The Enigma Chronicles: Echoes

by Rocketlord6485

An origin story that explores Metsuma Rocket's rise to power and the secrets that surround his life. Set within the Giovanni Chronicles continuity, this dark and elaborate tale of a young sociopath trying to juggle two very different worlds is full of mystery and intrigue. Rated M for language, violence, mild drug abuse, and some sexual situations. [CURRENTLY ON HIATUS]

25. Beauty and the Beast

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The Enigma Chronicles – Echoes

Chapter 25: Beauty and the Beast

The Pokémon League Penitentiary was home to the meanest, nastiest rogue trainers known throughout Kanto and Johto. The guard on morning patrol and his Poliwrath sauntered down the cell block floor, stopping halfway to peer inside one of the adjacent dens. A hunched figure sat cross-legged on the floor inside, his face buried in a book, with mounds of other assorted texts surrounding him.

"Quit squinting at books, Ry'uun, and get up on your feet," the guard hollered gruffly into the tiny cell, opening the door with a key. "Today's your lucky day."

The dimly lit figure whipped his head up, then snapped his text shut as he trained both eyes on the guard entering his quarters. "Am I being transferred?", he asked in mock earnest. He blew out a tenuous breath as he pulled himself from the floor. "Oh, mercy," he exerted with the motion. "You weak-kneed brutes just can't decide what to do with me, can you?"

"Move," the guard ordered bluntly, fingering him to the door.

The crotchety prisoner slowly emerged from the thin lighting of his cell, his hand raised high to block the overhead glare of the corridor. The tired rings under his green eyes bunched as he squinted uncontrollably, and he walked—stumbled, rather—into the clearing as if his shoes weighed an anchor apiece. He was a man burdened by great decrepitude, a man whose entire appearance was weathered and ancient. He was considerably short, spindly, his trodden prison gown hanging loosely on him in folds. His skin had that pale, leathery look of someone who hadn't seen sunlight in years. His marks of age were set by his indifferent scowl, the lines on his face indicating that it was the only emotion he cared to channel.

"And here I was just beginning to cozy up to this lovely prison," he remarked in his bitter, cranky voice. "Then again, I wouldn't mind a cell with a bit more wiggle room. I'm an old man, I ask for so little."

The guard sniffed. "They'll be plenty of space where you're going, trust me; along with plenty other wackjobs for you to make friends with."

Ry'uun looked thoughtful for a moment. "Ah, the Dual Region Maximum Security Prison," he deduced with a slight, nefarious trace of a smirk on his wrinkled mouth. "I'll be joining the ranks of all the other riffraff Clint Ketchum put behind bars. In that case, I shall wear my new prison rags like a badge of honor."

"Be quiet," the guard muttered over him.

"Do you know who I am, boy?", Ry'uun rambled as he felt himself shoved into motion. "Do you know what I could have been? Do you have even the slightest idea of what my life's work might have amounted to, had Ketchum not butted into my affairs?"

"I said be quiet!"

Ry'uun kept walking, but stubbornly ignored the call for silence. "Ketchum had some spunk coming after me the way he did, that fool," he muttered loud enough for the entire cell block to hear. "But I regret nothing."

"I'm not going to tell you again," the guard warned irritably.

"Wait." The grouchy elder froze with a snicker, then spun around to face his burly escort. "On second thought, my only regret is that I didn't kill the goody-two-shoes myself!"

"Poliwrath!", the guard bellowed over his shoulder, exploding in anger.

Before Ry'uun knew what was what, the powerhouse Water-Type Pokémon had him pinned up against the corridor wall like a stocking.

"Oh, dear," the old man reacted with antagonizing calm, his feet dangling beneath him as the Pokémon lifted him higher into the air. "Have I offended you?"

The guard leaned in beside his Pokémon, bringing his face inches from Ry'uun's. "I could end your life right now, you smug, kooky bastard," he seethed, "and have my Poliwrath here turn you to powder and bones real quick."

The crusty old hermit sneered down at the younger man, as if challenging him to make good on his threat.

The guard, however, restrained himself and released his temper with a heave. "But that wouldn't be Clint's way," he said, signaling Poliwrath to stand down. "And I have a lot of respect for everything that man stood for, fortunately for you."

Ry'uun dropped to his feet with a gasp as the Pokémon released him. Patting himself down, he treated the guard to an irritable stink eye. "That man, you speak of, is gone," he scorned without humor. "His fire has burnt out. The Pokémon League is entering a new age, sonny. Embrace it. Don't let it swallow you. There is no good and evil anymore. You're either the butcher or the meat now."

The guard returned the glare, barely holding on to his patience. He then leveled his finger to the corridor exit and instructed unflinchingly, "Move."

…...

Heavy rain drenched the landing platform and the bridge adjoining it to the jailhouse lookout tower. The guard and his Poliwrath forced Ry'uun to a sudden halt halfway down the crossing, their eyes tilting skyward as a PLC helicopter descended from the storm clouds.

The aircraft hovered low, locking into the landing pad with a gentle clink, and the cabin door slid open in haste. Sa'lu, ace trainer of the Elite Four and Dragon-Type Pokémon extraordinaire, emerged into the gushing rain with two Pokémon G-Men members stepping out behind her. The whirling wind raised up from the helicopter blades tugged at her clothes and swished at her hair as she stared down Ry'uun and his ungracious chaperon across the other building top.

Putting on his best smile, the guard nudged his slight, frail prisoner into motion. Sa'lu and her own associates mirrored the movement, moving onto the bridge to meet Ry'uun's party halfway. The rain poured down harder and thunder clapped from the vault of endless gray above.

The hunched prisoner squinted fiercely at Sa'lu as she approached, his face scrunched ambivalently. The guard took quick notice of this and gave the old man a sharp elbow jab to the back. "Here he is, ma'am," the guard croaked at the woman, shoving Ry'uun to present him. "Just as you requested."

Shrugging off the ungenerous manhandling, Ry'uun glanced up and took in the sight of his new guardian with that same intrinsic look of scrutiny from before. "Sa'lu?" His gangly features twisted with an expression plagued by unlikely notions, then he knit his brows and shook his head dismissively with a snort. "No, it surely couldn't be. My eyes aren't what they once were, sadly."

"Your eyes are fine," she spoke down to him without hesitation. Her brown eyes seemed to invite him, if not challenge him, to say more.

Ry'uun emitted another noise similar to the first, one both amused and cynical. "So it was you who ordered my release, eh? I was under the impression I was being released into the custody of the Pokémon G-men."

The Dragon Master smiled a rather self-important smile, its implications clear without any words.

The old hermit grunted mildly in frustration. "Hmph. I should be laughing, but I'm more confounded than anything else. How did you ever come to acquire such a prestigious position of power, hmm?"

"That is none of your concern," she shut him down softly, her eyes suddenly trained on the guard looming behind him.

Ry'uun's expression tightened into hard mistrust and menace. "I do not recognize your authority to dictate what is and is not my concern. Five years has done little to soften your proud flesh, it seems."

"Good work," Sa'lu said to the guard, pretending not to hear the old windbag's yapping. "I can see to him from here."

"I should like to come along as an escort on behalf of the Kanto League Council," the guard requested formally, planting a hand over Ry'uun's lank, doddering shoulder and giving it an unkind squeeze. "I want to make sure our prisoner here gets the cell he deserves."

Sa'lu smiled politely, but waved a hand in negation. "You have my word, he will receive his just deserts."

"I've had my eye on this one for years," the guard insisted with a mild chuckle. "I don't think he'll mind my company a little while longer."

"I'm sure he wouldn't," Sa'lu returned the humor, before suddenly adopting a much darker expression. "But unfortunately it's not for him—or you—to decide."

There was a tense, foreboding silence between both parties in which only the rain and thunder filled the silence.

Finally the guard bravely narrowed both eyes at the dragon mistress and deduced in a low, mistrustful voice, "You're not taking him to the Dual Region Prison, are you?"

A look almost akin to disappointment fluttered across Ry'uun's face the next moment, but aside from that, his reaction was very minimal.

Rather than confirm or deny the recrimination, Sa'lu cautioned simply, "Consider your next move carefully."

The reaction from the guard was immediate as he wrenched Ry'uun back behind him, just out of Sa'lu's grasp. His Poliwrath then lunged to engage the traitorous Pokémon Master.

The pair of G-Men behind Sa'lu reached for their Pokéballs, but she waved them still, her face unflinching for a moment. Then her eyes inexplicably rolled back into her head.

At that moment, a monstrous bellow ripped so ruthlessly through the sound barrier, not even the thunder could compete. A blur of blue and red sprung out from beneath the crossing the next instant, colliding into Poliwrath mid-leap. The force of impact sent the Water-Type powerhouse hurtling across the sky and into the vast fog below.

Before the guard could attempt to flee from the unseen assailant, he found himself engulfed in the monster's thick, winged shadow. He jerked his head skyward and gasped as the bewitched Pokémon descended upon him, flattening his body to the concrete bridge in one fell pounce.

Sa'lu gave a slow nod of permission to her Salamance, then watched expressionless as her pet roasted its victim alive in a blaze of dragon breath. The guard, ignited in flames, cried out before the dragon finally drove its razor-sharp claws through his jugular and permanently silenced him.

Once Sa'lu's invisible hold on her dragon subsided and the beast returned to the sky, all that remained of the jailing officer was something smoldering and unrecognizable at her feet. "That was not careful," she remarked to the carcass before stepping over it and helping Ry'uun to his feet.

The elderly dragon scholar looked past Sa'lu, examining her handiwork with slight disquiet. "Your Shadow Training has improved, if nothing else," he observed, "but that was a bit excessive, even for you."

"Or perhaps just the right measure," she retorted softly, echoing the words of another. "We could have bribed him, yes, and perhaps we could have bought his silence for a time. But as I see it, death buys a man's silence forever. I only trust those who would serve me single-mindedly."

"Just as well," he half-groaned in pity. "As I warned him earlier, you're either a butcher or meat in this world."

Sa'lu, quite pleased with herself, sighed, "Some people are slow to learn."

"What will the PLC make of this?", he demanded sourly, gaze still heavy on the guard's remains. "Or did you not plan this far in advance? Although I suppose that wouldn't surprise me, given your amateurish penchant for acting before thinking."

She shot her elder an icy stare. "You'll find that I've evolved quite a bit since our paths last crossed," she retaliated calmly against his snark comments.

"That doesn't interest me," he rebuffed with a grouchy huff before again gesturing to the body behind her and reiterating, "What will the Pokémon League think when they find the jailer bloodied and burned?"

"They'll think you used your aggressive criminal mind to orchestrate an elaborate escape," she nonchalantly acknowledged his concerns. "I'll tell them I arrived too late and found the guard as he is now." She motioned her head to the two shady G-Men members waiting near her aircraft. "My underlings will vouch for me, if need be."

He glared at the indicated men, then unkindly up at her. "And what of the truth, Sa'lu? Why set me free?"

"Oh? No gratitude?" She quirked a brow in mock surprise before turning back towards the landing pad. Ry'uun lumbered after her, struggling to maintain her pace.

"To hell with gratitude," he scoffed over the labored breaths of his own plodded steps. "I wouldn't have been sent to prison in the first place, if not for your blunders!"

"Guilty conscience, then," she indulged him without meeting his gaze.

He wheezed out a bladed laugh. "Don't act cute with me, my dear. You don't have a conscience. That's what I admired about you in the first place, remember?" He snatched her wrist, yanking her still. "No, you came here for another reason, I'm certain of it. You need something from me."

She frowned repugnantly at his gnarled, pruned features and attempted to pull away. "We can discuss this later. We can't stay here."

Shaking his head frantically Ry'uun's tone was sharp enough to make Sa'lu flinch in surprise, "No! I will not stand for secrets, Sa'lu—not again. I'm old and I'm frail, but I have my dignity! And I'm not budging an inch until you tell me your reason for seeking me out, so you'd best get on with it. What is it that you want?"

"You know exactly what I want," she growled over a distant crack of thunder, unable to stall any longer. "I want the very thing that got you excommunicated from the clan. The very thing Clint Ketchum imprisoned you for. I want the Shadow Dragon."

Ry'uun fell mum at her admission, pondering deeply. Memories swam in his eyes, distant echoes rang in his ears.

"So," she began less patiently, "is this a discussion you think you can take seriously? Or should I have you delivered back to your cell?"

He scratched his silver tuft of hair, as though searching for a proper answer. "It's a discussion worth sipping tea over, at the very least, my old pupil," he crabbily remarked. "I haven't had a decent cup in five years."

…...

Our homecoming drew considerable attention, if nothing else. They came in hordes, shouting profanities and waving picket signs, the usual spiel. While Anna managed to clear Maria and I a path through the mansion gates singlehandedly, there was no curing my wife's soured expression as her father's name was scandalously sputtered about the air. Hard as she tried to pretend it wasn't sucking the life out of her, I knew better; but I nonetheless draped a comforting arm around her so as to not let on that this was my work in progress.

"Back off, people! Back off!", I heard Anna holler sharply over my shoulder. I glanced back and found her pushing the gates shut against the sea of protesters and newshounds trying to force their way onto the estate. As for the few camera-wielding parasites bold enough to try and slip through the closing entrance, Anna's Absol held them at bay with a string of whirlwind attacks.

