A/N:
I told you all that this story was far from over. Here's another chapter for the second segment. As usual, reviews are greatly appreciated, as they provide me with feedback and help the story a lot.
Thank you once again to Orthros for the proof reading services, as it's a tremendous help. You can swear up and down that your work is devoid of errors, but I promise you that until you have another set of eyes confirm it, it's riddled with mistakes.
"…" - Spoken dialogue
Italics - Michael's thoughts
'Italics' - Telepathic dialogue
/\/\/\ - Lemon Scene
"The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war."
-General Douglas MacArthur
Ch. 33 - The Return
Two days remained before their trip to the Indigo League. Only Michael was up currently, going about gathering the necessary ingredients from the refrigerator. Doing so reminded him that if they wanted to eat for these next few days, then he would need to go grocery shopping. They'd have enough for breakfast at least, especially considering he wasn't even eating the same thing. The girls would likely want either bacon or sausage paired with toast and generally eggs. Looking at the time, it would still be another twenty or so minutes until anyone else was up.
He tossed the spinach leaves into the blender before adding the berries and protein powder. A little bit of milk, and he started the machine. It whirred to life, and he stared silently as the blades shredded everything in their midst. All that remained was a thick, purple liquid. It never tasted good.
"Hey…" He looked over into the hallway, finding Alaina floating there.
"You're up early."
"I could say the same about you. But then again, you're almost always up, aren't you?" she asked. He didn't answer, but she was right. Sleep was something that he got on a much less regular schedule.
"Old habits I guess."
"Maybe." She floated closer towards him, watching as he poured the smoothie into a glass. "Look… I was thinking about the other day… and I'm sorry that I instigated an argument. I wasn't trying to make things difficult, but… I kind of did…"
"I'm sure I wasn't exactly easy to get along with either…"
"It's just… we worry about you."
"I know," he answered. He raised the glass to his lips, and drank half of it in one shot. That's how he always did it in order to avoid the not-so-pleasant taste that came with it.
"…Why do you drink that?" she asked in slight disgust.
"It's good for you," he replied.
"Good for making you throw up." She wasn't so far off on that one…
"Anyways, I'll need to run to the store before long. Probably after the others have eaten."
"Alright, well I'll stay back and get things in order for the trip. There's still a lot to get done. Maybe one of the others might tag along though?"
"Okay. How do steaks sound tonight?" Though he couldn't bake worth a shit, he had become pretty good at grilling.
"That sounds lovely," she said as she got the dishes ready for her and the others' meal. As he finished up his own, he watched the latias go about making the preparations. Such a beautiful creature living casually in his house. Most people could count themselves lucky to ever even see a legendary in person. And here he had one making the rest of his family breakfast.
It wasn't too long before the others were up. All of the girls were even more cheery than usual in light of the upcoming tournament. Michael even had to admit that he was anticipating it, and seeing them in such excitement was weighing positively on his own mood. Looking into the kitchen, he saw Alaina making french toast today. She always managed to knock that out of the park, but he rarely ate it. The sugar content alone was something to fear. But they seemed to enjoy it, so he wasn't about to ruin that for them.
"I've noticed," Layla began after she had finished, "that normal-types are becoming more mainstream in professional battles."
"I guess that makes sense. They don't have a lot of weaknesses," Elise said.
"Yeah. Often times they're fast, too," the lucario replied. "Anyways, ice-types are also on the rise."
"Well that's just great," Veronica huffed. "Really."
"Eh, we've got enough coverage so that you or Alaina shouldn't have to worry about them," Layla continued.
Most of their conversation focused on the upcoming matches, or pokémon that they might have to face once the battling began. Michael found it pretty funny that his pokémon were doing more planning for the tournament than their own trainer was. But honestly, at this point, they knew just about as much as he did about battling, having actually been the ones doing it all these years. Experience was the best teacher, and they had had plenty of that throughout their time together.
He stood up and pushed his chair in, ready to run the errand he needed to. "I'm heading to the grocery store. Shouldn't be too long." Michael grabbed his truck keys from the counter before turning towards the door.
"Wait up," Ver said. "How about we fly there instead. It's been awhile since we did that…"
"I'm gonna be coming back with bags."
