A/N:
Finally was able to put together this chapter. Sorry it took a bit longer; I've been pretty busy as of lately. But one of the climaxes has finally arrived, making both this and the following chapter some of the more significant parts of the story.
The moment many of you have been waiting for has now arrived. Michael's responses and thoughts will be the entire next chapter.
As usual, I'm not affiliated with Pokémon or any of the products in this story, etc.
If you enjoy reading, please consider leaving a review or a like.
"…" - Spoken dialogue
Italics - Michael's thoughts
'Italics' - Telepathic dialogue
"Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things."
-Robert Brault
Ch. 7 - Realizations
John and Zeke approached the guards, disguised as two other soldiers, complete with fake IDs to sell the image. Ever since their last visit, there had been an increase in security protocols - more guards were stationed outside, for instance, looking the two over, as well as their "credentials."
"Good to go," one of the guards stated. Both of them entered into the building, leaving Michael's line of sight. He had been stuck with overwatch duty, there to mow them down in case anything went wrong, providing support for the other two. He wore the attire of his enemies, but lacked any sort of facial disguise - enough to buy him some time in case he was questioned. But Zeke and John - they were the ones doing all the infiltration. Their mission was to slip into the enemies' meeting chamber and bug it, allowing the Reapers to eavesdrop on their conversation. The large influx of traffic into the area suggested that it would be utilized that day, so speed was a necessity.
"From what we could gather from the film," Wesley said, "the meeting chamber should be on the second floor."
"Yep - see it now. John, get the mic."
Though he had no way to see what was going on, Michael reasoned that they had slipped inside and planted the miniature device.
"Come on, let's get the hell outta here." They were out as soon as they had gone in, rounding the corner and heading into the woods. All was well, so they receded away from the building, back to their Chinook. They all took off their gear, taking a seat and listening for the transmission. Voices picked up, growing louder after the sound of the doors opening, closing soon after.
"Here we are. Listen up." The shuffling of some papers, the pulling out of the chairs, and the meeting began.
"I'm going to be frank with all of you. Things are pretty rough right now."
"No kidding," another said. "All operations on my side have ceased."
"Same. We've got fucking CIC's are still all over Lavender, Routes Nine and Ten, and Rock Tunnel. Crawling all over us - can barely go outside without running into them. Not to mention the fact that the Plant's down for good, and with it any chance of finishing off the legendaries." Finishing off?! They're trying to kill them?
"All of that will itself out in due time," the apparent leader said. "Our problem isn't primarily with the CIC. Tell me, have any of you been paying attention to where they've been striking?"
"Literally all of the worst possible places - the transport system, Cinnabar, Vermillion, the Plant…"
"Yes, but have you noticed any odd coincidences about those places?" The room fell silent, each apparently thinking it over.
"No, besides the fact that they were important spots, I don't see any relationships between them."
"Everywhere the CIC has stepped, there have been Reapers before. The CIC has done nothing but reinforce; they're the real problem. And out of them, you all know who the biggest concern is."
"Grim," several voices uttered in hatred.
"Look Michael," Zeke joked, "you're famous."
"Yeah. They seem to have it out for you," John added. Wesley motioned for them to be silent, and instead listen to the transmission.
"Alright, so what what the hell are we to do about it? Who fucking knows where those guys are?"
"No telling. But why not make them come to us?"
"Any bright ideas?" an individual with a gruff voice asked.
"Yep. Go along with the city seize."
"You're kidding, right? That would take thousands of personnel, and we barely have any to spare."
"That's why we're going to change things up a bit. We'll alter our demands. Instead of demanding Fuchsia's officials upfront, we demand Grim." Oh… fuck.
"Doesn't sound like a seize as much as an exchange."
"Don't worry, we'll proceed as normal right after we take him out. I just figured that this'd be a great way to knock out two birds with one stone."
"So what's the plan?"
"We capture a bunch of civilians, tie 'em up, and start killing 'em if they don't deliver him to us." Shit… this is really bad…
"Fine. I think I'll be able to scrounge up enough people for it, but this had better work."
They continued on and on with the meeting, unaware that their words were not only between themselves. The Reapers learned every single detail of the plan, from the targets to the stations of the enemies, and what they planned to do with Michael: blow his head clean off for a public display. The invasion would be in three days, so they had to act quickly.
. . . . .
"Here's where their ground forces will be located," Wesley said over the display, which showed a satellite image of the entire city. "They're camped around the outskirts, so more than likely we'll be able to bomb them."
"Alright, that stops the seize," Alex said, "but what about Michael?"
"We're looking into that now. Obviously, civilian deaths need to be kept low, but at the same time, Michael is a crucial part of this team. We need to find a way to catch them unprepared. Any suggestions?" Zeke stepped forth.
"I couldn't help but wonder... Michael, do you know if the latias—."
"Alaina," he corrected.
"Right. Do you know if Alaina will be lending us her service?" He shook his head.
"I'm not sure - we never really talked about the matter. Why do you ask?"
"Because I've got an idea."
. . . . .
The scene was set; a live feed in front of the city's central plaza, right in front of the gym. The enemies all wore thick, ceramic armor, with purely black skull masks, except for the leader, who had gray streaks in his, and were armed with M4s with various attachments. In front of them were the hostages that they had said they would take - thirty-three in number, one of which was the gym leader. Her right eye was black, with a large, split gash above it, and it was obvious that she had been roughed up a bit.
"This can all be settled - all in exchange for one man," the leader said. "No one has to get hurt. We have no dispute with the citizens of Fuchsia. Give us Grim, and you have my word that we will release the hostages and be on our way." He pointed his carbine under Janine's chin, tilting it up and causing her to close her eyes in fear. "But if you deny us this, they will die, and more afterwards. If you test us, you will fail."
The Reapers, in the meantime, were all readying their gear, when the designated CICs came, chains in hand.
. . . . .
He was led to the central plaza, where they were waiting for him. "Nice to see you in person after everything, Grim," the leader said. He recognized the gruff voice as the one from the meeting.
"We've upheld our end of the deal," one of the CICs said, "now release the hostages." The leader nodded towards one of the other terrorists, who began cutting the cable ties keeping them bound.
"It's a shame you have to leave so soon," he said while releasing Janine. "It would've been nice to fool around with a gym leader." She spit in his face, and he reeled back to strike her.
"Don't even think about it," the same CIC member said, his rifle raised. The last ties were cut, and the civilians were allowed to leave with the counterterrorists.
