Dark Pasts, Hopeful Futures

by Thorned Rose

Consequences of actions must be faced and acknowledged in this extremely dark Rocketshippy sequel to A Diary Of Two Hearts. Six months apart can harden the gentlest of hearts, so how do they cope with the harrowing challenges they face?

19. 7th April, 2001

Saturday, April 7th 2001

Aghast was nowhere near the sentiment that washed over James as the fact his mother was telling the truth was nauseating, knowing there was no way he could explain his way out of this one and expect Jessie to understand. Even though he hadn't remembered writing the cert, refusing to reflect on his past as it was always a source of inner turmoil for him, unaware it was lies when he learnt of Jessie Belle's supposed death, he didn't think she was likely to shrug it off, kiss him and say it wasn't his fault. As he faced what he considered personified evil, he noticed something wasn't quite right about her expression, showing a side he'd never witnessed before. Within a moment, however, it had vanished and he recognised this one clearly; it was a demonstration of superiority with a sense of arrogance that challenged him wordlessly to make his next move. He just couldn't think of what to say or do, wishing they'd stayed longer in the forest to face this harsh reality at another time, perhaps when life was a little less flummoxing.

"I believe before you destroyed my property you heard your wife alive and breathing did you not?"

"She's not my wife, I never married her"

"I think you'll find you did, as this was your creative idea, nobody else's, and I think you'll agree it's completely legally binding"

"Is this true James?"

With a pain of horror and guilt ripping through him, he confirmed both of their questions and felt lower and more degraded than anything he'd experienced before. She screamed an obscenity at him and the other woman smiled to herself, though there was the strange expression again. It was regret at sabotaging her only family member's happiness, her solitary child hating her now and leaving her in solitude forever. It was heart-wrenching for her, even though she was partially glad that her son would have no choice in splitting from the terrible wife he'd chosen. But inside she knew Jessica was not a terrible choice—the only problem she had with the scenario was his life was rough but he didn't have a problem with it; he simply sought pleasure from the small things in life. Something she could never do.

James took hold of Jessie's arm as she turned against him, arms flailing as she attempted to attack him but didn't have the ability to be a worthy host for the rage welling within. She kicked him with as much force as she could muster in his weak leg, and when she noticed a distinct lessening of strength on his part, so she burst away from him and sped down the pavement, away from her husband and his estranged mother. He cursed and made to follow her, interrupted by his mother throwing something before his path. He picked the small knife from his shoulder and carried on running, knowing the danger he now faced, but right now Jessie running into the most dangerous part of the city not knowing what lay ahead was more important to him. His mother watched him run away, grateful that she'd only bluffed and hit him with a clean throwing knife without any toxic substances on this one. Her heart tore open again; his loyalty and integrity would never contain consideration towards her, not that it should after her behaviour. She waited until he was lost in the throng of the crowds before returning to her car, drowning in misery. She ignored the phone broken in many pieces on the ground—she had no need for it and she wasn't prepared to lose more self-respect to bend down and pick it up like a commoner would. Her plant in Jessie Belle's house had worked in a splendiferous manner by telling her son she was dead, though now she wondered what the future would hold for her, as she didn't want to return to the mansion with nobody but servants to act as company in a large lonely house. Behind her fan, tears fell.

Meowth noticed the beer garden contained nobody similar to Butch, or anyone that was familiar for the possibility the male had joined them and just gone into the bathroom. Something was unnerving him about this, yet he couldn't justify it as he was likely to need space after what had occurred that morning. He left the garden before anyone decided they'd like to try their hand at catching him, not in the mood to endure anything as demeaning as that at the moment. He caught the male's scent on the wind and decided to follow it, just in case he was thinking about doing something stupid, as he was likely to in that frame of mind. There were other scents combined with his, each smelt vaguely familiar but he was unable to place it, as if it were embedded in his memory and it was just slightly out of reach for him to recall it. Frustration pilfered his senses from him, panic and fear welling inside as he tried to reach a plausible conclusion. Then it struck home; that was Cassidy's scent, and since she was dead, the ditto must have lured him out as the transformation had always been perfect. His comrade was in trouble, though the scent seemed too strong compared to how it was before the creature went on the rampage that morning. Something sinister was afoot, of that he was certain.