Once the entrance was locked securely, Anna recalled her Pokémon and rejoined us as we approached the house. "Can't believe they tailed us all the way here," she panted.

"I can," Maria muttered under her breath, her irritation starting to bubble to the surface. I squeezed my my hands over both her shoulders, easing out the tension.

"Don't pay any attention to them," I whispered soothingly into her ear before giving her a gentle nudge forward. "Go on inside. Get settled in. I'll be right behind you."

She sucked in a lethargic breath, then proceeded inside without a word or even a nod.

I turned to Anna subsequently with a playful smirk. "Thanks for the protection, Lieutenant."

Crossing her arms together, she shrugged as she exhaled, "It's the least I could do, I guess." Her eyes flashed in annoyance to the noisy protests behind the gates. "Too bad I can't arrest them all."

I didn't say a word, choosing silence instead of a witty comment because I couldn't trust my own voice to obey me. I opened my mouth to instead let out a harmless laugh, though, when Maria's shriek of terror bled out from the manor doors. Anna reacted posthaste and was the first inside, while I stood blankly like a malfunctioning robot, failing to compute the high-pitched sound. A scream like that I only ever heard when anticipated beforehand, a reaction to something planned by me well in advanced.

But this was unplanned.

I wet my lips, bracing myself. I then stepped through the threshold, joining Maria and Anna inside, the door hinges creaking with an eerie squeal in protest. Daylight flooded the front room, sunbeams spilling over broken furniture and a smashed chandelier. Grimy footprints blotted the alabaster floors, while smoldering singe marks lined the wall of the grand staircase.

I immediately recognized those marks—only an Aura Blade could have left them.

Then I felt him—Cayman, without question. I felt traces of him in the room, lingering, just as I'd felt his presence lingering in the council chamber on Savile Island. I could sense his signature, I could smell his scent, all through the Aura. This was his doing, I realized. He'd been in my home, and not long ago either. Darukai had warned me he might hide in wait to make his move; it was worse than that though. He'd skipped over the waiting part entirely.

"I'll... I'll get to the bottom of this, Maria," Anna reassured in a non-reassuring voice; she didn't appear to make the same connection I did, thankfully.

"Don't bother," Maria's voice cracked like a fissure. "It was those awful protesters. I know it. They did this! They broke into our home and left it like this!"

I collected myself enough to reach a hand out to her, "Maria, calm down—"

"Don't tell me to calm down!", she exploded in rage, spinning to me with a hard slap across the face. The action was rather uncharacteristic of her; and I didn't fully register the strike until I felt my cheek begin to heat up. By that time though she was already furiously racing up the staircase in a frenzy.

Anna stared in shock for a moment, then brought a hand to my blemished cheek.

"It's alright," I said as I casually deflected her hand with my own. "It's just a scratch."

She nodded, perhaps not entirely convinced, but went on to scan the vandalism around her nonetheless. "I'll contact the Fuchsia City Police Department. I'll have Officer Jenny and her Growlithes do a sweep of the house."

"It won't matter," I dismissed, not wanting the police involved. "Whoever did this is long gone. You won't find anything."

She glared up at me. "How do you know that?"

As I considered sharing the truth with her, Maria appeared at the railing of the floor above the stairs. "They came in through the windows, those monsters," she sobbed uncontrollably, yet still seething at the mouth. "There's window glass everywhere! Just come and see!"

Before I could order her to compose herself, she disappeared again. That was when Anna shook my arm urgently, "Go to her, will you? She's hysterical!"

Welcoming the distraction, I made for the stairs posthaste. Planting my foot on the first step, however, a ticking sound beneath me rendered me motionless. I waited a moment before slowly removing my foot and kneeling down, listening for the sound. I lifted the guilty stair tile halfway, stunned to discover a Voltorb glaring up at me underneath.

Then it became engulfed in a luminous glow; I knew what came next.

"Get down!", I commanded, twisting around and propelling both Anna and myself backwards telekinetically as the ensuing blast ripped open the bottom half of the staircase.

As we lay shielding ourselves on the floor, shards of wood showered down on us and around us, adding to the already-rampant home invasion damages.

We waited until the worst was over before picking ourselves up and investigating the source of the blast. Voltorb tumbled out from the smoke, stopping at our feet, unconscious and fried to a crisp.

"An explosive?", Anna muttered, floored, before looking up at me wearily. "Who would be crazy enough to leave a volatile Voltorb in your house?"

"A crazy protester, I'm sure," I played dumb; but I knew better.

She did too, evidently, and her brow jumped a little on her forehead. "They wouldn't take it this far, would they?"

I opted for silence, for reflection, my thoughts orbiting the true culprit. If Cayman was responsible for this, did he truly believe one measly Voltorb would be enough to kill me? No, this just didn't add up. He was smarter than this. He wouldn't have been so stupid as to gamble his revenge on a single explosive; he would have been stupid enough, however, to not cover his tracks completely. It explained why there was only one Voltorb—as far as I knew.

"Metsuma?"

I acknowledged Anna with a fleeting glance, then fished out the two Pokéballs inside my jacket and released them. Gengar and Zangoose spawned at attention before me. "Both of you, search the house for any more explosives," I ordered whilst pointing to what remained of the Voltorb. "If you find any hidden anywhere, defuse them."

My two loyal agents wasted no time getting to work and split off in separate directions to conduct their search of the house.

"Metsuma, there's something you're not telling me," Anna's voice again tugged at my drifting focus. I turned to her, this time keeping her in my sights.

Gazing into her blue, melancholy orbs, I sighed deeply. "Do you really want to know, Anna?"

She tensely closed her eyes; my question alone must have tipped off the severity of the situation.

"Stick to our arrangement," I pleaded softly with her. "Go back to Sinnoh, let me worry about my own problems. Let me deal with this."

She gruffly shook her head after a short pause. "I'm a big girl, Metsuma. I'll make my own choices, thank you." She shouldered past me, pulling out the police radio in her pocket. "I'll have Officer Jenny order patrol cars around the estate in case whoever did this decides one taste wasn't enough."

As she stepped outside to contact Jenny, I reexamined the wreckage of the staircase in front of me and felt my blood begin to thicken all over again; this was war now. "You want to play, little orphan?", I reached out with my mind, hoping he might be listening to me wherever he was hiding. "Fine. Let's play."

…...

Cayman's eyes fluttered open, the whispers in his head fading to the relaxing tune of the ocean. He stared half-lidded at the sky-blue ceiling, wondering if he was dead, maybe even hoping at this point. He then tossed his head to one side, squinting through a healthy stream of sunlight. Through a window marked with peeling white paint drifted the squalling of Wingulls and the crashing of waves.

He slowly leaned up on his elbows with a groan, his head feeling heavy as a boulder. He didn't remember passing out, obviously, but these surroundings were the furthest thing from familiar. He looked down to find himself dressed in the same unkempt clothes he'd been wearing since he deserted Savile Island; a stained white tank and black pants.

The island—yes, he was remembering now. He'd left that awful place behind, visited the site of the cabin wreckage. Everything that followed was fuzzy, images of a warehouse flitting by, images of breaking into Metsuma's home. And... Peer.

He clasped his clammy forehead with another groan. It was all rushing back into him now, everything, worst of all the feelings. He just wanted to numb them. He needed a fix.

He threw himself out of the strange bed and onto his bare feet, nearly stumbling for balance. He patted himself down, trying to remember where he'd placed his stash of spores. He was sure he'd stuffed them in his back pocket, but there was nothing there. Nothing at all.

"Son of a goddamn Gyarados," he cursed, kicking the bed. Pressing his hand to his head again, he plodded heavily out the door and into the hallway.

Photographs of a younger Peer as well as countless police plaques covered the walls on either side of him as he navigated the hall. He swore he even spotted a picture of a boy resembling Viper, but he tiredly shrugged it off, chalking it up to the hazy delirium his head was floating around in.

Upon entering what he could assume was a living room, he froze. The salty ocean breeze blew in from the back patio, rousing his dulled, doped senses. He was about to scope out the rest of the residence when a man in police uniform strolled into the room carrying a tripod and camera equipment. He certainly looked younger than Peer, middle-aged and fairly tall, with light brown receding hair.

The man almost failed to notice Cayman at first glance, but upon doing a double take, he nearly tripped over his equipment. "Oh," he rasped out, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "Um... hi, there."

Cayman just stared at the stranger, standing his ground but not quite on the defensive. He just didn't have the drive to start something ugly, not while his head ached and burned.

"We, uh, thought you'd be out cold for at least a few more hours." The policeman anxiously cleared his throat, approaching Cayman as casually as he could manage with his hand reached out. "I'm Detective Jordie. Nice, eh... nice to finally meet your acquaintance?" He laughed nervously, pulling back his hand when the boy failed to shake it. "Then again, we met before... sort of. I was one of the cops who chased you through the Oreburgh Mines."

Disinterested, Cayman asked bluntly with a slight slur, "Where's the old guy?"

"He's right here," a voice politely answered back, and it wasn't Jordie's.

Cayman peered around the detective and saw the special agent himself stepping inside from the patio.

The aged cop smiled warmly at his guest. "And don't worry. You can trust Detective Jordie."

"I'm not even sure I trust YOU," the boy mumbled irately in his sleep-smothered voice.

Peer sustained his cordial smile as his eyes snapped to Jordie. "There's coffee still hot on the stove. Detective, why don't you go fetch our guest a mug."

"I don't drink that shit," the boy snorted at the suggestion.

"It'll help sober you up, flush out the drugs," Peer offered again with genuine patience. "I thought perhaps sleeping it off would be enough, but you still have considerable traces in your system. I can see it in your eyes."

"Get used to seeing it." The petulant young man stepped forward, suddenly looking insulted. "Oh, and that reminds me: give me back my stash."

Peer offered no reply, turning to regard Jordie instead. "We'll need a minute."

Jordie nodded without protest, set down his equipment on the floor, and retreated into the kitchen.

"Where the hell is my stash, old man?", Cayman bristled once more, trying to intimidate the old man but unknowingly failing.

"I took the liberty of tossing it in the ocean," was his dryly spoken response. "Let's just hope the Magikarp don't gobble it up."

Cayman wasn't sure if he was serious or merely fishing for a reaction. Regardless, he jabbed the air in front of him with his finger and demanded, "What gives you the right to touch my stash?"

Peer stepped up to the delinquent without even a flicker of fear on his face. "I'm a cop, for one," he pointed out, an unswept eyebrow skimming the brim of his silver hair. "And secondly, you don't need that poison contaminating your brain cells and clouding your focus. I'm afraid you wouldn't be much use to me hopped up on Parasect spores."

Cayman huffed out a lethargic laugh, his anger deflating a bit. "Seriously, what do you even need me for? Aren't you like the head of the super special police force or something?"

"I was stripped of my rank," Peer explained stoically. "Our mutual enemy saw to that."

Cayman blinked in slight surprise. "Metsuma?"

Peered hummed in confirmation, giving a single patient nod. There was a brief, strained pause before he confessed, "I rarely underestimate my adversaries. But Metsuma, as clinically fascinating a specimen as he is, proved too sly and unpredictable for me to pin down. He is more versatile than any psychopath I ever crossed in my career—intelligent, manipulative, cold and ruthless, with a disturbingly fierce and singular desire to disrupt the social order." He scratched his chin, thoughtful. "I just wish I understood the root of it all."

Cayman shook his head, his green fringes tumbling over his eyes with the motion. "Don't waste your time," he rasped dryly, hopelessly, as if the lifeforce had been siphoned out of him. "He has no ulterior motive, if that's what you're getting at. I learned that the hard way. He just wants to watch the world burn. And he'll gladly sacrifice you, or me, or anyone else who gets in the way of that."

"I came rather close to stopping him," Peer reminisced amicably, an earnest light flowering in his eyes, almost glimmering off his monocle.

Cayman's eyes flew up again, fascinated by the admission, inconceivable as it was. "Yeah? What happened?"

"Mos Vinci happened, unfortunately," the elderly man sighed with a self-amused smile. "He was supposed to testify against Metsuma for me, help me bring him to justice. Little did I know Metsuma already had his claws in him. They framed me with a staged confession and now I'm facing prison time."

"Great," the younger man remarked sarcastically, stumbling over to the nearest sofa chair and collapsing into it with a great big exhale. He stewed over the revelation for some time, even as Jordie returned to the room deliver the coffee. Cayman took the offered mug, eyeing both men in the room steadily. "And which other cops besides the two of you know I'm alive?"

"Jordie is the only one, I promise you." The eldest cop blew on his mug and planted himself in the chair across his guest, legs crossed, face impassive. "We didn't want to risk you being discovered, so we brought you here."

The sulking trainer winced as he sipped his piping hot beverage, then let his eyes wander to the tropical paradise outside the patio. "And where is HERE, exactly?"

"You're in the Resort Area, just a few miles northeast of Sinnoh's mainland." Peer gently patted the armrest of his chair, "I rented out this villa during the Soul Robber investigation so I could always be close to the action."

Cayman rolled his eyes. "Little good that did," he remarked whilst setting his mug down. Peer of course didn't appear too fazed by the pointed comment and kept his eyes trained on the boy.

