Chapter 12

Deliverance

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23:29, June 4, Unified Year 4734 – Empire of the New Order, Winteroot outskirts, District Fourteen Imperial Winteroot Police Station

. . . . .

To both Kiteki and Curtis, for a brief, fleeting moment, time had seemingly slowed to a molasses-like crawl. Though the both of them had been going about actively searching for each other, neither had expected to meet each other in such a manner, and the unexpectedness of it all had left them both momentarily stunned.

The two of them faltered as they stopped and stared into each other's eyes, neither of them able to formulate an adequate, immediate response that seemed appropriate for their situation. Taken by surprise by each other's presence, the two could only stand and stare, confusion swirling in their minds as they tried to comprehend what had just happened.

But the reasons behind their lack of immediate action couldn't have been more different. Despite the calm, almost indifferent demeanour, Kiteki had started to fall into a spiralling panic attack, her heart palpitating frantically as she stared at the Houndoom's cold eyes. Fear gripping her body, all she could do was stare back as she froze in spot, taking every ounce of willpower she could muster to stop herself from trembling before him.

But for Curtis, things couldn't be more different, for his lack of an immediate response was a result of his drunken stupor, having been put into a state of intoxication more severe than he had ever been in before. It wasn't fear nor anger that caused him to react so slowly, but rather a result of his brain swimming in its own pool of liquor. And no sooner did Kiteki find that out did her panic subside, replaced by a well-founded apprehension instead.

Eventually, Curtis broke the penetrating silence that had taken the hallway hostage, the Houndoom's voice slurring almost beyond comprehension.

"Wifey? The fuck're you doin in there?"

Kiteki, cleansing herself of the last of her panic attack as she shook her head, cast her gaze back at Curtis as she carefully analysed him, assessing him as she tried to ascertain just what kind of a threat he posed to her. 'He's too intoxicated to think straight, and for someone who had told me to not come in here, he doesn't seem too upset about finding me in this room… I might be able to get away with this.' With this in mind, she scrambled to come up with any sort of excuse, hoping to shift the Houndoom's attention away from her.

"…I just got lost trying to find the bathroom… Umm… What… What are you doing here…?"

Upon her query, Curtis smiled a toothy grin, chuckling as the realization that the Glaceon was in the very room he forbade her from entering passed his mind. "Heh heh heh. I've come with good news, Wifey. Clay's gonna be a cop, just like how you wanted."

Kiteki sighed, a faint sense of relief washing over her upon finding her reasoning to be correct.

"And this means…?"

But the response she received sent chills down her spine, leaving her with a sense of dread far greater than the one she had just removed from her system.

"…It means I get to fuck your brains out tonight… Starting right now."

Kiteki blinked in disbelief, looking up at him as if to ask if she had misheard what he had just said. Her eyes were answered with the sight of that same grin the Houndoom was making just a moment ago, and though nothing had changed, there was an undeniable ominousness about him that she had failed to notice before. The realization of why he seemed to care so little about her being in her father's workshop finally dawning on her, Kiteki shuddered, the Glaceon starting to break into cold sweat as she felt her fur crawling under his gaze.

"Alright then, Clay. Gimme your wife for a night; I wanna try screwin' something like 'er for once."

"How 'bout you get me a job here first, eh?"

The memory of overhearing her mission partner mentioning this when she exited the staff lounge coming back to her, Kiteki's mind was filled with a slew of furious anger.

'Clay…! What… What the hell! You actually agreed to that!?'

She would have no doubt voiced her livid frustrations and anger, were it not for the onset of a slowly creeping anxiety as she processed what had just happened and, more importantly, what was just about to happen. Taking an anxious step back, she slowly, carefully, began to retreat back into her father's workshop.

"…You don't want me. You said it yourself, didn't you? I'm not your type."

"Heh. You're right." Seeing Kiteki slowly backing into the room, Curtis followed her, maintaining his distance with her as he stared hungrily at the slowly retreating Glaceon before him. "You're not my type. I don't think you're anyone's type. Not with that kid-like body and that stuck-up attitude of yours."

Upon Curtis's comment, despite trying her hardest to suppress the urge to do so, Kiteki's ears drooped listlessly, her tail falling limp as a wave of depression washed over her. For as long as she could remember, Kiteki had always held a deep-seated insecurity when it came to her appearance, a problem which was exacerbated due to it being the main reason she was severely bullied during her younger teenage years. And though she had since evolved, the fact that those same traits had stuck with her gnawed heavily on her self-confidence.

Of course, having spent three years in the wild north, she had learned to master her ability to hide that insecurity for the sake of her own safety. But, despite that, her feelings regarding her somewhat childish appearance was still strong enough to deal her a heavy blow to her self-esteem, a problem that had compounded greatly now that she had reached the age of adulthood.

Unfortunately for her, despite being hammered out of his mind, Curtis had managed to pick up on the Glaceon's sudden change in mood. Flashing his canines as he let loose a slick grin, he took another confident, albeit inebriated step closer towards her.

"Cheer up, Wifey. That don't mean I wouldn't fuck you. Dumb broads, cute broads, slutty broads, it don't matter to me. I'm an equal opportunity ass pounder."

