First of all, I have started a new story called "Project Endeavor." I intend to keep writing both that story and this one at the same time, alternating sessions between the two and posting chapters as they are completed. If you enjoy this tale, make sure to check out that one too.
I would like to thank you all for your support. Here's the ninth chapter, which isn't for the faint of heart. Trust me.
Current music: I Got You - Split Enz
SITUATION ROOM, WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC
The Vice President sat in the middle of the kitchen table, his head in his hands. He would occasionally peek through his fingers at the screen, but during most of the programming, he covered his eyes.
The reason? Well, it's quite simple: John Randolph was afraid.
He wasn't afraid of the truth, per se. On the contrary, if the words about to be said on TV were true, he'd have every reason to celebrate. If the truth was told, VP Randolph would have been the first one to corroborate it.
Instead, the atmosphere in the kitchen at Number One Observatory Circle was extremely tense. The Second Lady of the United States, Jane Randolph, sat sewing in the corner, a hobby she had in common with First Lady Natalia Fiddlesticks.
At the thought of the First Lady, Randolph's heart practically broke. He hadn't spoken to Natalia since her husband had been airlifted to Walter Reed, but he had little doubt that she knew everything. She knew just how dire her husband's condition was, and could process the implications of his potential inability to recover.
"You know, they say that the Vice President is only a heartbeat away from the highest office in the land," Randolph mumbled as he forced himself to look at the TV screen.
"Well, that's true, isn't it?" Jane replied, not looking up from her sewing project. "That's what you accept once you agree to be the running mate for someone Andreas Fiddlesticks' age."
"Yes, perhaps. But they never tell you just how prepared you have to be for everything to turn upside down. They never tell you that Fox News is going to drive you crazy, even if you try not to let it."
"Well, maybe you need to build a thicker skin than that," the Second Lady said, this time giving her husband a glare. "You can't be too impulsive or gullible; they're going to eat you alive for every misstep. You shouldn't have accepted the vice presidency."
"I'm not going to resign now," Randolph shot back. "That's not an option."
"Then put your head up, John, and see what the news is saying about you. That's the only way to get used to something: Keep on practicing it."
Slowly, Randolph glanced upward, where Fox News was about to start its five o'clock segment. The Vice President had always been taught, and tried to teach others, that you should listen to the media sources from all perspectives, including those you disagreed with. Well, he was certainly practicing what he preached now.
"It's five o'clock Eastern Time, and here's Spencer Valentine!"
VP Randolph gulped. Sometimes Fox News was like a box of chocolates in that you never knew what you'd get - but this wasn't one of those times. Today, Randolph knew exactly what Spencer was going to focus on.
"Good afternoon, America. I'm your host, Spencer Valentine, and we're going to talk about the most important development in our nation, perhaps the biggest news story of the year - the vanishment of President Fiddlesticks."
I called it! Man, being right sucks.
"As all of you are well aware by now, Andreas Fiddlesticks has been missing in action ever since this morning. The official story is that he contracted a minor illness and is recuperating at Walter Reed Medical Center, though that raises some question marks."
Of course. This is the way Spencer operates; he's not going to flat-out tell you what he wants you to hear - he'll insist that there are "questions" about the issue at hand.
"One of these questions is very simple: We've all had colds. Small children have six to eight of them a year, sometimes more, sometimes less. But did you call an ambulance the last time your child had a slight fever? Not likely.
"If the illness President Fiddlesticks came down with is indeed caused by the coronavirus, it would make sense for him to tell the world. After all, he's the President of the United States, so he talks to countless people on a daily basis. Wouldn't Fiddlesticks think it prudent to notify those whom he's been in contact with?"
"It's not COVID, you dolt!" VP Randolph exclaimed with a raised fist, wishing he could be heard through the television; unfortunately, the signal only went one way.
"More importantly," Spencer Valentine continued, "this has to make one wonder if the President has the best interests of the American people at heart. President Fiddlesticks constantly reminds people that his predecessor lied all the time, was involved in so much crime, all that jazz. But if you want dishonesty and opacity in a world leader, look no further than Andreas Fiddlesticks."
Well, great. Is he going to talk about me now?