Jessie ran until she paused in terror; she recognised this area of the city, which was not good when she considered the only part she knew this well was the part she'd lived in over the last couple of seasons. She looked around her and didn't recognise the way she'd come, crossing and turning off every chance she'd got as she didn't want to see her incest-loving bigamist for a husband. Her breath came in quick, shallow visits, her panic overcoming as her common sense returned, degrading her for leaving him even though she felt she must. Staying with him for a few more minutes to scream irrationally would have been a much better turn of events than this. She felt eyes upon her yet saw nobody looking in her direction, making her wonder if it was paranoia or someone lurking in shadows or in a car perhaps. Her watcher grinned, as he knew the time was approaching for him to act. Then she would pay his expensive fee.

Giovanni awoke as his head cracked off the wall again, a fist propelling it backwards as Anthony made sure the prisoner ate some of the badly-prepared gruel, to ensure he didn't reach his demise prematurely and cut short his fun. He'd spent the night with Lindsey and felt on top of the world again—the best bedroom in the building had been where they stayed and he'd never experienced anything like it. He hadn't experienced anything like her attitude afterwards either though; she'd always been considerate in the past and enjoyed talking to lull them to sweet slumber. She'd seemed bored by him and had smoked a cigarette, turned her back to him and brushed off his hand whenever he embraced her, abruptly ending any chance for conversations. He assumed she was just tired from the day's strenuous work so he didn't take it up with her, hoping she'd be in better humour today. She'd told him she'd join him down there shortly, and until then he could take whatever sport took his whim with the former leader, just as long as it wouldn't result in an immediate or delayed death.

She was good to her word and arrived in the dungeon, to term the cell for what it was, a few minutes later. She noted Anthony's open eagerness and suppressed her disgust, for if she showed it, she couldn't use it to the full extent of her intentions. She stood in front of the humbled man, and after a couple of seconds spent staring in an intimidating manner into his eyes, she moved towards him quickly and laughed as he'd met her prediction by flinching in fear. She turned around and pushed Anthony forcefully onto the operating table behind them, kissing him fervently for what he considered to be for Giovanni's displeasure. She unbuttoned her blouse in a second, her expert fingers finding little trouble in the obstacle. She waited until she felt his body yield to her with his arousal, then snapped his arms over his head and manacled him to the table, making him think it was part of a fetish for her. Instead, she got off him and fixed her attire.

"What are you doing?"

"You really think I want to fuck you? Damn it Anthony, grow up. You've nothing worth offering. At least when I screwed him I was able to screw him over like this"

"Wh--what are you saying? I love you"

Both she and Giovanni laughed simultaneously, his confusion and emotions a great source of amusement for those looking on. She turned around and faced the former leader again, seeing the timing as perfect to unleash her trump card.

"I can't see what you find so amusing, I really can't. You're locked here with the same fate here as he does, you've less to wear, you're dead as far as everyone thinks and I'm not done with you yet. Did you think you could rape that slut instead of having me and get away with it? Did you think I wouldn't exact revenge like millions of others before me haven't? Well, I'm not everyone else and for the first time you're someone else's pawn. You're mine"

Before continuing any further, she returned her attention to the younger male and lifted his head up before smashing it heavily against the table to render him unconscious but not with enough force to kill him. A quick smirk at the injured comrade was enough to make Giovanni moisten himself in fear, knowing the woman in front of him personified the uneasiness he'd felt, knowing his needless-looking worries about her in the past were now not even a fraction of what they deserved to be. He swallowed, waiting for whatever torment she had in mind.