"Down on your knees!" Michael obeyed, defenseless against his enemies.
"You've been a thorn in our side these last few months, but that's all over now. Personally, I wouldn't love anything more than to see you ripped limb from limb, but we've got a schedule to keep." He and the others took aim at Michael. "So I'll see you in hell." They all shot, and the Reaper fell to the ground.
Or rather, the mirage of the Reaper. The body flickered, then disappeared altogether. While they were still confused, the bombers had begun unleashing hell on the city outskirts. "Shit, we've been duped!" one of the enemies yelled.
"Pull back - into the gym!" They sprinted across the plaza, but several fell along the way, falling victim to Samuel's Barrett. The giant Reaper, armed with his Negev, stepped from around the corner of the gym. Before they could raise their own weapons, he began shredding through them, forcing the few standing enemies around the other side of the building.
"Dammit," the leader cursed, "we're trapped!" There were four in the alleyway, with a fifth running towards them. He never made it; as he neared them, a basketball-sized hole appeared in his upper chest. His eyes rolled back, and he fell face-first. They all raised their weapons, but it would do no good - they were armed for door-to-door combat; their opponents had, by far, the range advantage, and they were closing in.
Two Reapers dropped from the roof of the gym behind them. Both Alex and Michael were armed with Mossberg 590s, blasting the two closest enemies in the heads with the powerful shotguns. Both lost the tops of their skulls, and left only two standing. Michael took the other lesser soldier, while Alex charged forth and slammed the carbine out of the leader's hands. As he fell, Michael walked up blew one of his knees off, making him shout in pain. Michael kicked the fallen M4 over to Alex, before taking the final enemy's sidearm.
"H-how?" he asked, barely able to form the words.
"A little help from some friends," Michael replied, slamming his fist into the side of his head and making him go limp. He dragged the unconscious body into the streets, where a black SUV pulled up. Opening the back passenger door, he hurled the body inside the caged back and slammed it shut. He gripped his shotgun, loading another two shells inside it, being custom made, depleted uranium slug rounds - able to punch through practically any armor out there.
The armored car stopped by, and he hopped on. Everyone but Samuel was on board, still remaining on the rooftops, having taken several heads over the course of the fight. "Alright," he said, "everyone listen up. Michael, Kevin, and John - you three will help clear out the northwest sector. Thomas and Alex, you two keep by the coast. They arrived by sea, so they'll likely try to flee that way. I'm sure they'll be disappointed to find their getaway boats in flames. No more prisoners. Go ahead and kill them all."
Michael, Kevin, and John were dropped off in their respective area. They held their position, ready to ambush the incoming enemies.
"Shit, man," one of them yelled. "Tracy got hit bad." He was holding a portable radio in one hand, and was using his other arm, alongside another enemy, to help move an injured comrade, who had clearly visible third degree burns from the waist down. "You gotta drive over here and get us! He ain't gonna last much longer!"
"We can't!" a staticky voice yelled from the radio. "They're all over us. The truck's overturned, and we—." A loud explosion sounded, and the transmission was cut.
"Dammit!" He hurled the radio to the ground, trying to pick up the pace with his comrades. "We're fucked!" Yes, Michael thought while aiming at him. You are… He pulled the trigger, taking care of both enemies.
For well over two hours, the Reapers traveled around the city, assisting the CICs in taking out what the bombs had not. They cornered them into the pokécenter, which was clear of civilians, meaning they could be as reckless as they needed. "I'm heading around back," Michael said.
He charged forth, getting ready to kick the door open, but was not focused on his surroundings. Maybe if he was, he would have seen the descending form nearly straight above him. Before he knew it, he was flung back, impacting the ground harshly. Shit! He stumbled to his feet, barely able to dodge the incoming blade. It sliced clean through his shotgun. He threw the two useless pieces to the side, withdrawing his dagger and getting a clear look at his opponent. An armored pokémon - a reptilian bipedal of some sort - stood over him, just shy of six feet tall. It had two long, curved blades protruding from its forearm pieces, and a dark helmet.
"Shit, I've got trouble over here!" he said. The pokémon lunged toward him, swiftly bringing its right blade to his knee. He stopped it with his dagger, sending sparks flying off of his opponent's. The other followed, barely impacting his chest and shoulder, but cutting a line in his suit. He backed up, but his aggressor would not let up. Michael attempted to block blow after blow, with his suit being torn to shreds in the process. I'm not gonna last much longer at this rate…
He spun to the side as the pokémon thrust both blades forward, and, seeing his chance, sliced down as hard as he could. Both of the blades fell, broken from their base. The pokémon glared at the two snapped blades, then released an angered growl.
With it being much more limited range-wise, Michael went on the offensive. With a quick cut to its face, he sliced off the left lens piece, revealing a piercing, soulless yellow eye. He went for another head-level strike, but the pokémon caught his hand. Its hold felt like a vice grip, bruising his arm and making his hand go limp. He dropped the dagger, and was punched in the gut, taking the air out of his lungs. Michael fell against the wall, quickly followed by his opponent. One claw gripped his shoulder; the other was drawn back, ready to slit his throat.
An illuminating flash collided with the pokémon, sending it rolling to the ground. It stumbled, trying to regain its balance on all fours, but it was blasted again. Unable to locate the source of its opponent, the pokémon fled, dashing into the ruins of the city and out of sight. The familiar form of the red and white dragon materialized in front of him.
"Th…thanks," he stuttered. She helped him to his feet, and he retrieved his dagger and broken weapon.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
"Yeah, just a bit dazed," Michael said. "John, how're things looking in there?"
"We're clear now. They're all dead."
. . . . .
"I'm here at the scene of the event, where the city is clearly in ruins. Last night, special forces fought local militants over Fuchsian hostages and control over the city. According to the previous release from the terrorists themselves, an exchange for the so called 'Grim Reaper' was desired, and reportedly attempted. The hostages were released, but chaos ensued shortly after. Somehow, 'Grim' remained unscathed. With me today are both Fuchsia's very own gym leader and mayor. Thank you both for being here." Michael set his ice pack aside, snatched up the remote and turned up the volume.
"Thank you for having me," Janine said. The mayor, however, remained silent.
"So tell us what happened." Before she could respond once more, the mayor spoke his mind.
