Chapter 35: The Unruly Ruler
After the main show and most of the festivities died down, Joker made his way to the back of the camp, towards the sleeping quarters. He was exhausted from being on performance mode all day, but he still had one more job to do, and time was running out.
Joker slipped into the gray tent hidden behind all the sleeping tents. It was larger than the temporary rooms that surrounded it, but not by enough to stand out. Inside, there were several beds made of hay and down, and a couple boxes filled with food and personal belongings. Sitting atop one of the boxes and inspecting a silver necklace was Sableye. He looked up at the Water-type and scowled.
"How's your little festival going?" Sableye sneered.
"Pretty good, all things considered," Joker responded.
"I don't know why you waste so much time and money with this shitshow. You could be putting your talents, your creativity, to use."
"Doing what? Fighting? I already do plenty of that," Joker rolled his eyes. "I didn't come here to talk about me, though."
"Right. If you're here with that look on your face, that means your babysitter friend wants something, and I think I can take a pretty good guess at what it is," Sableye smirked.
"Weavile's building an army. She's going to attack Skyspear Manor and overthrow Persian. She wants the Scavenger division, or what's left of it, to help," explained Joker.
Sableye slowly placed the necklace down on the box beside him. "Now, don't get me wrong, I'd love nothing more than to gut that cat. He blackmailed me into joining his criminal operation. Still is, to this day."
"I hear there's a club you can join," Joker remarked snidely. Sableye ignored him.
"And yet he couldn't even keep me protected from the law… He destroyed my life twice, and ruined my entire business. But as much as I'd like to help, the Scavenger division… well, most of them scattered after the bust at the warehouse. Didn't come back. Guess they thought they'd found a chance to break free of Persian's claws. From what I hear, Persian's already taken care of the majority of them. And the ones that managed to make it out into the light aren't going to be too willing to jump back underground, new management or not." Sableye sighed. "The only ones you're going to get from the Scavenger division are the loyal few who were stupid enough to come back, and yours truly."
"A loyal few stupid enough to jump into danger can be even better than an unwilling many looking to save their own skins," Joker pointed out. "It just depends on who it is."
Sableye chuckled. "The Zigzagang, as they so often refer to themselves. They were my most skilled thieves, but as fighters… loyal is about all they have going for them. They were the only ones who rendezvoused here after everyone scattered at the warehouse. As it turns out, ruling through fear leaves a lot of Pokémon likely to flee at the first opportunity."
"I'll keep that in mind," a voice spoke from the entrance of the tent. Joker twirled around, startled, to see a familiar lavender figure, sitting with his tail wrapped over his paws as if he'd been there a while.
"Espie! You're here early, aren't you?" Joker asked.
Espeon shrugged. "I finished my other task fairly quickly, so I decided to drop by a little ahead of schedule. I'm sure you don't mind."
"Right, well…" Joker glanced at Sableye, then said, "Can I speak to you in my tent?"
Espeon made an exasperated face, as if he thought the need for privacy was entirely unnecessary, but he followed Joker back to his tent. "Did you get Sableye and his racoon platoon on board?"
"Yeah, I- his what? No, never mind," Joker shook his head. "I found out about another human today."
"You mean Riley?" Espeon asked.
"Yeah, he- Wait, you knew?" Joker looked at Espeon with surprise. "How?"
"It's my job to know. Anyway, don't worry about that kid. He's fine."
"He's currently being hounded by bounty hunters and Guildmembers," Joker argued.
"Okay, so our definitions of 'fine' might be a bit different. Do you want to keep arguing about him, or get to the task at hand?" Espeon asked.
"But isn't it your job to-"
"My job is of no concern to you. Believe me, I'm doing my job. Now how about you do yours, yes?" Espeon snapped testily.
"A-Alright…" Feeling like he was just scolded by his parent, Joker changed the subject. "Well, we have Sableye and the Zigzagang ready to help, although I don't actually know where they are. I just know they're around. And my officers have agreed to help too. Not all of them, of course, since we need someone to watch the circus in case things take longer than expected," he explained.
"Alright. Round them all up in the big tent and we'll get to work bringing them back to the library." Espeon moved to leave the tent, but stopped when Joker spoke his name.
"Espie? Do you…" He seemed to almost reconsider asking his question, but went for it anyway. "Honestly, do you think we're going to win?"