"So? I can carry stuff." He thought it over for a second, but eventually tossed his keys back where they had been before.
"Alright. Let's go." The two of them went outside, and she excitedly got on all fours, ready for him. Michael took his place on her back, and she wasted no time in taking off. The long-forgotten rush had come back in full force as he held on tightly. Looking around revealed that they weren't the only people in the skies. Then again, though, this was a perfect morning for doing such a thing, and dragon riding was incredibly common here in Blackthorn. Some people opted for it over a vehicle at all, even if they could afford one.
Once she had reached the height that she wanted to, Veronica slowed to a lazy glide, causing for the sound of the flight to die down. The dragon looked over her shoulder, making her intent of conversation clear. "You think you're gonna miss it?" she asked.
"Military?"
"Yeah." It was a question that he had been unable to answer himself.
"…I'm not sure," he replied. "I loved it. I loved being in that environment. Having all those people just like me around." He gazed out towards the mountains on the horizon - the mountains where he was made into what he was. The birthplace of all Reapers. "I loved putting an end to that group of people. Killing had to come with it, but it was still the right thing to do, and it's made life so much better for countless people."
"I hated that part," Ver said. Her first kills still stuck with her, though they had been something she had tried hard to forget. But, as she had mentioned in the past, you could never forget the feeling of a man's throat being shredded out by your claws. "It's horrible. I had to, but… it was horrible. But I'll still miss it. My job was rewarding. My purpose was to save lives, and that's way more fulfilling than taking them."
"Sometimes to save them, you have to take others," Michael said. "Killing is an unfortunate thing, but not bad. Defending your comrades, defending the innocent… those are good things. And if they're gonna live, then the enemy has to die."
"No," Veronica stated, "killing is still bad. I did a bad thing back when the base went down. All killing is innately bad."
"So you would rather them have killed you and the girls?"
"Well… no…" she admitted. "But that doesn't make it good. It just… is what it is. I'm glad my job didn't focus on it."
"They were anything but innocent. A bunch of animals. It wasn't murder; it was doing what needed to be done," Michael said.
"Never said it was murder. But it's still unfortunate that it had to be that way. People weren't meant to kill others."
"You're right," he stated. "They weren't. But that's the world we live in. We have to make people into killers so that the majority of people don't have to be."
"Yeah," she continued. "I just don't think that it still makes it a good thing, exactly. I would still kill those people again if I had to. One of them almost shot Alaina. But at the end of the day… that was a human. He was a child once. Hell, he is still somebody's child. Even Douglas was a kid at one point. I imagine that's something that still hurts Steven."
"It has to be," Michael said. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for the former champion to see all these news outlets - all those people celebrating for your son's death. He felt bad for the older trainer, but it was either Douglas or the world. He had no problem with making that choice, but he did still retain one regret from that dreaded, now-quarantined, island.
Ver began to descend towards their grocery store of choice, and they found that it was mostly empty at this time of the morning. She impacted the road in front of the store softly, and the two of them walked inside. Michael grabbed a shopping cart from near the entrance, and began his usual route, which started with the aisles and circled around the refrigerated portion of the building. Today's trip shouldn't be as long as usual, but that didn't mean that he'd walk out without a good bit of stuff. No, feeding six people for two days required an impressive amount of food. It was his largest monthly expenditure, and definitely something he had missed from the military. All of it was free back then, but now it was all on him. Of course, the types of food he kept stocked in the house did anything but help. But with how much the family ate, on top of the other bills, getting a good job wasn't going to be an option before too long. The expenses were what kept most people limited to one or two pokémon each. It simply was too costly to maintain a huge team, unless of course you were a professional trainer and could battle for a living. Arceus, how many times he'd heard the request from Layla or Ver to go back into that arena. And now they were about to do just that.
And who knew? If he found his spark for it again, maybe they might just decide to stick with it - even if they didn't win. Of course, if they did win, then that would be a very good option for his team. They had it in them, that was for sure, and if they could secure a seven figure job doing what they loved, then everything would work out ideally. It probably would be good for him, too, to associate more with other people.
He grabbed two bottles of the marinade and set them into the buggy, moving on to the meat section. "Wait, are we having steak tonight?" Ver asked.
