Part VI- The Scent of Tears and Hurricane
Brock sat at the edge of his bed, his legs dangling freely in the dark. his eyes watered as his mind sopped up and filed away all of the chaos which had swallowed him whole the past couple of days, and he looked the part of a landfill. He couldn't believe the scars which ravaged his skin, and he couldn't believe that he had put some there himself--hundreds over the past month.
He wished that he could keep track of Ash and Misty, and he wished that he could find his sister once and for all. The thought that she might not be hostage at all, rather that she might be dead, crossed his mind quite a few times. However, all thoughts were soon swatted away by his subconscious, for if she was dead he had truly nothing to live for.
Dewey drops of languid rain suffered and shimmied down his windowsill as the cold crept into his freshly disblanketed skin, and he stood up while rubbing his hands over his forearms. Vulpix barked softly in her sleep, wondering where the warmth had disappeared to, but Brock continued on to the kitchen. He needed a drink of water, a drink of punch, a drink of something. He thought about the bleach beneath the kitchen sink but decided against it. Instead he tried to shut his sleepless eyes and wondered how much longer he could go on while unable to escape a deprecative insomnia.
The darkness didn't subside that night, even well into the dawn. Brock's eyes deepened in redness as he brewed his coffee and clicked on the vidphone. For some reason his lack of sleep seemed to make everything around him even more sharp and brightly colored, even though it did appear to fade out from time to time.
Am I so guilty, Brock gulped as the screen seemed to slowly condense into the hulking shape of his sadistic boss, that I just can't sleep anymore?
He had felt something--and he couldn't discern it from guilt or horrifying premonition. His thoughts had been weighing against him as well as it had been a month since he'd had any contact with Ash. He didn't know if he cared to see Misty at all, after what she had done.
Giovanni raised an eyebrow from the vidscreen, you aren't looking well.
I've had insomnia, he sighed, bringing a shaky coffee mug to his lips once again.
We'll have to get you some meds for that, Giovanni brushed off the thought and continued on his previous track. We think we've found another lead to the whereabouts of your sister. The Cage has another hideout in a warehouse behind--
Brock sputtered and narrowed his eyebrows. I've heard that one before.
Giovanni shook his head sadly. We're doing the best we can. The only thing you can do now is continue to knock off The Cage until it's narrowed down--
You know, Brock sipped his coffee again, If I found my sister, I would quit. How do I know you're not sending me everywhere BUT to where my sister is? I'm not stupid, and neither are you.
Giovanni appeared flustered, as if his feelings had been hurt. We are trying to find your sister, he assured. You're not the only agent against the Cage we have. This is entirely for your benefit.
Brock shook his head, scratching his scalp vigorously as to hide the liquid which traced his dry, red eyes before continuing. I don't really have a choice, I guess. But if you are just fucking with me, I hope you're having a good time.
I see Oak's influence, Giovanni grumbled under his breath.
Brock's head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes considerably at Giovanni, nearly dropping his mug of coffee. Don't even mention him again. Your lips don't even deserve to say his name.
Giovanni blinked in surprise at Brock's insubordination, but delivered no reprimand. There are just some people you don't piss off, he thought.
Giovanni chose to totally ignore the statement and continued to deliver his message to Brock, giving directions to the place and the password and all the other blah blah blah he would need to complete the task.
After the vidphone was a blank, grayish screen with only his reflection shining off of it once again, Brock continued to stare at it for a good amount of time, then lifted his coffee to his lips once again.
I loathe you, he spat, then took a sip.
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The girl's heart pounded as the trees whisked by her, and her footsteps, however cautious, bled into the ground and condemned her to death. About ten armed footsteps echoed beyond her own, and the dusky skies bled into her eyes with the same flushed color of her cheeks and the running almost began to seem pointless. The surrounding bits of trees and thick brush was all that kept her part way hidden, especially considering that it hindered the large group pursuing her.
One of the rocket grunts looked down to his vidwatch and barked something into it that the girl couldn't hear. Her eyes welled with black spots as she was tired of running. She couldn't just pull out her flying pokemon or she would be a target in the air. But her legs felt as if they were grinding into her knee joint and that she would soon topple over.
How did the rocket grunts get so much endurance all of the sudden? She snapped to herself.
