Chapter 10: The Underground


Author's Note: Sorry for the double alert, accidentally uploaded the unedited version straight from Word with no changes for this site.


Typhon stared at the magby in front of him, her eyes narrowed. She'd been like that for quite a while now, and he was getting tired of it. He didn't care how unlikely or odd his story was, every word of it was true and he didn't need her questioning it.

With his partner kidnapped, every second counted. Mojave didn't have time for them to waste pondering things that didn't matter. Typhon was with the Resistance, and Mojave was being held somewhere by the Legion. Those were the important parts, how they got there was irrelevant.

"…And do you still have the map?" Castra finally asked.

Really? That's what she was taking so long over? "Yeah." Typhon made conscious effort to not sound annoyed. "Do you want it back?"

She shook her head. "No. Just need to plug any potential leaks. I trust you to not go blabbing about where we are, but I'm not risking any funny business. When you get the chance, either destroy it or give it to the sigilyph in Intelligence."

"When I get the chance? Is there something happening?"

Castra stood up and made her way for the door. She motioned for Typhon to follow. "You and I have a busy schedule today, and we're not making any progress on it sitting in here. I'll fill you in on the way."

Typhon followed her through the Resistance's stronghold, just as busy and packed with Pokémon as Korb Town. Well, maybe "stronghold" was too generous of a term. Their little underground hideaway didn't have much going for it in the way of fortification besides being underground. Between all the Pokémon scurrying around and the age of the structure, it was a surprise that the place was still standing.

She had actually touched on that when he first arrived. He didn't see the point in knowing it, but he was much too tired then to say anything.

From what they could tell, their stronghold was an ancient temple built ages ago to worship the Moon and its gods, befitting its name, "the Emissary's Den." They must have been quite devoted, as the temple outlasted both them and any memory of itself, only being recently rediscovered.

Also interesting, was that the temple's layout was strikingly similar to a mystery dungeon. Go down a hallway, enter a big room, take another hallway out. The entrances and exits to these "courtyards" as Castra called them, seemed haphazard and random as well, just like the real things.

Typhon asked where they got the name, and Castra simply had him look up. Instead of smooth ceiling, jagged edges rubbed against each other and rose and fell towards the ground in rough-hewn domes. Small pockets of light and dust drifted through holes between them. If Typhon had to guess, what was once open air was now plugged up with boulders.

"Interesting design choice, don't you think?" she asked. "That was us, actually. They used to be open to the sky, but we had to remodel or risk discovery. All goes well, we might put them back once we're done. There aren't many things that can easily be undone, and I kind of like them that way." A rare smile graced her face.

Typhon just nodded. "Interesting," he said, not very much interested. "So, you had something to say?"

"To the point, I like it." Castra patted him on the shoulder. "As you may recall, you fought a tyrunt when we first met. We had him brought here for questioning, but he's not been the most cooperative. The hope is that we can use you to get him to do more than just stare us down."

"What do you think I can help with? Torture?"

"What?! No!" Castra said in shock. "What kind of Pokémon do you take us for?" She sounded genuinely hurt. "That's a delicate process. We have Pokémon more qualified for that. They're our last resort."

"Oh." He would have been willing to at least try. "What do you want out of him? Is there anything in particular you want me to ask?"

"Oh, don't worry, I'll handle most of it. Just talk me through one little thing." She stopped and looked Typhon in the eye. "You said that Lieutenant Domino was with Aurelian when he ambushed you?"

"Yeah, that's right. And he had a whole squad, or platoon, or whatever the word is with him." His voice started to raise as he spoke, his frustration showing. When he got his claws on those Pokémon…

Castra continued, ignoring his tone. "Now, here's an idea: the Pokémon we fought at the mine were the exact same Pokémon – minus one - that ambushed you with Aurelian, still led by Domino. Does that sound right?"

Huh. Now that she mentioned it, Typhon couldn't remember any distinction between the two groups. Maybe he didn't pay attention to them. Maybe some of the faces did look familiar. How much sense would it make for Domino to change the Pokémon he was with?

Typhon just nodded. "Now," Castra continued, "if Domino was with Aurelian, they were probably operating out of the same place, right? And if Domino's been leading the same Pokémon all this time…"

"Then Tyrunt knows where Aurelian is!" he shouted, loud enough to attract the attention of a few Resistance members who promptly continued on their way. Another thought struck him. "And if he knows where Aurelian is, he knows where to find Mojave!" A bolt of excitement went through him. His chances of getting his friend back just went up by that much.