Espeon was silent for a moment, weighing the question in his mind. He knew Joker held his opinion in high regard, as he should, so the next words that came from his mouth would not be taken lightly. The Psychic-type didn't want to instill false confidence, but such a question only had one right answer. "Do you believe in fate?" he asked suddenly.
"Sorry?" Joker tipped his head, confused.
"Do you think everything is predestined to happen? Or do we have free will?" He elaborated.
"I… That's an uncharacteristically deep question," Joker chuckled a bit nervously. "I've never really thought about it. I'd like to think we have free will, but who's to know, really?"
"Hmm… well, let me put it this way: if we were characters in a story, who, if not yourself, do you think would be the main character?"
"It's a bit depressing to think that I wouldn't be the main character of my own life," Joker commented, then pondered the question seriously. "I suppose… either you or Weav, I guess."
"Interesting… Well, if know that much, then you've nothing to worry about." With a knowing smile, Espeon continued his path to the exit, disappearing beyond the colorful tent flaps and leaving Joker wondering if his question was even really answered.
…
At the base of Skyspear mountain, a small army was forming. Weavile had wanted them to gather at the library and head to the mountain together, but Espeon pointed out that it would be too conspicuous for such a large group to be seen in Knowall Town. Not to mention, he didn't want that many Pokémon in his library at once. So they waited at the foot of the path leading through the dense forest up to the peak. They could feel the eyes of the forest Pokémon on them, and could hear the whispers in the trees.
Murkrow's party was the last to arrive, a squad of Flying-types come direct from Delibird's delivery service in Seasnow. Delibird had gathered up ten of his most trusted, and added himself and Murkrow to make twelve soldiers. Joker had brought along Sableye and his four Zigzagoons, as well as five of his own circus performers. Weavile and her five kids added six more, and Espeon stood alone. Altogether, thirty of them stood ready for the harsh battle ahead. It wasn't a lot, certainly not as many as Weavile would have liked, but it was enough to get them to the manor at least. Weavile was confident she could do the rest.
As she stood in front of her small army, she wondered if she should give some sort of speech. That was usually what leaders did in a situation like this, right? She should at least give it a try. She cleared her throat and addressed the crowd, "Some of us have come a long way for this moment. Some have been waiting for this day. A lot of us hold resentment towards Persian, and even more want to see him fall. We've gathered here to fight, and I can't promise we'll all walk out alive, but we've come this far, so the only way we're stopping is if Persian's heart stops beating, or ours does."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. This wasn't one of those "for glory" warcry moments. Weavile had glossed over it, but they were all aware that only half of them would survive this battle if they were lucky. Some of them were there because they hated Persian that much, but a lot more were simply there because there was nowhere else to be. They were betting their lives on the hopes that siding with Weavile would lead to freedom from this nasty business. They were hoping this would be the day they could get out and live a normal life. They were hoping they could die peacefully in their sleep.
"Alright," Weavile sighed grimly. She looked to Joker, who was standing beside her, and then to Murkrow, a few paces away. With a nod to each of them, she turned toward the mountain path. "Let's go."
It took only five minutes for the first ambush. Normally the dirt path was safe from attacks, and civilians used it often to hike up the peak, but the residents of the forest, Pokémon paid by Persian to live as Wildies and attack anyone who gets too close, knew what Weavile had come for. They dropped down from the trees and leapt from the bushes, attacking in all directions at once. The first casualty predictably came from Weavile's own recruits; the young Totodile was last seen being dragged off into the bushes, his neck clamped tight between the teeth of a snarling Herdier.
Murkrow led the Flying-types in the sky as they swooped down upon any of the forest Pokémon they saw approaching the group to catch them before they sprung. Several of them, including Spearow from Weavile's division and Gligar and Wingull from Delibird's, dove beneath the trees and never resurfaced. Espeon followed a few paces behind the pack with the young Leafeon, making light conversation as though they weren't in the middle of a raid.
"So you're from the orphanage, yeah?" he asked the lad.
"Th-that's right," Leafeon was understandably nervous, his eyes continuously shifting from the trees to the shrubbery.
"I suppose you've been raised into this sort of thing, then," Espeon guessed.
"Well, the fighting, yes, but this… I've never done anything like this before," Leafeon admitted.
"Terrifying, isn't it? Forest combat is in a league of its own compared to one-on-one fighting in the open," Espeon stated. "I admit I'm not entirely comfortable with this situation, either."