"I'll tell you what happened - the selfish actions of that Reaper squad cost this city twenty-three lives." What? "Look back at the video - they wanted one person. One person, and they would have left the city. But because they chose his life over those of our people, both Johto and our very own military caused dozens of families agony over dead loved ones. Not only that, but they have turned this city into an eyesore, with billions in damages, blocked off routes, and destroyed facilities everywhere you look. Some heroes they turned out to be, if you ask me."
"You fucking piece of shit!" Veronica yelled at the screen. That was the first time he had heard any of his girls use language like that, but nobody seemed to mind at the moment. Janine glared over at him, shaking her head.
"Well now that you're finished with your bullshit, here's what really happened," Janine said, focusing her attention back to the reporter. "They came in like a pack of wild animals - shooting people up, kicking down doors, and attacking us. We were beaten, chained, and dragged out into the streets. You can't tell me they meant no harm - nearly all of those people died before the confrontation, not during. Those soldiers were risking their lives to protect this city, and that includes morons like you, mayor. So how about you side with them instead of a bunch of damn terrorists?"
"You go girl!" Charlotte said.
"How about you stick to battling and leave the politics to people who know what they're talking about?"
"How dare you talk about our soldiers like that? Whose side are you on?"
"The side of my people!" he yelled at her.
"Well that's funny - just about everyone in this whole city is thankful that they showed up but you. You're nothing but a stupid, selfish crook, and I'll do everything in my power to make sure you aren't reelected next year." Livid and trembling with rage, the mayor stormed off, cursing to himself. The reporter stood gawking at what she had just seen. In an attempt to assist their speechless colleague, the news anchor moved on to the next segment.
"That was brutal," Layla said. "I mean, she told him exactly how she felt..." Michael flipped open his laptop, searching for information on the Fuchsia mayor. Upon clicking on the first result, he realized what he was dealing with.
Name: Raymond Bennet
Position: 78th Mayor of Fuchsia
Assumed Office: November 23, 2032
Preceded by: Jeffrey Walker (C)
Born: February 16, 2001 (age 31), Saffron, Kanto
Political Party: Liberal (L)
Residence: Fuchsia City
Alma Mater: University of Northern Saffron
"Well that explains that," he said with a sigh. "He would be a lefty." That was the day he learned that not everyone was grateful for the sacrifices of others.
. . . . .
"There you go!" Layla said, recovering her balance from his side-kick. She grabbed the rail to support herself. "That was much harder than last time. Actually kinda hurt."
"Are you okay?"
"Of course," she said, rolling her eyes. "Remember, I've taken far worse in battles."
"Can't disagree with that."
"Now brace yourself - I'm done going easy on you!" Oh, great… He took his stance, eagerly watching the lucario for any signs of movement. She sprinted forth, going for a sweep near his ankle. He jumped over her leg, giving her a shove to the ground as he landed. She rolled aside, to her feet once more, and rammed him in the gut. He folded over, but was sent back as she jumped on him, straddling his midsection. He fell back, with her still on top of him.
"She fuckin' rode you into the ground!" Thomas yelled.
"Do you ever step foot out of this damn gym? I swear, it's like you're always in here!"
"Well, I gotta keep my guns strong," he joked. Michael just shook his head.
"Looks like I win," Layla giggled, rubbing her muzzle into his neck.
"Yeah," he sighed.
"Oh, don't be a sore loser. You've come a long way since we started this." She laughed, giving him a playful wink. "But it'll be some time before you truly match me."
"I know," he admitted.
"Now to the victor go the spoils," she said triumphantly, before hopping off of him.
"Oh? And what would you like?" he asked, getting up.
"A ride back home."
"Alright, I'm sure I'll be able to manage." He slipped out of the ring, lowering the cables and jumping to the gym floor. Instead of following suit, Layla hopped on his shoulders, wrapping her legs gently around his neck, and her hands on top of his hair. "Comfortable?" he asked jokingly.
"Very. I should ride up here much more often."
"And I'm sure you will."
Once he entered his quarters, he set her down, and took his shirt off. Throwing it into the wash, he couldn't help but notice Layla quickly look away. "Something wrong?"
"Nope, nothing."
. . . . .
In the four months he had known him, Michael had never seen Wesley in such good spirits. Though the Commander was typically one to conceal his emotions, it was hard to ignore the slight grin that he wore on this day. "That city raid ended up working out in our favor. Far more than I had thought possible."
"Hey look, he actually seems happy for once," Kevin whispered. "Gotta be fucking high on something."
"I heard that," Wesley said. "You're a bad whisperer. And no, what's got me so thrilled is the fucking mess that the terrorists are in. Just take a look." Turning the display on, he showed them article after article, with some of the enemies turning themselves in and disbanding left and right. After interrogation, some had even begun giving information - names, in particular. They were scared; that much was obvious. "Eleven hundred of 'em killed in a few hours, and they're scared shitless. They're falling apart."
"So… they're done for?"
"Well, not quite. But we're gonna speed things up a bit by heading back to Pewter."
"Gettin' pretty fed up with that place," Michael said.
"Yeah, well you aren't the only one. We're emptying it out."
"Oh…"
"And then take over every damn computer in there. I want every bit of intel in that base."
"Alright," John asked. "So how many are we sending in there?"
"Just the six of you and a handful of CICs." Wait, what?
"Let me get this straight," John said. "You're sending the six of us and some CICs to clear out a building of three hundred people?"
"Yep."
"Don't you think… I don't know, we should have at least a couple hundred if we're gonna storm into the place?"
"Who said anything about storming in there? They won't even be waking up."
"So then stealth?" Thomas asked.
"Yes. And you'll get to be a part of the infiltration this time."
"Great," Thomas said, rolling his eyes.
"Relax, you'll do fine. Not like it'll be hard or anything."
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean is, they won't be able to wake up under any circumstances." He pulled up an image of a stout, silver canister, and the molecular shape of the gas appeared next to it. "Boys, allow me to introduce you to Agent Drowzee - a recently developed, completely odorless knockout gas. A whiff of this stuff, and you're not waking up anytime soon."
"So then we'll be filling the building with this stuff?"
"Pumping it in through the AC, yeah. The main HVAC system is located at the back of the museum at ground level."
"So then we kill the guards and throw a few canisters in there?" Alex asked.
"Exactly. They'll never know."
"That's reassuring. We takin' any in?"
"Only in body bags." Hell yeah.
. . . . .
Alaina wrapped her arms around him, embracing him from behind. "There you are," Michael said. "You got up a bit late today. Another meeting?"
"Yeah…" she said.
"How'd it go?"