Right on cue, Spencer gave a slight smile before switching the topic. "That brings us to our next subject, the underling of President Fiddlesticks: Vice President John Randolph."
Dammit.
"While the President lay in a hospital bed at Walter Reed, the Vice President has declined to comment on the situation. He has not held a press conference today that was truly open to the media, and one must ask: Why?"
"That's literally not true, though!" Randolph all but shouted. "I was in front of Walter Reed earlier this afternoon, telling the American people about the President's condition!"
"It's Fox News, John," Jane said softly. "They don't exactly deal in facts."
VP Randolph sighed; he knew, of course, that this was true, having had so much experience with the channel. But that didn't make the reality any easier to deal with.
"Some may ask whether the Vice President has something to hide. Maybe he has a deal with some other foreign government, perhaps some autocracy that he doesn't want us to know about. Or maybe he's simply too incompetent to play the role of acting President, which he must do if President Fiddlesticks is indeed unable to perform his duties.
"So what happens now? Well, it's been reported that a bipartisan coalition in the House of Representatives is working on articles of impeachment against Vice President Randolph. In the view of Fox News, this cannot happen soon enough. At the impeachment trial, which is likely to be sooner rather than later, the truth will come out. Mark my words."
After that, Spencer went off into a rant about some news story Randolph had never even heard of. The Vice President was paying so little attention to it that, in weeks to come, he'd never be able to summarize what the anchor was talking about.
What truly mattered was what Spencer had said about him. He'd implied so many things that could be considered grounds for impeachment - of course, to the Republicans, wearing a tan suit or blowing his nose the wrong way would fit the bill.
"This can't be happening," VP Randolph mouthed.
"Well, it is," Jane all but snapped. "It's probably best that we figure out what to do about it. Deal with reality as it is, not how you would like it to be."
"One thing's for sure," the Vice President replied.
"What's that?"
"I'm going to call up the Cabinet. First thing in the morning, we're going to hold a meeting about the best way to get through this impeachment trial."
"Why not try to stop it from happening?" Jane asked him. "The Democrats still hold the House. Plus, an impeachment trial could be very politically damaging, even if you're ultimately acquitted."
Her husband rolled his eyes. "You don't know this, Jane, but the GOP fights dirty all the time. They're not afraid to hit you below the belt. There's no way they're not impeaching me."
Jane looked very pained and reluctant to say anything, but eventually responded to her husband's words.
"That makes sense. I guess you'll have to hire an elite team of lawyers. And make sure they're not like the lawyers the last guy had."
VP Randolph chuckled dryly. "Oh, don't worry about that. I only hire the best people. The best, you hear me?"
"Well, I sure hope they're the best," his wife replied, going back to her sewing project. "Otherwise, your approval ratings are going to take a hit. And you can't afford to lose another percentage point ahead of the midterms."
FORESTS OF SINNOH
"Hey, Flash, I think we should leave."
The pair was eating their pitiful meal of berries when Lazarus broached the subject yet again. As much as Flash knew their mission was time-sensitive, his limbs demanded rest. How much use would he be if they kept going before a good night's sleep?
"Uh, why is that?" the Luxray replied in between bites of a pink berry (which Lazarus referred to as a Pecha berry.)
"Because," the Zoroark said, "I'm sure there are trains that leave tonight for Jubilife City. They move pretty slowly; they're hardly the bullet trains you see in Kanto."
"Okay?"
"Yes," Lazarus confirmed. "If we get on one tonight, we'd arrive in Jubilife City early in the morning. And then we'll have all day to find the second scroll, or at least get as much information as possible about it."
"Makes sense."
The Zoroark smiled. "I'm glad we see eye to eye about this. So as much effort as it took for me to set up the tent, I think I should pack it away now."
Flash raised his eyebrows. "You're going to let all that work go to waste?"
Lazarus shrugged. "What choice do we have? We can sleep on the train."
The impending wave of sleep had been dancing before Flash's eyes, but at the prospect of making progress, he felt wide awake again. Whatever he had to do to escape from Nexus, he was more than eager to do it.
"All right," Flash said. "Let's pack everything up. Don't forget the scroll."