"Charming." Forcibly prying herself from her self-pity, Kiteki returned her apprehensive gaze back towards the slowly encroaching Houndoom. "Sorry to break it to you, but I'm not interested."

"Don't try that coy shit on me. I'll show you the best time you've ever had in your life."

His eyes ravenously tracing the curves of her body, Curtis took another slow, confident step towards the Glaceon, causing Kiteki to retreat deeper into the old workshop, flashing the Houndoom a cold, sharp glare in response.

"Don't you dare touch me."

Curtis stopped, throwing his head back as he roared with laughter upon hearing her threat. "Haa ha ha! Clay's right! Messing with a chick like you is fun!"

"For you, perhaps." Kiteki retorted, her words dripping with venom. "You'll have to try harder if you want me to join in on the fun."

"Bullshit." His laughter subsiding, Curtis glared back at her, his eyes hungry and intense. "I know girls like you. All haughty and shit but deep down, you want it real bad, don't you? How long do you think you can keep that act up one I start screwin' you to the ground, eh? An hour? Two hours?"

"I don't plan on finding out."

"No, let's find out. Right now." By now, Curtis had begun panting, his breath hot and reeking of liquor. His eyes fixated squarely on the Glaceon before him, he inched closer, slowly cornering her into the back of the room. "Let's make a bet, Wifey. When morning comes, you're gonna break up with that pretty lil' husband of yours. Cause after you've had a taste of me, you're not going to be able to live without it."

Pacing backwards to maintain her distance with the libido fuelled Houndoom, taking careful steps as to not trip over any unseen objects behind her, Kiteki glared back at Curtis, fully aware that she was being ushered into a corner. Realizing that trying to talk him out of it was no longer a viable option, she began to quietly weigh up her quickly disappearing options.

'Urgh… I can't run past him; he's too fit and this room isn't big enough. And attacking him head on isn't going to work either. He's drunk but that doesn't make it any less suicidal. Besides, with him as he is, the last thing I want is to get close to him.'

Seeing Curtis slowly approach her yet again, Kiteki backed away, breaking her train of thought as she did so. But this time, upon taking a step back, Kiteki flinched, feeling her tail bump into the wall behind her. She dared not look back, knowing fully well that the ravenous Houndoom before her would, in all likelihood, attempt to pin her to the ground the moment she took her eyes off of him.

Instead, she kept her frosty gaze straight at the slowly encroaching Houndoom, the space between them slowly shrinking with each confident, albeit drunken, step he took. She watched intently, glaring at him with dagger like eyes as she returned to her thoughts, anxious to come up with a plan of attack before it was too late.

'It doesn't help that he's got a type advantage over me. None of my ranged attacks are going to be of much use against him…' She stopped, giving Curtis another, careful look. '…But given his condition, it might be worth a try.'

Reaching a decision, Kiteki watched intently, glaring at the Houndoom as he took another step towards her, his mouth agape and his tongue hanging out. From the corner of her eye, she could just make out an ominous bulge starting to grow from within his sheath as he loomed over her, his eyes staring at her with carnal hunger.

She was out of time. She had to act.

"I'm warning you. Take one more step and you'll regret it."

Curtis grinned in reply, a mocking smile stretching across his sly face. "Heh. I'd like to see that cute face of yours try."

"…Shadow Ball."

In an instant, Kiteki's eyes turned a deep shade of black, a powerful, negative energy filling the room, blotting out the light from the full moon as she charged up an orb filled with a stomach-churningly dark power. In his drunken stupor, Curtis had barely enough time to even realize what was happening before the Glaceon had sent the orb hurtling towards him, the quivering ball of energy screaming a terrifyingly deep, thunderous rumble as it collided into him, exploding in a cataclysmic burst of black smoke that filled the room.

For a few seconds, Curtis was overcome with shock. Despite what Kiteki had said, he had simply brushed her threats aside. After all, it seemed preposterous to think that a Glaceon as tiny as her could muster any sort of attack that was anything other than pathetically weak.

And yet, though she appeared delicate and fragile enough to shatter at the slightest touch, a single blow from her had left a Pokémon in such peak physical condition as himself screaming in burning agony, the dark energy of her Shadow Ball chilling him to his core as he felt its ominous power creeping into his soul, his eyes and nose burning from the sinister energy.

"Fuck…! That fucking hurt!"

Despite the wild, mindless thrashing of her agitated opponent, Kiteki kept her cool, icy gaze fixed on the staggering Houndoom, her lithe form slipping in and out of view from within the thick haze.

'No shit it hurts. I'm pissed.'

Her eyes refusing to stray from her target, she called out to him with a quiet, chilling voice. "Last warning, Curtis."

To most, witnessing first-hand an attack as powerful as that would have been an instant red flag, especially when said attack was at a type disadvantage like hers. But Curtis, having lost practically all semblance of rational thought, couldn't care less. Slowly recovering, shaking his head to brush off the remnant energy of her attack, he turned his blood-red gaze at the Glaceon, first in disbelief, then with murderous rage, before, finally, his eyes grew wide as he glared at her through the black smoke with animalistic hunger and wild fanaticism.

"…You wanna play rough, eh? Let's play rough then!"