"…Not good at all. We're in serious danger… Those men, they want to eradicate all of us…"
"That's not gonna happen - before long, they'll be history. We're tearing their organization apart day by day, one facility after another." She tightened her grip on him, and he knew that she was still frightened by the entirety of it all.
"But what if they come back?" she asked. "What if they regroup? Start over again?" He turned around and faced her.
"Then we'll just kill 'em all over again," he said cooly. He raised a hand to her cheek, and she leaned into it. "I promise, I won't let anything happen to you."
"Thank you," she said. "I haven't been here long, but you're already looking out for me…"
"And I always will." She hugged him tightly, nuzzling under his chin. "Did your parents go?"
"Unfortunately."
"How was your mom?" Alaina sighed, shaking her head.
"Very angry. She's the reason I left so early. Right when the meeting ended, she was all over me."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Michael said.
"She's still upset over the imprint. Dad, on the other hand, is supportive. I wish she would be too, instead of wanting to make my decisions for me…"
"Well, look at it this way: are you happy with your decision?"
"My decision to imprint on you? Of course!"
"Then that's all that matters." He ran his fingers along her white, triangular ear. "It's almost time for me to leave."
"Where are you going now?" she asked.
"Well, I've gotta live up to my title."
"What do you mean?"
"Hell has a few vacancies. Time to fill 'em up."
. . . . .
Finally, he was able to walk through the Pewter Woods without fearing for his life. That didn't stop the curious looks directed at the six of them, but at least they weren't hostile. And they shouldn't be, especially after what was about to occur. With suppressed SMGs in hand, and several canisters of Agent Drowzee each on their sides, they made their way to the museum base, soon to make it history. The heavy oxygen tanks on their backs made for incredibly dangerous targets if shot at, but if all was executed according to plan, that would not be of any concern. Gazing through the darkness at their unsuspecting targets, the six raised their weapons. Twelve silent shots, and they went down. Alex made his way forward, locating the aforementioned HVAC unit. "There. You know what to do," Wesley said. Alex nodded, taking out his handheld cutting torch. Small, and not much fuel, but it would easily suffice for the purpose that he was using it for. The blue jet of flame leaped out of the small nozzle, and he began cutting a square in the side of the unit. "Be ready with the canisters."
"Alright." Michael and the others retrieved theirs, handing them to Alex upon demand. In but a few minutes, he had installed all of the canisters.
"Lights out." He flicked all of them on, and they began releasing their contents into the circulating system. It wouldn't be long until the chemicals filled the airways of every person inside the building.
They decided, upon Wesley's advice, to give it half an hour to take full effect. They connected their oxygen tubes to the slots in their masks, soon joined by several CICs. "Glad you all could make it to the party," Kevin joked.
"Wouldn't miss it for a thing in the world," one of them said. "Especially since it means getting a crack at our ex-teammates." The other five perked up, but Michael had figured that he'd eventually meet some members of the CIC that had previously been members of Rocket.
"Wait just a second," Thomas said, trying to process what he had heard. "What the fuck?" The Kantonian special forces looked amongst each other, and one simply shrugged.
"We assumed that you knew by now."
"You didn't tell them?" Michael asked Nate.
"Eh… no, must've slipped my mind. I probably should have informed the rest of your team as well."
"You think?"
"Alright, I get it," Nate said. "As for the rest of you, I'll give y'all the history lesson later. Right now, carry on with the mission."
"Agreed," Wesley said. "Go on in - there's a snowball's chance in hell that there's a single conscious person inside that base. Feel free to be as loud as you want." Alex reached for the doorknob, but found it locked.
"Great," he sighed. "Guess they didn't like you all sneaking in and fucking shit up those two times. Give me a minute." He knelt down, fiddling through his tools, looking for some picks. While he was down, Thomas walked forth. A loud thwack made them snap to attention. Thomas put his foot back down, and walked through the broken door frame. "Well… I guess that's another way to do it…" Michael couldn't help but look at the door as he passed though. Shit… that thing's almost two inches thick…
They entered the base's main floor, noticing the night-patrols passed out on the floor. The CICs took no time in capping them. "Alright, two Reapers and two CICs per floor, one per hallway." Michael and Alex were assigned the third basement floor, heading down without a care in the world, tailed by two designated CICs. Once they had shot all the guards on their floor, each individual took a hallway.
For well over half an hour, Michael could recall kicking in door after door, staining bedsheets as red as the visor on his mask. The enemies were less vulnerable than animals led to the slaughter, but no conscious person present felt any sympathy for them. Anyone that's willing to sell someone else's body for money has a special place in hell, he reminded himself. And it's our job to help them find that special place.
When they had finished clearing the building, the cleanup crew entered, removing the traces of Agent Drowzee and the hundreds of bodies. After that, the CIC forces stormed in from their encampment in the woods, flooding the building and extracting every single electronic they could find. "Well I'd say our work here is done boys," Wesley said after the fact. "Helicopter's ready and sittin' at the airport now." Without much to say or do, they left the way they came. The forest seemed to be in a complete frenzy, excitable beyond any point of calming down. Rather than the previously eerie sounds, Michael listened as the cries of jubilation echoed through the night air.
. . . . .
Their missions for the next two months were a rush, being conducted in quick secession. Watching the trafficking market plummet as its participants fled for their lives, only to be killed by a Reaper or a CIC was a feeling of satisfaction that he would never have thought possible.
The Reapers focused on taking out admins, working their way up the corrupted hierarchy. Their highlight - a kill that would be laughed about for years to come - was when the second-in-command of the pokémon poaching syndicate attempted to flee the region into Johto. With most of them being natives in a Johto-based special forces unit, they decided that sure as hell wasn't going to happen. They watched his every move on satellite, seeing as he fidgeted, running with clear horror on his face, and looking every which way in uncertainty. He jumped into his car and drove off. "Alright, he's coming your way, Samuel. You know what to do."
"Gotcha," he replied over the radio. Prone on the mountainside, he had his crosshairs over the road. Armed with his Barrett, all he really had to do was put a round anywhere in the hood of the vehicle, or the tires, to stop the thing from moving. They watched through Samuel's display as he peered through the scope. He was soon staring at the speeding vehicle.
"Alright, just stop the vehicle, and take him out when he—." The shot echoed through the mountains, cutting Wesley off. The vehicle, going straight, gradually slowed to a stop. Only when Samuel zoomed in to where the window once was did they see what had happened.