Taking down the tent was a hell of a lot easier than erecting it had been. All the Luxray had to do was to take one of the metal rods out of the other, then allow the whole thing to collapse. He was careful to ensure that it didn't collapse on Lazarus' head, but other than that, the task was as simple as could be.
And then came the job of stuffing the tent away in Lazarus' backpack. Flash just stood to the side and watched as the Zoroark did just that, making sure the tent's components were all arranged in the correct manner before pushing it into his bag.
"How do you do it like that?" Flash blurted out.
Lazarus turned his head like an owl. "What do you mean?"
"Ah, never mind," the Luxray replied. He'd been about to ask a question that he'd asked before, but if he were being honest with himself, he had no reason to think that the Zoroark would answer honestly.
"It's about another mile to the station," Lazarus said, clapping his claws together. "We'll be there shortly."
Those words weren't much consolation. Flash found himself glancing over his shoulder every few steps, just to make sure they weren't being followed. Moreover, the trek itself was sapping an increasing amount of his strength.
"Hey, Lazarus?" Flash enquired at one point.
"Yes?"
"Are there any wild Pokémon in these woods right now? Like, do we have to worry about an attack?"
"Of course there are. That's why I don't want to spend any more time here at night than we need to. Now, keep your head down so that your profile stays low."
Flash let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He'd been worried that the Zoroark wouldn't want to talk, but silence only made the forest feel more ominous.
True, it was a rather childish way to think, not unlike being afraid of the dark. But if Flash had to be in such a dangerous place, he'd rather not feel alone.
So he asked another question, this time on a completely different topic. The mere suggestion of it might make things more tense between them, but that was a tension Flash could live with.
"Can I ask you something, Lazarus?" Flash enquired.
"I suppose. What is it?"
Flash took a deep breath. The question had at first felt innocuous to him, but the more he thought about it, the harder it would be to ask it. Then again, he'd come too far to turn back now.
"What happened to your family? It seems like you live alone; why is that, if you don't mind me asking?"
The Zoraork grumbled a bit, and Flash feared he'd gone too far. He shivered as he realized that Lazarus might use this an excuse to ditch him - anything was possible in this world, after all.
But then Lazarus sighed. "My parents… I don't have them anymore. I lost them."
Flash felt his heart sink. Losing one's parents is never easy, no matter how long their lives have been. As much as he wanted to comfort the Zoroark, Flash didn't know what to say.
"I lost their love, I guess. They're still alive, as far as I know."
"So you moved out?" the Luxray asked. "I guess that makes sense. If my parents didn't love me, I would have wanted to move out, too."
Oh no; did I word that question wrong? I should have been more careful, for sure.
"Well, not really," Lazarus replied.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know how much I should tell you right now," the Zoroark told Flash. "It's not that I don't trust you, it's just -".
"You can trust me," Flash insisted. "I saved both of us from that Geodude earlier. If you can't trust me, you can't trust anyone."
"Well, suffice it to say that my parents kicked me out. They thought I was hanging out with the wrong crowd in the woods - they disapproved, and you just can't please everyone."
"But your parents… they're supposed to provide for and care about you. That's what they're for."
"Who cares?" Lazarus responded. "I certainly don't. All that matters is that they don't want me around anymore, and I'm old enough to take care of myself. That's all."
The sun had now sunk so low in the sky that it was literally on the horizon, requiring both of them to squint. The squinting seemed to add an extra intensity to the Zoroark's glare.
"Won't you ever try to reconcile with them?" Flash asked. "It's usually best if you can forgive them as much as possible."
"No chance of that, I'm afraid," Lazarus said sharply. "I didn't abandon them; they abandoned me. So I'll go it alone from here - except, that is, for the time I'm spending with you. But from the sound of it, we've only got two more days together."
Don't remind me.
"Still, that's pretty rough to deal with," the Luxray replied. "I don't know what else to say."
Lazarus shrugged. "It was over a year ago. I haven't spoken to either of them since, and honestly, I'm better off that way. You don't need to apologize."
After that, the silence was almost bliss, but not quite.
It wasn't much longer before they arrived at the train station. By this time, the sun was below the horizon completely, but it was still light enough that Flash could see the colors that the train had been painted.
And yes: Train, singular.
