November 26
Dawn stood at the end of the hallway, unsure whether she should retreat into her bedroom or try and coax Zoey out of hers. She had brooded around in the living room for a half an hour before going upstairs after Zoey. "There's no way I can go into her room and expect her to just suddenly not hate me," she thought. "Then again, she'll hate me just as much tomorrow morning. No point putting off trying to talk to her."
She walked up to her door and gently rapped on it. Zoey didn't respond, even after Dawn knocked a second time. Taking a deep breath, she turned the doorknob and walked in.
Zoey's back was to her as she faced toward the window. She sat on the bed with her rifle in her lap.
"Zoey?" Dawn said sheepishly.
She turned her head ninety degrees, facing the wall as Dawn was just within her eyesight. Her expression was cold and unforgiving, but Dawn couldn't tell if she was angry or sad or frightened or none of the above. "You here to kill me, too? Because if-"
"I don't wanna kill you!" Dawn interjected. She sighed in frustration. "I had my reasons for having to kill Lance."
"Fine. Explain it to me, then." Zoey said coldly. She set the rifle aside and turned to face her.
"I thought that Lance was a threat, and I couldn't trust him. See, he found us right before this group of Rocket grunts were about to kill us, and he was undercover when he did it. But ever since then I thought that-"
"He was leading you into some sort of trap?"
Dawn nodded.
Zoey sighed. "I mean, I get why you think that, but did you really have to kill him?"
"Well, maybe not. The way that Brock just left so suddenly made it seem like he wasn't actually on our side, and I just snapped without thinking."
Zoey said nothing, instead turning toward the bedroom window. Dawn expected her to say something, anything, but she didn't.
"Well?" Dawn asked. "Is that it?"
"Are you sorry?" she finally asked.
Dawn had to think about that, because even she didn't know. Lance's advice of never being sorry echoed in her mind. "I…I don't know," she finally said. "I mean, he probably didn't deserve to die."
"Probably?" Zoey asked incredulously.
"Yeah, because there's still the off chance that he really wasn't on our side. That's why I'm not sure if I'm sorry or not. Because what if he was with the Rockets, and killing him ended up being the right thing?"
"So you're saying that you're not sorry?" Zoey said, raising her eyebrows.
"No," said Dawn, "I'm not. But I'm not not sorry, if that makes sense."
"Not really." Zoey turned back to the window and sighed. "What the hell happened?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean to the world," Zoey explained. "The Empire just came and screwed it all up, tore it to shit. And for what? Just so they can see all of us die and suffer?"
"I don't know, but what's the point of wondering about it anyway?" Dawn sat down on the bed next to Zoey.
"I guess maybe finding out why can somehow make it better…" Zoey trailed off.
"Pretty shitty way of making yourself feel better, if you ask me."
They said nothing after that, the two of them staring out the window in silence. After five minutes, Dawn said, "Sorry I bothered you. I guess I'll just go to bed now." She began to get up when Zoey motioned her back.
"Wait," said Zoey, "there's just one more thing that I wanna say."
"Which is?"
"Do you remember when I won the Ribbon Cup? How happy I was that day? I mean, no offense to you, but-"
"Yes," Dawn said, "Yes, I remember."
Zoey sighed again. "That had to have been the happiest day of my life. And after all of this happened…well, I tried to stay happy like that. Despite everything that happened in the past two weeks, I think I was able to."
Dawn nodded in understanding. "Right, I see what you're saying."
"But hearing that you killed Lance," Zoey continued, "just seemed to drag me down to reality, just made everything seem so real. Hearing that Lance died…well, it made me feel like I could die too. Even after that huge firefight yesterday, even after almost being executed, even after watching my parents get shot, it's only now that I believe I can die."
Before Dawn could respond, a thumping sound could be heard from downstairs. They both froze, trying to identify what the sound was.
"I thought you said that we're the only ones in the building," Dawn said tremblingly.
"I did," Zoey muttered. She grabbed for the rifle and started for the door. "I'm gonna check it out."
"Are you crazy?" Dawn hissed. "You have no idea what the hell is down there!"
"We'll find out one way or another at some point, right?"
Dawn gulped and nodded. "You're right, I guess."
Zoey nodded and clicked off the safety. "Stay here. I'll be back in a minute."