Running forever was definitely not going to be an option, so she had to lose them somehow.
Grunt Captain Jacob looked at his communicator as it snapped on.
Why haven't you caught her yet? Giovanni's angered, disembodied voice howled at the young man.
She's fast, Jacob replied shakily, really fast. And quiet.
Giovanni shook his head. Dammit, how did my goddam research assistant get so fit? But never mind that. She can't run forever.
We could catch her a lot more easily if you'd just let us shoot her instead of capture her, Jacob suggested uneasily. If she's a traitor, don't you want her dead anyway?
No way, Giovanni snapped, then recoiled back into his collected, superior tone of voice. I have plans for her. And I need her alive.
If only we had stun guns, Jacob sighed as his legs mushed beneath him. He never did like running.
Well you don't, Giovanni shouted back. Use the nets and do the best you can.
Jacob felt like asking why they wouldn't be allowed to use tranquilizers, but he figured it would just add kinder to the fire of irritation he had already sparked within his boss.
Will do, he mumbled politely, with no further comment as his communicator switched back off.
C'mon team, he shouted back to his slurry of grunts trailing his wearied feet, we've gotta do this or the boss will bitch us hard. Spread out, we'll try and surround her.
The grunts affirmed his order by suddenly sprinting outward and covering the surrounding area for a nice radius. Jacob realized that this would give their little fugitive chance to hide in a tree, but he decided to rely on their arkanines and other tracker pokémon in order to hunt her down.
The girl suddenly realized that she was no longer being pursued directly.
Bastards were probably just trying to wear me down, she thought nervously, slowing to a halt and nearly blacking out as her heart suddenly realized that it was unnecessary to pump as much blood as it had been.
They probably just want me to get stuck in a tree, she bit her lip and frowned. If only she had her equipment she would be able to fight back just a little, but she had been caught off guard.
Assuming no other choice, the girl picked out the highest tree she could discern among the hundreds which expunged their emerald-blanketed branches across the sun-fleshed sky. She climbed it to the near top with cat-like agility, her muscles recoiling a little more slowly than usual, however, as they were still incredibly weary.
With trembling hands she fumbled for her cell phone within her pockets, and held it as closely to her skin as possible while dialing as to muffle the sounds. She would have had her communicator, but she was caught off guard.
a voice hissed loudly from the other end, where are you?
Nocturna winced and flapped her arm nervously, I have to be silent. I'm in a tree in the Ilex forest, they've chased me here, and they're trying to capture me. They would have killed me by now if that was their intent. Send someone to save me!
We're all coming for you, the other voice assured in a whisper, the three of us and agent Viente. Try and hold on.
I don't have much time! she assured as the sound of growlithes and snapping underbrush filled her ears from below.
We'll hurry, her associate assured, and hung up the phone.
Nocturna's breathing became erratic, and she balled up as close to the trunk as possible, her hands squeezing her knees tightly. She would still fight if she had too, even if she had to shed the hindrance of her civilian clothes, but she wouldn't let those bastards just take her and expect to be rescued. She did have quite a bit of confidence that she would be in any case, but several things had taken unexpected turns as of late.
The tumultuous whoosh of air being shoved down by heavy steel resonated in Nocturna's ears, and she stopped breathing, suddenly feeling that her heartbeat had become far too loud.
I said I had no time, she thought, unswallowable saliva building within her mouth, and I was more right than I had thought.
A huge, luminous Skarmory invaded her vision, suddenly hovering inches in front of her. She tried to ignore it, hoping in some strange way that she would blend with the tree, but her pipe dream was dispelled as its long steal claws reached out to grasp her waist.
Biggest Skarmory I've ever seen, she thought as she stood bolt upright from where she was sitting in a stupor, jumping over the creatures claws and barely landing on her feet once again, her balance nearly lost. The Skarmory cried and Nocturna tried to grab its legs, possibly to catch it off guard and send it sailing to the ground, but she had underestimated its strength. Within a millisecond its legs had broken free and she was tightly clutched within its talons, being taken, kicking and flailing, toward the Rocket Troop below.
Good work Scartissue, Jacob smirked, looking into the terrified eyes of his bird's prey. You'll definitely be getting a treat for this.