There was only one track at the station. Indeed, it looked more like a "stop" than a "station"; there was a ticket booth, but nothing else that one would find at an Amtrak stop, let alone a major transport hub.
Flash was somewhat taken aback; after all, he'd been expecting far more. That is what the Zoroark had said would be there; several tracks going in different directions.
Maybe he'd been gullible to assume that such a place would exist in the middle of the forest. But one thing was certain.
"You lied to me, Lazarus," Flash said, not knowing what tone to use.
The Zoroark narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," the Luxray continued, "that you told me there would be a major transport hub here. There were supposed to be several tracks leading in different directions."
Lazarus sighed. "Look, my memory's not the best all the time, okay? I'm doing my best; isn't that all one can ask for?"
"A pretty big oversight, though, don't you think?"
"That doesn't matter right now," the Zoroark snapped. "Now we just have to get on the train before it leaves, and without being seen."
Flash looked up at the locomotive, as well as the other cars contained within the train. The vehicle looked extraordinarily run down, as though nobody had bothered to polish the outside for quite some time. The red paint on it was also rather faded.
"So we go to the far side," Lazarus said, "and climb on in. I hope you've got some upper body strength."
"Uh… it might be a bit lacking."
"That doesn't matter," the Zoroark said brusquely. "When you need to hold on for dear life, you don't know how strong you can be. And this is one of those cases; we're going to hang on until the train is away from the station, then climb over the top and stow away in the beds."
Flash recoiled at the casual manner in which Lazarus described what they were about to do. The task ahead was far from trivial, and yet the Zoroark presented it as though it were merely exhilarating rather than severely dangerous (not to mention illegal.)
"So, let's walk around to the other side," Lazarus told Flash casually. "They'll never expect us to get on there."
On the far side of the train, there were a series of metal rungs leading to the top of the cars, forming a sort of ladder. That wasn't much consolation, given that climbing ladders as a quadruped wasn't easy.
"You can go first," Lazarus said. "I'll spot you, catch you if you fall."
I've got no other choice, not if I want to save my own country's infrastructure.
With a massive gulp, the Luxray stood on his hind legs and gripped one of the ladder rungs. He then lifted himself up, which took a surprisingly low amount of strength.
"Pokémon are stronger than humans, Flash. Don't forget that. You've got this."
The Luxray knew that he needed to make space for Lazarus on the ladder. So, paw over paw, he climbed upwards. It was a painstaking process, but he knew it would be as rewarding as a Buddhist ascending to Nirvana.
"I'm right below you," Lazarus assured Flash. "If you slip, I'll make sure you don't fall. But don't get over the top yet - they'll see you if you do."
Indeed, the Zoroark kept barking out orders from right below Flash on the ladder. The Luxray didn't mind this, of course; he was clinging to anything that might keep him alive.
"Okay, when the horns sound, that means the train is about to leave. That means you need a death grip on this thing. Steam trains might not be like bullet trains, but it'll still take all the strength you have."
Flash did as he was told, strengthening his hold on the bars. He was convinced his paws would bleed before long, but that was better than falling ten feet from a moving train.
However fast this train ends up moving, the Luxray thought bitterly, it had better start soon. My front legs are already burning; plus, it's heavily awkward to hold on like this.
The Luxray dug his nails further into the rung, praying that he'd hear the engine roar into life any time now; at the same time, however, knowing that he should be careful what he wished for. He might not be able to hold on, depending on how much force was exerted.
"It's starting!" Lazarus exclaimed eventually.
Why is he throwing caution to the wind right now, noise-wise? The Luxray wondered bitterly, but he had no time to dwell on it. The engine hummed, and then the train started moving sideways.
"Climb, climb, climb!" Lazarus commanded Flash, which the Luxray began to do. With each step, Flash felt as though he were swaying to one side, not unlike the rag-doll physics of a poorly made video game. But he eventually made it to the top of the ladder and hauled himself into the car's bed.
"Out of the way!" came another command, and Flash was forced to roll to his right. For a split second, he worried that they'd been discovered after all.
Fortunately, this was not the case. Rather, that voice had merely belonged to Lazarus Zoroark, who was warning Flash not to let himself be crushed by his companion's body weight.
"Thanks for the warning," Flash muttered once Lazarus was safely in the train bed. "Really, I appreciate the heads-up."