Feeling like a third wheel again, Jordie cleared his throat amidst the weighted silence and beelined for the kitchen. "I'll be in the other room when you're ready for me," he whispered as he passed Peer, whom sanctioned the statement with a nod.

Once they had the room again, Peer stated outright, "You don't trust me."

The boy rolled his eyes again. "Oooh, you're so smart. It's a wonder you lost your job."

"I think we can help each other, Landon," the old cop proposed, overlooking the insult.

Cayman made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and leaned forward in his chair. "You spent almost two years chasing me from one place to the next, trying to lock me up with every other murdering psycho you caught. Why the fuck should I help you? More importantly, why would YOU want to help ME?"

Peer's lips turned up in a half smile as he sipped his coffee. "Because the stars are finally aligning in both our favors," he pointed out, relaxed. "In case you haven't noticed, the world believes you're dead and I expect that's exactly what Metsuma wanted. It's all a part of his master plot. The moment you publicly reveal yourself and reveal the truth of everything that's happened, his plot falls apart."

Cayman paused, a slight grin flashing at the corners of his mouth as a realization crept into his mind. "You need me," it hit him suddenly—the reason for this meeting in the first place. "You need me so that you can clear your name."

Slowly, Peer's mouth curved, genuinely warm and pleasantly amused. He kept the mug pressed to his lips as he replied, "We need each other."

"Speak for yourself," he sputtered back. "I don't need you. Metsuma could be dead right now, and me with him, if you had just butted out. I had a plan and you ruined it."

"Your plan was silly and we both know it," Peer countered, unfettered. "Rigging his house with Voltorbs? Come, now. He's not an amateur, Landon; it's a simple fact and you should know it better than anyone. What you attempted this morning, there was simply too much risk involved."

"Right," the young man muttered unkindly, a familiar exasperation coloring his voice. "More like you didn't want him blown to bits—because it's not the 'just' way to punish him, am I right?"

Peer paused. He then inclined his head in a brief, shallow nod. "You're right, I don't want him dead yet. Nor do I want you dead either."

Cayman felt his chest tighten, knowing where the conversation was pointed next.

"You are the one stone Metsuma left unturned," urged the older man, curt and to the point. "You are the one loose end he can't simply shrug off, not as long as you're still alive and breathing. I'm prepared to offer you a deal, and it's a perfectly fair one, if I do say so myself."

The brooding teen scrubbed a hand over his face and left it there so he didn't have to watch Peer's expression, so earnest and strangely gentle. He didn't want to listen to this garbage anymore, he didn't want to work out any deal. He knew this old goat could never truly understand what he was suffering through.

"If you agree to help me put a stop to Metsuma, I can arrange to have your sentence reduced when the time comes for you to stand trial for your past offenses. Perhaps you'll even be pardoned. Rest assured though, you won't be spending your life in prison, you have my word on that. I'll make certain you see a future beyond bars and—"

"You think I care what happens to me anymore?", Cayman interrupted, joyless laughter in his throat, his expression sullen and dark. "You really think my life is some precious thing to me?"

Peer frowned. He didn't have the heart to articulate his way out of that, and resorted to sipping his coffee again, just listening.

When the question was left hanging in the air, Cayman answered it himself with a slow shake of his head. "No. It isn't. As long as Metsuma dies, I don't give a shit what comes after. There's no future for me anymore. The future is shit, just like the past. There's only one thing I want now, and I'm not sure you can give it to me."

Peer blinked again, caught off guard by such a poignant admission, before entertaining, "If caught, he'll face justice for his crimes. He'll eventually face the death penalty."

"Eventually isn't good enough," Cayman rejected flat-out, standing to his feet to leave.

"It's good for something," Peer objected, standing with him. "It's something worth staying alive for, isn't it?"

The boy remained stubborn. "Forget it. I'll do it myself."

"Don't be reckless," the response came shortly as Peer matched Cayman's slightly defiant stance. "Don't take an unnecessary risk!"

"Unnecessary?" Cayman gave the old man a smiting glance before slapping his hand down on the table in outrage. "You have no idea the hell I've been through, the things I've seen or the people I've lost! Don't tell me what is and isn't necessary!"

Peer boldly placed his hand beside Cayman's on the table, leaning in so that their eyes were perfectly level. "Even if by some miracle you found a way to corner him and overpower him," he began again with complete calm, "why end it so soon? Why give him that mercy?"

Cayman blinked momentarily, as if startled by the logic presented. It had been his own logic, once upon a time; he'd wanted Metsuma to experience a slow, painful end in retribution for Simon. But after his followers abandoned him and his coup against Metsuma shattered to pieces, nothing was the same. Even now he was still spiraling without any sort of code or compass to keep him grounded.

"He took everything from us," Peer reminded tactfully, planting a seed of purpose inside Cayman's unsound mind. "Let's repay the favor. He deserves a taste of his own medicine."

"He does," Cayman thought out loud, staring down at his hands on the table and contemplating how true that statement was.

Peer's entire posture changed. He made it a point to get into the boy's personal space, looming over him so that his every word tasted that much sweeter to the other's ears. "Don't you want see that smug, bloodcurdling smirk disappear from his face once everything he's built for himself suddenly comes crashing down? Don't you want to see the hopelessness in his eyes as he rots in a padded jail cell, humiliated and defeated?"

The sheer thought, let alone the image, knocked Cayman out of the death spiral his thoughts had taken and he found himself nodding into space. He grinned, involuntarily and only slightly, but perhaps his first real grin since he'd gotten there.

"THAT is justice," Peer ruled in conclusion. "And it could also be your chance for redemption, Landon."

Cayman's eyes tilted up at the elder and he shook his head. "Fuck justice. Fuck redemption. I told you. This is about one thing now and only one thing." The look on his face was one of hardened resolve. He planted both fists on the table as he leaned in, bringing his face inches from Peer's, narrowing his eyes as if to spell the point across crisply. "If I do this, it won't be for you."

"Duly noted," Peer accepted, and respectfully held out his hand to seal the terms.

For a long moment, Cayman just stared at the wrinkled hand sitting idly in the air. "Damn," a barren laugh escaped him. "You must be really desperate to stake so much on me." A long stretch of silence overwhelmed the space between them before Cayman finally inquired out of harmless curiosity, "How do you know I won't just end up turning on you like Vinci did?"

"I don't," the special agent admitted openly with a shrug, his hand unflinching. "But I don't have anything left to lose. And I suspect you're in the exact same position."

Cayman's lips pressed together as he turned to look to his side, considering. Silence stretched between them, heavy and choking, before he finally found his voice again in the form of a croak.

"I'll do it."

Peer smiled graciously as Cayman's calloused hand flew to his own, cementing the alliance with a grip as strong as steel.

"Then let's begin," Peer pleasantly declared following the handshake. "Your head's clear now, I presume."

"Yeah, I guess, but what—"

The ace cop turned away before Cayman could finish, calling into the kitchen, "Jordie, I believe we're ready now!"

The rogue trainer looked on, perplexed, as Jordie reentered the room and began to quickly assemble the camera equipment left on the floor. He opened his mouth to inquire about it, but stopped himself when Peer fled his side to join the detective across the room. At that point, he could do nothing but stand there rubbing the back of his neck, pondering the purpose of the tripod and camcorder.

Once everything was apparently set up and ready to go, Peer placed a cassette tape inside the camcorder and snapped the tiny door shut. "Good," he murmured to himself, fiddling with the buttons a bit before acknowledging Cayman from the corner of his eye. "I'd like a full confession from you now, Landon."

"What?" Cayman flinched quite visibly; but upon weaving together their plan, his shock quickly morphed into disappointment. "Oh, get real," he scoffed at the both of them. "This can't be what you meant by bringing Metsuma down, right? I mean, sure, I got stories that'll give you nightmares... but, you know, it's just 'My word against his word' kind of stuff. I don't really have any solid proof or anything."

"The scar on your abdomen suggests otherwise," Peer stated frankly, not even meeting Cayman's gaze as he continued tinkering with the device. "The hem of your shirt rolled up when you passed out on the boat ride here. It wasn't exactly hard to notice."

"That won't be enough to prove anything," Cayman stated matter-of-fact, tugging at the bottom of his shirt self-consciously, then bunching his arms over his chest to offset it.

Peer, too focused on balancing the camera on its tripod to notice Cayman's unease, continued his inquiry of the scar. "What does the 'T' stand for, if you don't mind my asking?"

Cayman took a reluctant pause before answering, "Torino."

"And what is Torino?"

"A criminal collective," Cayman proclaimed on a nervous exhale, eyebrows creasing with shame and worry, "or... at least it was before Metsuma—"

"This collective you speak of," Peer interrupted absently as he adjusted the lens of the camera. "It must have a base of operations somewhere—a rendezvous point. You know the location, I presume?"

"Why are we even talking about this?", said Cayman thinly, his entire face tightening. "I'm not a fucking snitch, alright?"

"Who are you protecting?"

"Nobody," he replied with a clipped bitterness to his voice, trying to sound convincing and failing.

Finally, Peer glanced up from the device and regarded Cayman with a lofty brow. "Now I understand. You have friends there, don't you?"

"HAD friends," Cayman corrected tightly, trying to mentally swat the memory of Viper and the others away. It was those kinds of thoughts that stung the most. If only he had his spores, he cursed to himself.

As if reading the boy's grief, Peer's head bobbed in quiet fascination. "I see. We'll come back to this. Let's start with Metsuma for now and work our way from there." Positioning himself behind the tripod, he pointed Jordie to the light pouring in from one of the nearby windows. "Detective, can you please grab the curtains over there? I'm getting a glare here."

The curtains pulled down, as per Peer's request, and Cayman visibly glowered at their diligence and how wasted it seemed. "You geniuses are never gonna catch him with a stupid camcorder."

"Oh, we're going to catch him," Peer vowed levelly. "We have to do this first though and we have to do it by the books. It's strictly procedure. And when the time comes, I'll present your confession to the bureau. If Metsuma can use a false testimony to get what he wants, imagine what results a true and genuine confession can produce."

The bashful, anguished teenager bit at his lower lip, rubbing his shoulder awkwardly. "Like I said, I don't have any solid evidence on me, so..."

Peer gingerly angled the camera so that its focus was Cayman. "You have information. That's all the evidence I require."

Cayman spotted a red light flash on the device, indicating that it was recording. He swallowed, and asked with a discomfited shrug, "What do you want to know exactly?"

"Just tell us everything you remember," Peer encouraged from behind the tripod. "Tell us about Torino or the Soul Robber murders. Any business dealings, any personal dealings, any criminal activity Metsuma orchestrated you were a witness or a party to. You can even share what he taught you, for example. Or why he gave you that mark on your hipbone. Or that boy's life he took in order to stage your death. I want to know anything and everything."

"Anything and everything?", Cayman echoed the phrase with a furrowed brow, as if to warn them what that entailed.

"To the letter," the special agent verified with a nod. "Tell us your story, Landon. Start from the beginning. When did you first meet Metsuma Rocket? When did he take you under his wing?"

"It wasn't like that," Cayman muttered, his eyes falling to his feet. "He... adopted me. I was just a little kid." There was a noticeable pause.

"Please, continue," Peer invited, patient and supportive. "I want the entire timeline of events and I want every last detail accounted for."

Cayman nodded, licking at his lips as he stared directly into the camera. There was still some hesitation from him to revisit so much pain, so much misery.

Before he could talk himself out of it though, he was already spilling his guts.

…...

Leaving Officer Jenny and her team to pick up after the housebreaking, Maria and I agreed to return to Briskomy HQ until things simmered down. We managed to sneak out the back of the mansion without being spotted, fortunately, and hitched a ride with Anna. The reporters and protesters quartered around the estate didn't anticipate us leaving the premises in anything but a limousine; for this reason, slipping past them in the back of a police car was a piece of cake.

None of us spoke the whole ride there. Maria hadn't said much of anything since walloping me across the face, but I knew that wasn't the reason for her scarred silence. The picket signs still danced in her eyes, the slights and slanders deafening in her ears. Her unraveling was nearly complete now, I could sense it.

Fishing for conversation, I cleared my throat and leaned in from the backseat. "Thanks for the ride, Anna," I said amicably. "We're making every effort to not be recognized in public, so the squad car seemed like a better alternative to our usual means of getting around Fuchsia."

"If it keeps those pesky protesters at bay, I'm happy to help," she said as she steered us through the city and towards the designated skyscraper. "I just can't for the life of me understand why you two would want to go back to HQ so soon."

Maria somehow found her voice—brittle and shaky. "I just cant be in the house, not after this morning," she mumbled while averting my gaze. "Besides, I have a company to run."

I rested a hand on her leg. "The doctor told you to rest, Maria."

Through the reflection of the passenger window, she fixed a glare at me. "The doctor isn't in charge of a multi-million dollar corporation, now is he?"

It was hard not to smile at her unmistakable paranoia. It wouldn't be much longer now, I realized; at least she was giving me something to look forward too amidst this whole Cayman debacle.

"You've got to be kidding me," Anna hollered from the front, the car stopping suddenly as she slammed down on the brake. I leaned forward in my seat and followed her gaze through the windshield. We had reached headquarters, but there was a massive gathering of protesters marching across company property, preventing us from pulling up.

"Turn back, Anna," I whispered, loud enough for Maria to hear crisply.