Nocturna tried to spit at Jacob, mustering all the piss and vinegar she had left to defy her enemies, but he slapped her mouth away as she motioned to do so.
No no, Jacob grinned toothily, we have the upper hand here.
Nocturna was dropped carefully into a net in such a way that escape wouldn't have been possible. She tried to flail, but all it accomplished was swinging back and forth in the air. Her prison was opaque and she could hardly breathe through its tightly wound mesh, but she could tell that she was being suspended from something, possibly a pole being carried by two grunts, as if she was a trophy kill after a hunt.
She only ceased to flail after a time so that she would have time to greet the face with abhorrence that she knew she would be seeing as soon as she was released.
And she did have quite a few things she wanted to say and do to that bastard Giovanni.
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Ash ran his fingers through her hair gingerly, his mind wandering from May before him to the lake which lapped upwards at the sky to his failed premonition. The glossy orange hue that became the sky chilled him through the thin epidermic layer which wasn't such the great insulator, and he began to despair.
It'll be all right, May whispered up at him, and it seemed strange that she, the one lying helplessly in the hospital bed, should be consoling him.
Ash closed his eyes gently, and she lifted a shaky hand to cup his chin.
It's just, Ash choked, I could have sworn that I would find her here. Something inside me just told me that if I came here, I would find her.
May remained silent for a moment, simply looking behind Ash. He was momentarily puzzled, but looked behind him to see if she was simply gazing into infinity or actually looking at something.
Seems someone found you, May frowned.
Ash jumped backwards as an androgynous figure wrapped in obsidian-black nylon crept toward him, putting a slender hand over his mouth before he could open it to speak.
You must come with me, whispered the figure, we need you to save her. We need you to save all of them.
Ash shook his head in disbelief, his eyes widening as the nylon hand still remained over his mouth.
A rash pounding began at the door, and the ninja's head whipped around in what must have been fear.
No time, the black-clad person hissed, shoving Ash toward the window.
We can't leave her here either, Ash blinked as the hand was removed.
Not to worry, a cheeky voice assured as a head popped up from the window. This person was also dressed entirely in black, but their mannerisms didn't exactly smack of stealth. The person vaulted into the room, gently plucking a starry-eyed May from where she lye.
No one will be left behind, the new ninja assured, no one.
The door began to creak open because of the force being exerted on it, but there was naught to be seen from the eyes of those behind it except for the white, sanitary hospital curtains billowing in the starry night's breeze.
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No light shone from the eyes of Brock as the mildewy walls and cracked, liquid-drinking ground seemed to close around him. A swarm of Rocket Grunts swayed back and forth, careful to make a path for the masked assassin that demanded deference with only his aura.
It needs to be a quick, clean kill, Giovanni had told him, some aberrant fire stoked within the old man's expression. And the mask must remain while you do it.
With all the Grunts around, Brock couldn't understand why the assassination had to be his. Giovanni explained that this person was one of the Cage members present at the death of his family, but Brock was begining to wonder how this knowledge could have been obtained.
Rationale and logical thought process had been drained and juiced of him, however. He stopped questioning why the execution was taking place in a rank, crowded room, and his mind was just set on doing as told. Even if Giovanni forced him to kill every last Cage member in existence before he was able to retrieve his sister, he didn't believe he had a choice.
The end of the tunnel revealed a bit of a cove, and the Grunts had slithered away from whatever prey they had been antagonizing to make way for Brock, who had drawn a poison-edged knife from a sheath in his shoe.
Come on, one grunt snarled, let us have our fun for a while, you can kill her in a minute.
Brock turned around, getting a good look at the grunt that had approached him. The glare caused the grunt to back away, slithering beneath shadows as the others had done previously.
Brock's head snapped around again presently, and he was finally able to get a good look at his mission.
The figure of a thin girl hanging from the hands dangled before him. She was naked as a blue-jay, and her ribs crowded against her skin distinctly as her legs caused her lungs to have to fight against her weight in order to drink a breath. Her head was covered in a purple cloth, making her face totally invisible. Bruises, probably delivered by the perversions of the grunts, marked her entirety.