She said nothing as Zoey walked out of the room and slowly walked down the stairs. She sat on her bed, wringing her hands in anxiety. It had only been fifteen seconds since she left, but to Dawn it felt like hours.
Supreme silence seemed to linger in the air as if it were a tangible object. Dawn swore that she could feel it on her skin, it was that intense. Zoey didn't sound like she was doing anything downstairs, she thought.
The silence became too much for her, so Dawn decided to go after her. She was only halfway down the staircase when she heard the front door being kicked open.
The screaming and the explosion of gunshots that followed spiked fear and adrenaline in her, but she wasn't able to run back upstairs. No, despite the fear she was frozen on the staircase, a dividing wall being the only thing that hid her from whatever was downstairs. "Shitshitshitshitshit, what the hell's going on here?" she thought. She might not have been physically shaken, but that didn't stop her from thinking the worst.
The gunfire stopped after a mere second, the silence returning to take its place. Dawn thought about calling out to Zoey, but her conscience quickly shot down that idea.
"Well," said a low voice, "that was rather easy."
Dawn heard a low groan from Zoey. It sounded like she was trying to form a cohesive sentence, but she could hardly get out a single word.
Unable to curb her worry, Dawn peeked behind the dividing wall. There were four Empire Grunts standing over her; a fifth one lay dead by the front door. Zoey lay on the couch, stirring as she struggled to remove a blue protruding object from her neck. Her rifle had skittered across the living room floor and lay a few feet from the bottom of the staircase. Three of the grunts held guns that contained thin, blue rods, the same kind that had found a home in Zoey's neck. "Those can't be Sleeping Syringes," she thought, "those are orange." Judging by the effect it seemed to have on Zoey, Dawn didn't want to know exactly what it did.
"You know, I thought it'd be a lot harder to take you down." continued the low voice. You killed all of those people, and yet now we brought you down so quickly."
Zoey gave up trying to pull the blue rod from her neck, the groans and moans growing more detached by the second. She noticed Dawn on the top of the stairs and responded with a subtle look of acknowledgement. Everyone suddenly became aware of the sound of helicopters outside of their building.
Dawn's eyes diverted to Zoey's gun. She weighed her chances of grabbing it before the Grunts could get her. She looked back at Zoey, who knew exactly what Dawn seemed to be planning. "Don't do it," her expression seemed to say, "whatever you do, don't go for that gun."
All of the Grunts' backs were to Dawn as they began to lift Zoey from the couch. Dawn could feel the adrenaline flowing through her, but that wasn't enough to nerve her down the stairs. "Either I grab the gun and take my slim chances, or try and make my escape upstairs." Dawn thought, her thoughts almost physically twitching out of her head. "So, basically, it's death or probable death."
"Probable death it is."
Dawn made her way back up the stairs, slipping on the last step. Her head hitting the hardwood made a thunking sound that was audible even over the choppers. The shouting from the grunts resumed as Dawn fumbled into her bedroom.
She slammed the door behind her and released Togekiss from her Poké Ball. She looked frightened and cowered futilely from the roar of the helicopters outside.
"We have to fly out the window!" Dawn shouted, "It's our only-"
The bedroom door swung open, and Dawn hardly had time to move before she felt the jabbing sting of a blue rod, the same one that hit Zoey, under her left eye. "It's a needle," she realized, and she fell to the ground, screaming in pain.
Its effect on her was instantaneous. She felt every nerve and muscle in her face sizzle and burn. Amidst the agonizing pain, she could hardly move her mouth, let alone any other muscle in her head. Even her thoughts were jumbled and slow; "Needle…burn…face…feeling…nothing…spreading…" Togekiss used an Air Slash that lifted two of the grunts off of their feet and slammed them into the wall of the hallway.
The sizzling and burning was spreading down her neck and spine; every muscle in her body would sizzle and burn before turning completely numb and practically uncontrollable. She mindlessly tried to claw at the needle that hit her, but her limbs were flailing about like a malfunctioning robot.
Dawn could feel Togekiss trying to lift her, to get her out of the window, but a gunshot brought her down before she could get halfway. Dawn was aware that she just saw her die, but she found herself unable to react; the reality of it couldn't hit her.