"Don't you dare," Maria belayed my instructions, lurching forward in her seat. Her eyes, large and fierce as I'd never seen them, burned a hole into my head. "There's a board meeting today," she reminded in a growl, "and we're both expected to show. No excuses."

I feigned dubiousness. "But Maria... what about the protesters?"

She stuck her hand out at me. "Lend me your Gengar. That'll scare them off real quick."

"I'm not sure that's the best approach," Anna both discouraged as a friend and warned as a cop.

I nodded in agreement, then lied, "And I don't even have Gengar on hand, I'm afraid."

With a fiery look of dissatisfaction, she kicked open the door beside her and clambered out of the car without warning. Both Anna and I exchanged stupefied looks.

"Maria," I called to her on the sidewalk, "what are you doing?"

She briefly leaned back in, snatching her briefcase off the car seat. "My father would never cower from a bunch of signs and cameras," she rambled irately over a shuddering bottom lip. "It's time to take a stand! Don't try and stop me!" She slammed the door shut behind her and stormed herself right into the belly of the beast.

We quickly lost sight of her when the angry mob converged on her. Then Anna just looked at me, as if her sanity depended on it. "Your wife's finally cracked, hasn't she?"

"No," I hummed out loud with fully realizing, transfixed on the happenings outside. "We haven't quite reached that point yet."

"What do you mean 'yet'?"

I blinked back into focus, though it wasn't her question that roused me. I detected a stench in the Aura, a signature coming from behind HQ. It wasn't Cayman's, regrettably, but it was definitely familiar.

I planted my hand on Anna's seat and indicated the steering wheel, leaning in closer beside her. "Keep driving. We don't want to get caught up in this noise."

She blanched at me. "Aren't you going after her?"

"Not from here," I said. "Pull around back. We'll catch up to her."

…...

We pulled into the lot behind the building, empty except for a black van with tinted windows parked across the blacktop. There was a silhouette manning the driver's seat, unmoving. His signature, along with two other signatures somewhere else in the van, was tense and jumpy; the closer we cruised, the more unsettled they grew.

It had to be the mob, I reasoned. The sight of a cop car approaching probably had them wetting their pants.

"The person in that van is staring at us, Metsuma," Anna cautioned from the corner of her mouth, maintaining the car's momentum.

"I know," I said, unbuckling my seat belt. "Drop me off here."

"No." She braked suddenly, then twisted around in her seat to frown at me. "I want to know what's going on."

"No," I answered with a note of conservation, "you don't."

This earned me a look of barely suppressed panic in her face, but she was trying desperately to scrunch it away.

Endeavoring to make sense of this, I reminded in the form of a question, "What happened to you not wanting any part in my criminal life?"

"For one, I'm already here," she pointed out simply, her hands tensing and untensing on the steering wheel. "I've seen the van, clear as daylight, and I know there's a person inside waiting for you. That's not suddenly going to poof from my memory just because you send me away."

I found myself nodding. It was understandable, if not sound, logic. Although it seemed more like she was making up loopholes for the 'keeping our lives private' pact we agreed on. I wasn't opposed to it; I actually enjoyed that she was envious of what occurred behind the scenes. I wanted nothing more than for her to adapt to me and my way of life. I'd wanted that since the beginning.

"If you don't let me see who's waiting for you inside that van," she went on, "then we both know I'm going to end up spending the whole day wondering about it, worrying about it, unable to focus on anything else. Exactly how would that be any better for me?"

I sighed, deeply, then gave in with a mulish smirk, "So be it."

Before I knew it, she hopped out of her seat and out of the car. I promptly joined her as she began marching towards the shady van across the lot.

We ignored the goon sitting in the front seat and made our way to the posterior. I unlocked the van's back doors with my psychic powers, and Mos Vinci came barreling out in a daze. A single Machoke bumbled out behind him, serving as his bodyguard.

Vinci gathered his bearings, but froze like a Stantler in headlights when his gaze met Anna's. "Wha—", he barely got the sentence out, much less the first word. His eyes flashed to me. "Why would you bring a cop here? Is this some kind of bust? Is this a set-up?"

"Don't lose your head, she's with me," I assured him. "Now let's make this brief. I have to get to a meeting."

His hands flew everywhere as he broke into a sweaty panic. "One of my warehouses was plundered early this morning," he came right out with it, speaking a mile a second. "Half my inventory just vanished! Poof! Gone!"

"Why are you telling me this?", I sighed in boredom, kicking up dust with the toe of my shoe. For me, this was just another uneventful rendezvous with the mob; for Anna, it must have turned her whole world upside down, watching up close as I swam in the very filth her entire career was founded against. Until now, she only had to imagine it.

"The cache what got cleaned out," Vinci sweat-dropped, "it was the same cache of Voltorbs I was supposed to ship out to your island this week! Hate to say it, but your supply this month is gonna come up short!"

"Did you say Voltorbs?", Anna interrupted, one of her eyebrows disappearing into her hairline. I instantly knew the connection she was making. At this rate, she was bound to find out about Cayman.

"Yeah," Vinci drew out his response slowly, distrustfully. "What's it to you? Am I missing somethin' here?"

"How did the trespasser manage to get in and out of the vault?", she pressed stiffly, determined to see this through.

The mobster rubbed the back of his scruffy neck, searching his memory. "There was this ginormous hole in the door—like it was carved through by a laser or somethin'. Never seen nothin' like it before."

Anna surreptitiously dragged her knuckles over her eyes, and murmured to me, "Landon's loose, isn't he?"

I frowned, almost feeling let down by her reaction, especially since she'd wanted so badly to be informed on these matters in the first place. Despite this, I premitted nod.

"And he's out for blood?", she pressed in that sulky tone.

"Not just anyone's blood," I riddled without needing to say more.

She scowled. "That's the thing you wouldn't tell me earlier, isn't it?"

I shrugged innocently. "If you could see your face now, you would understand why I didn't."

"Well..." She boggled over what answer she could possibly give, knowing how right I was. Eventually she threw her hands up and settled for an angry curse, "Son of a bitch."

"What's she so upset about?", Vinci whispered at me, eyeing her up and down.

I swiftly pointed him away. "Take a walk, Vinci. Let the grownups talk."

He did as asked, stepping away and giving us our space to work out some kind of plan; she wanted to be up to speed, after all. I only had to wait for her to calm down a little.

"The little bastard," she cursed in my direction, hopefully speaking of Cayman and not me. "He's every bit as deranged as I initially thought, isn't he?"

I didn't dispute her, but I did make known an unfavorable possibility. "We may be faced with an alarming resurgence of Soul Robber victims in the near future—only I won't be pulling his strings this time when they start popping up."

"He's practically a serial killer, Metsuma," she sharply pointed out. "He doesn't need you to do what he does best. It's in his blood." She fell silent for a moment, face pinched ponderously. When next she spoke, her words caught me unawares. "The fact that his parents just left him on the side of a mountain trail when he was a baby might explain why he's so... messed up in the head."

I arched a brow, genuinely lost. She didn't fail to notice though. "Oh, that's right," she muttered by way of answer, as if intended only for herself. "There was no way you could have known. She never told Landon."

"Who never told Landon what?"

She scrutinized me for a moment before forcing a smile completely without humor. "It's crazy, isn't it? For once, I know something that you don't."

"Anna," I urged less patiently.

She sucked in a deep breath and steeled her nerves. "Pamela Kace wasn't Landon's biological mother," she explained, quick and direful enough to leave my head spinning. "She confided that in me when I went to question her that one day. You know, the same day you gutted her open with an Aura Blade and then framed her son?"

"Yes, Anna," I blew out in a frustrated breath. "I remember quite well."

Her mouth curled into a grim line. "How did he ever come to forgive you for that?"

"He didn't," I answered without explanation, reminding myself just whom I was up against. Her revelation didn't change anything for me, I recognized; Cayman needed to be dealt with and fast. I couldn't let him terrorize more of my warehouses or jeopardize my status in Briskomy—or worse. If I was to snuff him out, I needed backup.

Formulating a plan on the spot, I summoned Gengar forth from its Pokéball. "Go to Savile Island," I commanded my ghostly apostle. "Tell Azrael he can begin that hunt he's been craving so much."

"Gengaah!", the ghoul acknowledged with a cackle, then vanished in thin air.

Anna looked to where Gengar had been, then to me apprehensively. "What are you going to do?"

"What do you think?", I returned the question, attempting to shoulder past her so that I could dismiss Vinci. Her hand flew to my arm though, clutching me still. Her deep blue eyes seemed to be pleading something. Despite knowing quite well why my decision upset her, all I could think to say was, "What's wrong?"

"I'll find him," she piped up, not so much declaring her words as much as asking permission. "I'll arrest him."

"No," I flat-out rebuffed her foolish attempt to sway me. "That isn't going to cut it."

My cold response appeared to discomfit her, who pressed her lips together into a tight line and wringed her small hands. "So... you're just going to murder him in cold blood?"

I nodded rigidly. "If it comes to it, and it likely will, then yes. I'm done taking half measures, Anna. I can't be that person anymore. I'm becoming someone new now."

She didn't answer at once, instead scrutinizing me for a few moments more before wondering with a note of hope in her voice, "Someone human, you mean?"

I rolled my eyes as well as my head, sighing, "This again?"

"Look," she began, pulling closer to me, "I'm not trying to hold you up on a pedestal. What happened to Pamela Kace was bad enough, and what happened at the cabin was even worse, but..." She touched my cheek, the same way she touched it inside the Veilstone hospital. "...you've shown me you know compassion, deep down. That you have a conscience. It's why you told me you cared about me. It's why you spared Peer, remember?"

"For you, yes." The conviction in my voice, my words, surprised even me. "I've even compromised for myself, yes. I've done it for Cayman. I've even done it for Clint." I placed my hand over hers, pushing it away from my face as I spoke. "But they all came at a cost, Anna. Don't you get it? When I do the right thing, it's always the wrong thing. I see that now. That's why my days of hesitating are over. I'm done take half measures."

Discouragement rolled down her face, bending her features, and her hand fell back down to her side. She said nothing, did nothing. It didn't matter. Pact or not, I had to keep telling myself she might adapt eventually, that she might someday open her eyes to reality and move on. Maybe then she could stop clinging to the fantasy that I could ever be a decent person.

"Now if you'll excuse me," I bid with a smile, calmly sidestepping around her, "the time has come to take another full measure."

"I see," she relented noncommittally, eyes downcast; I imagined she was well aware of my plans for Maria at this point.

"I'm glad," I replied jovially, convinced that that was that. "Now go back to Veilstone, Anna. Let the pact resume. I'll worry about Cayman, and you'll go on with life as normal."

"You got it," she chuckled, if only halfheartedly. With a wistful smile, she turned away and walked back to her car.

"We'll be fine," I kept telling myself in my head, even as I went to dismiss Vinci and return to HQ. "Even if she can't learn to assimilate, we made a compromise. She'll be fine. We'll both be fine. This can still work."

…...

Peer invited Cayman to wait on the patio once he had everything he needed on tape. Detective Jordie retrieved the cassette from the camcorder with trembling hands and silently began packing away the equipment. There was this traumatized look inscribed in his face, as if everything he knew was unraveling, the colors bleeding, the shapes suspect.

Recognizing how visibly unnerved his colleague appeared, Peer hovered over to the detective and didn't waste time getting into the thick of things. "You just heard a firsthand account of the evil incarnate that is Metsuma Rocket," he said candidly to him.

"I did," the other man husked out; his voice sounded like it was flailing in his throat.

Peer cocked his head slightly. "Do you believe him?"

Biting his lip, Jordie nervously looked up from his equipment and answered squeamishly, "Yeah."

The elder cop elevated his chin. "And do you believe ME now as well?"

"Yeah," he uttered again, with a lump in his throat, eyes keen on Peer's face. "It's just... a lot to take in. And what's worse, Anna has no idea."

Peer slowly bobbed his head, sharing the concern. "I know."

The younger policeman blinked up at him, brows drawing together slightly. "What happens now?"

"That's up to him," Peer responded evenly, eyeing the green-headed young man on the terrace outside—their secret weapon. Jordie caught on and simply nodded, refraining from asking anymore questions.

Leaving the detective to finish packing up, Peer followed the sounds of the ocean and calmly stepped out through the backdoor. He found Cayman standing against the wooden rail across the patio, fiercely still and quiet. The clear blue ocean surged and foamed in front of him, the sandy breeze catching at his hair.

Peer walked over to join him, but Cayman didn't acknowledged it. The young rogue was staring vacantly into the abyss of blue that didn't seem to mean anything to him.

"Lovely, isn't it?", Peer asked to the back of his guest's head. He made a sweeping gesture to the palm trees and exotic Pokémon grazing on the beach. "Pokémon Coordinators flock here in droves for the tropical paradise that it is, if not for the contests hosted. And the older generation... they just enjoy the warmer climate, to be quite frank."

Cayman blew out a pompous breath. The passing breeze whipped his hair roughly, tossing it around. With his fingers held together, he pushed the green strands away from his face. "It reminds me of the islands I grew up on," he grumbled as he stared vacantly into vast body of water, memories swimming in it. "I hate it."