Brock stepped up to his quarry, bringing the blade close enough to the girl's neck to cause a draft, yet not yet pressing upon it. A muffled sob projected from her throat and rang against his ear drums, causing his eyes to suddenly widen.
Brock grasped the edges of the cloth about the girl's face, and another grunt stepped up to him.
Giovanni said that anyone who removed that would die, the grunt warned.
Brock smirked, pulling his own mask free from his face.
I'm not afraid of death, he grumbled, breaking the rope around the girl's hands as he continued to stare into the crowd.
I'm afraid we can't let you do that, muttered another, letting light glimmer off the edge of his blade as Brock caught the girl in his arms, holding her against his side for protection.
Brock narrowed his eyes, then he threw his knife into the forehead of his aggressor, not a second of thought poured into the action even the moment before. The victim's eyes remained sickeningly wide as he stood for one second more, then landed to the ground with a thud even before blood had a chance to seep from the crack forged into his head where metal tore apart his spongy brain.
Havoc rang into that tunnel as the grunts swarmed Brock, each attempting to kill him with their knives and guns. After each unsuccessful attempt, after each deflection by Brock's own gun, the masses began to disperse, desiring to save their own lives.
Muffled screams came from the girl at Brock's side as the stench of blood wafted through the room. The overall fog of death in the tunnel was enough to drive her to madness, but being held by the instigator made it all the worse.
Before removing the cloth, Brock removed his own over shirt and pants to give to her. He was in but a tight-fitting black undershirt, overcoat and boxers when her mask finally came off, but he wouldn't want to suffer the added embarrassment of seeing her in total nudity. Somehow the expression in her eyes was bound to make it worse.
The clothes didn't help much, however. The cloth slipped over her head, and a cloud of ratty, damaged, orange hair fell to her shoulders, and her eyes glazed over like a wounded bunny as Brock tried to gently pry the packaging tape which had been so roughly stamped across her face, causing green bruises along her mouth and on her cheeks.
My God, Brock swallowed, tears coming to his eyes. Why did they do this to you?
Don't ask questions, she began to shake, dropping to her knees. Just hold me.
Brock dropped to his knees as well, bringing her tightly into his arms. She was obviously scared of him, he could tell by how her muscles tensed and recoiled beneath her fragile skin at his touch. But some love must have remained, even if it had been corroded away by his actions.
Brock pulled his overcoat around her so that it enveloped them both, and although bodies were strewn across the tunnel floor, he didn't move but to rock her back and forth for the good portion of an hour.
How did Giovanni think I could kill you? Brock muttered to himself, not truly expecting an answer.
He thought he had that much control over you, Misty explained, her breath inciting goose bumps to rise upon Brock's arm as her breath grazed it.
You know about me? Brock winced.
I didn't try to get you committed because I thought you were in a police academy! Misty suddenly screamed from the depth of her soul, her clammy voice echoing brightly throughout the halls.
Brock's muscles tensed even more tightly than Misty's.
Yes Brock, Misty hissed, I was a spy for Giovanni. And I was a spy for the cage. And I'm really just an Espiritu Agent, working for the Sensational Sisters of Cerulean City.
Your sisters? Brock whispered in his astoundedness.
They're not really my sisters, Misty rolled her eyes. Did you ever notice that I don't look a damn thing like them?
They're too ditzy to be running a covert operation, Brock blinked, and why would you tell me this?
For one thing, they don't really act like that. THAT is all an act. For another thing, Giovanni already knows all about me. Apparently I wasn't his number one spy, so it doesn't really matter if I tell you.
I'd never do anything to hurt you, Brock suddenly sniffled, plunging his face into Misty's hair. I can't believe Giovanni would try and get me to kill you. Why, if you didn't make that sound-- Brock pondered, but his face suddenly drained of all blood as that realization crept into his stomach.
I shouldn't be awake either, Misty barked, almost smugly. He drugged me. But it didn't affect me as much as it would a normal person. If he'd drugged me enough, you would have killed me. Without a second thought.
Brock's head reeled, and he pulled away from Misty. No, no, I wouldn't have killed you--
Misty pressed upon him, you would have. And I'm afraid now--I know I'm making you mad--
Don't be afraid, Brock stood up. I don't care if you break my kneecaps, nothing could make me kill you. Nothing.