"Yep."
"Hell yeah," she said. As he picked out two large packs, he tried to ignore the people looking at him to his right. It was hardly a secret as to who he was now; ever since he had killed Ethan and stirred up the locals… and had killed the man who nearly brought the world to war… most people across the nation knew who he was. Being that he was a Reaper, he detested that fact. But it wasn't like they could wipe everyone's memory. It just had become something that he had to live with, albeit very carefully. He'd refused any interviews and never spoke of his past business, but he still couldn't help but feel that everything he did was under a microscope.
He tried to put those thoughts out of his mind as he continued through his route, heading to the frozen section. Mainly Charlotte's and Elise's stuff. "Come on," Ver huffed, "the last thing that braixen needs is more sweets. She's already hyper enough as it is…"
"I got you your stuff. Let Char have hers." Just when he had figured that he was just about done here, Michael remembered one other thing that needed replacement. Ver noticed immediately which section he was heading towards and grabbed his arm.
"Hey…" she said softly, "please don't. You don't need it…"
"Let me go Ver. Arceus, you're acting like I'm a damn child."
"No… that's not at all what I'm doing. You don't need that stuff. Not when you've got us. So just… please don't. For me." He didn't know how a seven foot tall flygon managed to be as endearing as she was, but it had its effect all the same.
"Fine," was all he said. She placed a single clawed hand on his shoulder as they proceeded to the checkout line. Since it was as early in the morning as it was, there were only two registers currently open, each with a small line. Michael picked the shorter of the two and waited there. He knew most of the store's employees by this point, so it shouldn't come as much of a surprise for them to see him there. But he still found himself ignoring the staring from other customers.
He'd wished that things had worked out differently. It wasn't fair how people close to him were always getting hurt or killed. It was a possibility with military… but the vast majority of people in Johto's forces were absolutely fine. Hell, a good percentage of them never even saw a firefight. But it seemed that the Twenty-Fifth just attracted bullets. All of them had been shot, including Hawkins that one time, and he wasn't even supposed to be anywhere near combat. Not to mention the two that now were buried over in the endless sea of white graves. It seemed as though his squad was cursed to be miserable.
"Sir?" the cashier asked. Michael snapped back to attention, noticing that there was a line formed behind him. He quickly began to unload his items, hoping to speed up the process that he had unintentionally stalled. "Find everything okay?" the older man asked.
"Yeah." As the items were scanned, the price climbed up, and Ver tried to avoid looking at the number. As though she had something to feel guilty about. This was what came with having a team this large, and one that required a larger diet at that.
Once he had all the items bagged and back in the buggy, they left the store. Seeing as to how they had nine filled bags, Michael was beginning to regret the decision to not bring his truck. But Ver had insisted that she could do it. "It won't be a problem," she assured him as she slipped her arms into the plastic handles. "I won't drop 'em." Hopefully she wouldn't, considering there was over Ᵽ150 worth of food dangling from her arms.
Once the two of them had arrived back at the apartment, the others helped him put the food away, even though Charlotte may have wanted to get into the ice cream a little bit early… Minor chores dominated most of the rest of the morning as everyone got things ready for their trip. Michael had notified his landlord of the trip, who, in addition to his neighbors, agreed to come by and check on things from time to time. He was uncertain of going anywhere unarmed: the Indigo League was a strictly gun-free zone. But that was just something that he would have to deal with.
Throughout the miscellaneous things that needed to be tended to, Michael's phone vibrated in his pocket. Probably Alex, he thought. His friend had recently inquired about getting either a Glock 17 or 19 for his own go-to 9mm. While Michael personally sided with the latter of the two options, he had told him to go with whatever he could get the best deal on. They'd both work about the same, though the 19 was more concealable and portable. He'd recently been sending him several messages about the topic.
After he finished packing, he took his usual spot on the couch before flipping on the television. It wasn't surprising to see more images of protests, or to hear foreign politicians trying to vilify Johto's political landscape as evil or unjust. Nothing new there. Why can't you stupid fucks stay in your own socialist shitholes and mind your own damn business? he thought. Johto was a wonderful place, and the only ones who were starting trouble anymore were those fucking protestors that were marching through the cities. Hell, if the government would just let him and the others do a little crowd control, they could make damn well sure those lowlifes thought twice before crawling out of their holes.
