Chapter Fifty-Six
The white-hot rivers of molten iron coursing through Bruno's veins cooled to a soft, orange glow as he sat atop a throne of human skulls, fastened together with metal bands reforged from the fallen soldiers' weapons. All around him, his thralls piled stone, timber, and metal into the beginnings of his new castle. The wind howled through the empty windows on the north and south walls. A giant archway in the east wall marked the entrance, wide enough to permit six Aggron standing shoulder to shoulder. Sunlight poured through it and made the tiny quartz crystals in his floor glitter.
The empty suburbs on the eastern side of the city, along with a stand of forests across a river, were leveled for land and material. His servants dragged every Pokémon to him from within twenty miles. They were all his now.
As he left the city, leaving a trail of blood and broken bodies, the anger woke new desire in him. All Pokémon would bow before him. If they refused, he would make them. If they resisted, he would crush them beneath his heel. Any humans that might oppose him, he would slaughter until rivers of blood rushed through city streets. The fear that had haunted him, the confusion, the helpless anger and sorrow, guilt and despair, he would scour them from all Pokémon, all across the world. Never again would he, or any other like him, be a prisoner.
But first, he needed more pawns.
The steady flapping of leathery wings announced the arrival of a Charizard. It hauled a net woven of torn clothing. Inside were dozens of wriggling bodies. Bruno smelled their fear, heard the tears trickle down their faces and soak into the cloth, felt the air vibrate with their thrashing. They would be free of that fear soon enough.
The Charizard dropped the net at the foot of Bruno throne and flew off. The Pokémon scrambled away from him, but Bruno stopped them with a single flick of his paw.
"That is no way to greet your lord and savior," he said. "Kneel."
They struggled, but the aura shacking them drove them to the ground. Bruno studied the Pokémon before him, a handful of Caterpie, some Oddish, a pair of Machop, four juvenile Squirtle, and a couple Mareep. He rose from his throne, walked down the steps of the dais, and stopped in front of a Machop. The Pokémon flinched when Bruno placed a paw on its shoulder, but when the power ebbed out of Bruno and surged into the machop, it relaxed. Its skin glowed as white as his anger, and within moments, it towered over him, flexing its four arms with a contented smile.
"Get to work," Bruno told the Machamp. It jogged towards the lumber pile and built up the southern wall.
The remaining Pokémon went wide-eyed. Veins bulged as they struggled against their bonds, but the aura held them fast. One by one, Bruno freed them of that fear and sent them to build or find food.
Bruno grimaced at his brittle, lumpy throne as he took a seat. He thought that perhaps he had taken the idea of building his new empire on the bones of humanity a little too literally. As he debated what would better serve as a throne, Preston appeared behind him.
"How are our supplies?" he asked it. The psychic already knew what he wanted, but speaking first was a show of power. He would never be powerless again.
"Food is getting low," the Preston. "We've made irrigation ditches and planted berries, but it will be months before we get a harvest. In the mean time, we will have to send more foraging parties. The rivers are running out of fish. We will need a new source of meat."
"Building materials?"
Preston stroked his whiskers. "We have plenty of wood and stone, but we're running low on metal. We may have to go deeper into human territory to get more."
Bruno rubbed the eye sockets of a skull on his armrest as he mulled over the situation. "Leave the humans alone for now. They will come to us soon enough, and after I crush them, we'll have all the metal we need. Send more foragers to the east." Bruno frowned and sifted through his old memories. Each one tasted as salty as dried tears. "Even further east, there should be farms. Steal their cattle. That should get us through the month."
A soft hum announced the arrival of another psychic, the Metang that had accompanied him. It hovered just below his eye level, waiting for him to speak.
"What news from the human city?" he asked.
"Team Rocket and the Sages have joined forces," it told them. "They will be upon us in two days."
Bruno grinned. As his pulse quickened, the fury in his veins roared like a furnace with its bellows pumping. Energy rippled the air around him, and the two psychics backed away.
"They've done me the favor of bringing all my greatest enemies in one place. I think I'll answer their courtesy by making sure they get quick, clean deaths." He looked back at the throne. Perhaps if he gathered more skulls, crushed them into powder, and sculpted them into a smoother seat, he could rest easier on his throne.
Bruno turned towards the Alakazam. "Keep all my servants close. Send out a few foraging groups to get some more supplies and servants, and have them back here within a day."
"There are no more Pokémon to be found," the psychic replied. "None for a long distance."