"Sorry, Curtis. I can't let you do that."

Interrupted by a voice that belonged to neither him nor Kiteki, Curtis stopped, looking through the thick smoke in utter confusion. "Huh?"

"Looks like the jig's up. Retaliate."

Through the murky haze, an orange and cream coloured blur barrelled towards the confused Houndoom with blistering speed. His brain running in slow motion, Curtis could barely react as he saw a Flareon charge up to him with a full-bodied tackle, its body radiating a powerful, white energy as it brutally rammed into him, the impact followed by the sickening crunch of the Houndoom's ribs cracking inside him.

Letting out a winded gasp and a bewildered whine, Curtis tumbled across the floor, his muscular body quivering as he struggled to get back onto his paws. But his body refused to cooperate. The toll of the terrific blow and the hours of binge drinking finally catching up to him, the hound collapsed onto the floor with a heavy thud, letting out one final, defeated grunt before his eyes rolled back, his mind out like a light. Seeing this, the Flareon dusted himself off, walking over to check the Houndoom as the smoke slowly cleared from the room.

"…For someone so proud of their body, I was expecting you to be a damn bit stronger than that."

Kiteki watched, dumbfounded by what she was witnessing. Up until now, she had all but given up on Clay, having assumed that the Flareon had completely lost his mind and assimilated with the enemy. And yet, here he was, standing before her, having just taken down an Imperial police officer with a single blow. His movements were swift and precise, with nary a sign of the clumsy drunkenness that he had displayed just moments ago. Her eyes wide open, she stared at him in utter confusion as Clay spat his disappointed remarks at the unconscious Curtis, rolling his body over before casting his gaze onto her.

"Clay?" Kiteki asked, mystified.

Clay chuckled, amused by the unusually animated face his mission partner was making. "Hey, Kit."

Finally starting to get a grip of herself, Kiteki stuttered, still in disbelief over the sight before her eyes as she stumbled over her own words. "Wha… What the hell…? I… I thought you were drunk!"

"With just that?" Clay scoffed. "You kidding?"

Kiteki blinked, her eyes refusing to stray from the Flareon before her. It had taken her a while to process everything, but by now she had finally managed to piece together what had just happened. A realization washing over her, Kiteki's look of confusion slowly dissipated, her words growing darker from the slowly building anger that came from her newfound understanding.

"Wait, you were pretending to be drunk?"

Clay rolled his eyes, oblivious to the fury that had begun to boil before him. "Of course, I was! What did you think I was doing?"

Unbeknownst to Clay, his words fell on deaf ears. Her body frozen solid as seething anger seized her body, Kiteki glared at the Flareon, her eyes showing a level of hostility that he had never seen from her before. Fully intent on letting loose, the Glaceon's fur buzzed, her whole being agitated and ready for a confrontation.

But as she opened her mouth to scream, the two of them were interrupted by the sudden arrival of Frank, the Graveler so intoxicated that he could barely stay on his two feet as he mindlessly staggered into the old workshop. He stopped, staring cluelessly at the two as they both stared back at him, before turning his gaze slowly towards the motionless Houndoom on the floor.

"…Curtis? Fuuuuck… Don't sleep ther-"

His sentence was cut short, the Graveler rendered silent as a full salvo of Ice Shards greeted him, the super-effective attack slamming into the Rock Pokémon with vicious ferocity. Kiteki knew that, given Frank's dim-witted disposition, there was no doubt that he would have taken a while to fully understand what had just happened in this room; even more so now that he was completely sloshed. Nevertheless, she wasn't about to take any chances; she wasn't in the mood for it.

Besides, she wasn't about to tolerate being interrupted now of all times; especially by the likes of him.

She watched as Frank was impaled by the numerous, dagger-like shards, the spears of ice embedding into his bloodless, rocky crust. Letting out a dull, agonizing groan, Frank collapsed onto the workshop floor, the Graveler passing out in an instant.

Clay, having witnessed the whole ordeal happen before him, whistled in impressed amazement. "Nice shot, Kit. You're stronger than you look."

"Fuck off, Clay," spat Kiteki, finally allowing her anger to boil over. "What the hell was all that back there?"

"What d'you mean?"

"What do you mean? Are… Are you serious?" Kiteki choked upon hearing Clay's oblivious response. Her rage flaring up as she snapped, she shouted at the Flareon before her, her voice a borderline scream as she came down upon him in a way she had never done before. "You saw what they did to me back there! Why didn't you stand up for me if you weren't drunk?"

Clay, stunned at her outburst, raised his voice in self-defence. "Kit, c'mon! Y'know it was for the mission! It was the quickest way for me to get you into your old home without raising their suspicions; I had to play along with them!"

"Oh, sure," retorted Kiteki sarcastically, her eyes rolling in disgust. "And I suppose you want me to believe that the whole 'I own her' thing was just you 'playing along' as well, right?"

Met with her hysterical accusations, Clay's face turned grim, his eyes steady on the Glaceon as he replied firmly. "Kit. You know that's not what I-"

"Yeah, whatever." But Kiteki wasn't willing to listen. No longer interested in hearing the different excuses Clay had under his belt, Kiteki changed the subject, her eyes darting back towards the door leading to the hallway as if expecting someone to be there.

