced the times he recalled from the past despite their obvious contradictions? Were those experiences he felt certain he had lived through just the shattered remnants of a life he no longer had unfettered access to? When specifically had the foreign memories won out? Where exactly did he end as a person? How could he ever hope to delineate such a vital question without removing the heart shard?
An incessant doubt nagged at him, for this was no mere recollection of the haunting event which had overwritten his original memories. There was something more to this, something very wrong about it. The current sensation he felt could not be explained by reason or causation; a subtle defiance of intrinsic logic irked him to no end.
At first, it seemed like mere coincidences were causing him to feel the unease. For instance, he anticipated there would soon be a voice. It would be a man's voice, low and deep, filled with an unquenchable angry thirst. It would originate from directly above him and say the following: "I'm glad you brought him here to me."
Sure enough, the next sound he heard coincided with the anticipation; it could have been written off as a lucky guess had not there been such a strong sense of feeling attached to the rendition of the voice. "I'm glad you brought him here to me." Exactly as he knew it would happen. It served as an indication that this already-seen memory accounted for more than mere déjà vu. Furthermore, it was obviously not Feyera's own voice, and this detail struck him as particularly odd. He had been the one to conduct the various experiments on Pokemon test subjects in the past. By that logic, if this were truly a memory and he was experiencing it from the perspective of the Gardevoir whose heart was now his own, then the sound of his voice would have been as recognizable as it was the first time he experienced this memory and saw himself from the Pokemon's viewpoint. But no, this was not quite the same. True, the similarities were uncanny. The setting was familiar, as was the sensation of being stretched out and on his back. In a primal sort of way, his heart had evoked the Pokemon's experience to mind; the recollection process felt completely foreign at first, but familiar now, and even commonplace.
Memories were always supposed to be concerning the past. Yet what he predicted and then heard – coupled with the various sensations he felt right now - could not be restrained to a mere memory of the distant past. With unquestionable certainty, he knew he was in this moment right now. Experiencing the blood coursing through his veins. Pulling in short breaths of damp air to fill his lungs. Hearing the pounding heart in his chest. Fearing the unknown. It was all occurring right here, in real time. But if this was not the past, how exactly did he come to know these things immediately before they unfolded? The sheer unfamiliarity of it all sustained dizzying levels of introspective questioning.
An unsettling revelation dawned on him. If this was all taking place in the present, then he was glimpsing into the future, not the past. What that meant challenged him to shoulder the weight of a devastating fact capable of undermining all rationality concerning the natural flow of time. However, regardless of whether the fourth dimension could be manipulated by something as intangible as the will, his chief concerns were drawn elsewhere. He was tied up and could not see after all. Those reasonably pressing issues took precedence over an inherently unverifiable hypothesis.
Gradually, the dense fog of darkness swirling around him began to give way to opaque shadow figures moving around. One was directly above him. A man's wide framed shoulders hovered to the left of his restricted field of vision. He tried to turn his head unsuccessfully, realizing that too was bound to the metallic board. So were his legs, thick ropes dug deep into his the skin of his ankles, cutting off circulation. Both his arms were tightly fastened behind his back, held underneath the narrow metal sheet by bracers.
Something was working against his psyonics. At first, he couldn't tell whether it was a device on him, or if it was affecting him remotely from a distance like Drowzee had done. Then he realized that this dampening suppression felt strongest at his extremities. And there were a set of slightly heated pieces of metal latching his wrists behind the steel board and the causing a tingling sensation as the circulation of blood was being cut off.
Again he tried to twist his neck in fury, but despite his best efforts he could barely see more than one other cloaked figure in the distance. This feeling of utter helplessness was exactly like the memory of Progenitor — a nightmare he did not want to remember; a nightmare that he had wished over and over would not become his reality. But deep down, he knew it was too late to wish for relief from this fate. Had he any sense of the consequences, he would have not caused the events giving rise to his current state of affairs. If he only knew the results of his experimentations, then perhaps things would not be this way right now. Unfortunately, the sense of psychic prediction did not exist when it mattered most – before the experiments took place. And even if it did eventually become his, it was never quite natural, belonging to another creature entirely.
"Scan him," said the figure closest to him with a voice he had just recently heard. The sense of resentment was still there. He hated it more than anything – knowing the feeling and not the reason. It drove his mind mad.
"Roger," said another man from further away. Footsteps approached, rapping against the rocky dirt floor. There was a faint buzzing noise, as if someone had just turned on an electrical household appliance. The electrical humming began to increase in volume until it was a steady drone.
The world around him was still very dark from being knocked out by the grunt's Pokemon; however, the first specs of distant light had begun to gather around the peripherals of his sight. "What…?" he groaned as something that felt like solid ice pressed forcefully against his chest and clamp down like jaws on his protruding heart shard. There was a soft vibration he felt. And then sharp pain rattled his core. "Argh!" he cried out as he involuntarily convulsed from what felt like an electrical shock rippled outward through his body.
"Deviation marker is currently 0.58397. If the reading is correct, then that means the little squirt's plan actually worked and the value went up on its own over time. Ha! …How about that?"
"What the hell are you doing to me?!" he shouted at the darkness. His pulse raced uncontrollably and he felt sweat forming on his forehead in thick beads.
However they continued to ignore him. "Grab me the file from that terminal. I want to see a concrete figure to compare this to."
"Of course," said the second voice as it went off in the distance. There was the familiar sound of typing on a keyboard.