Bruno scowled. He should have known that, but he had dulled his ability to sense aura. Even from here, if he opened himself up, he could feel her aura, a setting sun resplendent with violet and crimson, opposing the golden glow of the sun rising over his domain.
"Then just get the berries," he said with heat in his voice. "We'll make do with what we have."
Benign hummed, and its two arms twitch with unspoken words. Bruno made it wait for a minute before asking, "What is it?"
"I calculate that we do not nearly have enough strength to defeat the humans," it said. "I know you are mighty, mightier than the other Lucario, but with the humans aiding them, we don't have a chance. We should retreat and gather more forces."
Bruno grinned at it. "There's no need. I have something in reserve that will allow us to crush anything in our path."
There were the thirty-two sleeping bedridden Pokémon he had found in the White Knights hideout, thirty-two with pools of aura stirring inside of them. In his frenzy, he had overlooked them as he crushed the Knights, but after his temper cooled, he went back. There they remained, waiting for someone to free them. Free them he did. He set them loose, sent them as his messengers, scattered them far and wide to marshal his forces.
His grin froze on his face. They were out there, but distant and scattered. Most would be late to the battle, but even three would be enough to turn the tide in his favor. But to call those three, he would have to open himself up.
Closed up in his castle, the fires he had kindled in the Pokémon around him kept him warm, kept him numb to the pain gnawing at his soul. But open, exposed to that chilly sun in the west and all the old, salty memories, he felt the fear he had sworn to destroy.
"Leave me," he said, sending out the command as a pulse of aura. Every head turned towards him. They shuddered, and they retreated to the stands of trees across the river.
Once he was alone, Bruno sat on his throne, savoring the feel of warm bone beneath his fur. Then he opened himself up. The collection of bodies harboring his aura drew him east, but that violet temptation that had ruined his life proved stronger. Mile by mile, he was drawn towards cold despair. Violet engulfed his vision, and chills racked his body.
A voice whispered into his ear, its breath frosty against his ears. "You murdered him."
Memories came unbidden, piled one on top of another like tangled rolls of film. Movie theaters, coffee shops, the bed they had shared, the cracking of Peter's spine as he gave the officer one last embrace.
"He was there to kill me," he snarled. "He betrayed me and brought the Lucario. It was him or me."
The voice chuckled. "You know that's not true."
Bruno dug in his feet, but he was drawn inexorably closer to his old, dead memories. His eyes stung, but he refused to let the tears flow.
"I have to do this for their sakes." He strained towards the warm, orange glow in the east. "The humans will enslave them all, make them prisoners like I was."
"The Rockets might," the voice said, snarling, "But the police never would."
"Really? They're working with Team Rocket now. Who knows what kind of deal they have."
The memories' icy grip on him loosened enough for him to wrench free. He shot eastward until he found another pinprick of light and warmth. He reached out, touched it, transferred his instructions. The Eelektross on the other end gave its assent and sped towards another group. Bruno roamed the land until he found four more, bands numbering in the hundreds led by his aura-wielding knights.
With his message sent, Bruno drifted back into his own body. The arms of his chairs had been crushed to splinters, and one shard had pricked his paw. A drop of blood fell and hit the quartz at his feet with a wet smack, a rushing waterfall pounding against boulders to his heightened senses. He pressed a finger into the wound. The pain filled his arm with a fiery sensation that held back the freezing numbness in his chest.
He reached out to the pawns across the river and told them to return. Then he shut out the rest of the world, focusing on the hot, wet stickiness on his paws. He felt colder, somehow, with the light of Seven's soul sealed from his senses, but the warmth within him was all he needed.
When the psychics approached him, he wiped his paws on the broken arm rest. "Have this repaired," he told them. "I want everything ready for when our guests arrive."
The Metang examined him with its beady red eyes. "It is done?"
Anger rose up in him, and he stopped to savor it before setting it aside. It would not do to reduce the number of his servants before the battle began. "You have no need for concern. Fear and worry are the shackles I have broken."
It studied him for a moment. Then it said, "I never knew fear until you made me yours. Whatever concern I demonstrate is an extension of your own insecurities."
The anger came bubbling back. Before he could even think to stop himself, he crushed the Metang. It screamed with the sound of shorted circuits and grinding metal. With a snap, the lump fell to the floor.
Preston stared without expression. Waving his spoons, he scooped up the metal and left him.
He leaned back into his chair. Soon enough, the game would be over. He would destroy the humans, and then he would destroy all the old memories, the fear and anguish that haunted him. He would be free.
Changelog
12/27/18 – swapped out generic psychics for Preston and Benign, among other edits