He was interrupted from his thoughts by the phone ringing in his pocket. What Alex? Dammit, it's not a big deal! Fumbling through his pocket, he withdrew the phone, only to find the name displayed to be one that he least expected. What the… He promptly answered it. "Hey…"
"Hey. You didn't answer the text."
"My bad… What's up?" Michael asked.
"I wanted to know if you were available at eight tonight." The former Reaper thought it over quickly. They'd be finished with dinner at that time, so he would be mostly in the clear.
"Yeah, I should be. Mind telling me what's up?" he asked.
"Great. Video chat at that time. I'll fill you in then." The phone hung up, leaving Michael to wonder what had happened… or why Commander Hawkins had called him in such a manner.
. . . . .
"Hmm… looks like we can see the roster now," Layla said as they crowded around the computer. Indeed, the League had posted a list of all the people that had signed up for the tournament. And the competition was looking intense. Among the top listed participants were over a dozen gym leaders and Elite Four members from across both Johto and Kanto. But despite the challenge presented, the girls were pumped to face it. Even Michael was - but only after seeing one specific name. How did I know? Like a moth to a flame, he couldn't resist - not with an opportunity like this. Leo was also in the list of those competing.
"Guess we get to cut him down to size again," Layla said.
"We might not even battle him this time around," Michael said.
"Aww, don't crush my dreams," the lucario replied. "Besides, if he does what he usually does, and we kick as like we normally do, then we'll probably face off against him somewhere down the line."
"I'm ready for it. That was the most fun I'd had in a long time," Veronica said.
"How long we should be there?" asked Elise. "You know… if we don't lose, that is…"
"Says here that all the battles should take about a month to complete. Seems like we need to battle every two or three days…" The girls were capable of a lot, no doubt, but that was a tough schedule for anyone. However, all teams involved would be doing something similar, so everyone should be equally exhausted throughout the process.
Michael found his own name pretty high up in the list and scrolled the cursor over it. Curiously, he clicked it, and the page linked to his personal trainer information. Wow, that's neat. A full list of his registered team appeared, as well as all of the badges that he had collected. A few statistics here and there, including two failed attempts at the Indigo League. That still hurt. "Looks like we can check out anyone's team and past battling history," he said. That would be some good information to study up on.
"Perfect. Let's get to work," Alaina replied.
So for the better part of an hour, they all searched through as many teams as they could, finding only themselves and Leo Browning to possess a legendary, which was a huge advantage. Well, there was one girl that had a shaymin, but that hardly counted. Michael would have continued looking, too, had he not noticed the time. It was 7:52.
"Damn, I need to take the laptop for a minute," he said.
"Why?" asked Charlotte. "We've only covered like half of the participants."
"I'm going to video chat the others. They all agreed to do it at this time, and I need to check up on them."
"Well that's a fair reason," Alaina said. "Tell them that we all said hi."
He went back to his bedroom and shut the door quietly. This would be the first time they had done a group chat like this since they had completed their service. Not that the Commander hadn't been keeping up with his boys, but speaking with all of them at once? Something had to be going on. Almost as though it was a mission briefing. That couldn't be true though; they were finished with the military. Well… Thomas and Samuel weren't, but everyone else was. Hell, Kevin wasn't even in the country anymore. Whatever was going on, though, he'd learn soon enough.
Eight o'clock rolled around, and just as expected, Michael was sent an invite to join the video chat. Clicking on it, he was quickly greeted with the Commander's and his five comrades' faces. "Good. Now everyone's here," Wesley said. Michael looked glanced over the others'. John was sitting on a balcony, with the sands of the coastline in his background. Thomas had done something that Michael had never seen him do before: he had shaved off his beard. "Damn, so there was a face under there the whole time…"
"Guess so," Thomas said, devoid of any sense of humor. The hell?
"How's everyone been lately?" John asked.
"Good over here," Alex answered. "Enjoying the beach?"
"Yep. The governor is a family friend, and he set me up with the place. The wife and I love it down here."