Peer emitted a chuckle, utterly nonplussed by the blunt statement. "I don't have any great love for it either, to tell you the truth," he sighed, leaning into the railing beside Cayman. "I never enjoy dwelling in one place for too long, not when there's such a vast and beautiful world out there always calling my name, no matter where I am. Perhaps I'm just stubborn that way, ever unsatisfied."

"No wonder you're still playing cop so late into your fossil years," Cayman grumbled, a lazy grin smearing his lips.

Peer's own lips began to pull up at the corners, and then he too was smiling. "I like to imagine I might settle down one day, once I've accomplished everything I set out to do."

"You mean like putting Metsuma behind bars?", Cayman asked, and he couldn't keep the edge of scruple out of his voice.

"That," Peer conceded, lingering for a moment, "and making amends with my son."

The revelation was so openly random and frank that Cayman legitimately had to take a few moments of silence to process it. Peer intercepted his reaction straightaway.

"You gave ME honesty," he explained, referring to the confession. "I understand it wasn't an easy thing to do, but you did it. Now I'm returning the courtesy."

Cayman nodded and dipped his head, watching the old man from the side.

Peer turned his face back to the shoreline and frowned. "Metsuma has my son," he continued without expression in his voice, "and I am going to do everything in my power to get him back."

Cayman's eyebrows jumped up, curious and a little bit nervous at the same time. "What... was his name?"

"Oliver." He regarded the teen, hopeful. "Maybe you know him?"

"No," Cayman answered quickly and flatly, avoiding the old man's eyes. "I don't, sorry."

Peer didn't acknowledge the boy's sudden skittishness. His own face was abstract and lost in concentration. "As much as I'd like to," he heaved out with a shrug, "I can't blame Metsuma for everything. I failed Oliver, me alone, and maybe now I'm simply paying for my mistakes."

Cayman hesitated for a moment before deciding to contribute to the subject at hand. "I haven't suffered enough for my own fuckups," he related. "I used to think Metsuma shaped me into what I am. It just made things seem easier, the guilt more bearable. But it just doesn't answer for the things I've done."

Peer looked off to the horizon, melancholy, as they stood together in silent reflection; two very different people, the one thing joining them being their thinly veiled self-loathing. It was almost poetic, if not also pathetic.

Cayman looked down in quiet dismay, nostrils flaring a bit. "I pledged myself to him, to his teachings," he muttered to the railing. "I idolized him because I used to think he rose me up from nothing. I made my choices, and now I've practically become him." He slammed his fist down on the wood, hard and splintering. "I'm a psychotic freak, is what I am."

Peer's response came in a heartbeat, "You're not."

"I am," he gritted out, closemouthed.

With a lilt of good-natured humor, Peer rebuked, "As an expert on psychopaths, I must strongly disagree."

Cayman met his eyes dangerously. "I cut down my own girlfriend like she was a piece of meat. I reduced an entire city to a nuclear crater. I killed so many innocent people and Pokémon that I lost count."

Peer hesitated, unsure of how to word his response to that in a diplomatic fashion so as not to offend.

Cayman swore under his breath and pressed on with his admission. "If not for me, my mom would still be alive. Simon would still be alive. And you wouldn't be in the position you're in now."

"I've assessed your account of crimes, each and everyone of them," Peer enlightened. "Based on my knowledge, you carry a deep burden. You feel a deep remorse for the things you've done. Psychopaths don't typically feel remorse or empathy of any kind."

Cayman grimaced. An edge of impatience crept into his posture, then into his tone as he answered. "Then you weren't paying attention. When I drove my blade through all those people, when I was sapping away their life forces, I felt..." He broke off, his voice going soft. He beamed down at his murderous hands as they furled and unfurled. "I felt free. I felt in control."

"It's because you've lived a life bereft of freedom and control," Peer ventured, his unrivaled acumen propelling his responses now. "Those intrinsic human rights were stripped away from you when you became Metsuma's disciple. Taking those people's lives was the only way you knew how to channel those sensations, tragically."

"I know that," the rogue trainer replied unconvincingly. "But it doesn't make it right."

"Of course it doesn't," Peer said, nodding sympathetically. His eyes were honed in on the boy's, serious and unshakable. "But you were a victim yourself, of sorts; and you need to come to terms with that. Because you still have a part to play in all of this."

There was silence from Cayman as his expression went carefully neutral.

Speaking more from his heart than his brain now, Peer continued, "For someone who raves so passionately about freedom and anarchy, Metsuma keeps you on a questionably short leash. And that's because you're the only one he knows who can stop him."

The air around them became heavy with tension, and all Peer could do was wrap his hand around the back of Cayman's neck, a fatherly impulse. The contact took the younger male by surprise, and he stiffened at first, the sensation alien to him. It wasn't the same as Metsuma's touch at all; this felt sincere and genuinely paternal.

"Metsuma saw potential in an impressionable child and he exploited it," Peer whispered. "You're not a child anymore. We are who we choose to be. Leave the child behind, Landon, and become the man."

Against all odds, Cayman found himself relaxing, just a notch, in the presence of such wise and empathetic counsel. He set his hip against the railing as he faced Peer, matching the older man's hushed tone. "Did you..." he stopped to clear his scratchy throat, then tried again. "Did you ever talk to Oliver like this?"

Peer looked past the young man for a second, then focused back on him. "No," he replied with a sad smile. "But I wish I had. I only ever scolded him for his shortcomings. Had I just given him the freedom to make the choices that he did... he might not have made them."

Cayman's eyes flickered downward, his lips quirking. "He got off easy," he remarked in a grumble. "You wanted to set him on the right path and you gave him a bunch of lectures. My father wanted the same for me..." he pulled up the front of his shirt, revealing his scar "...and he gave me this."

Peer only glanced at the mark before returning to the blue pair of eyes. He moved his hand down to Cayman's shoulder, patting it. "We'll give him something back that he won't soon forget, I promise you."

Cayman rolled down his shirt and shrugged off Peer's hand, turning back to the view of the sea. He sighed, and mumbled out, "Are you going to give my confession tape to the International Police?"

"Not yet," he informed, shaking his head. "My concern is that Lieutenant Lafluer will do everything in her power to bite this in the nip." He leaned against the post again and sighed ponderously. "If she only knew the truth about Metsuma, she might come around to our side and assist—" He stopped himself when he noticed a grin breaking out on Cayman's face. "What is it?"

Cayman's impish smile widened, hovering on the edge of laughter. "Sounds like you don't know your old partner as well as you thought," he said simply, looking back out towards the water.

Peer stared at him bleakly, his eyes darkening at the implication. He almost looked offended.

"Last I heard," the boy added with a shrug, after a while, "she knows all about what Metsuma's been up to."

Peer shook his head hastily. "That can't be correct. You're mistaken."

Cayman took an apathetic breath, and let it out. "If you say so."

Unsatisfied with the response, Peer pressed, "What did you hear, exactly?"

The rogue trainer ran a hand through his hair, trying to recall the incident as best he could. "Culm, one of the guys I told you about in my confession, went with Metsuma on a stint a while back. He said he saw Metsuma talking to Anna right in front of him and a bunch of other cronies too."

The special agent tensed his hands around the rail, breathing a little heavier. Every word felt like a dagger to his chest.

"He even said Anna saw them, plain as day, but didn't seem to care," Cayman went on nonchalantly. "And apparently Metsuma didn't even try and hide them from her."

Peer gazed out across the sea, for a moment, then asked glacially, "When was this?"

"The day before Simon died," Cayman said, the words burning his throat. "The same day you and your brilliant cop buddies decided the case was solved."

Peer bowed his head, but he didn't pull away; he was desperately searching his data bank for nonexistent alibis for Anna. "There must be some kind of explanation, I'm sure," he reasoned, in a low voice.

Cayman hacked on a laugh. "Yeah, well, good luck finding one."

Pushing off from the railing, Peer stormed back inside the house. He knew he needed to get to the bottom of these outrageous claims and he knew he needed proof to do that. He just hoped there wasn't any to find.

Jordie spotted him as he crossed through the living room, and asked, "Do we have a game plan yet?"

Peer stopped to address the other man just before reaching the door. "Detective. Keep an eye on our friend out back. I won't be long."

"Sure," Jordie said with uncertainty, "but where are you off to?"

"There's some old case work I need to reexamine," Peer replied shortly, before leaving the house in a rush.

…...

I caught up to Maria just as she was stepping through the doors of the conference room; unknowingly, she was walking straight into her deposition as chairwoman. The truth of the matter was that the board had already made up their minds about Maria as soon as the police discovered the planted evidence in Daken's safe. Kade passed along the message to me that night Maria spent in the hospital, but I was careful to keep it from her until her downward spiral was in full-swing. That time was here and now.

Enthusiasm getting the better of me, I followed Maria into the boardroom with a mild bounce in my step. My work was all but complete, I reminded myself; no more stalling, no more games. The press had eaten her alive, the protesters had all but destroyed her sense of self-worth, and now I had to trust that the company executives could finish her off in one swift, devastating blow. If all went as planned, her spirit and sanity would be crushed and her reason for living would be nonexistent along with any notions of bringing a child into the world.

I stopped in the doorway as Maria bustled over to her seat like it was any other day. Kade, standing at the head of the conference table, was in the middle of giving a rundown of company earning when his mouth trailed off at the sight of the intrusion. As he fell silent, all eyes encompassing the table turned up to Maria, widening in shock.

"Sorry for the delay, everyone," she huffed, the stunned reactions of everyone in the room going right past her. She assumed her place at the table and plopped her briefcase up in front of her. "That mob outside will thin out in a week's time," she rambled absently as she rifled through her work papers. "I'm sure it's just a temporary situation. We'll have them eating out of our palm again in no time."

Kade threw glances around the table and cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Maria, we..." he trailed off again, looking across the room to me as I held my post in the doorway. When I offered him no assistance, he continued bunglingly to my unsuspecting wife, "We... weren't expecting you back so soon, is all!"

Her head whipped up at him. "Why not? I'm chairwoman, aren't I?" She splayed her hands. "Carry on, Kade. Don't let me stop you."

He didn't though. He just continued staring at her—and he wasn't the only one. Everyone at the table was staring at her in a silence that was pregnant with unspoken words only I could read.

When the quiet became palpable and unsettling, she blinked across the table, "What is it?"

Hyland Feelix, an older man and long-time member of the board, stood from his seat to say what Kade wouldn't. "We were going to wait to speak to you until we were sure you were finished mourning your father."

"I am finished, as you can see." She forced a cheerful smile, as if to block out everything but the present. "So what is it you wanted to speak to me about?"

Feelix put on a frown at her. "In order to secure this company's future, the members of the board have reached a unanimous but difficult decision."

She cocked a brow at him, amusingly. "Without including me?"

"That's the thing, I'm afraid," he coughed, then turned his head my way. "You really should have told her yourself, Metsuma."

Maria's eyes snapped straight to me, her voice tight with anxiety. "What is he talking about?"

I cunningly abandoned the comfort of the doorway to stand behind her seat, comporting myself with husbandly devotion. From there, I delivered my one and only line. "She's my wife, and this is a matter of professional integrity," I said rigidly to Feelix. "I opposed the motion, if you remember, so it's best she hears it from the ones who passed it. You owe her that much."

Her weary gaze returned to its original holder. She leaned into the table, narrowing her eyes at Feelix; her recently sprung paranoia was kicking in again.

Undaunted, Feelix took a deep breath and gestured to the conference room windows. "Look outside, Maria," he invited in a clipped, frustrated tone. "The reporters. The protesters. They're not going anywhere. Not until we address their concerns."

"The concerns of the rabble is not my concern," she answered, deadpanned, pretending his words had no affect on her; she was only fooling herself though.

"Nor should they be," Feelix remitted; he didn't seem to be in any mood to argue. "But they are our concern. Public outrage does not bode well for this company's image. Public outrage leads to bad publicity, and bad publicity leads to lower profit margins." He straightened, held in a breath before releasing it. "Therefore—"

"Don't," she croaked at him, her voice distant and choked with dried tears; she knew what was upon her and so did I. "Don't say it."

"Therefore," he staunchly continued over the interruption, "the board is calling for your immediate resignation as president of this company."

Slowly shaking her head left to right, she bit out stubbornly. "No."

"'No'?", I laughed hysterically in my head. "That's her defense?"

"I won't do it," she decided, fruitlessly, as if she had a choice in the matter. "I won't give those filthy protesters the satisfaction! I would sooner die than let that happen!"

"That's the idea," I mentally snickered.

Feelix waved a hand at her in dismissal. "The consumers have spoken," he proclaimed—and without any sympathy, to my admiration. "For Briskomy to ever recover from your father's indiscretions, we feel it's best going forward that your family no longer have any ties to the company."

She banged her fists to the table and flew to her feet, scowling at all of them. Furious tears burned down her cheeks. "I won't do it!", she yelled. "My family founded Briskomy! My family is Briskomy! It's our namesake!"

Unfazed, Feelix sighed and pushed up his glasses. "We understand that," he replied patiently. "And out of respect for you and all your hard work over the years, we will preserve the company's name. But that is as far as we go."

Maria's left eye twitched as she continued shaking her head in denial. "No. I won't do it."

"Maria, please..." I touched her quivering shoulder, hoping perhaps she would slug me again; that would truly seal the board's decision.