"Well shit," Kevin said. The admin's head was reduced to mere red particles across the interior, with his body still spraying. He had managed to shoot, at over seven hundred and fifty yards away, the man through the driver's window, the bullet exiting out the passenger's.
"That works too."
Building after building, the CICs worked full-time in recapturing hostages. Some had been abused by the trade, and would need treatment, while others had just recently been captured. But needless to say, the market was all but shut down in such a short period of time.
. . . . .
"I'm… not exactly sure what we'll be doing for awhile," Wesley admitted. "Our tour isn't finished for another two and a half months. I mean, of course we'll be seeing to it that conflict doesn't arise again, but other than that… I guess all I can say is remain operable at all times, just in case."
They left their meeting; Michael and Samuel waiting as the two fire foxes finished their conversation. Nicole looked up with a wide grin, hopping straight up into his arms. "Someone's happy to see me," he joked.
"Of course, love," she replied. "Always."
"How'd it go?" Charlotte asked, positioning herself beside him. Michael draped his arm around her shoulder.
"Pretty good. There isn't much to do anymore. The terrorists are pretty screwed, being hit at all sides about now."
"Well that's good to hear. So you'll be spending more time with us instead of in that damn room or out in the field?"
"Yeah, I'd say so."
"Great. In that case, can I getcha in two days?"
"You know it."
They headed back; Michael noticing that the vulpix was constantly nuzzling up to her trainer. Just like Elise, he thought. As soon as he walked into his quarters, Charlotte had taken the opportunity to ask him. "What did you think of that?"
"Think of what?"
"Sam and Nicole."
"What about them?"
"You can't be serious… didn't you see the two of them?"
"Yeah, I was right there," he defended.
"And didn't it strike you that they were all over each other?"
"Yeah, they were being a bit affectionate."
"Exactly," she said.
"So?"
"For the love of Arceus," she muttered. "Michael, they're together."
"Wh…what? You can't be serious."
"You can't be serious - how the hell couldn't you see that? Did they have to start making out for you to get it?"
"…Well, I mean they—."
"Michael, love ya to death, but you're unbearably naive in matters like this." He shook his head.
"You know, I would really love for people to start telling me the things I'm missing instead of simply stating my obliviousness and leaving it at that. And besides," he added, "there isn't any proof that they're in a relationship."
"I'm willing to bet you anything if you simply go down the hall and ask, they'll tell you. But the thing is, you shouldn't need to do that - their actions should've told you something."
"Not really. I mean, you girls do that kind of stuff to me all the time." She tensed up, then went silent, speaking no more about the subject.
. . . . .
His curiosity eventually was sated. The six, having nothing to do the whole week, sat in their lounge, playing poker at the large round table. The television was abuzz with the latest politics, though they weren't paying much attention to it.
Or at least, until the story was shifted towards the newly developing militant interest group.
"Attention has been drawn to the relatively new interest group within in the heart of Johto, known by its members simply as 'The Assembly.' Garbed in all red and united against proponents of pokémon-human relationships, they have already led two violent responses to protests, killing four humans and six pokémon in only two days."
"Damn," John said. "Sounds like they've got it out for those people."
"Yeah…" Michael said. "I know the protestors have been assholes lately, but I don't think they deserve to die or anything…"
"Well obviously not. They're just expressing their opinions about Johto's backwards social policies," Kevin replied. "What do you think, Thomas?"
"I honestly don't give a fuck," he said.
"Really?"
"I mean, I personally wouldn't kill 'em, but I could care less what happens to a bunch of perverts." The game stopped, everyone unable to focus on the cards.
"You think that they're sick in the head?" Samuel questioned.
"Yeah," he nodded. "I mean, it's just… not normal."
"Not normal?" Samuel asked.
"Of course not. I mean, don't you think it's sick? Pokémon are definitely the foundation of the world, but a relationship between them and humans?" He shook his head. "Just like bestiality, if you ask me. Wouldn't you agree?"
"No, I wouldn't. Yeah, they may look somewhat similar, but they aren't just a bunch of mindless beasts. They have minds equal to our own."
"Well, I wouldn't fully say equal…" Thomas countered.
"Actually," Michael stepped in, "they have every bit as much of a consciousness as we do."
"How do you know?"
"He has his degree in biomedical engineering," Alex said, "and graduated top of his class. I think he knows a thing or two about anatomy."
"It does kinda play a role in bio-med, yeah," he joked. "But seriously, the brains of pokémon and humans are almost identical, ignoring the shapes. Genetics are also close enough to reproduce fertile offspring, so I wouldn't call us that different at all."
"Except for the fact that they have powers, and we actually have intelligence."
"Intelligence? I have yet to see any of them that are dumb."
"I have yet to see any of them build civilizations. I mean damn - they're living in dens and caves. You'd think that if there were any of them even nearly as smart as us, they'd have made something notable."
"There are pokémon villages that've been discovered around the world. I remember seeing one on a field trip back in Kalos. When you think about it, shelter really is only necessary for keeping out the elements. I don't think that's really an issue for them, since most of them can control the elements. And plus, there are psychic types at the universities nowadays."
"Those are neat points and all, but I still think they should stick to their own, and we should stick to our own."
"Well if that's your opinion," Samuel said, "you're entitled to it."
"Of course," Thomas said, rolling his eyes. "But I can't understand why y'all were so quick to defend relationships between the two. I mean, it's not like any of you are into that shit." He took a swig of his soda.
"Speak for yourself," Samuel said, catching everyone's attention, and almost causing Thomas to choke on his drink. "Wh…what?!"
"You heard me."
"You mean to tell me…"
"Yep." No way… Charlotte was right…
"I can't believe it…"
"Well I can live with that."
"You of all people? I just don't understand…"
"What's not to understand?" Samuel asked.
"…I just wouldn't expect you of all people to be that fucking sick in the head." Samuel slammed his fist on the table. Though Thomas was by far the strongest of the six of them, Samuel struck with force enough to scare all of his comrades.
"And I wouldn't have expected you to be such a fucking asshole! Sick in the head?! Are you even listening to yourself speak? You're full of shit!" Thomas tried to speak up in his defense, but Samuel wouldn't let him. "No, I'm not sick just because I happen to love a vulpix who actually gave a shit about what I've gone through. I love her because of who she is, not because I'm some sort of fucking pervert!" He stormed off to the door, flinging it open, but stopping in the doorway. "And I don't give a fuck about your size… If you ever call Nicole or I sick again, I will beat the ever living hell out of you." And with that, he was off, leaving his stunned comrades and a dented metal table behind him.