"Glad to hear it," Alex said, before addressing the entire group. "So what's all this about? Doesn't seem like this call was just for catching up…"
"Wish that it was," said Wesley. "Really do. But something serious has been going on, and… we need the Reapers." Everyone fell silent for a moment, likely trying to make sense of it all.
"You… what now?" was all John was able to ask.
"We've been asked to request all Reapers back to even the Eighteenth Squad. The army needs as many of you as possible. I know that you've all contributed more than your fair share for the country… but now… Johto needs you once again. She needs us all."
"What the hell is happening?" Kevin asked. "And on top of that, you wait until I get settled down outside of your country to ask for something like that?!"
"I know it's sudden. But we just began to connect the dots. It seems like Douglas was right about one thing: they are coming. It took us a year to realize it, but it's clear as day if you keep up with the times. They grabbed ahold of that tragedy and have used it to demonize the way we run things over here." There wasn't any denying that; watching the news for two minutes could relay that much information to anyone.
"And we care about what other countries think for what reason?" asked Kevin. "They could be a bunch of warped fuckers, but our job was to protect Johto."
"And that's what we need to do," Wesley answered. "Foreign politicians set things in order almost directly after the events with Douglas. In fact, they were thrilled that they had the opportunity to advance their causes. Secretary Stryker and I have been in conference lately, and he with the president. We went through Stone's records and found that he was fighting something else off - something that has already set up shop in our region as well." The thought of being dragged back into another ideological conflict was unsettling to say the very least, and mentally draining on top of that. Michael wanted no part in any of this; he had done his service. But, he remained in the chat to see what was going on.
"What are we up against?" asked Alex.
"An organization known as Team Delta has been doing some of the same things that Douglas did. Making money from all sorts of murky businesses just so they can influence politics. No explicit genocide this time around, but they are the ones responsible for forcing out ideals that they don't like in other regions. Like you said, Werber, that's not exactly our concern what happens in regions outside of Johto. It does come as a concern, though, when they manage to dump enough funding into a candidate's campaign to win him a seat in the senate."
"So they are trying to buy political power?" Michael asked.
"Looks like it. Senator Callahan ran his campaign on an independent platform back during the election. Word is that he's actually a socialist, and will try to utilize his position to shift the city left. All we know is that his nephew was caught accepting a large suitcase from a Hoenn ambassador. And that's just a single example. Countless spots are being bought - county elections, the lower courts - everything. They're trying to weasel their way in. If we stand by, then it's going to happen." Wesley remained silent for a moment, likely trying to put together his next words. Once they were spoken, Michael had wished that he'd never heard them. "I know it's a lot to ask, and I hate to be the one to ask it. But we need all the help we can get. Thomas and Samuel here are already in. I'm not going to think badly about a single one of you if you decline. That said, anyone that does join will have their salary doubled. and the benefit package was also expanded upon." After that, Kevin was the first to speak.
"Well shit, if that's the case, count me in." The initial pay was already pretty good with the Reapers, but double that amount? That was harder to pass up.
"…I'm sorry," John said quietly. "I don't know if I can do that to my wife. We just got settled down here. I can't just disappear again for another year without her agreeing to it. "
"I understand," the Commander said. "Alex? Michael? What are your thoughts?"
"I guess I'll give it one more tour. My parents will probably flip out, but one more go at it shouldn't hurt," Alex answered. "Any idea when we would start?"
"If you agree to come back, then we would need you within the week."
"Damn, that soon?"
"We don't have time to waste. We need to take care of these people before they establish more of a foothold in our country. Team Delta has brought organized crime wherever they've stepped, reasoning that their ends will justify their means. In their eyes, it doesn't matter that they're spreading drug markets wherever they step. We can't let that shit come back. Whatever the other regions want to do about it, that's up to them. But as for us, we're going to put an end to all their operations in Johto. All those protests that have been happening? Most of them are funded and coordinated by Delta. They're already here; we have to act now." At this point, Michael needed to give some sort of response. That also happened to be the last thing he wanted to do.
"I… don't know what the fuck to do," he eventually said. "The girls and I… we're supposed to start competing in the league in just two days… They're so excited for it… I encouraged it. How can you expect me to take that from them just like that?" It would be cruel and unfair to even think about doing something like that.
