A/N:
Third chapter's up! Hoping to get some more publicity with this story, though that will likely come the more I update. However, that does not mean that I will release less content a whole bunch of filler chapters. Like I said, I've already got most of this story written out, so now I'm trying to "fine-tune" it.
One area I forgot to mention in my last notes is that I am open to receiving OCs, and even implementing them heavily into the plot. This is to be a four "book" series, so I've got plenty of content to bring forth. If you like, your character suggestions could be a part of that. You can leave a character proposal in the reviews or simply PM me, and we can discuss it in more detail via PM.
Anyways, time for the disclaimers. I am in no way affiliated with Pokémon, Nintendo, or Game Freak. Their characters belong completely to them. I am only the owner of my OCs. I also am not affiliated with any of the companies that make the products in this fan fiction, including Boeing, STI, IWI, H&K, Smith and Wesson, and Netflix, to name those on the top of my head.
Without further ado, enjoy reading, and please leave a review if you have any suggestions, corrections, criticisms, or wish to share your thoughts.
"…" - Spoken dialogue
Italics - Michael's thoughts
"There are things that are worse than war; cowardice, betrayal, selfishness."
-Ernest Hemingway
Ch. 3 - Liberators
"Higgs, in my office. Now." Wesley's tone didn't sound very amused. The ride back had been uncomfortably silent, Wesley occasionally shooting him a disapproving glare, Michael's stunt back there no having settled too well with him. After all, he had turned off his mask, and the others had left - whatever he had done was off the camera. Apparently, that wasn't very well taken to…
Michael followed the Commander, going through the main building and into his office towards the back left section. Wesley paused in front of his door, and opened it, motioning for him to go inside. A large wooden desk, covered in papers, a document shredder off to the side, and a map of the Kanto region on the wall. He shut the door with a slight slam, and took a seat in the large leather chair on the other side of the desk. With a nod, he signaled Michael to do the same on the other side before speaking.
"Mind telling me what the hell that was about?" Michael had trouble finding the words, a problem he almost never had. "I asked you a question, Higgs."
"I… lost it back there," he admitted.
"What did you do, son?"
"Nothing he hadn't done before…"
"What did you do?" Wesley asked, clear annoyance in his voice. "Out with it." Michael looked down, unable to hold his gaze, before finally admitting to his action.
"I burned him," he finally said. "Burned him alive." For a moment, neither of them spoke. Of course, Wesley was the one to break the silence.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" he yelled. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"Nothing, sir."
"Nothing? NOTHING? You mean to tell me you set a man on fire and think that nothing is wrong with you?" He narrowed his eyes at him, looking at him curiously. "Are you a damn psychopath?"
"I doubt it."
"Well then explain to me why the hell I should believe that!" Michael thought over a response, even going so far to question his own mental state, but formulated as best of a defense as he could.
"Derrick was there," he said. "He was there at the Hoenn Massacre."
"Under what evidence?" Wesley asked.
"He had this," Michael said, pulling out the Desert Eagle.
"Oh? So now you're looting, too? A war trophy? This just keeps gettin' better and better."
"No, look at the caliber."
"Yeah, a .50AE - so what? Almost everyone that gets one of those gets it chambered in that caliber."
"There were these cartridges all around several of the bodies at the Hoenn Massacre. And those starters in their cages... he'd burnt them all . There is no doubt that he and his men were behind those deaths. I mean he was trying to do the same shit when we were there - you can see that much on the footage." Wesley picked up the gun, looking it over. Surprisingly, the serial number had not been scratched off - the gun was likely legal. "Commander," Michael continued, "this guy set other people on fire… innocent people."
"So you felt that you were delivering justice by doing the same? Eye for an eye?"
"Something of the sort. I dunno. I did at the time, at least." Michael looked down, somewhat ashamed of his action. "Look, I know now that I should have killed him just as quick as I did the others… but I wasn't thinking like that at the time… All I could think about is how much pain he had caused…" The only sound accompanying their ears was the ticking of the clock on the wall, as well as a few faint voices outside.
"So why did you do it?" Wesley asked, this time calmly.
"I guess… I guess I felt like I was avenging those that he had tortured to death… Look, I'm sorry - I wasn't thinking straight at the time. I did something fucking stupid… I just kind of… lost it."
"Alright," Wesley sighed, "look - I understand how you felt… but you can't just go around doing shit like that, understood?"
"Understood."
"The law doesn't take well to this stuff… Anyone else'd be thrown in prison. Fortunately for you, there is no evidence of your action caught on tape. That and the fact that your training cost the government fifteen million dollars. An incident like this isn't worth following up. Unlikely any questions will be asked, so I'll let this slide - just this one time."
"Thank you, sir. It won't happen again."
"It better not," Wesley replied. "We don't need to sink to their level. We just send 'em to hell. Now get going - no doubt your girls are worried sick - they always are at first." Michael stood up, heading towards the door, and leaving the Desert Eagle on his desk - it would be none too soon if he never saw it again.
. . . . .
He was hit harder than he had been in any mock fight he'd engaged in as soon as he walked through the door. "Oh, thank Arceus!" Veronica said. "We were so worried about you!"