"You're still getting in there?" asked the first man.
"Ha, it's a lot easier than you'd think. Cipher's mainframe is poorly insulated, and their encryption methods are terribly out of date. Psh, their client's damn near broken, left wide open from our previous cracking attempts. Their 'security' is just downright pathetic. It's like their entire I.T. department took off on one hell of a long holiday…"
"Spare me the technical details. I want his two files. Our records and Cipher's for comparison," said the voice above him. He felt someone grab at his hair and tug. "Humph. Performing your onus sets you up for failure, doesn't it?"
"Piss off," Feyera wheezed.
"The mouth on this one…" The back of a hand smacked him across the face. "Here I thought the Psy Bracers we latched on his wrists would shut his trap as well as his witchcraft."
While the pain stung, it had started to make the world seem a bit clearer from the black fog that was covering his eyes. His senses were slowly coming back, yet he still was locked down in place. Sure enough, he felt metal pieces encircling both his wrists, and weighing them down like two incredibly heavy weights. It must be similar technology to the type that Fredrick had set him up with, but certainly a great deal more powerful. Without use of his psyonics, he felt incredibly vulnerable. Mortal, even. The fear of death felt a lot closer than ever before without a trump card to fall back upon.
Meanwhile the other man, stationed across the room, was rattling away on a keyboard at a blitzing rate. "Hmm…" he said finally. "Looks like it was at 0.32821 before. Huh, that's weird."
"What is?"
"From where I'm patched in, Cipher's current data is conflicting with our own. Drastically I might add."
"Where's the ambiguity?" barked the man standing directly above.
"Their numbers shouldn't be this high. In fact, they exceed the current elevated reading we took not a moment ago. And… by an alarming amount too. Uh, unless they have new data it shouldn't be possible to reach those figures."
"In plain language please, you tech wizard."
"Okay, there's an achieved file here that links to the Progenitor Project and Evercrest. In there, the figure Cipher has is consistent with our own database. It was 0.32821 precisely three years ago – same as our own independent record. That makes sense because it was a joint venture when Christian worked on it with our Cipher contact. However… if I leave the Cipher archives, and parse into their main data folder for this project, the most recent figure reads an astonishing 0.94112."
"How can that be?" asked the man standing above his head. "He's right here and we just scanned him for variance and got a figure barely over halfway to 1."
"I don't know. But I should clarify the current reading of 0.58397, although technically above the 0.5 threshold, it is not equivalent to halfway perfect sequencing. It's actually a lot closer to the original value of 0.32821 than 0.94112."
"Math was never my strong suit," sighed the first man.
"The value we'd use to measure the marker is a logarithm function; therefore, you would need a vast amount of increasingly accurate code sequences in order to get even remotely close to 1. By the same coin, having many errors in the sequence will not cause a large decrease as the decimal value approaches 0. To summarize, the closer you get to 1, the more perfect all the information has to be, because even one little mistake will result in a massive drop in the deviation value."
"Right, right…" the first man sighed in an uninterested manner. "So how the hell is the discrepancy a problem?"
"Well… ignoring the conundrum of how the statistic went up over time, the highest value on record is the one we just took: 0.58397. Without a truckload of data resources from purified Mercurium, that 0.94112 number is not realistically obtainable since it would require near-perfect mastery of Mew's genetic code sequence; something we just haven't been able to achieve given how little we know about the legendry's nature. Probably would be very unstable too."
"Hmm. Does Cipher know you're hacking into their system? Maybe they altered the data values just to screw with us."
"Negative. There's zero possibility of that. Their server's encryption has not been updated for almost a month and they're still logging with the same exact admin IDs and passphrases. Tsk, tsk. Whoever was in charge of keeping their data under lock and key seems to no longer care about remote unauthorized access. They stopped updating their server's security protocols about three weeks ago."
"Huh, funny. I thought Cipher had a real brainiac on their side."
"You're looking at the reason for that," Feyera said. Three weeks ago coincided approximately with the events on Penta Island. His pride convinced him that his infiltration of their remote island base must have had something to do with the broken server system.
"Pfft. You? You're our investment, Christian – not Cipher's. Don't you forget that!"
"I'm nothing to you!" Feyera said defensively. "You and the rest of your criminal organization will recognize that fact."
"You'll have no fucking say in the matter!" Another smack hit him directly the face, this time causing a thin river of warm blood to gush down from his nose.
"Tell me who you are!" Feyera blurted. He could turn his head slightly, and through the tunnel of darkness, saw faint light in the center of his field of vision. Being smacked seemed to help clear up the disorientation, if only slightly.
"You don't remember me?" he asked. "Looks like the resulting brain damage was too much for you. But, I remember you. I remember very well. I remember when you first came groveling to Team Rocket, begging the boss for the funding to back your little research project. You were just a foolish upstart. A young, naïve boy who called himself a researcher. Yes, I remember. You were with drive but without purpose. But I digress. By chance, our organization and your research met. That's when we gave you your petty purpose, and led everything down this inescapable path."
"You're so damn full of it…" he spat. "What gives you the right to decide my future? I'm through with you and your organization."
"We're not through with you though." Another tug on his hair caused the back of his head to smash against the metal board. "And I have a more personal grudge. You remember what you did to Archer, don't you…?" The man again hit him across the face twice with increasing ferocity.