Dawn could hear the windows in the living room being smashed in. A pair of Grunts lifted Dawn off of the ground and carried her back downstairs. She saw that they were doing the same to Zoey, a grunt slapping handcuffs on her wrists. Another grunt was carrying Togekiss's limp body.
"Glarghabgabll," Dawn muttered, her throat feeling as if it were stuffed with peanut butter. She was lifted off of her feet as her arms were forcefully brought together. "Togekiss…" she thought, "Zoey…us…captured…found…how..."
She shot Zoey one last drunken look of apology before they were brought out of the apartment.
The phone's piercing ring nearly threw the sleeping Jasper off of his desk. He had to catch his immobilized arm from making a hard landing on the ground. He had been released from the hospital a few days ago, right before he had heard that they had found Lance's body. He hardly had time to rejoice, however, for there was work that he had to attend to from being out for so long.
He looked at his clock, unsurprised that it was the middle of the night. He was forced to sleep at his desk to address the people would call him during the night, which pissed him off royally. Even he was surprised that he hadn't killed anyone in anger yet, something that he had done a lot back in the Eastern Sector.
Jasper swiped for the phone and put the headset to his ear. "Whuzzit?" he said groggily.
"Jasper, it's Laina." came Laina's voice from the other end.
"Laina, it's the middle of the night. What happened that-"
"We found the girls," she interrupted. "My men from the Secret Ops department found them in a Veilstone apartment building."
"Are you kidding me?" Jasper said in a stupefied voice. He had to grip his desk to keep from falling from his armchair. "Where are they now?"
"Ms. McHale and Ms. Berlitz are being transported via air chopper to Headquarters at this very moment. They should be at Headquarters by six AM. Stabilizing them was a tricky matter, and a Grunt died in the process, but some Sedation Syringes brought them down quick."
Jasper was thinking about the situation for a few seconds. Dawn would likely know more about that damned egg than the redhead would. But that didn't mean that she wouldn't know anything at all…
"Have Berlitz sent up to the Executive Office when they land," he said finally. "I'll take care of her personally. You can leave the other one in the Interrogation Department."
"Sounds good," Laina replied, "but there's one other matter that needs to be addressed.
"And that is?" Jasper yawned.
The Ops department may have found a resistance pack traveling about ten miles outside of Oreburgh. It's the third suspected one we found since yesterday, but this one is way bigger than the others. It might pose an actual threat, for once. They might be headed for Headquarters."
"So what are you waiting for?" Jasper asked angrily. "Get in there and shoot their asses up!"
"Yes sir," Laina said quietly. "I'll just let you-"
Jasper hung up the phone before Laina could finish her sentence. He didn't even bother to feel happy about the girls' capture before he fell asleep.
November 27
It wasn't the explosions that woke Brock up early the next morning. Nor was it the gunfire that followed. It wasn't even the shouting that was mixed in, or the sound of several Pokemon attacks bursting through the air.
It was Blondie's snoring that woke him up, seconds before chaos broke out.
"Blondie, could you keep it down?" Brock said groggily. "It's hardly even morning yet, and I'm still tryna sleep!"
"It's not like I can help it," she mumbled, "don't a lot of-"
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The sudden explosion made Brock throw his arms over his head. The gunfire that joined them was close to deafening. Thinking became close to impossible, let alone hearing anything else around him.
"STAY HERE!" Brock shouted, "JUST SAY IN THE TREE AND-"
Blondie, completely disregarding Brock's orders, jumped from the tree and completely out of sight. He hardly had time to look down before he saw the flash of her blue hoodie run off.
"Shit, Blondie," Brock thought, "even when we're in the middle of a battlefield you can't follow directions." He jumped from his branch, but it must have rained the night before, because he slipped on a branch and fell head first for the ground.
Brock stuck his arms out in a panic, hoping that they would break his fall. Not only was his fall broken, but now his right arm was, too. A shooting pain materialized as his arm hit the ground, and Brock shouted in pain as he clutched it compulsively.
"BLONDIE!" He shouted, "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"
He saw another glimpse of her, running away toward a group of the gunmen. He would have caterwauled at her again, but there was no point; there would be no chance of him being audible over the gunfire.
Brock hid himself in a bush as he scanned the chaotic scene. In the dim sunlight, Brock saw the gray-clad Rocket gunmen, firing off their automatics as several pokémon, mostly Houndooms and Electrodes, launched attacks into the diminishing night. Wild pokémon were fleeing, some of them wounded or carrying others.