"As you can see, I'm perfectly fine." He got back to his feet, rubbing the dragoness's neck. "Have you all eaten dinner?"
"Yep," Charlotte responded. "The cafeteria here is much better than the one back in Johto."
"Good to hear. How was y'alls day?"
"Eh, it was alright," she replied.
"Pretty good for me," Layla said, "Knocked that shiny greninja around like a rag doll in the battle ring today."
"Oh?" he chuckled. "Hope you didn't hurt him too badly."
"Nothing an ice pack won't help. That and about a week of rest," she laughed. "But I was worried about you. How'd it go?"
"Pretty good for our first mission," he said. "Resolved the situation, got two hostages outta there."
"Really? Tell us all about it."
For the next half-hour, he did just that - recalling every minute detail. The fact that he had now taken four lives had shocked them, but they came to terms with it, expecting no less of him given his profession. However, he stopped before the "pyromaniac" part, gaining slight annoyance from them.
"What happened next?" Veronica asked. "That can't be it." Michael looked to the side, gazing at the muted television.
"It isn't, but there are things that I prefer not to tell you girls. No doubt you'd never look at me the same."
"What is it?" Elise asked. "Michael, you never keep secrets from us…"
"Well this is going to be an exception, okay?" Charlotte placed her paw over his hand, making eye contact with him.
"Michael…" she said, catching his attention. "You… made it painful, didn't you?" For a moment, he gave no reply, but then he nodded.
"He was there - back at Hoenn. He helped slaughter and torture all those people… I lost control and did something wrong."
"You gave him a taste of his own medicine, didn't you?" asked Veronica.
"Yes… yes I did…"
"Good," she said. "He deserved it. Was it slow?"
"No," he sighed, "not really, but it was painful." He looked straight at her. "And that is all I'm saying about it - you all have a good enough picture already, and I..." He cut himself off, barely able to contain himself in front of them. "Look, I'm not proud of it, and I didn't want you girls to think badly of me. I don't know what I'd do if—." Layla cut him off, hugging him tightly. He was barely able to restrain his tears.
"Stop that right now," she said, restraining herself as well. "I don't like seeing you like this." She raised her hand to the back of his head, drawing him in towards her shoulder. "I don't think what you did was right… but I can understand it."
"I don't see a problem with it…" Veronica said.
"Not now, Ver," Layla countered. "Just… don't sink to their level anymore, okay?"
"I won't," he promised.
. . . . .
He lazily flipped through the movie selection. The televisions were complete with both cable and Netflix, come to find out. So I've got the option to be completely useless. Great. As he browsed, Layla entered the room, sitting beside him.
"Whatcha looking at?" she asked.
"I don't really know," he laughed. "Mind helping me pick?"
"Sure, how about we watch that action movie we couldn't watch in the theater?"
"Great idea." Soon, the two of them were watching the movie, with Layla laying against him. He instinctively put his arm around her midsection, drawing her in closer. Nothing strange, but he and his pokémon always had a very physical relationship, always enjoying contact with each other.
"Layla?"
"Hmm?"
"Thanks for what you said earlier. It really meant a lot to me." She turned to face him, raising a paw toward his cheek, but mindful of her spike.
"I'll always be here for you," she said. "Just like you have been for me."
"You know, I've got to be the luckiest trainer in the world," he said.
"We'll see if you think that tomorrow," she laughed.
. . . . .
He stood in the debriefing room, holding an ice pack to his side, catching the Commander's attention.
"What happened to you?" he asked.
"Michael got his ass kicked again by his lucario," Thomas laughed.
"Oh? I'd have liked to see that," Kevin said.
"No, you wouldn't have - it wasn't even close."
"Thomas, shut the hell up," Michael snapped.
"All of you shut the hell up," Wesley interrupted, calling them to attention once more. "Now, as I was saying before - the upcoming mission."
"Right," Thomas relented.
"New intel has shown that the traffickers are using Mt. Moon's cave systems for transport. Nothing new, either - they used Mt. Chimney and Fiery Pass back in Hoenn to keep out of the public eye. Tomorrow's their weekly round. The path they're using is pretty large - large enough to drive their convoys over. You all are gonna change that." He brought up the image of the path, which stemmed off of a cliffside, turning around a steep ledge. "You all will place charges on the site and wait for them to come. I need y'all to pay close attention to the cargo. If it's weapons, drugs, or anything of the sort, blow it to pieces. But if there are hostages… well, the six of you will have to dispose of them yourselves."
"Yeah, but where are we to hide?" asked John. "That is, in the event that we can't just blow 'em up."
"As you can see, there's a slight ridge on the edge of the cliff. That's where five of you will be hiding. Samuel, I want you to lay low here," he said, pointing to the area directly above the entrance. "That way, you'll have a clear shot at all of the drivers. Everyone is to use the standard load out, but with silencers. Gunshots will surely alert them, but y'all might be able to buy ourselves a few more seconds if they don't know that the drivers have been killed." After they addressed the specifics, they were dismissed for the day, and none too soon.
"What time are you leaving tomorrow?" asked Charlotte.