"Where's Julian?" Her tone of voice implied it was less of a question and more of a demand.

"The Raichu?" Clay gestured towards the staff lounge. "Passed out. He's not going to be waking up for a while."

"The alcohol?"

"No, I drugged them."

Kiteki stared at him, her eyes glaring at him in disbelief. "What?"

Clay, finding nothing unusual with his explanation, continued as he spoke to her in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "Yeah. All three of them, actually. I tried to wait until the alcohol got to them, but those guys were holding their liquor a little too well. Had to use something to help hurry things along."

He reached into his mane, pulling out a small vial from deep within his cream fur. Though he had retrieved it to show Kiteki what he had used, the Glaceon could get no clues from the empty container, the only hint she could find as to what it was being a faint, shimmering blue residue left behind by the liquid that was once contained in the vial.

"What's that?" Kiteki asked.

"Liquid Sleep Powder. The stuff that the D.R makes is especially potent."

Clay's explanation was interrupted as Curtis began to stir, his grumble echoing in the room as his consciousness slowly returned to him. "Urgh… Fuck, what… What happened…?"

But, despite Curtis's unexpected revival, Clay showed no signs of panic or alarm. Calmly, and with no hint of appearing rushed by the situation, Clay stowed the empty vial back into his fluffy mane, resuming his conversation with her as he made his way back towards the collapsed Houndoom.

"…Usually, a single drop of this stuff would knock a Mamoswine out cold. But as you can see…!" Clay momentarily paused his explanation as he twisted his body, swinging his hind legs around at blistering speed as he delivered a Quick Attack to the downed Houndoom in the form of a ruthless roundhouse kick. The attack landing a critical hit to the side of Curtis's head, the blow instantly knocked the Houndoom unconscious again, his bloodied face smashing into the floor with an ear-splitting crack. "…These guys are pretty resilient to it. Well, at least, two of them are. Had to use up the entire vial to get them like this."

Most would wince at the brutally violent display, but all Kiteki could muster was a disapproving sigh, shaking her head at the Flareon. "For God's sake, Clay. You're going to kill him."

"He's not going to die from a kick to the head," said Clay, stepping away from the unconscious body. "But he will after I burn this place down."

Kiteki stared at Clay in disbelief, her assessment of him getting worse with each passing moment. "You… You were actually going to kill him!?"

Clay nodded, his reply carrying a professional calmness. "Too risky to leave witnesses."

But his attitude, no matter how warranted in this situation, did nothing to alleviate the Glaceon's anger. "Clay, you're insane. This is crazy."

"Kit, remember what I said earlier? "Whatever method I choose, I need you to trust me", right? I'm asking you now. Trust me on this!"

"You never told me that you intended to go this far."

"It's what I'm trained to do, Kit."

Kiteki paused, faltering upon his reply as she stared at the Flareon. She had known from the moment they had re-entered the town that he had changed; that much was clear enough to her. Yet, despite that, she had still managed to hold on to the fleeting belief that, somewhere deep within the Flareon, a remnant of the chubby Eevee that she had once grown so attached to still remained.

But having seen him now, seeing how fervently he believed in his actions, she knew for a certainty that the Clay she had once known was now long gone. Perhaps, if she looked hard enough, she might be able to find a small part of his former self in his new body. But as far as she was concerned, the Flareon before her was nothing more than a stranger.

With this realization, Kiteki spoke, her voice dark and heavy with bitter disappointment. "…You've changed, Clay."

Upon her remark, Clay shouted back, his frustrations mounting as he cried out in his own self-defence. "Oh, like you haven't either? Miss 'I've Forgotten How to Smile'?"

"H…! How dare you!" Flustered by his remark, Kiteki unchained her frustrations, letting them freely flow from her. "You don't know what happened to me! You weren't here when the Imperials attacked!"

Upon hearing her accusations, Clay shouted at the Glaceon, finally allowing himself to vent his own grievances. "Oh, so this doesn't concern me because I wasn't there? You think you're the only one? We've all lost something, Kit! I lost my family in the massacre too! All of them! Do you have any, any idea how I felt when I thought you were gone too?"

"Seeing you now, you probably felt nothing when you realized I was gone."

"That's bullshit and you know it, Kit! Or do you honestly believe that all the time we spent together meant nothing to me?"

Realizing just how loudly he was shouting at her, Clay took in a deep breath as he tried to calm himself down. Regathering his thoughts, he continued, trying his hardest to mask his frustrations behind a collected façade as he spoke with a noticeably strained voice.

"Look, Kit, I know you don't like it. I don't like it either. But it's different now. We can't go on like the way we used to." He paused, gesturing around him as if to prove a point. "Look around you. This place isn't the same Winteroot that we used to live in. Nobody from back then is even here anymore. Hell, this town barely even looks like the one I left behind. Things aren't the same as they were three years ago, do you understand? We can't go on living pretending that isn't true!"

Kiteki shook her head, clearly unsatisfied with his explanation. "I'm not saying that isn't true. I'm saying that we don't have to act like barbarians because of that."

"Barbarians? You think my plan was barbaric?"

"I wouldn't have agreed to it if I knew you intended to kill the officers here."