"Arghh." He was now feeling stars dancing around his head. "You'd… do well to learn from his mistakes… so you don't wind up the same."
"I'm the one giving orders!" shouted the man. As expected, there was another tug and resounding blow as his head bounced off the solid board. "REMEMBER THAT!"
He was reeling in pain, but he couldn't give up now. Just a little more enduring and he could regain his sight. "You're giving orders? Ha…" Feyera laughed weakly. "To me? Sorry, but I'm not taking any orders from you. …They're probably not even yours."
That seemed to infuriate the man he was speaking to, as a volley of hits to the face soon followed his insult. Each shock rattled his head against the metal, and it felt like the entire world was spinning, spiraling upwards uncontrollably. "You're nothing more than a tool! A tool to help Team Rocket profit. That's all you'll ever be! And your insubordination will not be tolerated."
In a daze, Feyera sarcastically taunted, "Psh, so they give you a fancy title to brag about to your fellow grunts? You must be good at your criminal pastime after all."
"You've got some fucking nerve mouthing off to me after what you've done!" There was a loud noise, as if something nearby had been knocked over. The sound of metal clanging against the cave floor echoed ominously throughout the large room. "Executive Proton," he said in a more threatening voice. Feyera felt a sharp object press against his temple. A knife or a scalpel of some sort. "And if those two words won't stick inside that thick skull of yours, I'll have no problem carving them straight into your brain."
"Ha. Haha." Gathering his courage and acting out as supercilious as he possibly could Feyera replied, "You can't kill me. I don't have to be a Rocket Scientist to figure out that you've an order from superiors of yours. You know what that makes you, 'Mister Executive'? Just another grunt taking orders…!"
A fist slug him hard in the jaw, knuckles slamming in the bone. But as soon as it did, a bright light filled his world again. Lights and colors never seemed as welcomed as they were now. His sight was returning!
"You don't have to worry, kid. I ain't gunna kill you. You're worth more alive than dead. And according to my number-crunching buddy here, Team Rocket's only concern is profit." Proton insisted, "However, you're going to suffer by my hand for what you and your International Police pal did to my brother Archer back in Celadon."
"You're related to that prick? Pah!" Feyera sneered. "Guess Archer took most of the good genes with him, because you hit like a girl!"
Warm blood mixed with saliva dripped from his face as another blow landed. He was in bad shape, but thanks to the repeated blows knocking him out of the daze at least now he could actually see again. Proton's face finally came fully into view. He was a gaunt man, gruff with the look of sleeplessness in his pale eyes, wearing a thick ebony hat on his head to tuck in his dense but light green hair.
Just as Proton raised his clenched fist again, a loud rattling came from nearby. The ground began to shake, and small rocks started to fall from the ceiling. Feyera looked around and saw that the place where he was did not have much room, though the ceiling was lofty and there were a number of barrels and other storage items lying about as well as a few steel crates.
"That's the signal," the other man by the terminal said hurriedly. He had darker black hair that was almost violet in color, worn in a pompadour. He had a slightly crooked face, and a fair amount of bushy chin stubble.
"Go on ahead, Petrel; I'm not through with this piece of work yet." Proton said grabbing another knife from a nearby cart.
The bearded man quickly grabbed his portable terminal and headed off in the direction of the noise. With a loud click, he unhooked the briefcase-shaped computer from a thick wire that ran along the floor and into the next room. "Make sure not to leave a mess," Petrel said running out in the direction of the cable.
Proton brought the blade close to his face, grinning manically he said, "I'll make it look like it was an accident. Say a wild Pokemon carved you up, no one would know the difference, and no one would care. Your life might be guaranteed, but that doesn't mean I can't permanently disfigure you."
The edge of the knife was now a scant inch away from his eye. Suddenly, he felt afraid and unable to retort.
"How badly do you need those?" Proton asked, a disgusting smile forming on his gaunt face. He danced the blade nearer and nearer. "…I always wanted a trophy from a psychic. Someone with real power in their eyes. They say you can use them to manipulate others. Shame you can't do anything to stop me with those bracers. I like how they glisten with your fear. They're so expressive and yet without them you're made so powerless. Your eyes will do nicely as a memento."
Desperately, Feyera struggled to free himself from the dreaded future. Proton swung the knife against the soft skin beneath his eye with brutal precision. He yelled out as the metal broke the tissue under his eye causing blood to gush out onto his assailant's twisted face. Blood filled his vision as his right eye went numb to the world. "AHHHHHHH!" he cried at the top of his lungs as the blade continued to saw into the lower part of his eyelid in slow motion, the thin metal cutting into him as Proton laughed manically.
This couldn't be real he thought. It had to be a dream. No, a nightmare. The same nightmare he always had. He would wake up any moment. Except he knew he wouldn't. There was no one who would save him from this. No intervention from anyone else. Fredrick was dead. His Pokemon were not in any place that he could sense. There was no chance of rescue. This was really happening in the most slow-moving manner imaginable. Everything felt meaningless since he could not do anything to stop the sensation. His continued struggles would only end in more pain. Pain as unimaginable as what he felt now clawing through his face.
Something within him snapped as the agony of being cut open overflowed in chaotic waves of hatred, anger, and vengeance. This was not how it would end for him. "No!" he told himself with conviction. This could not be the end. It was possible to break the Psy Bracers holding back his powers; he had done it once before thanks to Fredrick. All he had to do was focus on channeling all of his metal energy into overloading one of the grips fastened on his arms. A distortion of the world around him would simply not be possible otherwise. He had only one chance to free himself from this hell, and he knew it would have to bring him out of this nightmare!