"I can't expect you to do that," the Commander said, "but the country is in danger. It could be torn apart if we don't stop them. We don't have the right to ask any more from any of you… but yet it's come to that, and we need you all once again."
"You think Michael and I could have a word alone?" Samuel asked. That was a tad bit out of place, but the Commander nodded.
"Of course. Chances are we'll still be here when you get back." Curious as to what Samuel had to say, he left the chat, only to be invited to another moments later. With the image of the sniper being the sole thing on the screen, Michael was able to see more of his surroundings. Samuel sat in his bedroom back at base in the one recliner that was always in the corner. On the table, a Remington 700 had been disassembled, with the bolt removed and disassembled for cleaning. A Jewell trigger set also lay beside it, indicating that he had intended to modify the rifle to have an easier trigger pull.
"Looks like you've been busy with that," Michael flatly said.
"Yep. One of the new recruits' rifles started to fuck up, and here we are. Also needed to upgrade his trigger, so it's best to knock them both out while I've got the damn thing in pieces."
"Makes sense. So what's this about?"
"I thought it'd be best to fill you in on all this. The Commander wants us all back, of course, but I'm not gonna push you one way or another to make a decision. I want you to make the right choice for you, not because you're being asked to."
"Gotcha. So what's your take?"
"Well I'm contracted again for another four years anyways. Mainly teaching other Reaper trainees how to snipe. But I wanted back in on this fight."
"You gave up training others in safety? Why?" Michael asked.
"Same reason we signed up in the first place. We gave up safety then too. I felt that this was a fight worth getting into. They're gonna need as many stealth operatives as possible for what's about to happen."
"So why did you sign up this time?" Michael asked.
"Because I personally saw who these people are. Nicole and I decided to go to one of those stupid protests - just to see what it was like. Wasn't in uniform or anything. But this one was about the normalization of pokémon and human relationships. That's a cause I'm sure both of us can support."
"For sure."
"Yeah, well, it wasn't what we were expecting. I'd heard about them on the news and all, but… they were all but chanting war cries against our country. Everything we stand for, they'd love to tear it all down. The main speakers - anyone with fucking common sense could see through it. They listed off every single group of people that they felt were marginalized and said that this country - the same country that fucking killed the man that wanted to kill people like them - was the enemy to them. We are the bad guys. I don't know if any of them have the balls to touch a gun, but the people that Delta is working with under the table are willing to do whatever it takes. Just criminal scum."
"So we've got confirmation that Delta is behind the leftist protests lately?" Michael questioned.
"We do. Several of the speakers have been traced right back to this underground group. Drugs and prostitution are rampant through the team. This isn't about their political stupidity - even though they are pushing a pretty fucking antagonistic narrative. This is about taking them out before they build the exact same markets that Douglas was trying to create. Not in my fucking country. That's why I volunteered again."
"I understand."
"But… you've already given enough. And I don't want you committing to anything that's gonna piss off your pokémon. Just think it all through before making any choice, alright? They've all sacrificed a lot as well. It wouldn't be fair to ignore what they want in all this," Samuel stated.
"Truth be told," Michael said, "it's not fair to them to even be having this conversation. I gave them my word that we could go and do this. And now I'm being asked to snatch it away from them at the last minute."
"I know what you mean," Samuel said. "Nicole begged me not to do it. But… it's what we do."
"It's what we do? Disappoint the ones closest to us to save a bunch of people we don't even know?"
"Isn't that why you started in the first place?" Samuel asked. He had a point, but Michael was barely listening at this point. "All that shit that we stopped the first time? It's coming back. But this time it's not gonna be attacked by the press - it's gonna be covered up and supported. I can't stand by while that happens." Michael hated to admit it, but he was right. These types of people, just like Douglas, believed that they could do whatever they wanted in order to achieve their goal and it would all be justified. It looked like the terrorist had been right; the left had come.
"I'm just gonna sleep on it tonight," Michael said. "I'll… shit… this is gonna be a hard conversation to have…"
"It always is."
. . . . .