Clay laughed at Kiteki's statement, not so much out of humour but because of his overflowing frustrations and infuriation. "That's rich, coming from someone who's lived in District Twelve for three years! You've killed Pokémon while you were up there, haven't you?

But Kiteki's flat reply stopped him dead in his tracks, the Glaceon responding with a firm, grim look in her eyes.

"No."

Clay stopped, staring at her as his train of thoughts completely derailed, leaving him faltering upon her reply. He had been anticipating a completely different answer, an assumption that he believed was well placed given the circumstances that surrounded his childhood friend. But now, realizing that his impression of her had been wrong, all that Clay could do was stand and stare, stunned as he floundered for an adequate response.

Finally starting to understand the Glaceon's position, Clay decided to back down, his tone of voice becoming noticeably softer. "…Fine. What do you want to do with them, then?"

Kiteki stopped, surprised by Clay's sudden decision to yield, before gesturing out the door. "Leave them outside."

Clay, hearing this, let out a heavy sigh in response, shaking his head as he did so. "You're going to regret that, y'know."

But Kiteki remained persistent, choosing to remain steadfast with her decision. "Just do it."

"…Alright."

Rolling the Houndoom over so that he could get some leverage over his unconscious body, Clay called out to her, making an attempt to clear the oppressive atmosphere that had taken hold of the room. "How's the data transfer going?"

Kiteki glanced at the computer screen, giving Clay a monotone response as she finally forced herself to cooperate with him. "…Halfway done."

"We still have some time then. Want to give me a hand moving these bodies?"

She turned towards him, staring at him with a deadpan look. For a brief moment, she watched in silence, before finally shaking her head in response to the Flareon's request.

"…No. There's something else I need to do."

. . . . . . . . . .

23:45, June 4, Unified Year 4734 – Empire of the New Order, Winteroot outskirts, District Fourteen Imperial Winteroot Police Station

. . . . .

There's no place like home.

It's a phrase so prevalent that it's practically guaranteed that everyone has heard it at some point in their lives. But it's not until now that I really, truly understood what that really meant.

Because, despite the destruction that has befallen my old bedroom, despite the terrible state that the Imperials have left my room in, this place still has the power to calm me down the moment I enter it.

I'll be honest, but the wave of calmness that this room exuded took me by surprise, since the truth of the matter is that this place isn't really my home. Not anymore, at least. Both my former living room and dining room have changed to the point that I can barely even recognise it anymore, and if left alone to their own devices, there's no doubt that the Imperials would completely transform this place into something drastically different to what it is today. Had I arrived here a few years later, I'm sure that I wouldn't have even realized that this place was once my home sweet home.

But that future hasn't arrived, and I'm thankful for it. Because, despite the broken lights and shattered windows, almost everything is still here. The old bed that I would throw myself onto and cry for hours after suffering a day of bullying at school. The creaky furniture that dad had built just for me and my room. Even my belongings, though they're now scattered across the floor and all over the room, are still here. As far as I can tell, this place is still very much the same old bedroom that I took solace in when I was young and weak.

Which is why I'm finding myself chuckling under my breath, because that's exactly what I'm doing right now. Here I am, away from all the chaos that took place downstairs, away from Curtis and his gang, and away from Clay. Despite all those years, despite everything that had happened to me, I'm still finding myself hiding away in this room just like I did when I was only just a little girl, and the realization leaves me enveloped in a wave of bittersweet nostalgia. Being up here, in my room, in peaceful isolation; it's surprisingly, overwhelmingly, undeniably, comforting.

I took in a deep breath, before letting out a melancholy sigh. The air is dusty, but otherwise smells the same as when I last left this place. There's a cool breeze gently blowing through the smashed windows, the night-time air pleasant against my fur. It's a sensation that's both reassuringly familiar and yet strangely surreal, like a familiar experience in an unfamiliar location. It's not an unpleasant feeling, but nonetheless strange.

Looking about me, I slowly began to wander deeper into my room, my eyes slowly surveying around me as I carefully walked inside, being careful as to not step on any of the shards of glass that littered the floor. Everywhere I looked, my eyes would find themselves finding a familiar object, each one conjuring a distinct, vivid memory that I never realized I still held. It all seems a little too much for me, if I'm being perfectly honest, but I relished it all the same.

Stopping by my old desk, I ran my paw across the smooth, wooden surface, wiping the thick layer of dust off of it as I did so. I smiled, my emotions bittersweet. I had spent so much time sitting by this desk when I was younger that dust never managed to get a chance to build up on it. Seeing that same desk now appear so decrepit was jarring; the once familiar furniture appearing so foreign to me.

From the corner of my eye, I spot a familiar shape. Picking it up from beneath the desk, I pulled up the old Teddiursa stuffed toy that lay on the ground, its soft exterior caked with dust and debris. I used to love this toy; it was, by far, my most treasured possession for much of my early childhood. Until I had turned thirteen or so, I would constantly keep it near or on me, so much so that, by now, it had become so worn down that most would consider it trash. I swear that I must have sewed the left arm back on about fifteen times by now.