Castra was quick to quiet him down. "Hey! That's hope! Hold on to that, but don't get so attached. Even if we do get Aurelian's location, there's no guarantee that your friend will be there. With what we know about the Legion, there's a high chance that they're more split up than we think, or that they took him all the way back to Free Water."

"No," Typhon said adamantly. "They'll be together. They have to be." Typhon couldn't tell if he was speaking from desperation or determination. "Aurelian really likes us, and Domino feels the exact opposite. They're both going to want him nearby."

"Hmm…" Castra paused. "I hope you're right."

They continued on in silence, with Castra only speaking every now and then to say a few words to the soldiers they passed. That included Woobat and Purrloin from the night before, but Castra just nodded at them and moved on. They gave a relieved salute and hurried along.

After a short walk, they entered a courtyard that was much quieter than all the others. The amount of Pokémon around them already declined steadily as time went on, but this room was practically dead.

There was only one other passageway that led out, and the only other Pokémon in the room was guarding it: a burly, familiar-looking machoke.

"General Magby!" Machoke said as he saluted.

"At ease," she said, tired. "And I told you to stop doing that! Can't let the prisoners know we're about to enter. Gotta keep 'em on their toes."

Typhon's curiosity made him speak up. "Hey, Machoke, have we met before? A few days ago, maybe?" While Typhon hadn't yet met two different Pokémon of the same species – to his current memory – he couldn't shake the feeling that this machoke was the exact same one he literally bumped into the other day.

It wasn't that he was holding a grudge or anything, but he could still swear that there was something weird about the encounter. He knew what fur felt like, and he knew that he was knocked over by something furry. If he had the chance to make sense of the encounter, he was going to take it.

"No, I'm not sure what you're talking about," Machoke said nonchalantly. "I've not left the base in quite some time, and I know I've never met a gible."

Typhon didn't let up. "Are you sure? 'Cause I swear you look familiar. You sound just like him too."

A confused look crossed Machoke's face, perhaps disbelief with the argument presented to him. The two gold rings in his ear sparkled for a moment when he shifted. "No. I can't say that we've ever met."

Something in Typhon's mind begged him to ask more, but he had no choice but to let it go. As much as he wanted to talk more with Machoke, it's not like it would have led to anything. What Tyrunt had to say was much more important.

"Are you two done?" Castra asked impatiently. "This ain't a vanillite social, we have work to do." Machoke stepped aside for her to enter the hallway.

A what? Typhon thought. I'll ask later. He followed her in and could hear Machoke come along with them.

They arrived into total darkness. It was actually surprising how quickly the light vanished, like stepping from day into night. The only light in the room came from small red candles that glowed dimly in the darkness. They ran a short way ahead and formed a tight rectangle. Typhon could only assume that they marked the boundaries of this place.

The air ran cold as well, a frightening contrast to what was barely a few feet behind him, and it seemed like every sound echoed magnitudes more than they should have. He had only been in there for a few seconds, and he already wanted out.

"What kind of place is this?" he whispered.

"We think this was once the confessional area," Castra said. "There are rooms cut into the walls, soundproof and perfect for spilling secrets." There was a devious and unsettling tone to her voice. She picked up a candle and held it slightly off the ground, revealing an ornate carving of Cresselia. "This one." She pounded on the wall, the sound reverberating out. She then turned to Typhon and silently motioned for him to be quiet.

On cue, Machoke gripped on to what looked like the wall itself and slowly slid it to the side. Stone ground against stone as the door pulled away.

Behind it was Tyrunt, rope tied around his torso, glaring with burning hatred. He was alone in his cell, with nothing but a candle and a mushy apple.

"So," Castra said, "finally ready to talk?"

Tyrunt narrowed his eyes.

"Figures." She picked the apple up by its stem and dropped it. It squished against the floor. "You could at least eat what we provide. Your food comes from our stock, which was probably stolen in the first place, so don't feel too bad about eating it."

Tyrunt didn't say anything.

"Well," Castra said with a sigh, "looks like you haven't decided to talk yet." She took Tyrunt's candle and waved it in his face. "You don't have much to look at in here, so I don't think you'll mind losing this. If - on the off chance you want it back - just say the word." She turned around and slowly walked out.

Tyrunt didn't react.