Leafeon looked at him with a mix of surprise and skepticism. "You? But you're Persian's most trusted advisor. I heard you've been here before any of the other division leaders."
"Yes, but this front-lines combat isn't really my forte," Espeon explained. "I'm more of a desk worker. A tell-others-what-to-do kind of Pokémon."
"I've heard stories about you, though. They say you're a higher level than even Arcanine," Leafeon argued disbelievingly.
"I might be," Espeon admitted. "What sort of stories have you heard?"
"About how you took down six Guild Explorers by yourself," Leafeon stated as they turned off the dirt path, following the group straight into the forests towards the old manor. He was grateful he was with the Psychic-type. For whatever reason, none of the forest Pokémon came near him. He felt bad for not helping with the fight, but from what he'd seen, he knew he wouldn't last long away from the safety of the librarian. The group had already lost five Pokémon on the ground and six in the air. Leafeon's friends, Totodile, Spearow and Treeko, being part of those casualties.
"That doesn't sound like me," Espeon hummed casually as another of their teammates fell only a few paces in front of them. Leafeon tried not to look, but Espeon didn't seem to even notice. The guilt weighed heavily on the younger Pokémon's mind as the attacker, a Drapion with bloody pinchers, glanced their way before scampering off towards the others, quickly being felled by Joker. There was a reason they didn't attack Espeon and his companion. It was likely because Persian ordered them not to. Even in the midst of a rebellion, Espeon was too valuable to the Classy Cat. Leafeon felt guilty for using this privilege to get through unharmed, but he didn't want to die here.
Unlike his fallen allies, he had Pokémon waiting for him. A mom and a dad, not biological, but oh so loving, were waiting patiently for their new son to return from "a camping trip" with his friends. He had yearned so long for their warm home in Churchill Town, he wasn't about to give it up now.
"What about when you defeated Zapdos?" Leafeon asked, continuing his distraction as they stepped over the corpses of the battle raging only meters in front of them.
"I don't recall doing that," Espeon responded plainly.
"How about the time you took down a whole nest of Unown?"
"It seems Pokémon are spreading false tales about me. I don't really appreciate it, but it would explain why I don't get very many challenges these days," Espeon noted.
"Wait, so… they're all lies? All the stories told among the orphanage children, passed down from alumni who heard them from other divisions…?" Leafeon was shocked. He had admired the Psychic-type for his exploits, and to think none of them were true… "Then I suppose even the story of Carrion Woods is-"
"What story?" Espeon turned his eyes to the younger Pokémon.
Leafeon was surprised by Espeon's sudden interest. "Um, they say there's a Pokémon there that kills anyone who enters. That's why it always smells like rot and there are no Wildies. And they say you're the only one who's been seen entering and came out alive."
"Do not go near those woods," Espeon warned forebodingly. "Ever. Even on a dare. Don't do it."
"So, is that story true then?" Leafeon asked apprehensively.
Espeon didn't reply. Instead he looked up ahead and saw the large old manor coming into view. "We're here," he stated. Leafeon looked over as well and saw the rest of the party, or what was left of them, waiting with anxious breath outside the large front doors.
The manor was falling apart. The paint was chipped on the walls, almost all the windows were broken, and there were several spots where it looked as if someone had been flung forcefully into the wall, creating large craters. The only part that seemed remotely intact was the front doors. They were the only part that were replaced when broken, anyway. Everyone took this as a sign of Persian's love for the dramatic, that he should want large wooden doors for Pokémon to slowly pull open before entering. The majority of the doors inside were pulled at least partly off their hinges, but only these ones proved steadfast. They showed that no matter how many times intruders kick them in, this is Persian's home, and if you aren't welcome, he'll slam them right in your face.
"Good job fighting off the guardians, everyone," Weavile praised the survivors, shooting a pointed glare directly at Espeon. Leafeon tensed, his guilt resurfacing, but Espeon brushed it off as he turned up his nose at her. "There are… fourteen of us left," she quickly scanned the small crowd. "A little lower than I anticipated, but it'll do." The survivors were Joker and all five of his performers (to the amazement of everyone else), Weavile, Murkrow, Espeon, Leafeon, Delibird and two of his delivery workers, and Sableye. The four Zigzagoons had disappeared at some point, so it was just as likely that they bailed, but no one said anything about them.