Rather than make a move against me though, she kicked her chair, sending it splintering to the floor. Everyone sprung up from the table, startled. "You all think I'm insane!", she roared, repeatedly stomping her heel into the pile of broken chair pieces. "You all want me to act like a crazy lady, don't you? To make a point? Well how's this for crazy, you ungrateful shits!"

Before I knew it, she was already kicking down another chair. I wisely distanced myself a few paces while everyone else huddled into different corners of the room like frightened Pichus. This was more than I expected, I realized; this was even better. Maria was truly going over the edge, embracing her inner chaos. I never knew such a beautiful specimen existed inside my acrid wife.

"Is this crazy enough for you, Feelix!?", she seethed, picking up another chair and hurling it across the conference table. "How about now, huh!? Am I insane like my daddy yet!? Have I measured up to him!?"

The moment she turned her back to prey on another chair, Feelix darted out the door, a bold handful of executives chasing at his heels. Maria didn't care though, and climbed up on top of the conference table, towering over Kade and the remaining board members. She stomped on papers and kicked down briefcases, rampaging up and down the length of the table like a rabid Vigoroth. A camera would have made this perfect, I lamented.

But as lovely a sight as it was to watch her completely break bad, I couldn't allow my future subordinates to be harmed. I moved to quell her with a subtly executed hypnosis when I noticed Kade already taking measures into his own hands, surprisingly. He reached into his back pocket while Maria was distracted, and when she faced forward again, he quickly surprised her with a Pokéball.

"Starmie, use Thunder Wave!"

The sea star Pokémon hopped up on the table with Maria and emitted a stream of blue bolts from its core, knocking her on her ass. She let out a feral scream but fell groggily silent and motionless as the paralysis quickly took hold of her.

The board members slowly, reluctantly converged around Maria when they deemed it safe enough. When it occurred to me that I was the only one standing out from the crowd, I slipped back into character and rushed to Maria's side. Her eyes were frozen and still like the rest of her body. "Oh, my sweet wife," I cooed, stroking her frizzy hair. "What has the world done to you?"

The doors across the room burst open as Feelix and the building security force came barging in. I turned around dourly to regard the lot of them. "Call a limo and have her taken to the nearest clinic," I ordered the guards. "She needs professional help."

One of the oafs in uniform scampered off to fulfill the request while the remaining guards delicately carried Maria's inert body out of the boardroom.

I followed them to the door, but stopped just before entering the hall. I turned my head and threw a demeaning look over my shoulder at Feelix and the other executives. I really needed to sell that I was disgusted with these developments, that I was truly heartbroken as a husband; these were the sincere qualities they sought in a potential leader to replace the vile, masterminding Daken.

"I hope you're all proud of yourselves," I scoffed at them all, then stormed out of the room with a grin spreading wide across my face.

I was about halfway down the hall when the sound of a throat clearing behind me suspended me in my tracks. I pivoted to find that it was Kade beckoning me. He was probably looking for some reassurances, I reasoned; he was only partly aware of my plan.

"Well," he sighed deeply, shutting the doors behind him and walking towards me. "I thought she took the news quite well, considering."

"Yes, better than expected," I concurred casually, joining my hands behind my back as he approached and we began to feign idle chitchat.

He stopped a few paces in front of me. "I personally could have done without the chair-killing spree."

I shrugged. "What can you do?"

He twisted his mouth into a thoughtful expression. "You know," he whispered, glancing cautiously over his shoulder and then back at me, "when Feelix called on you to speak against Maria, you could have at least pretended to be more sympathetic towards the board."

I huffed in amusement. "I was too busy pretending to be sympathetic towards my wife, in case you weren't paying attention."

Again he sighed, voice distant and far off. "You're lucky they have such tremendous respect for you."

I lifted my chin up at him, edging my voice a little. "That respect will make me chairman."

He giggled, insufferably, with his tongue sticking out between his teeth. "Yes, though I suppose most of said respect can be accredited to that inspiring speech you gave in front of the board just days before Daken's death. You promised them a prosperous future for this company. They expect you to make good on that promise."

"They're not idiots," I said bluntly and simply. "Like you, they all saw Daken for the disaster that he was. He had a poor mind for economics and he lacked initiative. He would have doomed this company if I hadn't come along, securing land grants, reeling in investors, suggesting new ideas."

Kade turned his palms up and spread his hands in an abbreviated shrug. "I'm just being cautious, is all."

"And I welcome that," I acknowledged, splaying my hands in a grateful gesture. "But you underestimate my reputation." I leveled my finger to the doors behind him. "Everyone in that board room has wanted me as the face of Briskomy for months, if not years, and Daken's demise has presented them with just that opportunity. They'll take it. Trust me."

He tilted his head, as if waiting for an omitted detail. "What about Maria?"

I remained expressionless. "What about her?"

"She's gone off the deep end, for one," he began, counting with his fingers, "and she's clearly miserable—"

"Then I'll put her out of her misery," I coldly decided, perhaps on the spot.

Startled by my answer, Kade tipped his shades down with his fingers and gawked at me. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," I affirmed with a solid, uncompromising nod. He dipped his bald head, as if apologizing. Perhaps it was weighted down in the realization that he needed to curry favor with a cold-blooded killer.

"That night at Calypso's warehouse, you gave me a fascinating glimpse into your own initiative," he reminisced out loud, a sort of manic excitement present in his voice as he spoke. "I watched those bullet-riddled Pokémon drop like flies, and it was in that moment I knew everything was going to change." He took a thoughtful pause, smirking. "Now it's finally coming full circle, isn't it? The world is just a hair shy of gracing your fingertips."

My earlier conversation with Anna suddenly hung thick over my head. I stood straighter, narrowing my eyes with fierce conviction. "It won't stay shy for long, I promise you."

…...

The voyage home from Kanto left Anna exhausted. By the time she reported back to the precinct, it was already after hours and her department had already packed up and gone home. Despite this, she dropped her belongings to the floor and heaved out a tuneless sigh into the darkness.

Her feet carried her across the floor and she noticed a light was on in her office. That struck her ass odd; she remembered locking up before departing for Kanto.

She moved to the door, giving it a cautious push. It creaked open and she peered inside. Special Agent Peer was sitting at her desk, case files stacked around and in front of him by the box fulls.

Peer glanced up from his work and summoned her in with his hand while he put some files away. "Hello, Lieutenant," he greeted thinly and with noticeably less spirit than usual.

She held her post in the door frame, swallowing. "What are you doing here?"

"I apologize," he said, gesturing. "I figured this was the best place to wait for your return."

She cocked her head to the side, marginally softening her stance. "You were expecting me?"

"I was," he conceded solemnly, and her eyebrows rose at the admission. "I wanted to personally apologize to you for my rather embarrassing and unprofessional behavior recently."

Caught off guard by his unexpected contrition, and not really sure what to say in response to it, Anna just nodded her head mutely and blinked owlishly.

He sighed and gave a shameful little frown. "I allowed my feelings for Oliver to affect my better judgment and my decision-making," he stated with a distinct nobleness about him. "What I put both you and Metsuma through was negligent and unforgivable. And I am truly sorry."

She twitched the corner of her mouth into the tiniest of smiles, trying to appear grateful. It disappeared as soon as it appeared, though.

He twined his fingers together, elbows planted firmly on her desk. "If it's any consolation, my career is over. And as you're probably already aware, I'm facing some serious charges that will likely result in a prison sentence."

"I hope not," she replied robotically, noncommittally. It was hard to be sympathetic towards him after he went behind her back to arrest her best friend.

"That's kind of you to say," he replied, despite not really buying her pity. "Either way, in the event I'm not around much longer, I wanted to leave things in some kind of order." He chuckled to himself as he began to organize the documents spread out in front of him. "Apologizing to you isn't the only reason for my being here, I must admit. There was some old case work I forgot to collect for the bureau and I just needed someplace quiet to sort through it."

Anna shrugged, like she didn't care one way or the other. It was hardly an answer.

His eyes flicked up at her. "You want your office back, don't you?" He laughed without protest and began to rise out of his seat. "I understand completely. I'll get out of your hair."

"No, it's fine," she said distantly with a shrug. "Finish up. It's late anyway. I won't be sticking around here much longer."

"You're more than welcome to join me." He smiled and gestured to the empty chair across from him. "Please, sit. This is your office after all."

Reluctantly, she accepted the invitation and planted herself in the indicated chair. It felt awkward not being on the correct side of her desk. It made her feel strangely vulnerable.

Peer picked up a box at his feet and plopped it on top of the desk, chuckling mildly to himself. "I was working so hard to prove the mastermind's existence that I overlooked some loose ends in the Soul Robber investigation and neglected to review all the documentation that was left collecting dust in the evidence room. And I can't very well send incomplete case work back to the bureau, as you know."

She nodded, fidgeting a little in her chair as he opened up the box and began rummaging through its contents. Not all of it was documentation, she noticed; there was also physical evidence from the Soul Robber case such as bagged crime scene residue as well as old police equipment.

He seemed to be looking for something in particular though. And she felt tense watching him do so.

"You'll recall back to when you and I first cracked the mastermind theory," he continued, seemingly distracted with his foraging, "Oakley authorized me to put everyone in our task force under surveillance. Funny thing is I was so focused on the interviews at the time that I failed to follow up on the other special measures I implemented during that phase."

The unspoken tension in the room whispered of encroaching doom, but Anna chose to ignore it again—until Peer dug out what appeared to be an audio tape recorder.

He smiled, as though nothing were amiss. "One of those measures was wiretapping all of the station's outgoing phone calls, in case you forgot."

There was a pause, and Anna suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Peer casually placed the tape recorder between them, and her eyes suddenly stretched in horror when he reached back inside the box to retrieve a case of audio cassettes.

"I have all of them recorded right here," he divulged, setting the collection down in front of her. "I just never had a chance to listen to the tapes... until today." His fingers skimmed over the tapes, plucking one out from the bunch. "One conversation in particular caught my interest. I think you'll find it most illuminating."

Anna began to sweat uncontrollably as Peer calmly inserted the cassette into the machine and clicked the 'play' button. Static hissed between them for a good few seconds—until a voice surfaced above it.

"Metsuma, there's something I need to get off my chest. You need to know something."

Anna felt her throat tighten at the sound of her own voice. Her steely blue eyes snapped up and bored into Peer's as the incriminating recording played. Now she knew his game. Now she knew why he wouldn't let her leave earlier.

"Anna, this really isn't a good time."

Her hand cupped to her mouth the instant Metsuma's deep, masculine voice came out of the machine. The memory was coming back to her now, but oh, she wished it hadn't. She contemplated getting up and bolting from the room, but her panic-filled voice emerged from the recording again, anchoring her to her chair.

"Do you remember that island girl that was murdered by the Soul Robber all those months ago? Konani Haukea? At the scene of her death, I swear I saw a Gengar with... amber eyes. In that moment... I immediately thought back to our reunion on the Olivine Shore, when you and I had the Pokémon Battle. I—I don't know of any other Gengar besides yours that has yellow eyes—"

"Anna, can we discuss this another time? Like I said, I really can't talk now."

"The International Police are cracking down on this case! They have this theory that the real culprit behind these murders is someone connected to law enforcement!"

"Where would they have gotten a ludicrous idea like that?"

"I... might have had something to do with it. No one took me seriously until the manifesto came along. Special Agent Peer was able to unravel it from scratch. Now he just won't let it go! Please, I don't want you involved in this! Just tell me the Gengar I saw on Floe Island wasn't yours! I can't keep quiet about this any longer, Metsuma! The guilt is killing me! I'd rather my theory amount to nothing than have you messed up in all this!"

There was a static-filled pause on the tape. Anna prayed to the Legendaries it would stay that way, despite knowing better. She never thought this ancient conversation would come back to haunt her. This had to be a nightmare, she convinced herself—her eyes briefly darted about the room for any sign of an hourglass.

It was to no avail. This was very real, she realized. This was her comeuppance for turning her back on the law. She was caught.

The recording continued.

"Metsuma. I just... I just need to know that it was all a coincidence and that I have nothing to hide. Please, just tell me that."

"Anna, you need to calm down. You're going to be fine. You have nothing to hide, alright?"

"But do YOU?"

"I have to go now, Anna. Best of luck with your investigation."

"Metsuma, don't you fucking hang up on me! I need to know—"

The recording cut off then.

Anna remained silent after that.

Peer clicked off the device and studied her face, eyes gleaming. "Interesting," he judged after a while, the phony friendliness in his voice supremely unsettling. "I don't remember any reports of a Gengar with yellow eyes being at the scene of Konani's murder. And I certainly don't remember you bringing it to my attention."

"Th—The International Police wasn't involved in the case at that point," she sputtered out her defense clumsily. "I... I hadn't even met you yet, remember?"

"True," he permitted, if only for a beat, "but when I enlisted you in my task force, you swore to convey everything to me concerning the Soul Robber's first victims. When I reviewed your account of the Floe Island incident, there was no mention of any Gengar, not once. Would a detail that crucial just disappear from your memory?" He leered at her like he had a million eyes, before answering himself, "Not likely."

She clenched her jaw. Never once did she imagine she would be on the opposite end of Peer's questioning stick. He'd been her mentor, her role model. He was the cop she once aspired to be; and that was precisely why he wasn't turning a blind eye to her sins, she realized. If fear wasn't paralyzing her so utterly in that moment, she might have appreciated the irony.