You've killed before, Misty closed her eyes tightly and choked, I don't see what keeps you from killing anyone you want.
Brock grasped the sides of his head. I only kill the Cage, I'm only trying to get my sister back--
Misty threw her head back and laughed. The laugh dripped of dementia, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she did so.
Poor, misguided Brock! she began screaming again. There is no Cage, you fool! Team Rocket killed your family! Giovanni was only trying to get you!
Brock shook his head even more furiously. But Katie--
She's probably dead, Misty snapped. You've been going around hitting all of Giovanni's enemies, just like any other Rocket assassin. Only you're special--sort of. You were the bad prototype, after all.
Brock shouted once again, she's not dead! She's not dead! She can't be dead! And I'm not a prototype!
Oh yes you are, Misty continued laughing maniacally, the shock from her previous abuse drowning her mind. You were just a clone, put into the Shale family at birth because you didn't come out quite right. The good prototype was kidnapped.
Brock slammed his fists into the wall, causing the skin on all of his knuckles to break and blood to flow down the wall. The pain which throbbed through his hands felt good, and kept him as sane as he could possibly be considering the circumstances. I look just like my family!
And that's exactly what you were designed to do, Misty snapped. But the Flint that left died, the one that came back was a new clone. After Giovanni couldn't find the good prototype, his paranoia about the mistakes caused him to try and re-enlist you, but he wanted you out of the house first so that you could be familiarized with Team Rocket, with a team that didn't seem so sinister, so you might consider them the good guys one day--
Just stop! Brock began to pant. You're full of it! I know you are! Just shut up! Shut up! Shut--
Brock's body suddenly collapsed to the ground as something kicked the legs out from beneath him. He hit the ground face first, and his nose snapped in half. Blood gushed onto the ground and down his chin, neck and clothing as he rose to face whoever hurt him.
A figure in black stood above him, ready to strike again.
All pain disappeared from Brock's body. He would have blacked out if he didn't have this ability, as his nose which was snapped and lying crooked across his face would have been too much pain to bear. Moreover, the fact that he was told that the hell he had been living was just a big lie would have been too much pain to bear.
Who are you? Brock growled at his new adversary.
The good prototype, the person hissed, and Brock's eyes widened.
We'll see how good you are! Brock shouted, grabbing two guns from his overcoat.
The good prototype kicked the guns from Brock's hands, something that had never happened to him before. Brock was almost in a state of shock as a foot came flying toward his face, but luckily Brock was alert enough to grab the prototype's foot and throw him to the ground.
The prototype leaped up quickly, not taking any time to recover before dashing to kick and punch Brock repeatedly in the stomach. Blood was also leaking from Brock's mouth as well as his nose as his vision hazed over and he dropped to the ground.
I'm sorry I have to do this, the prototype breathed in weakly, almost as if holding back a sob, but you're just too far gone now.
The prototype drew a gun from some invisible pocket within the black sheath worn and pointed it at Brock's head.
the Espiritu gulped, my friend--
Misty gasped, her hysterical laughing continuing, don't shoot him--
But the Espiritu had already pulled the trigger. It was expected that Brock's slain body would reside in the space the bullet was traveling toward, but instead a clang could be heard as the bullet ricocheted off of the hard surface of the tunnel floor.
That was never part of the plan you son of a bitch! A familiar, distinctly male voice rang from a rafter. Misty and the mysterious Espiritu looked up, only to see another Espiritu, except with his hood pulled back, standing below a manhole-type opening which could serve as an exit. After he's safe, I'm coming back to kill you.
And with that, the young man jumped out of the tunnel with Brock in his arms.
I'm going to kill Giovanni, Brock gurgled through the blood which clotted within his mouth. How dare he try and make me hurt Misty.
We'll kill him together Shale, Brock's savior assured, tasting the tears which came to the corner of his lips from his eyes as the sky boiled over and threatened to hurricane upon every soul involved, I promise.
A/N: The chapter after this one will either be the last one or second to last. This story is probably getting to be too long now, ne? This particular chapter, however, was FAR too short. The next one should be pretty long tho. I have too much stuff to do, which is why there wasn't more to be said in this installment, I'm just trying to assure the two people out there actually reading this that I'm not abandoning it. ^_^ LAter