"It's downhill from here. Inside the manor, there are only two enemies to fight: Arcanine and Persian. That may seem easy, but they are far stronger than anyone in these woods, so don't underestimate them," Weavile explained. "They likely know we're coming, and they might even know we're already here, so we have to act fast. We'll split into two teams and take them on. Persian's team will consist of me, Murkrow, Joker, Espeon and Leafeon. The rest will take Arcanine."
"Hold on. Doesn't that seem a bit uneven?" Sableye interjected.
"Arcanine's stronger than Persian in a head-to-head fight," Weavile explained. "Persian's craftier, but Arcanine's more powerful. More Pokémon fighting Persian would more likely work against us than for us," she explained. "Now if you have any other complaints, you can take it up with Public Relations over there," she nodded to the forest, where several Pokémon were still glaring out at them, their eyes gleaming in the cover of the leaves, licking their wounds spitefully. "If not, I suggest we do this quickly."
Sableye grumbled, but didn't say another word as he and the others followed her up the steps to the porch. Slowly and dramatically, just like Persian liked it, Weavile pulled open the double doors, revealing the empty manor. It was just as beat up inside as it was outside. Traces of a long-gone wallpaper flecked the wooden walls which were now covered in scratches and scorch marks and water damage. The floors might have once been beautiful wood, but now they were rotted and weak, threatening to betray their guests with every step. The middle of the main entrance was littered with shards of glass from an old chandelier that no one had bothered to clean. From the looks of the traces of blood smeared on the glass, Persian likely kept them there on purpose.
It was Leafeon's first time seeing the manor, and before he even took a step inside, he wanted to leave. He had heard countless stories about the place, and knew well enough that being inside it was never a good thing. He glanced at the circus performers. They seemed to be rather experienced in combat, seeing as how they all survived the trek up here. He was hoping to find reassurance in them. But Arbok and Seviper kept glancing nervously towards the windows, while Grovyle kept stealing glances towards the door, as if thinking about his odds of making it out alive if he were to bolt. Even Joltik and Dedenne, the smallest in the party, took each step carefully, as if they were afraid a monster would burst out from the floorboards under them and snap them up.
Leafeon looked towards the two delivery workers, a Yanmega and Pidgeotto. Both seemed equally nervous in the dust filled mansion. Their boss, although Leafeon was sure had been there before, was also on edge. He hid it a lot better, but Leafeon could tell he'd rather be anywhere else. Murkrow has weaseled his way out of entering, saying he should keep watch from above in case something happened. Weavile and Joker, however, seemed unshaded by the atmosphere of the building. They walked several paces in front of everyone else, taking each step carefully, yet confidently. As Weavile reached the staircase, Joker fell back to join the rest of the group.
"You all doing okay?" he asked quietly. He received only nods, his party too nervous to speak. "This is kinda intense, isn't it?" He chuckled. From his voice, Leafeon could tell he was nervous too. Leave it to a master performer to be able to hide it so incredibly well.
"Let's get a move on," Espeon spoke with a normal speaking volume, which startled everyone present. No one had specifically said to be quiet, but it seemed unnatural not to in this situation. But, Leafeon supposed, he is Persian's advisor. He probably comes here on a regular basis.
At the staircase, the group split up. According to Espeon's knowledge, Arcanine spent most of his time downstairs in the dining room. Since he wasn't standing outside the doors of the master bedroom, visible from the main entryway, he was likely in there. Persian, meanwhile, was almost definitely in the master bedroom located just up the stairs. So Weavile's group made their way quietly up the wooden stairs while Sableye's team continued down the hall. Leafeon followed closely behind, wishing he had been placed on the larger team, but thankful he could stick by Espeon's side.
Weavile was the first one to the double doors leading to the master bedroom. She looked back at her teammates. They were all determined to see this through to the end. Even Espeon seemed more focused than before. She nodded to them, a silent thank you for coming this far. She had to admit she was grateful to them, and certainly didn't expect them to pull through for her. Then, she turned back to the door and gave it a firm kick, knocking the wood off the hinges and opening the entry with a loud bang.
The group rushed into the room like soldiers swarming an enemy hideout and found, as expected, Persian sitting atop the large master bed, without a care in the world.
"I'd say you should have knocked, but I guess you did," the cat purred with amusement.
"What are you smiling about?" Weavile spat. "Don't you see the situation you're in?" She indicated to her companions, who were slowly surrounding the bed.