. . . . .
Michael sat beside Samuel, who was trembling. He had made his way as quickly as possible to his quarters, where Nicole was quick to console him. He clutched the vulpix for dear life, holding her against his chest. "Shhh," she whispered, "it's okay."
"Such a fucking jerk," he muttered. "To have the fucking nerves to say something like that... and surprised that there were opinions other than his own..."
"That's the way it usually works with the closed-minded people," Michael said. "He probably didn't mean anything by it and just spoke without thinking. I've dealt with a few like that back in Kalos. They taught tolerance and all that, but they really only mean tolerance to their own beliefs."
"Really?" Samuel asked.
"Hell yeah. Over there, a 'centrist' was still pretty fucking liberal. Socialism was favored by way more of their politicians. 'Liberalism is the embodiment of tolerance' they would say. But when a few of us had more right-winged ideologies, they looked like they had seen ghosts. And when two conservatives placed the highest in their university, they didn't know how to react."
"Heh, probably didn't with how brainwashed they've become. They've done a good job of fucking themselves over."
"Yeah," Michael sighed. "I used to hate them and their ideals so much. But as I really looked at what was happening, I was filled with nothing but pity. It isn't their fault - or at least, not completely. The vast majority of them are simply products of their environments. Their parents were this way, their peers, their leaders... So they damn well sure weren't gonna step out of line. The first to blame were the generations before them that voted on those crooks to go into office in the first place." He turned to face Samuel. "Always remember that. Sometimes, the intolerant are simply reflecting the only things they've ever known, and anyone can be like that. I know I'm not one with all sorts of wisdom or shit, but I know I've seen a bit of that over the years. Look on the news, for instance. Riots for and against pokémon and human relationships are springing up all over the country. When you look at the people participating, you often see nothing but hatred for the other side."
"That is true, I guess," Samuel replied.
"All I'm saying is don't end up becoming like that, and Thomas will probably come around. At the end of the day, I guarantee you he'd still take a bullet for you."
. . . . .
After he had informed the girls about what had happened, Charlotte seemed to be gloating somewhat. "Go on, say it," she prodded.
"Okay, you were right," he sighed.
"And don't you forget it." Ugh, cocky little fox…
"I'm sure you won't let me anytime soon. I was definitely surprised at first to hear it, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense."
"What do you mean?" Layla asked.
"Well, she was the one to break him outta his shell. She's the whole reason he even talks. And he saved her from being sold for some horrid purpose. I guess there was something there to from the start - with both of them." He trailed his fingers along the cyan dangles of the glaceon in his lap, eventually stroking her chin. She gently gave his hand a love bite, rubbing against his forearm.
"I think they make an adorable couple," Charlotte said. "I mean, opposites really did attract. He's very reserved, and Nicole's so energetic and outgoing."
"Yeah," he said. "I just really hope this doesn't mess things up for the Reapers…"
"…A relationship could be troublesome?" Alaina asked. "I understand that maybe not all of you support it, but what could the harm be?"
"Well, I'm not exactly sure how the Commander would feel about relationships while on duty, especially with the very pokémon that he shares a room with."
"I see," she replied. "But I guess the only way to know for sure is to ask him, right?"
"Yeah, I guess." Ha, like I'd have the nerve to ask him something like that.
. . . . .
"You did great up there," Veronica said, Michael laying against her side. They had undergone a much more eventful flight, composed of her newly learned maneuvers.
"Thanks." He rubbed her neck, and she draped her tail over his waist.
"Mmm, that's the spot." Funny, she's fearsome and all on the battlefield, but scratch her neck and she becomes as docile as a hatchling. "Ah, down a little more." He laughed, shaking his head, but did as she wished. He accidentally went too low, though, and rubbed the crook of her neck. "Ahh!" she moaned, shooting him an accusative glare. "What've I told you about doing that?!" Her face was flushed with a prominent blush.
"Sorry Ver, didn't mean to."
"Please… please watch your hands."
"Alright, alright." He almost withdrew from her, but she interfered.
"That doesn't mean stop."
"Oh, okay." He continued as she closed her eyes and relaxed, craning her neck to lay beside him. He chuckled to himself as he say his reflection in her red protective lenses.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just looking at your eyes."
"Oh? Do you like what you see?"
"Well, I was kinda thinking that it's about time that I shave, but you look good too," he joked. She nudged him, but was unable to refrain from laughing.
. . . . .
That week had been wonderful… up until Saturday afternoon. Spars with Layla, the lengthy process of brushing through Charlotte's dense tufts of fur, and daily flights littered about the week. He had spent much time with Zeke, too. "I swear," Alex commented as they headed back to their quarters. "The two of you are always hanging out."
"Feeling like you've been replaced?" Zeke joked.
"No, I'm just curious."
"What about?"
"Well, if you're so taken to him, why don't you become his pokémon?" Zeke looked at Michael, but shook his head.
"Nah man, some birds aren't meant to be caged. Plus, his other pokémon scare the hell outta me."
"They do?" Michael asked.
"Hell yeah! I mean, think about it: a massive fucking dragon with a temperament, a fighting-type, a legendary, and don't even get me started on that braixen. Damn, she doesn't play. I saw you two practicing those fire attacks. The only one that I think I could take is that glaceon, and even then I'm not so sure."
"Well yeah, they're all strong, but they're all sweet, too." As if to counter him, an echoing roar seemed to shake the walls of the hallway.
"You were saying?" Zeke said.
"Shit, something must be wrong!" He hurried to the door, running inside. There was enough yelling on the part of the flygon that nobody heard him enter or close the door. Charlotte, Layla, and Elise were on the couch, the glaceon crying and the lucario cupping her face.
"You deceitful little shit! How dare you?!" she roared. Though Alaina was the legendary, she trembled in the corner. From the looks of things, Giratina himself would probably be frightened by the infuriated flygon. "We trusted you, and this is what you've done?!" The latias was sobbing, and made eye contact with her trainer.
"Michael…" she whimpered.
"Don't even speak to him you bitch! The only thing you should be saying is an apology!"
"Veronica!" he said, but his voice fell on deaf ears.
"You want me to be sorry?" Alaina cried. "For what? Not simply waiting around for something to happen like you?"
"That's it! I'm gonna tear you apart!" she roared. Michael ran in between the two of them.