Giving it a careful dusting, I held it in front of me, carefully inspecting it. I'm taken by the realization of just how small it seems to me now. As a matter of fact, everything about this room seems to have been miniaturized somewhat, from my bed to my desk. It's a peculiar, strange sensation to have it in such easy reach of me, to not have to reach up towards it. To be fair, I should have expected as much. After all, I had evolved since I last came here. The truth is that my room hasn't shrunk; I've just grown bigger. But that doesn't make it any less unique an experience for me.

I wonder if this is how dad saw my room…?

The thought suddenly sends a pang through my chest. So much of my memories with him took place in this very room, and the reminder that he was no longer here with me made my heart throb and ache. It's surprising, really, that it's the memory of doing the most mundane things with him that I miss the most. The memory of cooking dinner with him, the memory of helping him in his old workshop, the memory of him reading me a bedtime story. They seemed so simple, yet so desirable now that I couldn't experience them any longer.

I know, from the bottom of my heart, that the best thing that I could do now would be to enjoy the time I have left with my room. To fondly remember the past and to relish in the moment while I could. And yet, despite all this, I can't seem to fully enjoy my time in this room. Because, in the back of my mind, I'm painfully aware that this will be the last time I will ever see this room.

Clay had made it perfectly clear that he fully intended to remove all traces of evidence related to dad's workshop by burning the entire house down. And though every ounce of my being is screaming at me to stop him, I just can't bring myself to do so. It just makes too much logical sense. After all, in the bigger picture, the safety of the Federation was easily more important than the preservation of my memories.

And yet, despite being fully aware of that, I still can't let this place go. Not that easily, at least. Not when he's planning to burn down the house that I had spent sixteen years in; not when he's planning to burn down the very room that I had slept in since as far back as I could remember.

And so, instead of relishing my memories, instead of fondly looking back at the good times I've had in this house, I'm instead finding myself desperately trying to burn the image of the room into my eyes, trying to imprint my bedroom into my mind. And yet, it never seemed enough, as if I would forget this place the moment I turned and looked away. And the thought of that terrified me.

In melancholic despair, I sighed, turning my gaze back down towards the Teddiursa plush that I was holding in my paws. There's a tear running down the side of the toy's neck, no doubt a result from the Imperial goons that trashed my room after I had fled it. Even so, despite the stuffing oozing out from its mortal wound, its friendly smile remained the same, its plastic eyes innocent and blissfully ignorant. Clutching it tightly, I brought the toy close to me, giving it a tight hug as I whispered to myself.

"…Dad, I… I still can't believe you're gone…"

But my embrace was short lived, my ears perking up as I received an unexpected reply.

"Welcome home, kid."

Startled, I looked about me, frantically searching about me upon hearing that familiar voice, my heart beginning to rush as I checked my surroundings. But, seeing that I was alone, I returned my gaze back towards the Teddiursa plush, ready to dismiss what I had just heard as the mere whistle of the cool, evening wind.

It wasn't until I saw the Teddiursa staring back at me, its friendly smile replaced with a grim scowl, that I cried out in surprise, flinging the stuffed toy across the room in a reflex reaction as I stared at it in shock.

"…Ngh…!"

I knew that voice sounded familiar, but it's only now that I've heard the plush toy groan out in pain as it tumbled across the floor that I finally realize whose voice it was that I was hearing.

"Dad…?!"

Slowly getting up onto his feet, he stared at me coldly as he nodded in reply, one of his eyes hanging by a thread from the force of having been thrown across the room. Reaching up, he grabbed onto the loose eye, tearing it off before throwing it aside. "You happy with yourself?"

Unable to comprehend just what I was seeing, I stammered out a response, watching in equal parts confusion and horror as he slowly lumbered towards me. "What…? What do you mean…?"

"Look what you've done, kid." The Teddiursa stumbled closer towards me, his single eye staring me back with malicious intent. "Look what you've done to our home. Look what you've done to me."

"I… No, dad, I…" I faltered upon his accusations, struggling to come up with a valid defence for myself. To hear that I was guilty, that I was the one who was truly responsible for his death, from the voice of the very person who had died in the fires of this house no less, made me hang my head in shame as I stood under his presence. "I'm… I'm sorry…"

"Not good enough." But my apology did nothing to alleviate the Teddiursa's rage. Staring at me as he shook his head, he bared his fangs and claws at me, his single eye glaring at me with murderous intent. "It's time that you suffered like I did."

With a sudden gust of wind blowing through the open window, he charged up towards me. Brandishing his claws as he leapt up into the air, the torn curtains flailing in the abruptly violent breeze as he lunged towards me, ready to rip and tear.

In a panic, I spun around and kicked him in the face, the blow tearing his head off his body as he went tumbling back across the room and under the bed, leaving a trail of stuffing in his wake. All at once, the winds died down, my bedroom once again falling into a state of silence that it had been in just moments ago.

I held my breath, waiting for him to come back out. But when he never did emerge, I slowly, carefully, crept towards my old bed, kicking it as I pushed it out of the way.

He wasn't there.

I spun around, my confusion mounting with each passing moment. It's then that I spot my old Teddiursa plush, lying on the floor beneath the wooden desk, right where I had first found it, still covered in a thick layer of dust. Taking a closer look, I find that it still has both eyes attached, the same innocent smile adorning its face.