Pushing all of what little energy he had left toward the place where the fake relic had once been stationed on his left arm, a similar sensation of cathartic ecstasy washed over him. He felt a great weight of undeniable magnitude underneath him, and felt drawn toward it for a moment – feeling the unmistakable sensation of falling backward into it with incredible speed. A loud snap came from the metal table below as it was bent down in half, as it had suddenly become subject to a crushing mass.
Proton was stupefied, as the table had broken in two as he was in the process of gouging Feyera. Not only that, but the quick fall had caused him to be momentarily out of reach from Proton's blade. The resulting impact had freed his hands from the bracers that had been binding his body down. His legs were loosened from the ropes as the table was divided allowing him to slip out from their entanglement.
"DIE!" Proton dived at his prone body with the knife.
Feyera quickly rolled to the side, no longer stuck in one place because of the Psy Bracers or the ropes. The sound of the knife's edge impacting against the ground originated right behind his ear.
As Proton withdrew his weapon from the dirt, Feyera took the brief lull to roll into Proton's shins, stabbing him with his heart's edge. Though it hurt himself as well, the sensation was overwhelming and seemed to give Feyera a burst of momentary strength to swipe upwards at his bent over assailant, pegging Proton in the chin and knocking him back.
"Urgh!" Proton was barely hindered, quickly shrugging off the blow and getting to his feet.
Feyera took the opportunity to lunge up after him, using a quick burst of psyonic energy to lift himself off the floor. Proton raised his knife in a defensive manner, no longer using it as an offensive weapon but as a deterrent evident by his stance.
With fast reflexes, Feyera managed to dodge multiple slashes Proton took at his lithe body. However, he had already sustained a heavy beating from earlier and was unable to maintain endurance to dodge endlessly. As the struggle continued, it didn't take long for Proton's wild swings to nick the side of Feyera's exposed heart.
"Argh!" Feyera yelled as pain shot through his body and forced him to recoil backwards from the nick to his core.
"How you like that, motherfucker?!" Again, he lunged at Feyera with the knife raised high in the air.
This time, he was ready for the repeated attack. It was the same as last time, and the staleness of the maneuver gave Feyera an opening to dodge and gasp the arm of Proton.
Proton used his free arm to jab Feyera in the gut with a tight fist. However, the relatively close distance between them made the blow less effective than it could have been; the punch still knocked the wind out of Feyera though.
The two men grappled, with Feyera grabbing and squeezing tightly on Proton's wrists. With great effort, he managed to move the hand holding the blade off to the side, twisting Proton's wrist around as he did so. Proton struggled to center himself. Taking newfound the opening Feyera head-butted Proton in the chin, sending the Rocket Executive reeling backwards in shock from the unexpected impact.
"You're a monster…" Proton said gasping in disbelief as he lurched forward, swinging his leg to go for a desperate kick below the belt. "A freak…!"
"You're gonna look awfully funny yourself, with that knife sticking outta your ass," Feyera answered grabbing Proton's knife-holding arm tightly with both hands. He saw the kick coming and deftly swung over to the side, still holding on firmly to Proton's weapon-hand. Using the momentum his adversary had built up from going for a kick, he twisted around on his heel and pulled with him Proton's arm all the way back behind him. This maneuver rendered Proton completely off-balance. The strength of his once strong grip on the knife faded, allowing Feyera a precious second to pry it loose from the executive's white knuckles. A downward heave using the strength of both his arms sent the blade careening into the back of his neck, impaling deep into the man's spine with a brutal crack of finality.
There was only silence. His body collapsed face down, dark blood spilling out slowly from the mortal wound.
Feyera immediately fell to his knees, wincing in terrible pain originating from his right eye. Warm blood was still running down his face from the open incision that ran from the middle of his nose to where his temple met the start of his hairline. He didn't even have enough energy to curse out loud. He just sat there in speechless exhaustion, watching the blood gather around Proton's corpse silently.
The psyonics might have released him, but by the strength of his hands alone had he killed his adversary. He felt a profound sense of apathy from it – an unfeeling that was anything but conventional. The moment would not seem to pass. His thoughts were blank, his body muddled with pain. Only the sound of his labored breaths filled the room.
Another rumble of the cave shook him back into reality. Then he thought he heard voices. He did not have the energy to fight anymore. He hoped they would just leave him alone. It would be better if he could just fade away out of existence.
But out of the corner of his remaining eye, he saw a familiar figure approach. It was Sanaria; he'd recognize her anywhere. But why was she here now? What was she doing deeper in the cave? How come only now could he sense her heart as she approached? The questions kept pouring through his mind like a pounding march of footsteps approaching.
"Thas Feyera, what happened to you?!" Sana exclaimed, kneeling to the ground and hugging him tightly. "Oh… No! You're…!"
He realized that he was shaking. "…Just a little scratched up," he said trying his best to sound like he still had it together.
"You're eye…it's…!" she began to say but her telepathic voice became caught.
"…Not missing yet, but I don't think it'll do me any good," he answered covering his unsightly wound with a hand.
"You need to have something done for you!"
He tried to shake his head, but was met with intense pain from the motion. There were his Pokemon, who had arrived a little too late through a separate passage that reconnected in this room. Brucie was close behind Sana, not willing to approach his trainer with the usual enthusiasm he usually had. Des was uncoiling herself even further behind them both, judging from the water dripping off her serpentine body she had been in the river.