Now he had her backed into a corner—and she was scared shitless like every other criminal he ever interrogated throughout his masterful career.

Deciding things couldn't get any worse, she forced herself to lie. "I... um," her mouth opened and closed as she tried to slap something together on the spot. "I guess I didn't think it was worth mentioning."

"But it was worth mentioning to a friend over a telephone call?" He framed the question in a way meant to highlight the holes in her explanation; he clearly wasn't buying any of her bullshit, and she felt stupid for believing he might. This was the same cop who nearly bested Metsuma, whom she'd long considered unrivaled in intelligence and strategic thinking.

He raised both eyebrows, analyzing her expression, trying to glean what he could out of it. "You were forbidden from sharing any details about the case with anyone outside our task force," he reminded, tapping the tape player, "yet this recording proves a very serious breach of conduct on your part."

There was no excuse for that one. She had to stumble through another lie and fast. "I... honestly don't remember any of that conversation," she garbled with an unconvincing shrug of her shoulders; she was a cop, lying didn't come as easily to her as it did to Metsuma.

Peer tilted his head in mock bemusement, playing along. "Are you sure? You seemed to remember it just fine a moment ago."

"N—No, I..." she took a moment, inhaling a shaky breath before stuttering away again. " I... I was just confused by your question, is all."

Peer shook his head, no longer hiding his disappointment. "Nice middle school trick. I'm very impressed. But you'll never be as good an actor as him, so stop while you can."

"Peer, I honestly don't know—"

"Enough," he cut her off mercilessly, then jabbed his finger down on the tape player a second time. "What this tells me is you've been lying to me from the beginning. You may not have known the full truth about Metsuma at the time you made that phone call, but you knew enough that could have been useful to our investigation. And you consciously withheld that information."

Her heart sank. She opened her mouth, but found no more words coming out of her this time, and closed it again.

"If the bureau heard this recording," he subtly threatened, "I dread what they might think."

Her eyes widened. "What are you implying?", she demanded, a little too fast to be inconspicuous. She didn't care how she sounded anymore. She just wanted this nightmare to be over.

He leaned back patiently behind her desk, hands folding in his lap. "That, Lieutenant, is up to you," he answered, his tone much too casual for somebody making such serious accusations.

"Sir, look," she said formally, because the resentful pause in the special agent's voice made her a little uncertain how she should proceed. When nothing came to mind, her eyes fled to her lap, her emotions spinning. She never wanted to be his enemy, she never wanted this for herself. Being caught in this endless tug-of-war was like her own personal hell.

The distress bottled inside her must have spread to her face, because Peer leaned forward with deep melancholy in his eyes and made every effort to hold her gaze. She feared to look up, to meet those eyes, because she feared it would be her father's eyes staring back at her. She knew if she had one ounce of moral fiber left in her somewhere, she had to confess everything here and now and speak the name Peer yearned to hear.

"Anna," he whispered, dropping his interrogative gambit and speaking as a friend now. "We've known each other a long time. You're like a daughter to me. Now please level with me here. Is there something you want to get off your chest?"

Anna's pupils were blown wide as she slowly lifted her head and gave a single nod. She knew what she had to do, as much as she dreaded it, hated it.

"There is," she croaked as her heart split inside her chest.

Peer raised an eyebrow expectantly.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, before piercing him with a cold glare and uttering numbly, "I think you're desperate. I think you doctored that tape."

Peer frowned, genuinely, like he'd just been gutted. A moment passed before his demeanor suddenly morphed into a fierce warning. "You want to know what I think?", he uttered back in a low voice, a slightly wounded look in his eyes. "I think I'm not the only one who made a mistake trying to protect someone they care about."

Anna took a shuddering breath, willing the burning feeling behind her eyes away. Then she stood, unable to stand being in that room any longer. Nor the precinct itself. She wasn't worthy of it.

"Is that all, sir?", she asked icily, somehow regaining control of her voice, for better or worse. How she hated herself for this.

"For now," he granted with an earnestness he probably hoped would set her at ease. "You don't have to confess anything to me at this moment. I didn't come here to throw you under the bus with him. In fact I came here to spare you that very humiliation. You might think I'm trying to turn you against him, but in truth, I don't need your help to take him down. I have Landon Kace for that."

Anna flushed a little at that knowledge, but held her silence as Peer came to stand and began packing up his things.

Once finished, he paused at the door to stop and look at her. "I'm giving you another chance because I care about you and because I know you're better than this," he easily slipped into his warm, sagely persona again. "Whatever he might have said to you to make you protect him, it isn't real. He may have told you that he cares about you, that he needs you by his side, but it's all pathological lying and he's playing with your emotions. He's a psychopath. He has no interest in you, no empathy for you or for anyone else. It's all one grand performance, Anna. He's using you for his own survival."

Anna could hear him, but the words weren't really processing. She wasn't letting them. She knew if Peer successfully managed to talk sense into her, she would end up betraying the man she loved. She just couldn't do that to him or herself.

"You don't have to go down with him," he urged gently, attempting to recruit her into his service, a mirror image of the day they met. "Please. It's not too late. You can help set this right. You can help me finish the job we both took on together the day you joined my task force."

There was all silence for a few beats, until Peer continued on his way. "I fully intend to present Landon to the bureau," he revealed as he took a step out the door, "but I'll refrain from doing so until the week is up. That should be more than enough time for you to decide where your allegiances truly lie."

Hearing those words, she blinked at him.

"Meet me for breakfast at the corner cafe in say about two days ," he instructed her. "You can give me your answer then." He went quiet for a half-second, and he looked a little wistful. "I implore you to choose right. If you don't, there will be repercussions."

Anna nodded stiffly and turned her head away as he left. She stood there in the middle her office for a long, despairing lapse of motion.

Once she sensed he was no longer in the building, she spun on her heels and stalked from the room in a breathless hurry.

She kept it together until she reached the elevator. It was then that she crumpled to her knees, arms around her stomach, tears pouring down her face and onto the floor of the lift as she felt her entire being truly break in two.

…...

The next day found Maria still in bed well past noon, the curtains drawn but the fuss coming from outside still loud and incessant as ever. I stood in the doorway, gaping into the dark bedroom, watching her wither away in her woes. She hadn't spoken to me or anyone since her psychotic episode at Briskomy HQ, just laid in bed listening to the people curse her name at the windows.

That would be enough, I reasoned. That would be enough to make her end things, put herself out of her misery.

As I crept to her bedside, I reached into my vest and produced a small bottle of pills from my pocket. They'd been given to her by the clinic I checked her into after her incident. Had the doctors deemed her mentally insane and kept her for treatment, it definitely would have simplified things for me, if not for her. It didn't matter anymore though. I was done taking half-measures. She had no will left to go on anyway, as I saw it, so I was going to do her a favor.

I stood over the bed tentatively. The ashtray on her nightstand was overflowing with cigarette butts, something that admittedly shocked me. She hadn't smoked in ages, at least not since we dated in college. She truly was worn out. In fact, all of this was strikingly reminiscent of the night I found Anna after her own mental breakdown.

"Maria," I whispered into the darkness. "Are you awake?"

No response came from the lump under the covers that was once my sweet, zestful wife. She was making this all the easier for me. Maybe I didn't even need to coerce her.

I sat at the edge of the bed, rattling her pills in my hand. "I brought you the medication the clinician prescribed for you. You're supposed to take one every morning."

She curled in on herself, but otherwise didn't move.

"I spoke with the board," I said solemnly. "There was nothing I could do, I'm sorry. They intend to liquidate your majority share holdings if you don't resign willingly."

"I don't care anymore," she said in a dreary, listless voice that was slightly muffled under the covers. Something about her voice told me that she hadn't really been asleep, but rather just laying there doing nothing. No surprise there.

"You'll lose everything," I continued kicking her while she was already down. Anything to make her snatch the pills from my hand and end things already.

"It doesn't matter." She rolled over and peeked over the top of the covers with a huff. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, her hair a frizzy nest; I'd never seen her such a low state. "Listen to them out there," she slurred darkly as she indicated the window. "I can't live with this."

Those were the magic words, I thought to myself as I slowly held the bottle closer to her. "Those protesters won't be breaking into the house again any time soon," I assured her. "But they're not leaving any time soon either. Fortunately I know what can help with the pain."

"It's not the protesters I can't live with, Metsuma," her voice shuddered at me.

I looked down at her incredulously, pulling the bottle back. If it wasn't the protests causing her this pain, or the media attention, or the theft of her family's company... then what was it?

"You were right," she croaked, spacing out towards the ceiling. "I've been in denial. I always had this image of my father in my head... but now that my world is coming apart, I can't hold on to it any longer. That image... it's gone."

I didn't reply but I was listening to her, which was a rarity. What she was telling me should have stuck out as obvious, but it was registering at the pace of a Slowpoke. It wasn't the repercussions of her father's 'duplicity' making her life miserable, I interpreted; it was the truth of her father itself that she couldn't live with.

How could I have miscalculated that?

"You think you know someone," the words coming from her were so faint now I had to lean in to hear them. "You think you know a person you thought could do no wrong, a person who was your whole world and as essential as the air you breathe. And then... it turns out they're the furthest thing from what you thought."

I deflated a little. For whatever reason, I felt a pang in my chest. It wasn't for her though. It was for another. Then I realized why I'd miscalculated, why I'd subconsciously turned a blind eye to her trauma. Because it wasn't subconscious at all. It was because this was no different than Anna and everything I'd put her through. I was a monster, a beast to such beautiful eyes, just as Daken was to Maria.

No, I mentally slapped myself. Anna was stronger than that. It couldn't be all bad for her, I reasoned desperately. Anna could live with the truth of what I was just fine, give or take some adjustments and compromises. I just knew she could. So why couldn't Maria live with Daken's secrets?

"I can't pretend the things he did didn't happen," she rasped. "I can't pretend it's not affecting me. I can't hide... how it's gouging my heart out."

"Then don't pretend," I snapped at her, as if I was talking to Anna. I pleaded with her, "Why not just adapt to what is, and move on?"

She huffed out a small, humorless laugh. "Because I'd just be fooling myself. These past couple weeks since he died I've been fooling myself, but I've been dying a little bit each day myself because of it..."

I looked at her for a long, long time, then fixed my stare on my own lap. I barely remembered where I was for a moment, who I was talking to, not even the bottle of pills in my hand. All I could think about was Anna, and the poignant sting in my chest that came with it. I always championed hope that in spite of everything, she would be okay, that we would be okay. That things would get better.

As it turned out, I was the one fooling myself.

Maria stirred beside me, a single tear rolling down her dismal, pallid face. "Scars never go away," she shared hoarsely. "Losing the company, being labeled a public enemy—none of that compares to the hole in my heart my father's true nature left me with, the painful reality that everything he was to me was a lie. And I just can't live with that pain anymore, Metsuma."

"Maria," I whimpered without realizing, my hand grazing hers. She didn't react. She might as well have been in a coma, waiting for her plug to be pulled. It dawned on me that this was what was in store for Anna too, eventually, inevitably—unless I did something about it.

Standing slowly, I attempted to bury the pill bottle back inside my pocket before she could see.

Her hand jutted out, catching my wrist. Her glazed eyes were trained on mine. "Leave it," she pleaded, as if for mercy.

"No more half measures," I kept repeating in my head, closing my eyes. "Do what needs to be done."

And I did. I opened the bottle, then left it on her nightstand. She conjured a sad little smile and I turned to leave the next instant.

"Goodbye, Metsuma," I heard her utter, soft and sweet. It would be the last time I'd hear her voice; and it didn't need to be said either.

I froze at the door. Without facing her, I returned the affection, for the first and final time without faking.

"Goodbye, Maria."

…...

The very next thing I did was have Abra teleport me to directly Veilstone City. Sinnoh was where I had to be, I felt it in my gut. I had to seek out Darukai and seal the last Chasm. I would need all the strength and wisdom I could muster to weather the deadly storm of opposition rapidly moving in on me. It wouldn't take long for Maria to expire, I calculated. The press coverage would be massive and I couldn't have Cayman turning up for that.

First and foremost, before Darukai or anything else, I needed to set the record straight with Anna and carry out the hardest decision of my life. If I didn't do it now, I would start to have second thoughts. I couldn't allow that. The thought of her taking her own life on my account just drove me mad with stupid, pesky emotions.

Emotions—another recent malady I had to remedy.

I waited under the city bridge, hoping my signature in the Aura would lure her to my position. My faith was rewarded and her patrol car pulled down the slope not even a few minutes after my arrival.

She parked in front of me and I hastily climbed into the passenger seat, spewing an exasperated huff as I sat myself down. I looked at her when she said nothing. Her face was pale as a ghost, like something had spooked her. Her hands trembled slightly over the steering wheel. It made me all the more inclined to just say what I had to say.

"Peer has Landon," she muttered to the windshield before I could even get a word out.

I kept my reaction carefully controlled, quiet. Frustration, however, gnawed at me from the inside like a parasite. How many more times did I have to teach that fool Peer the same lesson?

Finally she looked at me, the side of my face anyway. "He knows I've been helping you."

I exhaled irritably through my nostrils. We sat, in a still picture, the world frozen around us before I managed to quirk a brow at her and break the silence. "Did he say where he was keeping Cayman?"