"But who are they firing at?" Brock thought. "Obviously not at me or Blondie, otherwise we'd be dead already."
It was then that he noticed the other group of gunmen, the group that Blondie had run off to. Unlike the Rocket grunts, the other group was a bit more diverse in their apparel; some wore blue jeans and sweaters, others wore khakis and jackets. Some of them even looked like Trainers. A lot of them wore the same blue hoodies that Blondie wore. Their rounds of gunfire fired off at a much faster rate than that of the Rockets; for every gunman that went down, thee Grunts would go down with him.
Nearly every one of the mystery gunmen had a pokémon with them, and they weren't as picky about their selection, as opposed to the Rockets. There was an Arcanine here, a Zangoose there, and Brock could've sworn he saw a few Scizor. Both sides, in addition to the gunfire, launched attacks at each other with their Pokemon. A Flamethrower would melt a pair of Grunts as a Thunderbolt from the Rockets would electrocute the other gunmen.
Brock began to run from the scene, but he felt a jolting sting in his left hip and saw a Grunt, several dozen feet away, aiming his gun at Brock.
Adrenaline surged in Brock as he painfully dived out of his way. He felt another bullet graze his broken arm, causing it to hurt that much more. The grunt began running toward him, but an Arcanine was on top of him in seconds. Brock looked away before the beast could devour the Grunt.
Now being fully incapacitated, Brock dragged himself behind a tree and took out his knife. He struggled to catch his breath, fully aware that he was fairly vulnerable here. "If any of those guys find me, I won't be able to put up much of a fight," he thought. He took a tighter hold of his knife, bracing himself for a fight that he would surely lose.
It never happened. A few minutes later, he heard faint cries of "Retreat!" from the Grunts. They all ran in the opposite direction, with a few of the mystery gunmen taking chase. Those who didn't were cheering, slapping each other on the back and shooting into the air.
Brock noticed Blondie among them, shaking hands with a man that was much older than her. There was a new stain of blood running down her leg, and her normally straight hair was frizzled in a few places, but otherwise she looked unhurt.
He looked down at his wounds. Blood spewed from his hip and trickled from his arm. The sight of the stark lacerations nearly made Brock faint from shock. "BLONDIE!" he shouted frantically, "BLONDIE!"
Brock looked back up to see that Blondie was running toward him. She had ditched her rifle for a first aid kit that had magically appeared form thin air. "She heard me?" thought Brock. "I'm surprised neither of us went deaf after what just happened."
"Brock, you oka-"she began, but her eyes widened when she saw Brock's wounds. "SOMEONE GET ME A MEDIC!" She turned back to Brock. "Don't worry, we can patch that up, just let me-"
"Blondie, what the fuck is going on?"
Three men, all of them dressed in jeans and matching blue hoodies, ran up to them. The smallest one, who looked to be Blondie's age, pointed his automatic at Brock's head.
"Woah!" Brock shouted, "what's with the-"
"State your name and region of origin." The man said coolly.
"Alright, fine!" Brock said, "Just put down the-"
"State your name and region of origin." He repeated, keeping his gun raised.
Brock breathed in exasperation. "My name is Brock Harrison. I'm from Kanto."
He immediately lowered his gun and ran back to the others. Brock shouted at him, but he didn't break his stride. Meanwhile, the other men had started stitching up Brock's wounds, making him gasp from the unexpected pain.
"Sorry," one of them mumbled, "we gotta get this fixed up before you bleed out."
"WOULD YOU AT LEAST TELL ME WHAT IN SHIT'S NAME IS GOING ON? WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?" Brock shouted.
It was Blondie that spoke up. "I wanted to tell you yesterday, but I couldn't-"
"TELL ME WHAT?!"
She sighed. "Brock, we're the G-Men. We've been looking for you and your friends for days."
Usual post-chapter banter aside, I have some bad news: this story is officially on hiatus.
It's not for too long; a little more than three weeks or so. I'm gonna start working on a one-shot, and by the time I'm done with that I'll be studying for finals. It kills me to put it off for so long, but it has to be done.
Nevertheless, reviews are much appreciated, and thanks for reading!