"Try not to move," Sana cautioned holding his head.
"How…did you find me?" he asked wearily. "I couldn't sense you at all before."
She quickly explained, "After the shaking had subsided, I lost track of where you were. …It was like you had disappeared. I knew that could not be the truth, so together Brucie and I rode Des upstream like you said."
"You did? And you weren't lost?" he sighed in relief.
"No. I felt a surge of energy coming from here, a sudden and strong change in the world. I knew it had to be your heart…"
[Boss, who did this to you?] Brucie asked, interrupting Sana from touching his core with her hand.
"A dead man," Feyera answered frankly. "He might have cut through my eye, but it turns out he won't be seeing anything. Huh, funny how that works…"
Sana stood up. Deftly, she clutched another smaller surgical knife from the nearby table. She proceeded to sever a thin piece of her already short skirt. "Please, cover your wound with this…" she implored presenting the strange fabric to him.
"You know I can't do that. I still remember what you told me before on the island… If it bonds to my skin, I won't be able to remove it easily."
"Don't be ridiculous," she implored. "You're not thinking straight right now. The benefit outweighs the costs. It will stop the blood and prevent an infection!"
She had a point. There were no first aid kits around and definitely no physicians down here in the cave either. The floor was covered in splotches of his blood just from moving around a little bit. Still, he worried about what she had cautioned him about when using the life fabric she wore. But now wasn't a time for reason to effectively paralyze him, he was in too much pain and near to being completely broken inside. He grabbed the ends of the fabric she had outstretched in her trembling hands and said, "All right. Fine. We'll do things your way."
But before she would let go of the cloth she said, "You'll have to cut your hair where it's going to rest."
"Ha," he laughed weakly. "Know any good barbers down here?"
She glared at him seriously. "I know this is difficult for you. I can tell. That's why you're acting this way. But I can try to use the knife to…"
He knew what she was planning on doing. "Go ahead," he said. "Butcher me some more, why don't you?"
She nodded and took the blade in her hand, carefully using the razor's edge to saw at his auburn hair. She worked surprisingly quickly, cutting a ring of hair about, exposing approximately an inch of scalp that went unevenly around his head, low on the right side, and rising at an angle towards the top of the left. He sat motionlessly, watching as pieces of his hair fell silently like autumn leaves onto the cave floor.
"That should be enough to keep it in place," Sana said.
"Glad you didn't decide to make me bald," Feyera joked.
"I could still do that," she said with a soft laugh.
"Which side goes against the skin?" he asked, getting serious once more.
"The side that's green," she explained. "That's the underside supposed to be against the skin for Gardevoir."
He wrapped it tightly around his skull covering the large gash on his check and his blood-filled eye. Immediately he felt some relief from the coolness of the silken garb. With Sana's help lifting his hair up away from the exposed scalp, she helped to tie the two ends together at the back of his head. It wasn't easy to do since the texture of the fabric was slippery like a soft velvet until it was made taut against his head. Afterwards, his hair dropped back down covering the band. However, the two folds from tying the knot dangled downwards about a hand's length from his hair, mint green on one side and pale white on the other. Surprisingly, the underside was able to absorb most of the blood, and did not appear to be stained red on the exposed white side.
"Ugh…" he groaned. "I really botched this whole thing up, didn't I?"
Just ask he feared, none of his companions answered him. They probably agreed with him. Or they simply did not have anything to say.
Des was the first to say something after a pause, [If ya go 'n lose your head by givin' up, then ya neither live nor win, pardner.]
"You're right, Des. I still have my partners here with me. I'll be alright… Besides, I can still sorta see," he said blinking a few times with his good eye. "And this bandage isn't the worst idea Sana's ever come up with for me."
She forced a laugh. "You're as grateful as ever, Feyera."
"How did you get down here? What happened after the earthquake and why couldn't I communicate with you?"
Sana clutched her heart and explained, "Something down here is interfering with the frequency we use to talk at a distance. You can hear me now because you're right next to me. After the cave in, I couldn't communicate with you, something was blocking the signal. It couldn't have been the rocks, since we've communed over much greater distance in the past due to our bound hearts."
"The strange radio waves…" Feyera pondered. "Could that be what's interfering?"
[Is July okay?] Brucie asked fretfully.
Feyera glanced over at the table nearby and saw her Apricorn as well as his Pomson and other belongings. "Yeah buddy, she's fine. She's going to need some rest though."
[That's great! You're still the boss,] Brucie insisted.
"Right," he replied salvaging his composure as best he could. "We're now at the precipice of the operation. The reason why we came here is just a little further away."
"You can't mean to continue in the current state that you're in!" she exclaimed. "You need to rest. You might not be gouged, but that incision is still deep and long enough to barely be covered by my bandage. Give yourself time to heal."
"That won't do me any good, Sana," he said rather angrily. "We can't go back! The cave's collapsed! And even if that wasn't the case —" he stood up "–There's only one thing left to do here that will save this operation from becoming a catastrophic failure. That's what I came here to do, and I'm going to accomplish my mission."
"But your eye…"
"You said your fancy cloth would help right?"
"I think. But it's more complicated than a simple piece of cloth."
"You'll have to tell me more about it at another time, but right now we simply haven't the time."