"Ver, stop it!" He grabbed her hand; she was shaking in rage. "Would any of you all mind telling me just what the hell is going on here?"
"She lied!" Veronica yelled, pointing a claw at Alaina. "She's wronged you in the worst way imaginable! I knew I was right in disliking her!"
"You had no right to go and do something like that," Charlotte added.
"I—."
"Shut. Up. You've said enough! Unless you want to tell my trainer what you did," the flygon said through gritted teeth. Alaina's head dropped, tears streaming down her face. The legendary was visibly ashamed, but stayed silent. "Pathetic," she said menacingly, also starting to tear up. "Just pathetic!" She stormed off to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Michael walked up to the distressed latias.
"Hey, are you alright?" She nodded, but still remained quiet. "Are you gonna tell me what all of this is about?" When he received no response, he assumed that she wasn't going to be the one to break the news. "Is anyone gonna let me know?"
"It's… not our right to do so," Charlotte said.
"Great," he sighed. "Well, let me go calm her down before she tears the place up." He dreaded going back there, fearing what he might see upon opening the door. What he did see, though, didn't scare him as much as it broke his heart. The proud flygon was sobbing into the pillow, her tail wrapped around her midsection. He sat on the side of the bed and rubbed her back comfortingly. "Ver, tell me what's wrong…"
"I… I can't," she mumbled.
"Why not?"
"Groudon forbade me."
"Oh? You spoke to Groudon?"
"Yeah," she said, "he was the one that brought this… lie to my attention."
"But why can't you tell me?"
"Because… he said it was a matter between you and… that latias." She said the last words with a clear venom in her voice.
"Alright," he said, "I'll try and get to the bottom of this myself." He stood up, but she stopped him.
"Wait," she said. "Can you please stay here with me? At least for a moment?"
"Of course," he said. He continued to rub her comfortingly, and it was only a matter of minutes before she was out. He quietly left the room, closing the door behind him, and walked back towards the living room. He heard the ongoing conversation, and, against his better judgement, he decided to eavesdrop for information.
"But you do need to tell him!" Charlotte snapped.
"It wouldn't be right to keep him in the dark like this," Layla added.
"I… I don't know if…"
"You better break the news to him quickly!" Charlotte said.
"And then what?" Alaina asked. "Naturally, he's going to wonder why the four of you were so mad. Once he knows my secret, he's going to find out yours."
"I… I hadn't thought about that…" Layla added. "Oh Arceus…"
"How could you do this?" Elise asked. "This is going to get us all in trouble!"
"I wasn't thinking at the time," Alaina said quietly. "I promise, next time something like this—."
"There won't be a next time!" Layla yelled. "Once he finds out, he'll release all of us!" Michael figured that he'd heard enough, and decided to walk in before another fight broke out.
"Everything okay in here girls?" They each stiffened up upon hearing his voice.
"…No… and it probably never will be," Layla said, storming off into the other room, quickly followed by Charlotte. Elise followed suit, but paused beside him.
"Please," she begged, "please don't make us leave…" He knelt down level to her and embraced her.
"I promise, I would never do that," he said.
"I… I hope you don't change your mind about that…" And with that, she too was off.
"Alaina… please…" She refused to meet his gaze, not uttering a word. He took a seat on the couch. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" More silence. "Alright… Well, whenever you're ready to talk, I'll be right here."
. . . . .
But as he found out the next few days, no one was ready to talk. The liveliness of the girls had vanished, and they all but kept to themselves. Michael had to practically beg Veronica to eat, so he knew something was horribly wrong. And none of them wanted practically anything to do with the latias; Elise was the only one who would even acknowledge her presence. I've got to get to the bottom of this somehow, he thought. He decided to look around for Groudon - surely he knew something about the situation. After all, he was the one to inform Veronica in the first place about whatever it was that pissed her off so badly.
"Sorry to say," Wesley told him upon asking, "but he's been transported back to HQ. You barely missed him. He'll definitely be useful there, since he's one of the strongest pokémon in the world, after all." Shit… That doesn't help…
He returned to his now dreadful quarters, where the deafening silence was still present. Veronica had gone out for a flight to clear her head, while the others were silently about their own business, none of them speaking a word to him. Have I done something to upset them? The way they were acting, they all seemed pissed with the world. "Where's Elise?" he asked upon not seeing her there.
"In her room," Charlotte said. He went back to check on her. He could see the glaceon's form underneath the bedsheets. He would've assumed that she was sleeping - had he not heard the sniffling underneath.
"Hey," he said, placing a hand on her side, "please don't cry." He gently removed the sheets, taking a seat beside her and bringing her into his lap.
"O-okay." She burrowed her head into her paws, wiping the tears away.
"There, that's much better. I don't like to see your pretty face covered in tears." She blushed, nuzzling into his shirt. "What's got you all so down lately?" he asked.
"You're going to find out," she said quietly. "She went too far… and now… now we'll get busted…"
"But what are you so scared of? I've never kept secrets from you girls; why are you all keeping me in the dark?"
"This is much different," she said.
"How so?"
"You… I don't think you're going to like what you find out… Whenever Alaina actually talks, that is…"
"Have you girls done something too?" She said nothing, but nodded.
"Ellie, I'm not gonna be mad at you. I just… I just want my girls back." But she wouldn't tell him, and instead, ended up crying herself to sleep on his lap.
None of them seem to want to make this easier… They're set on keeping silent about the matter. He traced the large, dark blue diamond on her back, thinking about what the dozing ice type could possibly be withholding. Why? Why won't they tell me? Do they think that I'll be angry? I've never been mad at them before… Listening to her steady breathing, he felt the now peaceful rising and falling of her chest.
I hate seeing them so depressed, but they won't do anything to resolve the situation. That's when he got the idea. Recalling the zoroark's words, he remembered that there were others that had information that could help him in this regard. Maybe… maybe I should ask Zeke. He seemed to know something about the girls and I, so he would definitely be a great source to ask. Coming to the conclusion that nothing could be worse than what was going on at that time, he delicately moved Elise over, leaving the room. Upon arriving in the living room, he found that Veronica had finished her flight and had returned.
"Wh…where are you going?" Elise asked, starting him. Apparently, he had failed in keeping her from waking.
"I'm going to go talk with someone," he said.
"Why?" Veronica asked. "It's eight at night. Why not wait until tomorrow?" He shook his head.
"No, it can't. I can't sit here and watch you girls beat yourselves over something that you all won't even tell me about. If I can't get information here, I'm going where I can get it."