So, it was all a hallucination…?

It was. Dad was never here.

I sighed, my body seemingly deflating upon the realization as I collapsed onto the floor, my legs turning to jelly as my brow dripped in cold sweat.

For a mere figment of my imagination, it seemed awfully real. Maybe it's because of how stressful I'm finding my current situation. Or could it be that I've never gotten over the guilt of escaping on my own? Despite everything that mum had told me, I never did forgive myself for what happened that day, after all. As a matter of fact, there's a small part of me that still thinks that I'm responsible for his death. It's a small burden, but one heavy enough for me to start questioning myself all over again.

I glanced back towards the stuffed Teddiursa plush again, my gaze in equal parts apologetic and apprehensive. I dare not touch; I'm terrified that it might rear its head and attack just like it did in my imagination.

Dad… Dad would never do such a thing like that, right? He's never lashed out at me before, so it seemed so incredulous for me to believe that he would attack me in such a way as I had just seen. Were it any other time, I would have simply dismissed the thought as me just being overly paranoid and cast it aside.

But now, I'm not so sure. As a matter of fact, I'm not even sure if I know my own dad that well anymore. I've found out more about his past over the past two days than I have spending my entire childhood living with him under the same roof. I can't tell if he really is the gentle soul that I remember him to be, or if it was all nothing more than a mere façade.

Troubled and unsure, I turned back around, casting my gaze back towards the bed as my mind swam with doubt. For a brief moment, I marvelled in the fact that I was able to so easily move my old bed aside; such a feat would have been impossible for me just three years ago. My eyes beginning to wander, I noticed that the trail of stuffing that had sprayed out when I kicked the plush toy had all but vanished into thin air, confirming that what I had just seen really was nothing more than a figment of my imagination.

But after the passing of just a brief moment, my eyes shift towards something new. Because it's not the lack of something that holds my attention, but the discovery of something else entirely.

There's a thick book resting on the floor, right underneath where the bed had been just previously. Despite its cover being obscured by the thick layers of dust covering it, I understood in an instant what that was.

A… A photo album?

No sooner did those words cross my mind did my body scramble towards it, my paws practically tripping over themselves as I hurriedly treaded through the scattered shards of glass. I wasn't quite able to put my paw on why I wanted to come up to my room in the first place, but now that I've spotted that photo album, I now know exactly why I chose to visit this room again.

Reaching for it as if my life depended on it, I picked it up, my grip desperate yet cautious, before blowing the clouds of dust off from it. I'm struggling to believe that I've managed to find this even as I'm inspecting the front cover of it; most of the books that used to be here are either burnt or missing, no doubt taken by the house's new owners. Despite the state the photo album is in, I'm thanking my lucky stars that I've found it at all.

Although, it would only be a moment before I would curse at myself for getting too excited too early. My heart sank upon opening the album, my ears greeted with the sharp crunch of burnt paper instead of the crisp, slick sound it would normally produce. As I had feared, most of the pages had been burnt away, carrying with them their precious photos as they turned to ash. It's a sight that makes me teeter on the verge of crying in despair.

And yet, despite that, for seemingly no reason whatsoever, I continued to leaf through the charred, ruined pages of the old photo album. I'm not really sure why I did so. Perhaps it was despair. Perhaps defeat, or perhaps it was overwhelming desperation. But, nevertheless, I continued to search the book. And after a while, my efforts were rewarded.

I stopped upon coming across the first saved photo, its corners charred but otherwise in perfectly fine condition. On it was a blurry, monochrome picture of a tiny Eevee, approximately five years old, staring fearfully at the camera as she clutched onto a certain Teddiursa plush toy. I knew that I was, and still am, small for my species, but even I was taken by surprise by the fact that there was once a time I was smaller than that old, worn out plush toy.

A second salvaged photo, a couple of pages later, showed the same Eevee standing in front of a certain school, a pout on her cheeks as she glared towards the general direction of the photographer. Atop the photograph, someone has scribbled "First day of junior high" on it using black ink; the culprit no doubt dad, given by the familiarly neat, cursive font. I had just turned thirteen when this photograph was taken, and though I appear to have grown larger and healthier since the taking of the previous photo, the bag that was around my back was still comically large as compared to the rest of my body.

But perhaps the most valuable photo I had managed to find was the third and final photograph, tucked away in the last few pages of the photo album. Because, unlike the others, the subject of this yellowing and grainy picture is, for once, not me.

I'm not sure who took this photograph in the first place. It's definitely not me, because I don't remember having ever seen him look this young. Nor, for that matter, do I recognise where this photo has been taken. But right in the middle of the photograph, squarely in the centre of attention, is an image of dad; handsome, bold, full of energy, and yet somehow instantly recognisable. I think it's the smile that gives it away, but I'd be able to recognise that Umbreon from a mile away.

In a word, he looks absolutely dashing. Just like I remember him to be.

"…Thank you, dad. Thank you."

I thanked him under my breath, my words touched and genuine. I'm not sure if the hallucination of the Teddiursa from earlier was something that dad had created, whether it be from before or beyond the grave. As a matter of fact, I'm doubtful that such a thing is even possible at all. And yet, despite it being so utterly improbable, so inconceivable to think that he was responsible for it, I can't help but want to believe that it was him. I want to believe that he had led me to this discovery. Because, without it, I would have never found this little treasure trove of mine.