"I will," She nodded solemnly. "But removing it will prove very difficult if it's not just a flesh wound. Especially for you."
"I'm willing to bet this'll leave a little more than a scar," he said making a grouse.
"That's why I'm worried."
"Whatever." He crossed his arms. "I'll still have one eye to make use of the psyonics; that's all that really matters, right?"
She leaned in close and insisted firmly, "If you use your psyonics again, even just the simpler ones that only require your eyes to employ, there's no telling what will happen since the fabric acts as a potent conduit for our mental powers. You cannot risk it."
"Hmm…" The last thing he wanted to hear was obtaining a disability on top of a disability. He patted the area around his cheekbone. The skin felt smooth right up until his fingers met the cloth.
"At the very least, try not to move it," she warned him, grabbing his hand and pulling it away from his face. "You need to give it time to set."
He nodded and touched her heart. It felt warm to his fingers unlike the rest of this awfully cold cave. "Don't worry, I'll trust you on that," he said looking directly into her cherry eyes with a stern conviction. "C'mon, we're going to finish this."
================/===================
Together as a team they hurried on toward the source of the noise, following a loud sound was coming from up ahead in the distance. It was a persistent, droning sound of machinery mixed with the splashing of water. This had to be the place where the dam was located. And the center of the operation. Sana helped him keep his balance while Brucie strode close by at his other side. He recalled Des back to her Apricorn since she was not as quick on land as she was in the water.
There was a large metal grate up ahead that appeared to be a threshold into another deeper chamber. As they approached, another vibration overtook the cave, as it shook from somewhere deep below.
"Hold on!" he encouraged running full speed at the passageway. Rocks fell from nearby as the structure of the tunnel started to crumble apart from the shaking.
Passing through the gate, the group made it into an enormous chamber. It was easily over the size of a stadium. Sure enough, there was a large lake in the center of the room feeding into a metal dam that produced the river they had been following upstream. Bright floor-stand florescent lamps littered the great chamber with artificial light since the area was deep below the surface.
"He's here," yelled out someone from atop the dam's tall walkway which apparently served as a lookout. "And Proton's not with him!"
"You're right," said Feyera shrugging. "Turns out Proton's been gutted more than I have."
"Petrel, your orders?" asked one of the grunts next to the executive Feyera had seen not long ago with a portable computer.
"Prime the high-frequency Radio Burst Recording. It's ready…I think. If I calculated this correctly, when the next tremor occurs…"
"On your command, sir," said the grunt next to him high up on the bridge over the dam. "R.B.R. is ready."
"Hold on," Petrel said raising a hand, signaling his assistant to stop. He looked down at Feyera from his high vantage point atop the dam's bridge leading across to the other side of the lake. "You look worse for the wear."
"Oh this?" he scornfully replied. "This is nothing. You, however — you're going to look like shit very soon."
"Ah, attaching an emotion to your arrangements, same as always," Petrel replied with a dry laugh. "Shame my late associate valued his vengeance for Archer's death over our organization's profit margin. That's certainly why you were able to defeat him, he could not see; he was blinded by his own sense of retribution for what you and your misguided police friend did back in Celadon. But mark my words, Proton's misguided actions do not accentuate the true goals our organization."
"Then by all means, tell me why you built this facility if you're so damn concerned with profiteering?!" he shouted. For a moment his temples felt warm with rage and the band covering his eye became tight. The sensation made him self-conscious of the powers. Did he really tend to use them this often? Under normal conditions, he probably would not even be able to tell they were being employed since he had grown so accustomed to it.
"Remember what I said," whispered Sana from beside him. "Don't use them."
"Why build it? Are you daft?" Petrel gave a snort. "We did no such thing. Building this place would require incredible amounts of resources — losses that profits simply would be unable to cover. No, no. We merely controlled it, bending the environment to our will so that it would serve our interests better. Over the years, the underground river carved out this entire chamber. After time, the river began to recede and left behind these massive hollow tunnels underground."
"And you needed a new base of operations to hide from the International Police?"
"No. The International Police pose no obstacle to our organization any more. Furthermore, we have adequate funding to harbor multiple regional bases with me being in charge of how assets are divvied up."
"Then why come here? What's the point of a remote hideout if it doesn't serve your interests?"
"To make money, you've got to spend some money. You see, like you, I like to think big. My ambitions were never quite satisfied until I joined Team Rocket. Before then I was a lowly computer exploiter; hacking into civilian accounts, breaking into weaker security systems, skimming a little off the top here and there with fraudulent charges — that wasn't cutting it. I had bigger plans on profiting. Plans that correlated closely to our Leader's timeless adage: 'Pokemon are for profit — the profit of Team Rocket!'"
"You're just another one of Giovanni's pawns then," Feyera spat venomously. "Have some self-respect, show some autonomy."
Petrel ignored the insult, and smiled darkly. "You're certainly one to talk."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he was curious but could not read Petrel's mind. Even if he could use the psyonics without risk, the distance was simply too great.
"Oh, nothing at all," Petrel responded nonchalantly. "You know, being below the Ruins of Alph, this cave also happens to be a source of radio frequencies not found anywhere else in the world. Of course, testing such things required a base of operations as well as a significant power supply. The dam you see here is designed to do exactly that."
"Then why go after the Slowpoke? Why destroy Azalea? How do those atrocities profit you?!" he shouted. He was tired, exhausted from before, and the target he had been pursuing was so close, and yet at the same time so far away. The temptation of using the psyonics to simply end this venture immediately was growing by the second.