"Three. We need to get there by night, and we've got a long drive ahead of us. At least I get to sleep in a bit later this time."
"Thank goodness," she said. "Your alarm is ungodly loud, you know that?"
"Sorry," he chuckled. That night, he lay watching the news before going to bed. So Kalos has finally done it… There's no recovering from this… Even though he disliked the ideology that was pumped into the minds of most Kalosians, he still loved the region, and even considered it a home of some sort.
The government had passed a new law, effectively raising the taxes on the wealthier citizens to a staggering 80% - for the "good of the community." The money would be used to pay for public facilities, governmental assistance programs, and technological/educational investments. Of course, the money would make its way there after it was filtered through the pockets of the politicians. I don't know what they don't understand - you can't just force the rich to pay for everything… True enough, after the last tax bracket increase, Alex and his parents moved to the Johto region, which favored much lower taxes, as the Morgan family was pretty well-off.
"In unrelated news, the prices of evolution stones have drastically risen." What? "The supply has radically decreased within this last week, as quarries are coming up empty, and stone mines are being abandoned." Oh shit… The view switched to a female reporter, standing in front of one of the said mines. In the background, you could see equipment and vehicles, all packed up and ready to leave.
"I'm here at Mistralton Cave, and as you can see here, the industry is departing from this location. With me today is Dalton Lanier, manager around these parts. Tell me, what has happened to the mines, and how has it affected business?" She extended the microphone to him, awaiting his response.
"Last few months we've been collecting less and less of the natural evolution stones, but this last week has been insane. We've only managed to come across a couple, and from what I understand, most of the mines are in a similar state. We can't wait around for hopes of things to get better - we're shifting our focus towards other minerals." The screen swapped back to the main news anchor.
"We don't know what has caused the shortage of evolution stones, but one thing's for certain - this is definitely bad news for trainers all over. They've disappeared completely from the stores, and are only available online. Prices for the stones still out there have soared sky-high, ranging from Ᵽ15,000 to Ᵽ35,000." No… He crept into his room and took the small, thin case off of his dresser, before sneaking back out. Not that it made any difference - Veronica's snoring was enough to cover any noise he made. He unfastened the two latches on each side and opened it, looking at the four remaining stones. Once he had gotten an eevee, he decided to purchase a variety of the possible evolution stones that she could utilize - even including shards of both an ice and mossy rocks. She withheld evolving into a sylveon, because, as she had put it: "Glaceons were simply the prettiest of the eeveelutions." He had bought these stones when they were cheap. Now, they were worth a ton. There was a fire, water, and thunder stone, as well as the remaining fragment of the mossy rock. That one may or may not be too rare, but the others… I could sell these and make some decent money off of them. I'll check into it tomorrow… He settled down once more, and decided to turn in for the night.
Unfortunately, he was woken a little over an hour later. Looking over at the culprit, he saw Elise there. "Hey," he groaned. "What's wrong?"
"I couldn't sleep," she said. "Ver kept hogging the covers."
"Somehow I'm not surprised."
"Could I sleep with you?" she asked timidly.
"Of course you can." He slid over, making room for her, though it would still be somewhat of a tight fit. She wasted no time in hopping up beside him, snuggling into his side. He draped the blanket over the two of them, and couldn't help but look into her sapphire eyes, which were, at this point, only inches away from his own. He placed his hand on her cheek, drawing her closer and embracing her with the other. Elise gave his nose a tiny lick before settling into the crook of his neck.
"Sweet girl," he commented, kissing the top of her head. I don't know what I'd do without them…
. . . . .
"Remember Michael, not a scratch."
"I'll be fine, Ver. You seem to forget that we received the best combat training in the world just for this kind of stuff."
"Yeah, but you're not bulletproof…"
"If I kill them before they can shoot, I won't have to be." The four looked at him rather surprised. Probably went too far there… "Don't worry about a thing, girls. I'll be fine." He left soon after, having to board the Chinook and depart for the mountains east of Pewter, twisting into Mt. Moon. As they boarded, however, they realized that they and the Commander were not the only ones there. Both a gardevoir and a male meowstic sat, near a pair of stretched out cots.
"These are two of the finest medics in the army, Grace and Sebastian. Both are phenomenal in the field of TMA."
"TMA? What is that?" John asked.
"Tele-Mitotic Acceleration," Michael answered. "Nearly all psychic-types have accelerated healing, as their minds synchronize with damaged cells, forcing them to multiply quicker and mend wounds. With tons of practice, they can use this ability on others." Grace looked pretty impressed.
"That was a pretty good explanation, albeit a very basic one," she said. "How do you know of the practice?"
"Thanks, and I majored in biomedical engineering."
"So wait just a sec," Kevin said. "It's just basically a heal pulse of sorts?"
"In a way, yes," Sebastian replied. "But this is far more effective. Heal pulse only mends torn tissue. Scratches, muscle tears - the likes. But TMA can heal anything, just so long as you haven't already bled out."
"Oh."
"I thought it would be wise to bring along these two," Wesley said. "Last time, it was very unlikely that you boys would be shot at, but this time you could very well be involved in a firefight. It pays to be prepared, especially if one of you gets shot."