"It's no problem," Lazarus replied. "Sorry for making you do this - but it's for your own good, you know."
"I get it," the Luxray mumbled. He wasn't exactly used to the idea of stowing away on a train, let alone climbing to the top of a boxcar when the train was moving, but many people are surprised at just what they can steel themselves into doing.
Flash laid down on the cold, hard surface of the train bed. As he did so, he stared up at the sky, where steam was billowing out of the locomotive and traveling above the two Pokémon.
"You're sure this train is going to Jubilife City, right?" Flash enquired as the vehicle sped up considerably.
The Zoroark nodded. "I have a better sense of direction than you've given me credit for, Flash. Believe me: I know what I'm doing."
Over the thin canopy of the forest, the darkening sky could be seen. Thanks to the haze created from the locomotive's steam, as well as the fact that it wasn't that dark yet, very few stars could be seen. But it was still more than he'd seen in Washington, DC.
"Pretty sky," the Luxray said with a yawn. He could feel his eyelids closing out of their own free will, and he instinctively knew that he wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer. Flash did, however, wish that the floor was softer; if he wasn't lucky, he'd awaken with a very sore back indeed.
"Indeed, it is," Lazarus responded. "Are you going to sleep?"
Flash chuckled. "What gave it away?"
"Let's see, I don't know… the fact that you're yawning?"
"Perhaps you are correct," the Luxray replied with an even greater yawn. "All I can say is, I hope we've got someone keeping watch."
The Zoroark nodded with a smile, his teal eyes glistening in the moonlight. "I can do that. I'll make sure we're not ambushed, not that we should be worried about that here."
"Well, it's a common trope in Western movies," Flash explained sleepily. "There's always a brawl atop a train in the middle of the desert."
Lazarus didn't respond to that comment. Instead, he draped his arms over the railing and said, "You should get some rest, Flash. You'll need it tomorrow."
The Luxray didn't need to be told twice. As much as he didn't want to miss the scenery of the Sinnoh continent (as Lazarus had called it), he was well aware that his body demanded sleep. Today had been far too eventful, and tomorrow would be far more so.
Nonetheless, sleep was evasive at first. Flash's mind kept floating back to the notion - the true notion - that all of this had only happened in a day. In the world of American politics, of course, it's often said that just one day can change many things, but that was doubly true now.
In just the last twenty-four hours, President Fiddlesticks had become Flash, a Luxray determined to find his way home. He'd learned that the Pokémon world, one often fantasized excessively about by children, was real. And he'd tried to make his way through this world as one. It was all quite overwhelming.
But there had also been events that mitigated how overwhelmed Flash felt. For one, he'd already completed a third of his quest. He'd found the first scroll he needed. Plus, he was no longer alone in his efforts; though he and Lazarus might not see eye to eye on everything, it was still better to have company than to be completely isolated.
As Flash finally drifted off, once more lamenting the fact that the train bed wasn't more comfortable, he might well have slumped over onto Lazarus' body. If so, the scene would have looked rather odd to an outsider, but the Luxray truly didn't care. He was just so exhausted that it didn't worry him.
His dreams, however, were a different story.
The first thing Flash became aware of was the cold air. It was nothing like what the weather had been in the forest - rather, it felt like the weather in Washington, DC, prior to being spirited away to Nexus.
Also, Flash realized he was back in his human body. He stood six feet tall, and while he still had the overall aches and pains of an elderly man, that was almost a relief.
Maybe that was all a dream, the man thought to himself. If that's the case… I guess I should call myself President Fiddlesticks again. That is my real name, after all.
The President gazed around at his surroundings, determined to find himself in the presidential suite at Walter Reed, where a nurse would come to attend to him. That's what was supposed to happen, right?
Well, the first thing Fiddlesticks noticed was that the plaza was quite crowded with hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Some of them carried flags containing slogans he didn't recognize.
A considerable distance ahead stood a building shaped roughly like the United States Capitol. It couldn't actually be the United States Capitol, because this structure stood right in front of a shore - whether it was the ocean or merely a very large lake, neither existed in Washington DC.
One of the congregants in the plaza, a frizzy-haired woman, came up to the President. "Who are you?" she enquired somewhat rudely.