This time a telekinetic tug from Sana pulled on his shoulder warning him. How did she know?
"Put simply, we were hired to do an important job no one else wanted to do," Petrel replied oblivious to the covert interaction occurring between them.
"By who?" Feyera asked more calmly than before.
"You already know."
"It was Cipher, wasn't it. The joint efforts of the Progenitor Project led to all of this."
"Very good." Petrel mockingly clapped his hands slowly. "You do remember."
"Why?" he asked, trying to bide time in order to put the jigsaw pieces together. "Don't they distrust you after what happened at the Pokemon Sanctum?"
"Not us, to them we're just the mercenaries. We're just simple folks, easy to direct, employ, and all that. Hired to do a job if it means we'll make money off it. You however… You've been ostracized by both us and them. Your stigma doesn't carry over into our affairs, and yet your legacy set us up with an invaluable avenue to exploit."
"But this isn't about me anymore. Why work with Cipher again after all this time?"
"To make the most money, of course! Haven't you been paying attention? Using Pokemon to profit has always been our goal! In order to see this through, we required a classic bait and switch tactic. First, we'd undertake Cipher's dirty work here in Kanto and Johto, get paid nicely. But… here's the best part," Petrel grinned wildly, "figure out WHY Cipher is paying so much to extract these precious reserves, and turn that technology into our own… you see where I'm going with this? When we can manipulate Pokemon on a genetic level, we will be able to create more powerful creatures; evolution no longer is something to be worked tirelessly for. Time is a valuable resource. Our work promises instant gratification. People desire powerful Pokemon to rule over others. Whoever caries the largest weapons always sways the tides of global politics – Pokemon are weapons, tools of war. With the ancient Pokemon Mew finally within our grasp after the trail went cold three years ago, we'll be able to stimulate energy conversion and bypass one of the most frustrating hurdles of becoming powerful — wasting precious time to raise the creatures so they'll evolve into stronger versions."
"Then I was right. You know about the Mercurium," he concluded earnestly.
"Of course." Petrel nodded. "It's right here, under my feet. Resting at the bottom of this newly formed, artificial lake. …A whole motherlode, I might add."
"And you haven't extracted it?!" he said unable to conceal his excitement very well.
"There are…complications, to put it bluntly," Petrel sighed. "Though if you're willing to help us out again, I can offer you all the Mercurium your little heart can possibly imagine…"
"Forget it." The proposal was not nearly as tempting as it would have been only a few hours ago. "You can take that offer and shove it where the sun doesn't shine, since I'll never join Team Rocket again."
"Humph. Then we have no more to discuss," Petrel said. "A pity, you could have had it all. But in the end, you'll profit us all the same."
"That's exactly why I can't trust you. Your offer is nothing but a hoax. How do I even know the Mercurium motherlode isn't also a lie?"
"Hah!" Petrel laughed. "That's the funny thing. You can't! But I can give you one guarantee: you'll be in for quite a show momentarily."
"I have a very bad feeling about this, thas Feyera."
There was a massive tremor that shook the cave. "Activate it!" Petrel ordered his grunt.
A tremendous roar echoed through the chamber. The entire cave shook as the river began to split asunder revealing a massive Pokemon. As the river flowed south, it began to part in two upon a set of sharp crimson scales. Feyera and the others watched as a mighty whirlwind of mist and water sprayed across the river's surface as the scales rose upright and into the artificial light. The florescent platforms illuminating the inner part of the cave gleamed off the creature's exposed contour, which dominated the majority of the river. It howled with another vicious roar and reared its serpentine body higher out of the water for all to behold. With a mighty tremor the entire cave rattled from the creature's bellow, as rocks fell from above and splashed into the water. The creature's repeated howls were anything but natural and yet they seemed to restructure all of nature around it. Crumbling pieces of the cave's ceiling crashing down nearby, forcing Feyera to recoil as dust blew forth from the center of the vast room.
"That…that's not possible…" he gasped. He had never seen a creature this large before of any species.
"No…it can't be!" Sana exclaimed equally short of breath. "They can't grow that large…!"
[Edgy, you better think of something!]
"GYROOO!" Another incredible roar shook the cavern, knocking everyone to their knees.
There it was before them. A truly massive creature, unlike anything outside of legends. Its hardened red scales reflected the artificial lights in the cave in a brilliant way, shimmering and reflecting the harsh lights as though it were a fractured mirror. The Pokemon's head alone was easily the size of a small house, though most of its serpentine body dwelled under the lake water. With a vicious whip of its tail, the creature exposed more of its body, spraying the entire cave with briny water. Four huge gleaming fangs, each the size of a human adult jutted out of the creatures gapping maw as it spewed a mixture of briny river water with an incredible force. Its eyes were as feverishly red as its body, and its mighty twin dorsal fins were wrought with deep scars and thick regrown flesh.
"AHHH!" screamed one of the Rockets near the water's edge, as he tried to run away from where the creature had emerged. With an effortless swat of the creature's mighty tail, the man was sent flailing high up through the air, arms and legs floundering wildly as he spun uncontrollably – his body smashing loudly against the cave wall at an unbelievable velocity and shattering countless bones.
The Pokemon's fangs gleamed as it reared its coiled body back into the water momentarily. Swiftly, it lunged back out of the water, spraying the floor with a wave of water and smashing its thick head into a column of rocks that stretched up to the lofty ceiling.