The two lines stretched out as far as the eye could see. Off in the distance was a massive series of buildings, all surrounded by a barbed gate. Guard towers lined the border with armed men ready to shoot at a moment's notice. The light rain was pierced by the sharp spotlights that ran along the people, one of which overtook Michael's field of vision. He held up his hand to blot out the blinding light, which had left as soon as it came, ready to inconvenience the next person behind him. Where am I now? he thought.
"Hoenn," said the familiar voice to his right. "You're in Hoenn."
"Great. You again."
"Yep. Me again," Douglas said. This time his voice lacked its usual authority; now it was morbid and foreboding. "You can't shake me boy. I'm in this for the long run."
"What is it now?"
"I want you to observe. Just like last time. I want you to understand what's about to happen. This is our future." A gunshot rung throughout the night, echoing across the entire base. Michael looked up and tried to trace the source, but no one else seemed concerned. "That's to be expected in a place like this," Douglas stated. "Just everyday life. I'm sure you'd get used to it."
"What is this place?" Michael asked. "And why are all these people here?"
"I think you already know the answer to that," the terrorist replied. "They thought differently. Each of them pissed off the government in some form or another. One of them may have made a comment about the dictator. A banned book here, a pocket knife there… The list goes on and on. Anyone that steps out of line will be punished. They'll end up here, and half of them won't ever make it out of this place."
"What?"
"Let me ask you this: do you think the government is concerned for their wellbeing? It isn't going to be uncommon for people to be worked to death. Starvation and disease are also going to be some constant companions. But hey, you saved Hoenn, right?" The line had moved forward a good bit, and now he could see the guards in the front as they checked each individual and sent them towards different destinations.
"What the fuck," Michael murmured. "Why is this happening?"
"Because I'm not here to stop it anymore. Delta is going to accomplish all of this. You can't stop it. I was close, too. I was going to send the root of the problem straight to hell. But you had to interfere."
"There had to be—."
"There was no other way!" Douglas yelled. Nobody around flinched, or even acknowledged their presence. "Don't you fucking get it?! It's over! You go ahead - go out there! Kill as many of them as you possibly can! But they are everywhere now, and you are the reason why!"
"But this hasn't happened!" Michael said. "Not yet!"
"It will," Douglas said. "I doubt any of you can stop it now. Delta is too far along now. It would take a miracle to get rid of them at this point. All you all had to do was nothing at all. But now countless millions will be ruled by tyranny for the years to come. Everyone that will ever stand in these lines can thank you for that."
"It's not my fault… I didn't do any of this," Michael said defensively.
"Maybe not directly. But the fact still stands that had you and Raptor not ruined everything that I had ever done, then this future wouldn't be a reality. You probably had good intentions. But even good intentions can ruin everything. Hell, those assholes in Delta probably believe they have good intentions. Most of them are nothing but pawns to those degenerates in charge. But when you get down to it, all that matters is what happens in the end. And this is the end. Not just for my region, but for all of them."
"It can't be… we will stop it…"
"No you won't. You won't even be there. But I hope you enjoy that league of yours. At least, while it's still standing," Douglas said.
At this point, the two of them had nearly reached the front of the line. A pair of armored vehicles were parked on each side of the two lines, with each packing several soldiers, some with rifles. For each line was some form of administrator, who seemed to decide on the destination of each of the prisoners. One of the individuals in Douglas' line had been moved forward, escorted by a guard towards one quadrant of the labor camp.
"This is our thanks. We build the economy off of our own backs. We fight to protect our homes and our countries. But this is how the left returns the favor - by damning anyone who dares to oppose their despicable train of thought. The very region you saved is going to kill people like you, Michael. You should have let me finish. Now every one of us will suffer - every one of them," Stone said, motioning over his shoulder. Michael looked behind him… and couldn't see the end of the line. It stretched into the very horizon, as did the militants keeping watch. Tanks slowly crept in each direction, their thundering movements blotted out by the sharp cries of jets over head. "You gave them everything they needed - time and motivation. Now to them, the entire right wing is the enemy."
"That part is your doing…"
"Maybe. I share some blame too for failing to kill you."
"Next!" called out the admin. Michael quickly looked ahead, finding himself to be in the front of his line. He cautiously stepped forward. One uniformed individual came to speak something quietly to the administrator, who furrowed his brow and nodded. He motioned for the soldiers on the armored vehicle, three of which hopped off.