"That's comforting," Thomas said. After all, he was a pretty big target.
"Keep in mind, though, that you still need to get to us alive," Grace said. "We aren't able to bring you back. Guard yourselves just as you normally would."
Eventually the helicopter descended towards the specified area. They hopped off of it, and the Chinook departed soon after. Scaling the pale cliffs, climbing down as the moonlight bathed it in a silvery glow, they found their designated places. "Set the charges Kevin." He, carrying five charges, jogged down to the trail, setting them one by one in a straight line in front of the cave. Enough to take out the trucks in a single-file line. Alex held the detonator.
"Stay alert - no telling when they could show up," Wesley said. Keeping their rifles raised, and their visors on thermal mode, they waited.
. . . . .
"Commander, I'm startin' to think this one's a bust. It's been over six hours," Kevin said.
"…Yeah… looks like it," he admitted. The sun was about to peak behind them. "Tell ya what - give it a few more minutes, then we'll swoop back in and pick y'all up."
"Sounds good," John said. The six of them readied themselves for departure, hearing the sound of an approaching vehicle.
"See you're coming by early," Michael said.
"We haven't left yet."
"Oh shit! Everyone get back down!" Sure enough, the convoy had arrived, slowly turning around the bend in the trail in order to avoid falling off the side. Four in total, the last one had made its way around, putting them back-to-back in front of the entrance to the cave… and Samuel. They quickly observed the trucks, their thermal view helping the Reapers scan over them. The first and last trucks only omitted heat in the expected regions of the truck - brakes, engines, the front - but not in the storage compartments. The middle two, however, were radiating tons of heat all over.
"Well that settles that," Michael said. "Disable the charges Alex."
"Take the first driver and passenger out, Samuel. On you," said Wesley. It didn't take long before the front windshield cracked, the only indication that the shots had been fired - in two places, and the truck slowed to a halt. "Samuel, take out the rest. Everyone ready up!" He went down the line, taking out the remaining drivers, spraying their blood all over the front of the vehicles. Thomas was situated in the back, furthest from Samuel, and had a clear view of the final truck. The doors opened, and he silently sprayed its two inhabitants down.
"Four clear," he told them. "Arceus, there has to be a couple hundred rifles and handguns in there." The rest slid down the slopes, standing in front of the three final trucks. Kevin crouched at the front corner of the second truck, aiming at the opening hatch of the first truck. It too, opened.
"What the fu—." He yelled, upon seeing the dead driver of the second vehicle, but was gunned down by Kevin.
"Holy shit," he muttered. "I don't think I've seen so much meth in one place…" The white bags were piled high within the transport truck, the back bags stained red with their guardian's blood. John, Alex, and Michael stationed themselves behind the second and third trucks, Michael taking the former alone.
"Pistols only," he said, withdrawing his own and hoisting his rifle over his shoulder. "Can't afford to over-penetrate if there's hostages." He could hear the creaking of the doors behind him, followed by the thud of two bodies.
"Oh shit… oh shit…" Alex said quietly. "This is some fucking bullshit."
"Sex-trafficking," Wesley muttered. "And a bunch of kids at that…" Michael, pistol raised, withdrew his dagger in the other hand, ready for the doors to open. What occurred next was all slow-motion for him. The door opening, the AK-47's aimed at him, a case ejected out of his CZ-75. A body fell towards him, one eye lifeless, the other shot messily out, in front of his pistol's line of sight. He faintly remembered what happened during that short eternity, but the next thing he knew, he was showered in blood. The second of the two enemies clutched his throat, blood spraying from his neck. Still on his feet, he had what looked like a continuous red ribbon pulsing from a severed jugular. Both he and the hostages were drenched. There was a third, though, and the ringing gunfire alerted him to his presence. Fortunately, he was not as prepared as the other two, and was still in the motion of raising the weapon, a streak of bullets trailing towards his feet, but to rise within seconds to his chest. Without thinking, he shot several rounds into him - up his arm, into his chest. He fell and dropped the weapon. Michael walked up to him, stepping on his hand when he reached for the rifle. He looked around at the caged hostages. Young girls - the youngest looking to be about twelve. He twisted his foot in anger, causing the guard to squirm in pain.
"These are children, you sick fuck!" He looked aside for a moment. "Close your eyes," he told them. He raised the dagger, ignoring the man's protests, and brought it down once. The enemy had raised his left arm, but the blade kept coming down. It was only stopped by the metal floor, sticking in it and releasing a high-pitched ringing sound. His forearm fell off, and his head rolled aside.
. . . . .
"That is who those people are, and that's what they do. You now see why we've been at them as aggressively as we have. They don't have a moral low, and it's all just for fucking money," Wesley told them as they rounded up all of the captives. Nineteen in total, the oldest of them was sixteen. Two fucking years younger than me… They were about to board the Chinook, but Wesley stopped him. "Thanks for finishing this one off quickly."
"I didn't want to…"
"I know you didn't," Wesley said. "This job gets you pissed at people. Makes you want to hurt them. But at the end of the day, we do answer to politicians. Setting people on fire doesn't resonate well with the people behind the desks."
"I wanted to drag him out there and cut him into pieces," Michael admitted.