Carefully, I picked out the three pictures, freeing them from their charred prison. As far as I was concerned, these photographs were worth their weight in gold, the photograph of dad even more so. Too big to fit in my locket, I gingerly held them in my mouth, lamenting now of all times the loss of the thick, soft mane that I had when I was an Eevee, before making my way back towards the door out of the room.

But, upon reaching it, I stopped, my paw hovering just inches from the doorknob.

Should I take one more look around…?

I shook my head upon the thought. No, I'm satisfied now. I know now why I came back up to this room in the first place. And now that I've got what I came for, I'm finally starting to rest easy now.

With not an ounce of regret, I made my way back downstairs and into dad's old workshop. Clay was standing there, portable drive in hand, his attention cast towards the door as if he were expecting me to return at any moment. Next to him was my dad's old computer, now in a thousand pieces as it burned away in a flaming pile of semiconductors and wires. The metal plating, which once made up the exterior of the enormous machine, was now red hot, contorting and twisting as it warped in the intense heat.

He walks over towards me, handing me the drive as he puts it firmly in my paws. It's then that I notice that Curtis and Frank are both missing, and that there's a strong smell of petrol coming from Clay and the rest of the house. There's no doubt that Clay's finished setting this house up to go up in flames at a moment's notice.

"Data transfer's done, Kit," he said to me matter-of-factly.

Bringing the drive over towards my bag, which Clay had thoughtfully brought into the workshop while I was upstairs, I carefully placed it inside, along with the salvaged photographs, before giving him a stern glance. "…You did wipe the computer beforehand, right?"

He nods in reply. If he noticed my photographs, then he's deliberately choosing not to talk about them. I'm thankful that, for once, he's choosing to be considerate. "Yeah. Not a chance the Imps are getting their paws on this thing."

I stopped, briefly taking a moment to watch the computer burn in flames. I'm not sure if it's because of the overwhelming smell of petrol, but I can't think of anything that we've missed. Clay's managed to retrieve the necessary data that we had come here for, and I've managed to collect the one thing that I've felt I was missing ever since the day I foolishly chose to throw away that precious photograph that dad had given me. No matter how I looked at it, there wasn't anything else that we had missed; nothing that we had seemingly left out.

I turned towards Clay, allowing myself to relax the grim look on my face. "Now what?"

Upon my question, Clay turned around, facing the wall behind us as he readied an attack.

"Fire Spin."

I watched as a serpent of flames formed around the Flareon, growing in size and ferocity as it circled around his body with hypnotising beauty. Waiting until the attack had fully matured, Clay sent the trail of flames shooting towards the back wall of dad's old workshop, lighting it ablaze as his fiery attack came into contact with it. Seeing the fire quickly start to spread through the room, Clay turned towards me, his body illuminated by the orange glow of the fire's wild dance, before speaking with reassuring firmness.

"Now we get out of here."

Without another word, the two of us hurriedly put on our bags, making our way out of the house with hastened steps as the fire quickly followed suit, its blazing flames licking our heels as it crept across the floor. I didn't need to ask why we were in such a hurry; even I could tell that escaping this town would become much more difficult once the Imperials become aware of the fact that someone had deliberately burnt down their police station. And so, with a sense of urgency, I quickly followed Clay as he made his way out the front door.

That's when we notice the Rhydon waiting for us right outside the police station.

To be fair, it would have been hard for us to not notice him. And it wasn't only just because he was the only other conscious Pokémon up here aside from us, either. Despite having aged well beyond the prime of his life, his body was toned and powerful, his enormous size and stocky proportions making him utterly impossible to miss. And by the looks of his grey, worn down armour-like hide, all that size and muscle wasn't for the sake of appearance, either. The numerous scratches that adorned his cream coloured horn was proof enough of the sheer amount of combat experience he had garnered over his years.

My hopes of making a quick, quiet getaway were dashed as Clay and I slowed down, keeping my weary gaze locked on the horned Pokémon as we carefully maintained our distance from him. There was no point in trying to slip by undetected; it was clear to see that he had already noticed our presence.

Crouching down as he inspected the unconscious bodies of Curtis and his crew, the Rhydon stood up, taking a quick glance at the burning interior of the old house, before turning his attention towards us. His eyes cold and hard, his body radiating a deep and powerful aura, it was painfully clear to see that he was a far fearsome foe than any other we had encountered thus far.

"So, you're the ones who knocked my boys out like that?" His voice was smooth and deep, holding an incredible air of authority as he called out to us.

Clay stopped after putting some distance between us and the burning house, answering his question with one of his own. "You the chief here?"

Holding himself with a touch of professional flair that neither Curtis nor the other officers had, the Rhydon smiled, gracing us with a dignified bow as he introduced himself to us. "Ferdinand Günther, Chief of Police of Imperial Winteroot, at your service. I am here to serve the Emperor, protect his citizens…"

He paused, maintaining his bow as he turned his gaze up towards us, staring with crimson eyes that held a powerful, refined rage.

"…And destroy those that threaten our glorious Empire."