"No," she said over a nervous swallow. "All I do know is that together, those two could put us in a seriously bad spot."

I retreated into the depths of my mind again, contemplating. "I should have killed him when I had the chance," I muttered with bitter regret.

She frowned at the sentiment. "I know you want Landon—"

I shook my head, pushing through the fog of my thoughts. "I'm talking about Peer, not Landon."

Her frown scrunched up into a scowl and she petulantly crossed her arms over her chest. "Then this is my fault for talking you out of it? For trying to save what little bit of humanity you have left in you?"

"I don't want to save it," I raised my voice sharply, "I want to extinguish it! But you're making it impossible!"

She looked away, unwilling to talk me down, unable to hide the unhappiness she felt inside. We went back to silence; I couldn't find the energy to argue with her anyway. There was nothing to argue about. I sought her out for one reason and I was going to make good on it, even if it killed me.

I collected myself and tried again. "Things are finally falling back into place for me," I explained softly in the only way I knew how. "I won't let mistakes from my past breed new ones for the future. And I won't let you get in the way of living my life or yours."

She stared grievously at me, swallowing, "But our compromise—"

"—was a foolish notion," I said flatly, enunciating with a light pound of my fist on the dashboard. "You said it yourself, you can't ignore what I do behind your back, no matter how hard you try. We can't adapt to each others lifestyles because we're too opposite. Nothing can be as it was before, no matter how hard you pretend. And don't even try and deny it."

She didn't protest. She looked back through the windshield with an empty stare.

"Anna," I started again, trying to get her to meet my eyes again. "Ever since you unmasked me for the real me, you've been miserable. You've been dying right in front of my eyes. Whenever things start to improve in my life, you're still there in the periphery paying for my sins, wasting away in guilt and unable to cope with it."

She bowed her head, blue bangs falling into her crushed eyes. Whatever pain she was experiencing now, it was better than what might have consumed her later down the road, I reasoned. I wouldn't let her scars destroy her, I wouldn't let her suffer like Maria.

"I can live with my dark secrets, Anna," I shared broodingly, "but I'm not sure you can."

She glanced up at me. Her throat strained to speak. "What is it you're asking of me?"

My chest was tight as I answered. "What you wanted to begin with," I told her, narrowing my eyes. "Get out of this now while you still can. And don't look back."

She looked at me, mouth parted and eyes dark, as if I was suddenly someone else.

I carried on, undeterred—I had to. "First you're going to tell Peer you cut off all contact with me. It'll save you."

Her brow lifted carefully. "Then what?"

"Then," I heaved, my eyes darting away briefly, "I'll make it so you don't remember anything past the day you discovered the truth about me." It pained me to do it, but I relocated her gaze, my mouth a thin line. "I have that power, you know."

Tears built up in the corners of her eyes, and she whimpered, "You would do that?"

I shrugged and made grumbling noise, forcing an impassive look across my face. "I would rather that than see the life sucked out of you," I muttered, trying to mask the emotion in my voice. I didn't want to make this worse for either of us.

Then her hand clamped down on mine, confounding me. "That, just now," she whispered, "is how I know you're human."

"Don't," I pleaded with all the quiet dignity as I could muster.

"Fuck it," she said, her hands cupping my face as she turned fully in her seat. "It's too late. There's no turning back, not even if I wanted to. We're in this together now, do you hear me?"

I didn't know what was happening. It made so little sense that it caused me to shake my head in wonder. She grabbed the collar of my shirt, and I drifted towards her. Our foreheads rested against each other.

"I'm not leaving your side," she vowed, her breath hot and electrifying on my lips, then she slammed into me with a forceful kiss.

I growled fiercely into her mouth, kissing back more hungrily. I didn't even think about it.

…...

Joy sprung to her feet as Viper gasped himself awake, like he'd just received a shot of adrenaline. He sucked in breaths fast and shallow, not enough to calm him down, but enough to tell him he was still alive, he had survived.

"Viper!", she wept tears of joy, clasping his hand as he began to hyperventilate on the bed. "Viper, it's me! It's Joy! It's alright! You're safe!"

He ceased flailing beneath her touch, his spooked eyes darting all around the infirmary. He felt the sobs of both relief and disillusion lapping up his throat before he could stifle them. He couldn't call it crying. He wasn't even sure he could cry anymore, not really. He didn't produce tears, but his body wracked with tremors and his face contorted; if it wasn't crying, it was definitely something close.

"Viper," he heard his own name again, on her soothing tongue. Her fragile fingers entwined with his, her tears trickling down upon them.

He squinted against the gleam, and squeezed the hand held tightly in his own. "How long was I unconscious?", he rasped, blinking up at her perfect face.

"Days," she choked out, still in shock.

Weakly, he lifted a bushy brow at her. "Cayman?"

She nearly forgot to answer as confusion played on her face. "He vanished," she informed, toneless, as if delivering an official report. "Difo has every last man searching the island for him."

"Figures," he muttered stringently with a wince, straining to remain flat and stationary on the bed. Every bone in his body felt like it would crack, or jut through his flesh.

Worry again reclaimed her as she noticed him struggle. "Are you in pain?", she asked, her hand going to the bandaged wound on his chest. "Do you feel any discomfort? I can change your dressing, if you'd like."

"No," he mumbled, pushing her hand away politely. The more conscious he became, the more distant he seemed.

"You must be hungry then," she reasoned, standing straight. "I'll have Chansey fetch you some—"

"Why are you here?", he asked tersely, throat tight and aching with the strain of the past.

She looked down at him, shrugged, then smiled. "This is my field. I'm perfectly used to treating injuries."

"I'm not talking about that, dammit," he groaned, tone clipped, words bitten off with neat little clicks of his teeth. "How can you stand to look at me after—" He stopped himself, his head tossing away from her. He couldn't finish it.

She stared at him, somber, before replanting herself in the seat beside his bed. "It's all true then?", she asked with a pinch of nervousness. "What they say about you? About what happened to Simon?"

Slowly, he turned his head to her again. There was so much pain, so much vulnerability in his eyes and deep voice as he returned the question, "Do you hate me for it?"

She gazed down at the floor, considering her response carefully. "I... I know you have a reputation around here," she began, setting her jaw. "I know the sort of people this island is meant to accommodate. So... maybe I shouldn't be surprised by the awful things I hear." She folded her hands together modestly in her lap and smirked at the corner of her mouth. "The day we met on that ferry, you threatened to throw me overboard and feed me to the Sharpedo. But that didn't happen, remember?"

His face hardened a little. "But Simon's death DID happen."

She swallowed thickly, her smile fading. "I just want to know why," she didn't say the other thoughts that were surely shivering through her mind.

He took a short pause and deep breath. "I was trying to protect my friend."

She frowned with disapproval. "The friend who did this to you, you mean?", she sniffed, her eyes roaming down the length of his bruised, broken body.

"Yes, the friend who did this to me," he groaned towards the ceiling, startling himself when a painful laugh wrenched its way out of his chest at the end of the sentence. "And you're right, you know. He doesn't deserve my friendship. He doesn't deserve it anymore than I deserve his. We both suffered for each other... and we both failed each other. The cause is lost."

"Stop with that talk." She threw him a look, like she wanted to say more but the words escaped her mind before she could trap them behind her lips.

His face darkened even further. "I was foolish to believe things could improve, that Metsuma could actually be outsmarted. And Simon..." A muscle twitched in his jaw as when spoke the name, and then he let out a shuddering sob. "He died for nothing. I... I sacrificed the life of an innocent boy ... for nothing at all." He gripped the bed sheets and made a noise in the back of his throat, almost like a growl, "I deserve this hell! I deserve to be Viper and nothing else!"

Joy didn't speak a word and instead just listened. Viper heaved out a shaky breath, collecting what was left of himself. "Had you known the truth," he told her, daring to meet her crestfallen eyes from the corner of his own, "you could have just let me die. I know I would have let me die if I had been you in that moment. I would have just..." He trailed off when her hand snapped to his wrist, squeezing it gently.

"I already knew the truth," she murmured, voice cracking with mixed emotions. "What happened was terrible, I won't pretend otherwise. It was a terrible, terrible thing that never should have taken place." She leaned in close to him, shifting herself ever so carefully onto the bed. She beamed at him with a small, hopeful smile. "But YOU'RE not terrible. I just know you're not."

"Joy," he began, shaking his head at what he believed to be a put-on. "You're too nice for your own good."

"No, Viper," she said gently, and he flinched like he'd been shocked. "I'm not just being nice, I promise. I've seen another side to you, and... I'd like to know him better."

He looked away, gave a dubious little huff. "Whoever it is you think you see, Joy, it's a person I barely know myself. It's not Oliver. It's certainly not Viper."

She tilted his head up with her fingers under his bruised chin. "We can find out together," she whispered over his mouth.

He barely had time to register her words before he was kissed so hard his world nearly went black again. His inexperienced lips quivered beneath hers, but he needed the contact so. He leaned his head up, willing through the pain it caused him, and melted into her affection.

…...

Giant trusses of impenetrable rock converged over Savile Island, concealing it in a crescent dome. Azrael, standing motionless and becalmed behind the crusty barricade, could hear each and every tidal wave the violent sea sent crashing against the island's defenses. He didn't trek all the way out to the island's outskirts in the dead of night to listen to nature though; he had another agenda.

He stretched an arm forward and two Pokéballs flew from his hand the next instant. They purled through the night air until twin beams of light spilled out of them, solidifying into Lunatone and Solrock the very next moment.

The astral duo, freed from a week's confinement, adjusted to their crusty surroundings and looked around desperately. "Kami?", the called out together. "Kami!"

"Guess again," Azrael growled deep in his throat, startling the two Pokémon into a mid-air pivot. He put a hand to the side of his helmet as they spun to face him. "Do you hear that?"

Neither of them responded. They just blinked at him, expressionless as ever, while listening to the waves slam against the craggy wall beside them.

"That is the sound of the tides that claimed your master," he declared in his cold, apathetic tongue. "He betrayed Metsuma. For that, he now rots at the bottom of the ocean." He lifted his plated shoulders in pity, and sighed. "Shame, too. He didn't put up much of a fight."

The two outer space Pokémon exchanged blank looks, careful not to show any emotion. Then, Solrock asked monotonously, "What does that mean for us?"

He moved closer to them, the crusty terrain crunching beneath his boots. "We unfortunately have no special plans for either of you," he stated in a bored tone. "I suggested to Metsuma that you both be smashed to rubble for serving a traitor."

That visibly upset the Pokémon, and they shied back a few paces until they were backed into the wall.

"However," Azrael continued, letting the word linger in the air, "Metsuma has decided to grant you mercy, the same way he granted mercy to the rest of Cayman's co-conspirators. He has placed you both under my command." He glared a fierce glare beneath his helmet, hoping they would detect it with their supersensory. "Unfortunately for me, you're two of the clumsiest Pokémon I've ever encountered, ergo a liability. I don't care enough to be responsible for liabilities."

Lunatone's eyes lit up. "We are being released?"

The assassin locked his arms over his armor and gave a single, stiff nod. "Return to the wild," he muttered, "or find a new master, if that's what you want. I could care less."

The telepathic Pokémon traded unspoken words, predictably, as relief suddenly fell over them.

Azrael leveled a gloved index finger at the pair. "Now go before I have a change of heart and assign you both as labor workers."

Not needing to be told twice, the duo scaled the height of the island's dome, quickly finding a crevice to slip through. From there, they took off into the night—like two drones following a beacon.

Azrael smirked under his black and red mask, then unclipped the arsenal of Pokéballs at his belt and hurled them forward.

Four Bisharp hatched from the capsules, their bladed limbs sharp as lancets, alongside a glowering Kingdra and an impossibly fast Ninjask. They all knelt and bowed before their master in a submissive display.

"Follow the two astral Pokémon," he commanded his lesser assassins without any formal greeting. "They'll lead us straight to our target. Do not let them out of your sight."

Their obedience was instant and absolute. He barely had to blink before Ninjask vanished on the spot, whisking Kingdra away with it. The quadrant of Bisharp wasted no time either, burrowing beneath the earth as they'd been drilled to do countless times before and tunneling after their targets from underground.

Azrael turned back towards the fortress, eager to prepare for his own departure. He stopped, however, to reach inside his upper armor and retrieve the Ultra Ball hidden beneath one of the plates. "I have something else in mind for you," he purred at the secret weapon in his leather palm. "It's been too long since we've had a real fight."

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

A/N: Sa'lu is a character from the 'Inheritance' series and belongs to Nafa-Tali.

NEXT CHAPTER: Metsuma seeks Darukai's help one last time as he and Anna are forced into confrontation that will change everything; new developments cause Peer and Cayman to rethink their plan; Azrael closes in on his target; Eden continues her conquest of the Orre Region.

NEW CHARACTERS:

Ry'uun: A brilliant scholar and former member of the Dragon Clan. He once dabbled in the Shadow Arts to further his experiments and even instructed Sa'lu in secret. When the clan and the Pokémon League's Clint Ketchum discovered he was attempting to revive the forbidden alchemy, he was deemed a danger to society and thereupon incarcerated. In the five years he spent in prison, he never once ratted on Sa'lu. Now she has freed him from his prison for her own mysterious purposes.