"What's going on?" Michael asked.
"End of the line for you and me," Douglas replied. "We were enemy combatants." One of the soldiers grabbed Michael's shirt. The former Reaper struck him in the face, quickly reaching for the holstered pistol at his side. As quickly as he had done so, the sound of rifles going off could be heard… and felt. Several holes appeared in Michael's chest, and the soldier that had grabbed him was dead, having been accidentally shot in the neck. He fell to the ground, joining Douglas in the mud as the daunting footsteps drew closer. "You don't… ever go down without a fight," Douglas murmured through his grit teeth. "You can't ever let… them b-blot us out!" He snatched up the pistol that Michael had dropped, firing several rounds into the nearest enemy. His head was taken apart by the next rifle shot, and he remained motionless. Michael was kicked over onto his back, and he stared straight up as the camp administrator pulled out a 1911 from the inside of his pocket. The world went black as the gun went off.
He lunged forward in his bed, clutching his chest as his heart raced. His body was covered in sweat, but no bullet holes. The fuck… was all that… Throwing the sheets to the side, he stood up and headed for the bathroom, leaving Veronica still asleep in the bed - asleep and oblivious to the decision that he was now wanting to make.
. . . . .
Breakfast that morning was noisy, to say the very least, with each of the girls barely able to contain their excitement. After all, tomorrow would be the day that they boarded the plane. Only… this plane would be heading somewhere else. He had no idea how he was going to break the news, and the thought of doing so broke his heart every time. But this wasn't something that could be procrastinated on.
He had spoken with the Commander earlier that morning, and it had looked like John had agreed to serve again as well. All the others were waiting on his answer now. Waiting on him to crush the very dreams of the people closest to him. Michael knew that it had just been a nightmare; he wasn't a stranger to those at this point. But seeing the current global political climate, as well as hearing about Delta's growing influence, there was no denying what would eventually happen. It had already been happening in short steps - the skyrocketing taxes, promises to increase all manners of public spending and governmental programs, and the far leftist narrative that was constantly being pushed by the media and by the public education system.
They had done the right thing in killing Douglas - of that he was certain. That man had been willing to absolutely murder anyone that he didn't like all in the name of the greater good. He was ideologically consistent, even willing to purge the very people that worked under him, as well as himself. Ideologically consistent or not, though, he was an evil that needed to be dealt with. Michael didn't regret shoving that knife into the terrorist's chest for one second, but he didn't know that in doing so, he would give a new set of enemies the safety they needed to advance their own cause.
The media had praised Johto for its role in bringing down the radical right winged organization. After all, it meant that they didn't have to fear extermination. Of course, that didn't stop these regions - Hoenn, Kalos, and Unova in particular - from drifting further left, outlawing several tenets of ideals they disagreed with just like their right-winged counterparts. And now, Douglas' organization was no longer there to fight them off. The burden would now have to fall upon the Reapers to do just that, but only within the confines of Johto and likely Sinnoh. Of course, their greatest ally would probably have a similar attitude towards an organized group of criminals with an agenda infiltrating their political system. Any region that had a shred of decency needed to follow suit and rid themselves of these people. But sadly half of them would not only fail to do so, but would actually support this group of morally bankrupt thugs.
But once again, their responsibly was solely to protect Johto itself. He needed to help do that with his comrades. He couldn't let them go to war while he stayed back and enjoyed a life of leisure. They had all sacrificed greatly by deciding to go through with this. It was just the nature of the job, and one of the reasons why it was difficult for members of special forces to maintain a healthy relationship.
One of the decorative pillows from the couch impacted the side of his head, snapping him out of his thoughts. Charlotte covered her mouth to try and stifle her laughter, having failed in her attempt to nail Alaina. He gave her a half-hearted grin, dreading the fact that what he was about to say would rip the very joy out of all of them.
A/N:
That kind of sucks, doesn't it? Anyways, I'm off for now. Until next time! Let me know your thoughts in the reviews! Additionally, if you've enjoyed reading this story, consider checking out my Mystery Dungeon story Into Darkness.