"Sure, I do, but," Persian snuck a glance at Espeon, who had sat down by the doorway. Upon his command, Leafeon had sat down beside him, obviously uncomfortable with not participating at all in the entire mission. "I don't believe I have anything to worry about."
"What makes you so sure?" Joker asked.
"Well, for starters, there's only five of you. Three if you only count the ones who pose an inkling of a threat," Persian pointed out.
"Three against one. Those are still some pretty good odds," Weavile smirked.
Persian sighed. "We'll see about that." Before any of them could react, Persian was flying off the bed towards Murkrow. Pretending to be relaxed, he had been laying on his paws, so a simple push was all he needed to pounce. His speed caught them off guard, but Murkrow reacted quickly. He unfolded his wings to perform a Wing Attack, but the larger Pokémon swatted his beak, hitting him with a Fake Out to cause him to stumble, before immediately following with a Throat Chop. Just like that, before either of the Dark-type's friends could come to his aid, Murkrow was on the floor in a fit of coughing.
Persian then directed his attention to Joker, who stood several feet to his right, as a torrent of water came rushing towards him. He just barely ducked, his large body just fitting underneath the stream. With his belly pressed against the wood, the cat opened his mouth and unleashed a loud Screech, like a high-pitched caterwaul, causing Joker to stop his Water Gun to cover his ears. In that moment of hesitation, Persian leapt towards him, closing the gap in an instant. With his large front paws outstretched to slam down over the orange weasel, he felt a sharp pain in his haunches as he was dragged backwards.
The cat turned to see Weavile digging her Metal Claws into his sides and hauling him backwards away from her friend. Persian turned to face her, only to be met face-to-face with an Icy Wind. As shards of ice and cold air blew on him like a tundra, Persian pressed forward, breaking through Weavile's attack and Slashing her across the chest with his large claws. She stumbled backwards, her icy breath caught in her throat. The three slices stretching diagonally across her body weren't fatally deep, however much Persian would have liked them to be, but they were enough to shock her. Before Persian could take a breath, however, he felt the cold teeth of Joker's Ice Fang sink into his tail.
With a groan, the Normal-type turned again to face his next enemy. Joker had Persian's tail in his mouth as he turned away from the Classy Cat and jetted forward in an Aqua Jet, yanking Persian by his tail towards the wall. Caught by surprise, Persian was pulled off his feet and sent catapulting into the wall, breaking the wood and crashing into the neighboring room, which was filled with boxes of Arceus knows what. Dust flew up as he landed on top of the cardboard piles, and Persian took the opportunity to catch his breath.
He looked around a moment, trying to remember if he'd ever even stepped paw into that room before now. The window was broken in from the outside, most likely by the rock that lay only a few feet in front of it. Shards of glass littered the mildew-ridden floorboards, and the entire room smelled of moss.
Persian groaned quietly as he heaved himself to his paws and tread carefully over the glass to the hole he had been flung through. "You always were fun to watch in a fight," he complimented the Water-type. "I never thought I'd be on the receiving end of your unexpected tactics."
"I'd be flattered if you hadn't just taken down my best friends," Joker growled. The two stared each other down for a moment before Persian's attention was drawn away by the faint echo of a mighty Roar rumbling from beneath them.
"Sounds like my partner's having some fun as well," h snickered. With a swish of his twin tails, Joker summoned a wave of stars which fired at Persian like missiles. As the cat struggled to deflect the jagged blades with his claws, he shot a glance at the Psychic-type, who was still sitting with his Grass-type companion by the door.
Espeon gave him an eye roll and tilted his head towards one of the two windows in the room. Persian could tell what that meant: Quit playing around and get out of here already.
Murkrow, finally recovered enough to jump back in, came in from above the cat with his talons extended. Persian swatted at him with his forepaw, but Murkrow evaded his claws and smacked him with a Wing Attack before retreating back out of the cat's range. Irritated, Persian let out another loud Screech, sending the bird falling down as he recoiled and back into the reach of his claws. Just as he was poised to Slash at him, however, he saw Joker building up a Water Gun. Grinning a toothy grin, Persian turned quickly towards the Water-type and closed the small gap between them in an instant. Before Joker could release his jet of water, Persian hit him with a Throat Chop, causing the orange weasel to choke on his own attack.