"I'm… I'm the President of the United States," Fiddlesticks responded, lacking the confidence he normally displayed.
"Yeah, right, and I'm Ash Ketchum," the woman replied with a cacophony of laughter.
"Ash Ketchum? Who's that? And by the way, what's going on here?"
The woman lifted her right arm, raising her hand like she was waiting to be called on in class. In her grasp was a sphere, half red and half white, with a circular button in the middle. And she grinned excitedly.
"We're storming the Capitol! It's a revolution!"
After that, the woman hopped upwards and started sprinting towards the building. President Fiddlesticks paused.
I'm pretty sure storming such a building is against the law. At least, it is in the States. But am I even in the States?
Seconds later, there was the sound of a speaker turning on, followed by a rather hazy song playing. The words were hard to make out at first, but the President thought it went something like this:
An insurrection made them upset,
A stolen election, never forget,
Can I make you, please see the light,
It's time for a revolution tonight.
"What in tarnation is going on here?" the President snapped, struggling to be heard over the music. "This is all a big load of malarkey!"
"It's the latest hit single!" a male voice exclaimed. "There was an insurrection, and the woke mob was upset that we took a leaf out of their book!"
Fiddlesticks frowned. "Just because the people you disagree with did something illegal, that doesn't mean you're allowed to do it too."
The man came into view. He was tall and muscular, and he wasn't wearing a shirt. Instead, he wore a loincloth with a sash made out of what looked like a fox pelt, as well as a blue hat saying MAKE SINNOH GREAT AGAIN.
Okay, I must be dreaming.
"Whatever," the shirtless man responded blankly. "We're never going to take back our region with weakness. If you don't fight like hell, you won't have Sinnoh anymore, and you certainly won't have Sunyshore City."
"Sunyshore City? What country is this?"
"Sinnoh, baby! I thought you'd know that, old man!"
Fiddlesticks raised his right index finger. "What's this Sinnoh you speak of?"
"The Great White North, bitches!" the shirtless man exclaimed, leaping to such a height, you'd think he was on a trampoline.
"The Great White North? I thought that was Canada. You know, Canada and the United States have a special relationship going back to… uh… what year was it again?"
"It doesn't matter what country you're from, old man! We're going to storm the Capitol of Sunyshore City, and we're not taking any advice from the woke mob ever again!"
"This looks like a literal mob, though," the President replied, gesturing at the crowd of people, some of whom carried pitchforks, others the same red sphere the woman from earlier had held.
"That's just projection, old man!"
"Please call me by my name," the President growled through clenched teeth. "I am President Andreas Fiddlesticks, and you'd do well to remember that!"
Those words, to put it mildly, did not have the desired effect.
"President Fiddlesticks?" a nearby woman scoffed. "How can I possibly take someone seriously when their last name is so silly?"
"Well, it's not my name that matters. What matters is the authority my position holds, and you would do well to respect it."
"Shut up, Fiddlesticks," the shirtless man snapped. "And go look - the big event's about to start!"
The members of the crowd were all raising their hands in the air; each elevated hand held the same red-and-white sphere. This gave the President an additional reason to shiver.
"Hello, everyone!" announced a confident male voice from a considerable distance away. The voice sounded as though it were being projected from a microphone; otherwise, Fiddlesticks, with his declining sense of sound, would not have been able to hear it.
"Look at this crowd!" the disembodied voice exclaimed. "I daresay. This must be the biggest crowd at any of my rallies! And let me tell you, we're going to make Sinnoh great again!"
There was a chorus of cheers from the audience, erupting in near-total unison. Fiddlesticks was almost tempted to join them. Almost.
"Now, now," the man continued. "We're not going to take back our region with passivity. We are going to make our voices heard as the people of Sinnoh, and we'll scream them loud and clear. They will not be able to ignore us, even though they want to!"
More cheering, lots of it. The crowd had packed itself closer together, forcing even Fiddlesticks himself to walk a few paces. He felt increasingly trapped now, and he was convinced that this couldn't end well.
"And by the way, does anyone believe my opponent got more votes than me? No? That's right, he sure as hell didn't! And to those calling today an insurrection, you should all shut your pie-holes; the real insurrection was the election!"