As Castra left the cell, she held the candle to illuminate Typhon. For the briefest of moments, right in between the split of a second, fear crossed Tyrunt's face and he gasped. He immediately regained his composure, but it was too late.

Castra turned around, very clearly pretending to be intrigued. "Let's try a different question. Do you know this Pokémon?"

Tyrunt spat at her. He didn't hit her, but put out the candle with startling accuracy. Castra relit it emotionlessly. "Don't be like that. Call it a hunch, but I think you know him, don't you?"

Tyrunt's eye twitched.

"He was there, at the mine, wasn't he?" Castra said with mock curiosity, like she was figuring it out alongside Tyrunt. "He was one of the protectors that turned up at the last minute and rescued me, wasn't he? Oh, you were so close, weren't you? But at the very last moment, you and your squad's perfect record was ruined, thanks in no small part to him."

Tyrunt was still.

"That stings, doesn't it?"

Tyrunt's head began to shake and the muscles in his jaw tensed up. He was like a blast seed, ready to go off any second. At what felt like the last possible moment, when Typhon expected him to shout and rant and roar, he instead let out a deep breath.

"No. I'm fine," he said calmly. "Your oran-berry-lookalike only delayed the inevitable. So what if we lost? You guys do that all the time. General Alexander's getting closer to Korb Town by the day. And when he does, it's over for you. All I have to do is wait. Go pound sand for all I care."

"Well, thank you for your time," Castra said with a small smile, seemingly unaffected. She set the candle on the floor, just outside the cell. "Machoke, seal him back in."

Typhon spoke up as the door began to slide. "What?! That's it?! You're just going to stop there?" he screamed, his anger clear.

Machoke stopped the door.

"Well, you heard him," Castra said. "We got everything we need. The Bronze Resistance's full might will be knocking down the Sand Castle's walls in no time! Aurelian's as good as gone!"

What?! Typhon was beyond belief. A sand castle?! What did that have to do with anything?! Something in Castra's head must have broken a long, long time ago.

It looked like Tyrunt was feeling something similar. His once resolute complexion was now completely shattered and replaced with fear. He was actually trembling now.

"Castra, what are you talking about?" Typhon asked her, barely trying to remain calm.

"Well, it's quite simple," she said, putting on an overly smug tone of voice. "He told us to pound sand, which is just what we'll do. Obviously, Tyrunt is referring to the Sand Castle, an old fortress some ways away from here. It's close to the current front, but not right up in the action. It's the perfect spot for a leader to receive timely updates on his war while still staying safe."

Typhon didn't know how to react. If he was desperate to get something out of Tyrunt, he had no idea what to call this. He looked over to the Pokémon in question, who seemed to be experiencing Typhon's emotions tenfold.

"Now," Castra stated matter-of-factly, "we'll have to be quick about it, so be ready to move out soon." She faced Typhon directly, as if giving him orders. "Despite their refusal to coordinate with us, Korb Town won't fall easily. Every legionary Alexander can muster will be there, which will thankfully leave the Sand Castle relatively underdefended. Something they could have easily gotten away with, if not for one of their own valiantly turning on them at the last minute."

She saluted Tyrunt. "Thank you for your service, son. By all measures, you're a Resistance hero. I'll make sure to save a medal and a spot at the afterparty for you. Now, I hope you don't mind us still treating you like a prisoner. We can't have anyone unsavory getting wise to you, after all. You know how it is."

Typhon managed to stop staring at the triumphant Castra and turned to Tyrunt, who was now beyond description. He shook rapidly and took quick, shallow breaths, to the point where it looked like he might exhaust himself by just breathing. His eyes couldn't pick which of his captors to look at, so they darted back and forth between them. His jaw rattled as he stammered over himself trying to speak.

"Th-th-that's n-not right! Not at all!" he cried. "I-I I didn't even say anything! And y-you'd be wasting your time! He's at Broken Hill! Broken Hill!" The only Pokémon he was fooling was himself.

Castra just laughed. "Alright, that's enough. The time to avenge Broken Hill will come on its own. Machoke, if you would?"

Machoke sealed the cell up and left wordlessly. Castra was about to leave as well when Typhon stopped her. "Hey, wait. I- what was that?" Even though Castra managed to get something she liked, Typhon had to admit that she still sounded insane. No normal Pokémon would – or even could - derive so much from so little. Not even Psychic-types could have that level of insight.