"Can't say I feel much different. But," Wesley continued, "there are laws."
"That doesn't seem to matter to them…" The two medics were working non-stop to investigate the victims. They left the area, delivering the freed girls to the nearest Pewter City hospital, before returning home. They arrived, thoroughly exhausted from the travel, and in the medics' case (both of whom had fallen asleep on the ride back), making it back to base near 4:00 the following morning. He took a quick, unfocused shower, collapsing as soon as he hit the couch.
. . . . .
"Earth to Michael!" He woke up to Veronica gently shaking him. "Oh look, it's alive," she joked.
"I'm up," he groaned. "What time is it?"
"Past noon. You must've been exhausted."
"Yeah… oh shit, have you girls eaten?"
"Mhm. Took your card and went to the cafeteria."
"Oh, okay."
"By the way," she said, "Charlotte wants to spend the day with you… or at least, the rest of it."
"Alright."
"Then it's my turn - we're going flying again."
"Great." He fully woke himself up, sitting up straight.
"I'm serious," she said. "We are going flying tomorrow."
"I'm serious too," he replied. "When will Charlotte be here?"
"Right about now." Sure enough, the braixen came through the door.
"Hey Michael," she said, bounding in with excitement in her step. "You're booked for the rest of today, just so you know." Well that's a funny way to put that…
"Fine by me. What do you have in mind?"
"I don't know, we'll think of something. Probably just wander around and talk. Come on, let's go!" Within the hour, they were outside of the base, a couple hundred yards out front, shaded under a large oak tree. The guards, fortunately, had let him pass, and the pair of large metagrosses that stood watch steeped aside and opened the gates. He was laying against the large trunk, with Charlotte against his chest. He was twiddling a blade of grass in one hand, rubbing the back of her shoulder with the other.
"Michael?" she said, breaking the silence. He looked down at her.
"Hmm?"
"You know… the recent decisions about… that matter, right?"
"About what?"
"You know…" her voice trailed off, getting significantly quieter. "Pokémon and human relationships…"
"Oh…" He hadn't been expecting that out of the blue. It was a matter they had not really talked about before. They all likely had opinions on the matter, but they did not discuss them. The regions had different laws on the matter as well. In all of the regions, a relationship was allowed, but views towards the relationships were viewed differently. Most had no moral qualms with the prospect, but there were also many that considered it "unclean," "disgusting," or "perverse." Unfortunately, Johto had a majority of those that felt so. "You want to know how I feel about it?"
"Y-yeah."
"I see nothing wrong with it. I mean, humans and pokémon can reproduce. If they love each other, then who am I to judge? And besides, reproduction is possible, so it isn't like it's any of that LGBT shit or a crime against nature." She tilted her head back, making eye contact with him.
"Alright, so that's what you think about it in general," she said. "What about personally?" If there was a question he definitely didn't see coming, that was it. He thought it over to himself before giving his response.
"Honestly, I hadn't really thought about it," he admitted. "I never have been focused on relationships. Guess that's the result from going to such a demanding school. Kinda makes you a bit socially awkward, y'know?"
"Mhm."
"…As far as a personal relationship is considered… well, I guess I'd be willing to give it a shot."
"Really? You would?"
"I guess so, yeah. But I dunno. Guess I'll find out one day."
"Alright." She nuzzled into his chest, hands under each of his arms.
. . . . .
"Earlier this morning, nineteen formerly missing girls were rescued from the grasps of sex-traffickers by the Reapers - Johto's most elite special forces unit. The Twenty-Fifth Reaper squad killed the seventeen traffickers and freed the girls, also securing large transports of illegal weapons and drugs."
"It all happened so fast," one sixteen year old girl, who was being interviewed, stated. "The trucks stopped, and before anyone knew what was going on, one of the men opened the door and he… he was just there. I don't think any of us knew what was going on until it was over, but he took out three guys by himself." She looked down and gulped. "I don't think I've ever seen so much blood. He killed two of them with a knife. Cut one of 'ems head off, after telling us to 'close our eyes.'"
"Sounds like you girls went through a lot," the reporter sympathetically said.
"Yeah… we did," she replied. "But it could've gone a lot worse. I'm just grateful that they got to us before those men could… could…." She stopped for a moment, starting to cry, but not loudly. "If you're out there watching… whoever you are… thank you… thank you…" You are welcome.
. . . . .
He stumbled up to that same tree the next day, trying to keep his balance. In his dazed state, he stumbled and fell, rolling over to look straight at the sky.
"That was attractive," Veronica chortled.
"I blame you for this," Michael replied, his heart still racing. "Why… why do you do that?"
"Michael, you're going to have to get used to quick landings," she said. "We might not be able to make a slow, gentle landing."
"Why not? Are you planning for me to ride you into battle or something?"
"It could happen," she said.
"No, it will not. I will not allow you to go into combat," he said, finally able to make eye contact with her.
"You can and will," she retorted. "I will be fully able to protect you and myself."