"Shit, it's gone berserk!" called out another one of the grunts.
"Wasn't that part of the plan?" Petrel said menacingly.
The other grunt pointed at the creature with fear in his eyes. "What do you think? We've clearly outdone ourselves here!"
"This is the true power of controlling Pokemon evolution," Petrel said observing the creature from high above. "It boggles the mind when you think about it. Ha…hahaha! We have become gods in our own right. Rich, rich gods!"
Feyera and his team were knocked to the ground from dodging rubble falling nearby. There was no way to fight the red monstrosity before them. It was just too massive, too powerful. The twisting scales of its huge body dominated the entire lake's surface. With a mighty blast, it spewed a mixture of draconic energy and scalding water from its gapping maw, evaporating the surface of the water around it into steam.
Another member of Team Rocket attempted to shoot at the creature from afar. Using a gauntlet and firing from above the dam, he shot down at the creature emptying his entire clip, but it didn't even seem to notice the bullets as they harmlessly ricocheted off its bright, titanium-like scales.
The creature flung its large head back with reckless abandon as light began to form in its enormous mouth. Its crimson scales glistened as it quivered for a moment before firing an incredible beam of pure white energy toward the sky. The light was blinding, the sound thunderous. The thick ray of light tore the rock ceiling, disintegrating through solid stone as though it were naught but air. In the wake of the blinding Hyper Beam there was nothing left but a massive circular hole in the ceiling, a testament to the creature's godlike power.
"…We're done here; the test was a success, but this base is sunk." Petrel was grasping tightly onto the dam's railing for support. "Time to head out and begin Phase Two…!"
"Petrel, what about the rest of the extraction unit?" asked the grunt by his side. "We still have men and women down in the cave!"
"Leave them. They've done their part of the mission, and now it's time to pass the torch to more capable hands." He took a look at the giant creature from above his high perch. "Given the circumstances, I'm sure they'd understand."
"Roger that," replied the grunt who had the look of abject terror in his eyes.
"The most important thing is getting out of here before that monstrosity uses Outrage! It's still gotta recharge from that Hyper Beam."
The grunt nodded at the executive like a frightened child.
"And farewell to you, Christian Feyera! May we meet again!" Petrel said sarcastically. He drew several Pokéballs from his belt holster, and threw them into the lake near the creature's wake. They opened to reveal a collection of Koffing and Weezing. "Smokescreen!" ordered Petrel, as he turned and ran toward the other side of the dam atop the tall bridge.
"I don't think so, you little Sneasel!" He gave a quick glance to his Pokemon. "Sana. Brucie. You ready?"
For what? There was not enough time to explain. They nodded as rocks continued to fall all around them as the red Gyarados' thrashing continued to shake the cave. True, he could not use any psyonic powers without risk, but having his Pokemon by his side provided him more than enough firepower to execute his plan.
"Heave ho," Feyera said grabbing Brucie under his arm and carrying him at a full sprint towards the dam. When Petrel had just gotten past the halfway mark on the dam's bridge, Feyera used his free arm to fling Des out from her Apricorn, causing her to appear in front of them with a flash of light.
"Gonna need a lift, girl," he quickly relayed to his Pokemon as the large group of floating Koffing and Weezing began to dispense their clouds of inky black smog. "Use Aqua Tail, send us up high!" He rushed up onto the tip of her tail and felt the damp air whiz past him as she hoisted him and Brucie skyward in a swift motion. To maintain steadiness, he grappled on tightly to one of her protruding dorsal scales.
At the pinnacle of the lift, he launched Brucie with all his might at the collection of Pokemon facilitating Petrel's escape. "Fire Blast, Brucie! Straight into the center of the smoke!"
The momentum from Des' tail flew an otherwise wingless Brucie far enough through the air to be within striking range. Inside the Charmeleon's jaws seared with tremendous heat, and he released it midair with one brutal burst. Upon discharge from Brucie's maw, it split into a five-pronged emission of scorching flare. The spreading waves of combustion caught onto the noxious smog Koffing was releasing, triggering an immense firestorm that engulfed the entire cloud of smoke. In unison, the bodies of the volatile gas bombs exploded from the ignition, causing massive shockwaves and destroying everything around them. The orchestrated noises of their explosions were deafening. Concrete and steel flew into the air, chunks of the once massive dam used to extract power from the flow of water.
"Now! Sana, pull him back!" he ordered tugging his hand back as a signal from atop Des.
She used her telepathy to yank Brucie backwards from the enormous chain of explosions and away from the lake. It was a risky maneuver to be sure, but he could trust no one else but her to pull it off.
The massive red Gyarados cried out again, as the rocks and debris flew down from everywhere above. Its body, though massive, was still in the water. With the dam destroyed, the creature was helpless to resist the incredible force of water rushing downstream. It tried to swim against the current, but could not pull away from the draw of the newly opened channel. Thrashing wildly, it screeched loudly as its massive body was tugged away into the darkness beyond where the dam once stood.
Feyera could barely believe it and fell to his knees in exhaustion as Brucie landed gently next to him. Des pressed her body down to earth, coiling closely next to the pair. Although the power to all the underground lights had been severed, natural light was now flooding in through the broken cave's lofty ceiling. Feyera exhaled a deep sigh of relief and felt water forming in his eye. Breaking down, he hugged his Pokemon with outstretched arms.