Where have I heard that before…?
"So we're going to walk down Sunyshore Boulevard, and I'll be right with you. We're going to make sure those in power know that we won't take a stolen election lying down. We're going to stand tall, and proud, as we are the people of Sinnoh!"
The cheering had reached a fever pitch, so much so that President Fiddlesticks thought his eardrums might burst. He didn't even want to picture that, but the scene that followed was at least as bizarre.
"Everybody, put your hand in the air, and when I say 'three, two, one, press', you're going to press the button - yes, that button, not the nuclear button - and we'll take part in what I might call the 'nuclear option.' And we're going to be storm chasers today."
President Fiddlesticks felt as though a giant fist were squeezing his heart so tightly that all the blood drained out of it. He didn't even want to think about what would happen next - then again, what was there to think about? It started only a few seconds later.
"Hold your dominant hands up high, with your thumbs on the button. It's important that you all. Press. At. Once. Strength in numbers, my friends, strength in numbers."
The crowd all made that odd "salute" in unison. In a way, it was a way to show fealty to their invisible leader who, contrary to what this crowd seemed to think, wasn't in the crowd with them. He was probably hidden safely away in some bunker, and would not need to deal with the consequences of what he'd incited.
"Three, two, one, press!"
With almost perfect harmony, the crowd pressed the buttons on their spheres, and flashes of blue-green light permeated the air. There were literally thousands of them, making the sky look a lot brighter than the cloudy, murky banner that existed in reality.
And from these turquoise columns of light, creatures rose above the spheres. They were the sort of exotic animals one could only read about in fantasy books - President Fiddlesticks couldn't have named a single one.
The President held his hands out like the stabilizers on an aircraft. He knew right away that this situation was getting out of control fast - the disembodied man may have incited what was about to occur, but even if he wanted to stop it, he couldn't.
For Fiddlesticks, it was one of those horrible moments everyone has in their past. Perhaps they are shameful or embarrassing, but they replay over and over in your mind even though you know, deep down, there's nothing you could have done.
The creatures, in their veritable rainbow of colors, began sprinting forward at the structure. They were moving quickly enough that President Fiddlesticks couldn't have stood still if he tried; he was caught up in the crowd, as though it were a river of people and these other creatures.
"Yeah! Nobody's going to take back Sinnoh with weakness!" one of the men yelled. Fiddlesticks couldn't tell if it was the shirtless guy from earlier.
Nonetheless, the President found himself moving forward. He didn't want to be involved, but it was either that or get trampled by the mob. He knew which option he'd prefer, even if it was wrong from a moral standpoint.
Closer to the outer walls, all was chaos. Some of the people threw bricks or what looked like Molotov cocktails; the creatures threw stones. One of them, an orange-colored beast that looked like a cross between a lizard and a dragon, began spitting out balls of fire.
Oh, no! I've got to get out of here!
Fiddlesticks reminded himself that it was just a dream; he was convinced of this much. This set of events was far too outlandish to be real.
But he just couldn't wake up. He was trapped in his own mind.
I'm not President Fiddlesticks anymore, the man told himself. I'm Flash. They say I'm a Luxray, whatever that means. And I have to find… the three scrolls… to get back to Earth.
"That's a bunch of malarkey!" a gruff, masculine voice bellowed, as though reading Fiddlesticks' mind. "The government of Sinnoh is going down!"
No. Let's play a game. Real or not real? I'm in front of the Sunyshore City Hall, and a mob of people and Pokémon are burning the place down. Why would they do that?
None of this made any sense.
One could be forgiven for thinking that when President Fiddlesticks finally surfaced from this nightmare, back in his Luxray form in the bed of that steam train, he would have a greater sense of clarity. That things would seem a bit less confusing.
However, once Fiddlesticks opened his eyes and saw the lightening sky, that was not the case. If anything, his mind was even more jumbled. What had he just experienced?
He only knew one thing:
It's dawn of the second day. Forty-eight hours remain.
I hope my fellow Americans had a relatively stress-free Election Night, and I hope everyone is doing well. For what it's worth, the song played at the Sunyshore insurrection is meant to be sung to the tune of "Dangerous Type" by The Cars.
I will see you all next time.