"I don't care what you say, I will not allow it." She growled in response, and tried to say something, but he cut her off. "No - it only takes one bullet - one in the right spot and you're dead! This isn't some fucking action movie or video game, this is real life. You may be strong, but y'know what? A bullet is stronger. You may be fast, but they are faster. You have no training in combat - and don't bring up your battling capabilities. This is different." Before he knew what had hit him, she had pinned him down roughly to the ground, holding his shoulders down.
"Do not underestimate me!" she roared.
"Don't overestimate yourself! You are not invincible!"
"Where is your faith in me? Do you not trust me to make the best decisions in keeping you alive?"
"I don't want to be alive if you get yourself killed," he cried out. Her features softened, as well as her grip.
"I will be okay, Michael," she said, drawing her claw lightly across his cheek.
"You can't guarantee that. Look, I know that you could take much more than I could - it probably would take a pretty thick round to take you out. But just as you said to me - you aren't bulletproof. Bullet resistant, maybe, but not bulletproof." He stroked the side of her face. "I can't lose you, Ver."
"Michael… If I get training - if I learned how to perform against your human weapons, would you allow it? I trust that you can keep yourself safe, even though the thought of you out there… it terrifies me. Would it not only be fair for you to do the same to me?" He tried to counter her, but he had to admit, she did have a point there.
"Alright Ver," he relented. "If you receive military training, I will consider it." She gave him a quick lick on the side of his neck. He couldn't help but blush from the awkwardness of the action, but he said nothing.
"Well, I guess that's a start," she said. She bent down on all fours, spreading her wings once more. "Now hop on - we aren't done for today." I swear, this flygon… Nevertheless, he stood up and got back on.
. . . . .
"We're mixing it up a bit this time. Time for you boys to start the more individualized missions. And towards the end of the week, y'all will be introduced to our partners around these parts."
"Partners?" Alex asked.
"Yep, our allies in the Kanto military. The Counterinsurgency Corps, or CIC. They're a relatively new organization, but they've done very well. You'll get introduced to them later, but for now, we've got three upcoming missions within the next four days to discuss."
"Three?" Kevin asked. "How the hell do you expect—."
"Don't strike that tone with me, boy!" Kevin shuttered under Wesley's response, but completely submitted, going silent. "If you would have listened for another moment, you're concerns would have been addressed. Now shut the fuck up and hear me out." Commander Hawkins: 3, Kevin: 0, Michael thought, having kept score. "Obviously, I can't expect the six of you to be able to perform these missions back-to-back. That would be fucking stupid. So, I'm going to split the six of you into three groups. Once I divide you boys up, then we'll individually discuss the three missions. Got it?"
"Makes sense, sir," John stated.
"So here's what I was thinking." He pulled up a map of the region, having three circled areas. "Thomas and Kevin will be stationed in Vermillion. Intel suggests that there may be an attempt to hijack the cruise liner, so the two of you will be equipped with short-range mortars and LMGs. If any terrorists show up, I expect the two of you will shred them to pieces."
"Will do," Thomas said.
"Michael and Samuel, the two of you will be stationed about twenty miles south of Route 7. We are fairly certain that there are poachers linked to trafficking in the area."
"Alright."
"That leaves John and Alex for night watch on Route 15. Keep your eyes open, we are thinking that there may be insurgents transporting goods there. Y'all are strictly watching - only intervene if there are hostages involved."
"Yessir," Alex said.
"Now, Samuel and Michael, you two stay here. Your mission starts tomorrow morning. The rest of you are dismissed." The other four left the room, leaving the three of them to themselves. Within moments, the two Reapers were receiving their debriefing. "The group I'm sending you two after is pretty small - four people. However, they've been nabbing fire types in the area left and right, and we've seen evidence of rock-type attacks around those parts, so they very well could be using rock types in their work. Because of that possibility, you two will be armed a bit differently on this mission."
"How so?" Michael asked.
"Your ammunition, for starters, will be custom made for penetration rather than expansion, so no hollow-points. Heavy-grain FMJs is what you can expect, as they would be much more effective on any rock types. Also, your rifles will be equipped with M203 grenade launchers, and you'll get a frag or two each."
"What about the sidearm?" Michael asked.
"STI Nitro 10mms." Wesley pulled up a picture of the pistol on the table display. It was styled after a 1911, but chambered for 10mms rather than .45 autos. "FMJ as well." The 10mm had the most penetration of any of the practical semiautomatic pistols, so it was a clear choice for this mission. He zoomed in on the map, showing a close view of the plains that they would be operating in. "Here's drop-off," he said, pointing to the top right corner. "The signs of attacks have been trailing eastward from here, so you two need to head southwest from your location in order to intercept them. Probably a mile, two mile walk - nothing bad."
"We taking any prisoners?"
"Not a damn one."
. . . . .
"Why on earth are you going to bed at… 5:00?" Layla asked.
"Because I'm leaving at three in the morning."
"Why do they snatch you up at the most ungodly hours?" she asked.
"Well, I don't think the traffickers exactly care about my sleep…"
"Why can't they get someone else to do it?"
"Not many people can do it. Or at least, not without getting shot up."
"I guess that makes sense," she admitted, "but I still don't like your sleep schedule getting screwed up like this."