"Oh Arceus," Charlotte cried. But he did not comfort her; rather, he left, knowing that the sooner that he put this situation to rest, the sooner they would be back to their normal selves. Only, as he would find out, things would never go back to the way they were before.
. . . . .
"Ah, there you are!" Michael said upon finding the zoroark he was looking for. "You're hard to find, y'know that?"
"So I've been told," he laughed. "Typically a useful trait for a zoroark." He had managed to find him twenty feet above the ground, sitting on top of the southwest corner of the concrete wall. He had appeared to be looking at the full moon, which bathed the base in silver hues. He leaped to the roof of the housing building, then used the window frames to quickly descend to his level.
"That was athletic," Michael commented. Zeke responded with a mock bow.
"So whaddya need?"
"I need to talk with you about something… something that's been troubling the girls for a bit."
"I'm gonna stop you right there. I want nothing to do with you and their personal issues."
"I need to know—."
"Don't care, not speaking about it."
"Why not?" Michael asked in annoyance. Zeke laughed lightly.
"Your braixen may or may not have threatened me if I opened my mouth," Zeke said. "I know I've told you this before, but that vixen is scary."
"She won't find out. If it's such an 'obvious' matter, then there could be six others that told me."
"True… but I still don't want to get involved…"
"Zeke, please. The girls have been down for an entire week. They won't speak, they've shut themselves away - hell, they're hardly looking at me. I can't stand seeing them like this, but they won't break the news to me. This needs to stop." The zoroark looked at the ground, pondering his next course of action.
"Alright, fine," he said. "But under two conditions."
"Go on."
"One, we move to the other side of the base. I don't want there to even be a tiny possibility that they might hear me."
"Fair enough." They made their way away from that section. "What's the other condition?"
"Dude, I cannot stress this enough - do not even mention my name to any of them. I am pretty sure your braixen would burn all my fur off."
"That might be funny to see."
"Oh, well then have fun learning this shit on your own… if you ever do."
"C'mon dude," Michael said, "I was just kidding. I would never throw you under the bus like that."
"Alright…" They reached their destination - they couldn't possibly be any further from the girls without going outside the base. "So, fill me in on what's been going on lately."
"That night we heard all the yelling - that's when it started. Veronica was completely livid with Alaina over something. Said that she 'wronged me,' and almost attacked her. I've never seen her that pissed off in my life."
"What did Alaina do?"
"That's the thing - I don't even know. She won't tell me." He thought back, wondering what she could have possibly done to him. Not a thing, right? Well there was one thing. "If I had to guess, it might have had something to do with her imprint."
"Imprint?"
"Yeah, something about forming a bond with me."
"Huh, you've got me beat on that," Zeke admitted.
"It doesn't make any sense. Veronica said that she had talked to Groudon, and that he had called something to her attention about the matter, but she refuses to tell me, saying that it was something that Alaina would have to talk to me about."
"Damn, so they've all gone secretive on you?" he asked surprisingly.
"Yep. I think it's because they're scared that I'm gonna find out whatever their secrets are."
"Why is that?" Zeke asked.
"I may have… eavesdropped on one of their conversations. They were trying to get Alaina to fess up. She mentioned that if I would learn of her secret, then I would wonder why the girls got so angry, and then learn about their secrets." Zeke nodded.
"I see, so you're hoping that you can work your way backwards? By finding out their secret, you'll get towards finding out Alaina's?"
"Yeah, something like that," Michael said, shrugging. "I mean, I have nothing else to go off of."
"Understood."
"So what are the girls hiding from me?" Michael asked. Zeke seemed to look perturbed, but eventually spoke up.
"Well what do you think?"
"Dude, I have no damn clue. That's why I'm asking."
"You must not know them as well as you think you do." Michael was shocked; no one had ever said anything of the sort to him.
"I know them better than I do my own family. I've spent nearly every single day with them since they joined me."
"I'm telling you, you don't know them fully. Not what they're going after, at least."
"W…what?" Michael reflected on the time they had spent together. He had tried to do everything in his power to make them happy, conquering his fear of heights for Veronica and getting beaten and bruised by Layla, to name a few examples. "What are you saying?"
"I know I've told you this before, but damn dude, you really are clueless. You mean to tell me that you have never, say, noticed the looks they've given you? The way they speak to you? Hell, even the way they touch you?"
"Well, of course I have. We're really close, after all. They're my best friends."
"And that's how you view them?" Zeke asked.
"Yeah… how else would I view them?"
"Did you ever think that maybe that feeling was only one way?"
"You… you think they don't like me?" He was definitely hurt by the what he had assumed that Zeke had meant.
"No, moron," Zeke growled. "Literally the opposite. They love you."
"I know that, we—."
"Shut the hell up." Michael stayed silent, slightly unnerved by the zoroark's more hostile demeanor. "They love you, Michael. Much more than a pokémon loves their trainer." They…. what?
"You… you can't be serious…"
"Arceus, I've seen it dozens of times. The way they act towards you makes it clear as day."
"…I don't believe this… Are you bullshitting me?"
"Are you bullshitting me? They're all over you every chance they get!" And thinking back to it, Michael couldn't refute him. If one of the girls was with him, odds were they were making some sort of contact with him.
"…Shit… Which ones?"
"What?"
"Which girls… feel this way?" Zeke laughed, shaking his head.
"Damn you're blind…"
"Alright, we've established that. Now which ones feel like that?"
"Pretty sure all of them." Oh… shit… Michael tried to compose some sort of argument, something to reach another conclusion. But no matter how hard he tried, he could no longer ignore the reality of the situation.
When he had finally come to terms with everything, he left Zeke to himself, leaving for his quarters. He paused outside the door, feeling as though the very friends he had kept for three years were now completely unfamiliar to him. Hearing the voices inside, he knew that they were arguing, surely over the matter with Alaina. Gripping the doorknob tightly, he slowly turned it, opening the final barrier to the inevitable confrontation. Everything went silent, the shutting of the door being the only sound in the atmosphere. Michael kept his eyes to the ground as he walked inside.
"You're back…" Elise said her voice barely above a whisper. He looked up at them, and he could see it in their eyes. They knew that he knew.
A/N:
That concludes the seventh chapter. About 90K words into this story, and we've still got a long way to go. On one hand, that means a ton of new content, but that also comes with more reading. With that, I'm always in need of suggestions and corrections. So please consider leaving a review.
Be on the lookout for the next chapter!