As Joker doubled over, spewing up water like vomit, Persian looked back at Espeon, sending his own message via facial expression. Why would I run when it's just getting interesting?
Espeon replied with a wide-eyed chastisement. They're important; you can't kill them. How do you expect to win?
Persian wasn't entirely sure how he understood Espeon's message so clearly, but the Psychic-type had a point. For whatever reason, his advisor had instructed him not to kill these attackers, so he wasn't left with too many options. He didn't want to fight seriously, as he'd never been good at judging how much damage a Pokémon could take. Even the Throat Chop that had left Murkrow gagging for most of the fight had been meant only as a warm-up.
While he was distracted with his game of facial charades, Persian felt a sudden searing pain in his right thigh. Looking back, he saw Weavile raking her metal coated claws down his side like a cat on a curtain. He yowled with pain and lashed out at her, forgetting his silent deal with Espeon. With his teeth clamped down on her shoulder, he pulled her off her feet and tugged her towards him like a rag doll. Still wounded from his earlier attack, Weavile had no defense.
"Weav!" Joker moved to help her, but Persian yanked on her harder. He could feel her blood pooling in his mouth, the iron taste coating his tongue and dripping from his teeth.
"Don' move," he growled, his words muffled by Weavile's Navy blue fur. Joker and Murkrow were forced to stop and watch as Persian dragged Weavile like a hostage towards the window.
"Let me go, you oversized house cat!" Weavile protested, squirming to free herself, but Persian chewed his way deeper into her flesh, causing her to cry out in pain.
"I hope you enjoy your time as queen while it lasts," Persian hissed, just loud enough for her to hear. He was now climbing back paws first onto the windowsill, praying it would hold him at least for the few moments he needed. Luckily, the wooden frame cried, but didn't give way under his weight. "Because I will come back, and it won't be this easy when I do." Once all four of his paws were on the windowsill, he dropped Weavile onto the floor and pushed backwards off the frame, launching himself down from the second floor onto the grass below. Weavile clutched at her bloody shoulder as she sat with her back against the wall, cursing under her breath. As soon as Persian's teeth unlocked from her flesh, Joker and Murkrow had raced to her, anxious to help.
"Are you okay?" Joker asked her as he stood beside her.
"Do I look like I'm fucking okay to you?" Weavile snapped.
Murkrow leaned out the window to look below, to find little more than a thin trail of blood leading into the forest of pine trees. He had to admit, considering the large gash in his leg and the drop he just did, Persian was incredibly good at disappearing. "I'll go track him," Murkrow offered as he unfolded his wings.
"No," Espeon interrupted, finally joining the group by the window. "We don't know how many forest Pokémon are still loyal to Persian. It's better to stick together."
"After seeing their leader flee like that? Probably none," Murkrow argued. "I'll just keep watch for him from a safe distance overhead and-"
"I said no." The Psychic-type insisted. "He's injured. It won't be that hard to track him once we're all together. For now let's see how the Arcanine team is faring."
Espeon, Leafeon, and Murkrow made their way downstairs and towards the dining room where the other fight was still raging. Weavile wanted to rest and tend to her wounds, and Joker stayed to keep her company. As the three Pokémon approached the hallway leading to the dining room and kitchen areas, they could hear the sounds of the battle. A tunnel of fire shot across the corridor into their view before quickly dissipating. Several battle cries sounded as some sort of combo move was likely performed, a mix of electric sparks and icy shards flying out from the dining room.
As Espeon rounded the corner into the room of the fight, his two companions close behind, he saw the mighty dog surrounded on all sides by his adversaries. Yet even as heavily outnumbered as he was, he seemed to only have suffered shallow wounds and minor scratches. As Espeon watched for a moment, the reason for this became clear. Despite his large size, the Fire-type deftly evaded his enemies' attacks with the help of Extreme Speed, using the move not to deal damage but to move out of the way. Most of the intruders' wounds were likely inflicted by each other, from stray attacks and mistimed projectiles.
The Psychic-type sat down by the wall, a bemused look on his face. He knew Arcanine wouldn't take this fight seriously, and he didn't care about the challengers here anyway, so he had nothing to worry about with this fight. Nevertheless, as soon as the Fire-type saw Espeon in the corner of his vision, he knew the outcome of the fight upstairs.
Standing up straight, breaking his defensive position, Arcanine stated two simple words that ended the fight and secured victory for Weavile's team: "I surrender."