"Oh trust me, I'm not too fond of it either. I'm sure Samuel dislikes it as well." She cast him a slightly annoyed look.
"You mean to tell me you got paired with that creep?"
"Layla, he isn't a creep…"
"He is pretty creepy," she stated matter-of-factly. Alright, fine, I can't really deny that…
"Maybe. I'm sure he'll mellow out when he warms up to everybody, given enough time."
"If you say so," she said, giving him a quick hug and peck on the cheek. "Be safe, okay?"
"Don't worry, I will."
. . . . .
Of course, that was something that he couldn't fully guarantee. The next day, before noon, he found himself trudging through the tall grasses of Kanto's central plains, fireweed and wild grain brushing up against them. He had to make a conscious effort to step over the briars littered about, red-tipped and with large thorns. They had been walking nearly ten minutes when they found the beige twenty-foot truck.
"There it is boys," Wesley said over radio.
"Looks like they stole a box truck and painted over it," Michael commented.
"Samuel, settle down right where you are. Michael, you go around to the other side." He kept to the tall grasses, having to crouch down to remain hidden. It would be a lot easier to hide if these suits weren't black… Nevertheless, he was able to do as instructed, finding his spot and scoping in to the backside of the truck to get a better view… well, as good of a view as he could get behind tall grass. About two hundred yards away, still visible on his mask's proximity display, he could faintly see the outline of Samuel in the brush.
"Ah, shit. There's a lock on the damn thing."
"Not a problem, you can just cut the thing off if need be." Michael switched to thermal view and found the truck to be totally radiating heat.
"Yeah, there are definitely a ton of pokémon there…"
"Wait it out. They will be back with a load like that." He switched back to normal view, clutching his rifle, left hand on the M203.
"Yeah, that'd be a pretty fucking big payday," he muttered. "I'm guessing there's somewhere around thirty heads in there." They waited it out, which proved to be a more challenging prospect than he would have thought. Besides the hour-long wait with a selectively mute comrade, several factors contributed to the difficulty. The worst was the sheer heat. Growing up in Kalos, he was used to mild temperatures - even in the summer, and snow every winter. Here, right in the middle of Kanto, however, the heat was blistering. And his suit was doing anything but helping…
When they showed up, he was actually somewhat relieved. The sooner he sent them to the grave, the sooner he could get back onto that air-conditioned helicopter, back to the base, where he could take a cold shower… His thoughts about such things ceased when he noticed the situation at hand.
"Take five," the apparent leader had said. "Then we're outta here." They too were wearing camo attire, light beige, much like their surrounding atmosphere. The portly man in the back was carrying a cage with both hands. It contained a muffled vulpix, fur smooth and beautifully crimson, though her facial fur was messy, evidence of her crying.
"Fine by me," said the man carrying the cage. He lightly tossed the cage on the ground. "This one'll surely fetch a pretty penny. Just look at 'er - thing can't be much older than seven, eight years. Peakin' into her prime, probably. Gonna sell this one off for her body." Upon hearing this, she started whimpering, likely dreading her fate. That's not gonna happen…
It was then that the worst thing imaginable, or so they initially thought, happened. A drifting breeze parted the grass that Samuel was hiding behind, clearly revealing the dark silhouette of his Reaper suit. That's just fucking great… The men walked around his side of the truck, much to his appreciation, but the vulpix noticed Samuel. She must have recognized at least part of what was going on, because she started yipping to him, likely in an effort to entice him into helping her.
"Shut the fuck up!" the leader yelled around the truck. Michael could see that they were sitting in the shade that it was providing. Samuel raised a single finger to his covered mouth, signaling for her to be quiet. She obeyed, but still looked desperately at him.
"Bryant, where the fuck are the golems?" another asked. "They should be here by now."
"Hell if I know. They should be here any minute." Fuck, so we are dealing with rock types… and golems of all things…
"Go on ahead and take 'em out," Wesley advised. "You don't wanna get in a fight with both groups at the same time."
"Good call." The two of them switched the safeties off, moving their sights over the poachers' heads. The vulpix was still watching Samuel intently.
"On three," Wesley said. "One, two, three!" The shots silently flew, penetrating their oblivious targets' skulls, dropping them before they could even remotely comprehend what was happening. "Good, now hide the bodies. It'd be better to take the golems by surprise. You do it, Michael - you're much closer." He slung his rifle over his shoulder, dashing to the corpses. He dragged them into the nearby brush two at a time, moving as quickly as he could to avoid being caught by the soon-to-arrive rock types. On his third and final trip, he inadvertently looked at the so called "Bryant," who had been shot by Samuel. With a hole entering one ear and going out the other, Samuel's aim had proven true. Clean through the brain stem, Michael thought to himself. He tossed the body with the others, and rushed back to his hiding place, crouching in front of the boulder. Not long after, he heard the grass ruffling behind him. He paid no mind to it - after all, thousands of pokémon likely lived in the area. He did freeze up, though, when he saw the shape of a golem enter his peripheral. Shit shit shit shit…
"Don't… move," Wesley said to him. Nah, I think I'll just jump up and introduce myself… The golem paused to his right, only a few yards away from him. The only thing saving him was the fact that he was relatively low to the ground and surrounded by tall grass - otherwise, his black, kevlar suit would stand out like a sore thumb. The first golem passed by, but was followed by three more. They trudged through, making their way to the opening. They looked around, visibly confused as to the whereabouts of the humans that they would never see again, yet were only a hundred yards away from. They stood close together in a group, so Michael took aim.