She laughed again. "Oh no. No, no, no. We've had our suspicions about the Sand Castle for a while now. Just needed the right opportunity to confirm them. We're stretched thin as it is, so we couldn't waste any scouts chasing after rumors. Good thing you came by when you did."

"So… all of that was a bluff? A great, big, incredibly risky bluff?"

"For the most part, yes." She sighed. "But not one founded on nothingness, if that helps. I don't think the leaders of the other cells will object when I ask for all the Pokémon they can spare. He might not lead them in battle, but Aurelian means something special to the Legion. They might fight under Alexander, but they'll die for him."

"So if we capture him," Typhon started, "you think they'll give up?"

"Not quite," Castra shook her head, "but we'll be able to force them to the negotiating table. We've covered our tracks well. If they want him back, they'll have to ask politely. We won't get the whole Attaman, but we'll get enough for now."

"And you're sure of it?" Typhon still had some doubts. "We go there, you win?"

"Can't be sure of much in times like these," Castra said morosely. "It's still a gamble - everything always is - but it's the best chance we have."

Typhon didn't know how to feel. This whole interrogation they just went through was a gamble. Sure, they got what they needed, but how many other things did the Resistance chance? How long was it until their luck ran out?

No. It worked for now, and that was all that mattered. He'd just have to take it.

"Alright," he said. "What's next?"

"Report to Sergeant Hippowdon at the training room at once," she said sternly, not missing a beat. "It's connected to the main courtyard right in the center of the base. You've already passed by, so don't miss it. Dismissed!"

"Yes, ma'am!"


Training with Hippowdon turned out to be nothing special. Just do as she said, when she said, how she said. He chafed under how controlling and strict she was, but he refused to let anything come of it. Really, what had he expected? And he would not lose his chance at Mojave over something so minor.

Now sitting alone in his bunkroom, he reflected on his partner. They didn't really know each other all too well, but here Typhon was, joining an army just to have the chance to get him back.

But, what else could he do? It wasn't like he had anything else in his lif-

No.

He had to stop himself whenever his thoughts reached that point, which they almost always did. Having this quiet, lonely moment was not doing him any wonders.

When even was the last time he had a moment like this, a moment in which he had just himself and his thoughts? Certainly not when he went to bed; that presented an opportunity for Cresselia and Mesprit to get to him again, and he did not need or want them coming back. Now thinking on it, being in this temple might not be good for him.

No, not now.

Was it that first day? When Mojave took him to Groudon's Gift to see if he left anything? That was ruined by all the nothing that they found, all the nothing Ty-

No, that was enough of that.

He made the conscious effort to shift his thoughts elsewhere, back to Mojave. For as indecisive as he could be at times, Typhon needed him back. Sure, he could be slow to action every now and then, but it was reassuring to know that he was following someone so careful, so concerned with the details and consequences of every decision he made.

Typhon shifted in his cot. It was worn and old, like everything in the Den. Clearly, the Resistance's budget was spent on better things. It would suffice for what he needed. The odd red stains at the foot of his cot didn't bother him much, and he was too small to reach them anyway.

The light sound of something tapping came from the bunkroom's entrance. "Hello? Is anyone in here?" they called. Their voice had a familiarity to it that Typhon couldn't place. He probably just heard him in passing at some point.

"Yeah, just me," Typhon said. "If you need something, you should probably ask someone else. I'm new around here." He was only partly speaking out of interest in their wellbeing.

Typhon sat up to look at the newcomer. He was a boldore, only somewhat taller than he was, and standing idly. For someone who sounded so curious, his body hardly showed it. If Typhon didn't know any better, he could have mistaken him for a regular rock.

"Oh, that's fine, that's fine," Boldore said calmly. "Gible, right?" he said, as if checking who he was speaking to.

"Huh? What kind of question is that?" Come on, Typhon was an amnesiac and even he didn't struggle with this sort of thing. Couldn't he just use his eyes and- "Oh, my bad! You're blind, right?" He hastily added, "and yes. I'm Gible."

Boldore did a little hop. "Oh, wow! Someone else who actually knows! Not many Pokémon outside my home know that."

He continued, "I was trying to talk to you – at least, I hope it was you – in the halls earlier, and got a bit lost after you ignored me. Just making sure."