"This is as good a time as any. We should go ahead and launch the grenades."
"Yep, put it in the right place and you could hit several of 'em at once." The two of them held their rifles diagonally, approximating where the grenade would land. Michael placed his index finger on the front trigger - the one that corresponded to the M203 attachment.
"On three. One, two, three!" Two grenades shot, forming arches and landing among their targets. Samuel's shot hit one center-mass, blowing it apart completely, stone-hard skin and flesh spreading in each direction. Michael's landed near the feet of the others, sending them to the ground. They were fairly close to them, however, and noticed their locations, rolling towards them - two towards Michael, one towards Samuel. In a hurry, since he had no time to load another grenade, Michael started spraying at one of the incoming golems. He kept his aim towards the center - after all, with it rolling straight at him, he was bound to hit the head at some point. His logic sound, the lead golem stumbled and fell, with a visible hole in its forehead. He took another shot - just to be safe. It was, without a doubt, dead.
His attention snapped to the other one, and he squeezed the trigger once more. Empty. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and withdrew his 10mm pistol. He was able to release five out of the eight shots, but the golem was simply too close. He had to dodge, lest he get run over, and did so, but was too late. Or at least, too late in regards to getting out of the way unscathed. He hurled himself to his right, but the golem impacted his entire left side. He fell straight on his back, but got to his feet quickly. To his right, he could see Samuel, rifle raised, dodging the swipes of the golem attacking him. It broke out into a charging role, and he sprinted aside, grabbing the caged vulpix and likely saving her from getting flattened.
The two of them were in the brush, but he could clearly see where the golem was, the quickly shuffling grass having made that pretty apparent. He fumbled around for his pistol, aiming just in time for it to uncurl itself and come charging on foot. He took his last three shots, but didn't have time to reload. He dove to the side as it nearly struck him. He only needed to make that mistake once to learn from it. With no other close-range option, he withdrew his dagger. "Bring it bitch!" he yelled. The golem roared in response, and threw a left hook at his face. Without thinking, he swung his blade in order to counter it, sticking it halfway through the pokémon's wrist, causing it to hiss out in pain. Before he could withdraw it fully, the golem clawed him with its other hand, swiping into his ribs. The claws cut through to the innermost layer of the suit, but not quite to his skin. Not having the time to consider how close that was, he snatched out his dagger, spun to the side in order to avoid another frantic swipe, and brought it down straight through the back of its knee, severing the tendons and ligaments connecting the two bones. It let out a loud, pained roar, but quickly found itself unable to continue to make a sound. Once it realized what Michael had forced into its mouth, it was too late.
Michael left the scene of the small explosion, noticing the corpse of the golem that Samuel had been fighting. Only a barely attached jawbone remained of the creature's head - everything else was shot to bits.
"That should just about do it," Wesley commented. "We'll land on sight shortly. Go ahead and free the captives." Michael made his way to the truck, starting to stumble slightly. With his adrenaline dissipating, he recognized just how sore the brutal impact had made him. Nothing was too injured, but an ice bath would do him well that night. He approached the back doors of the box truck, and noticed the lock once more. He could search the bodies for the keys, or….
He harshly hit the latch with his dagger, severing it after three tries. Hoisting it open, he looked at the kidnapped pokémon. As he had assumed, there were nearly thirty in there - mostly growlithes, a few vulpixes, houndours, and a single plusle. Towards the back were larger cages, housing a pair of ponytas and an arcanine.
"Set 'em free," Wesley said. "Ask if any of them are willing to stay behind and answer a few questions. We could use the info. Be sure to tell them that they aren't obligated, though." Michael relayed the message before getting to work, cutting the locks off of the cages. Understandably, most of them darted off the second he stepped away from the cage, but a select few of them did remain behind.
"Thank you all for doing this," he said, rubbing the head of one of the vulpixes that stayed behind, causing her to purr. "We won't keep you long, since we've got translators." The ponyta that had volunteered came closer and gently raised a hoof to his mask, motioning with her head for him to remove it. "Is that alright?" he asked Wesley.
"Probably not." Michael raised his hands to the back of his head, though his left arm pained him, and undid the two straps keeping the mask in place. Once that was done, he placed them to the side of the mask and raised it, revealing himself to them. They looked surprised upon seeing his features. They surely weren't expecting someone so young to be doing the work that most adults weren't capable of doing. Minutes later, the unmistakable sound of the Chinook's blades drew closer, and he stood up and rounded the truck once more, stepping out into the wide-open clearing. To his left, Samuel was also without a mask, kneeling down and embracing the now freed vulpix. It was then that Michael saw something that he never would have imagined possible: Samuel smiling.
A/N:
That concludes the third chapter of this story! Thanks for reading, and please leave a review or like (or both). Remember, I'm open to new OCs, so feel free to throw those out there as well.