A pit formed in Typhon's stomach. Did he actually do that? It would explain why Boldore's voice felt so familiar. But as far as he knew, the only Pokémon who spoke to him were giving him orders. It would have been hard to miss that. And he wasn't the kind of Pokémon to just ignore someone like that. He hoped he wasn't. Well, from now on he would make sure of it.

"Really? I'm sorry." he said. "I… don't know how that could have happened. I'm not sure what you could want from me, but please feel free to ask."

Boldore made his way over. He moved in an odd way, never turning his body. If he had to go straight he would go straight, but if he had to move to the side, his body would just start going in that direction without turning. An odd quirk of his anatomy and ability to echolocate, Typhon hazarded.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Boldore reassured him. "Happens more often than you might think. I'm starting to worry that it might be something on my part." He finally came to Typhon, but was facing at an angle to him and didn't seem to care. "Now, this might be a bit of a private question, but would you mind if I asked what brought you here?" he said nervously.

Typhon didn't know what to say. "Uh, my feet?"

Boldore chuckled. "No, no, I mean what's your motivation? I heard the report on you, and I must admit; I'm curious. You're a hero, a big shot protector that came out of nowhere to save the general. What are you doing with us? I thought you weren't supposed to get involved in this sort of thing."

Well, Typhon could see why he was being so nervous. Those kinds of answers were ones that he might prefer to keep to himself. Never mind why Boldore wanted to know them besides just curiosity. Still, he wasn't entirely opposed to answering him, and he'd hate to have ignored Boldore just to later turn him down. He could say a little.

"Well, the Legion kidnapped my partner and I want him back. I don't care what the rules say about anything at this point." Never mind that he didn't know what the rules said at all. "We got caught by some legionaries who were hoping we'd join them, and they didn't like when we wouldn't answer. I figured that the Resistance was my only way of getting him back."

Boldore drooped. "That's terrible. I'm… I'm sorry to hear that. If it's any consolation, you're not alone. I'm in quite the same position."

"Really? The Legion stole someone from you too?"

"Well… it's not exactly the same. I've been trying to find something that means a lot to me for a while now, but it hasn't gone very well." There was an odd sadness in his voice that resonated with Typhon. "When the opportunity to join the Resistance arose, I figured it was a better way to spend my time than sulking around all day. Practice my craft and save the day before I give up and get back to work."

"Your craft? That's a weird way to describe fighting."

"Oh, no no no. I'm not a fighter- I'm an accountant!" He seemed in high spirits, which at least made one of them. "Once again, I don't blame you. Not many Pokémon sign up just to crunch numbers, but then again, not many Pokémon are good with them in the first place!" He swayed from laughter.

"Ah, that's not right," he said before immediately sobering up. "I shouldn't joke like that. The Pokémon fighting for their homes have just as good a reason to be here as a stranger that likes numbers."

He cleared what Typhon had to assume was his throat. "Well, I've taken enough of your time. Thanks for talking with me, even if it was all a bit sudden." At least he was honest.

"Oh, no worries," said Typhon. "I needed that. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for."

Boldore began to leave, still scuttling away sideways.

"Hey, wait!" Typhon called. "What's your name?" Though he still didn't understand the social rules for getting a Pokémon's name, he felt like he could get Boldore's.

He stopped, then rotated himself to properly face Typhon. "Call me Gite. It's been a pleasure…" he trailed off, expecting an answer.

"Typhon."

What an odd name. Gite. It stuck in his mind for a reason he just couldn't place. Well, it wasn't like he had much experience with names. Maybe he was the one who sounded weird.

Typhon let Gite leave in peace, and dropped to his side on the cot. It certainly wasn't the straw bed he had back at Mojave's place, but it would suffice for now. When Castra gave the order for the Resistance to march, he would need every bit of his strength.

Mojave deserved as much.


Author's Note: Hey all, me here! I know it's been a while. Turns out, life getting heavy did in fact get in my way. Well, I'm back! Though, I never really left. I've been working on this whenever I could, and this story is almost constantly on my mind. If I ever have a free moment, it's almost always spent thinking about this story. That's actually what pushed me to get it written down in the first place, so I could stop retreading the same ground. And speaking of starting to write it down...

Renaissance is now a year old! Well, a year and more months than I would like to admit. While it would have been cool to upload right on the anniversary, I'd much rather post something I'm proud of than adhere to a date nobody else cares about. Hard to believe a year (and those months) went by so quick! Until next, cheers!