James looked all around him and realised that while he was not lost, he could not see his wife anymore. His leg had considerably weakened when he'd started sprinting and he'd stumbled, successfully losing sight of her. He was incredibly worried, as the only reason he wasn't lost was because he'd spent a lot of years working in this area, and he felt vulnerable standing without anything clear in mind with regards her whereabouts. He hated himself for forgetting about the marriage certificate when he'd only been thinking about it a few days ago in nostalgia over his supposed deceased fiancée. He felt like little more than a marionette, constantly on strings which the puppeteer cut and swung at their whim. He touched his arm absently; it was still tender from when du Paor had inserted a needle into it, which he'd ripped out himself and seemingly forgotten what considerable damage it would do to the vein in which it lay. Matters weren't helped by du Paor cutting a line along the area to cause pain and weaken his victim as he knew it would.

He felt sore, abused and pathetically feeble when he considered he'd chosen to revert back to drugs, which had inadvertently appeared from the hands of the man he hated most on this planet, only to become the white trash he'd always been called in that job. He hated himself marginally less for allowing the sodomy to occur, never wanting to suffer that humiliation from being threatened with it so much in his past, always the prime choice for some of the open homosexuals because of his slightly effeminate looks. Were it not for a passing comment as teenagers where Jessie said she liked his appearance and for him not to change a thing, he would have altered it as greatly as was in his power to do so to prevent history from repeating. He wondered what else was due to come his way as he didn't see how life could possibly get worse. If he'd possessed his aunt's skill of premonitions, he would have seen that what had happened was but the merest tip of the proverbial iceberg.

Violet wandered around Sunset City in an introspective disposition, wondering what she could have possibly done to James that he didn't feel like marrying her but he was willing to do it with someone he'd hardly been going out with. How could he choose her when they'd gone out for a few years not months? Seeing him again had stirred up a lot of mixed emotions and memories which she'd hidden away for months on end, another part of everyday life as far as she was concerned. She'd taken him in when he told her all about his murky past—his present at the time—and loved him unconditionally. She'd shared everything with him, her thoughts her food and even her bed, though not in the strictest sense. They'd been fooling around one night, their coordination a little off but he pulled out again as soon as he accidentally entered her—neither had contraception and he hadn't meant to split her hymen, so they left it to resume at a time they thought was correct. It never came, though there was another incident when they were drunk (and she suspected he may have been high as it was an evening after he made the long journey from Viridian to Cerulean City). She didn't remember much about it, the only real proof she had was the sticky feeling she had when she awoke, and because she never brought it up out of embarrassment at not remembering it, she never knew whether he did or not. Either way, she'd try to hold a special moment infused in her head but it became foggier the further away from it she travelled with respect to time.

She knew he wasn't the confused adolescent she'd first met, as horrific proof of seeing him witness his wife's miscarriage had shown her, how he'd tried to keep a calm head and try to face the possibility that neither the baby nor mother would make it. The scenario had utterly unnerved her yet she admired his courage and felt open sorrow towards him when she learnt his efforts had been in vain. She was a firm believer in the concept that if she'd been born twelve seconds later, would her life be any different? Many a time she'd contemplated what would happen if she acted sooner or later with different situations, and she wondered if she'd forgotten about proposing to him until a few months later, would he still be with her, and would he have acted nicer if he left? She sighed as the ground crunched underneath her feet, the pebbles causing discomfort whenever her leather soles skidded on them. She glanced around her and knew within her soul that she would never see him again, as he'd left without a word just like last time, but she knew it would be forever. The bitter wind chilled her.

Meowth found Butch as it neared five o' clock, squatting in an alleyway, babbling what could only be described as utter nonsense to the pokémon. He tried to gain his concentration but was unsuccessful, and he really worried about the mental state of his friend. He caught half-sentences and a few words here and there, and assumed it was something to do with the ditto, but then again the damage done to his body that morning may have added to his confusion. The scent of Cassidy about him was overwhelming, which made the cat-type worry as it had never been that strong before, especially since he'd automatically assumed the creature had died when it blew the chassis up. His hackles involuntarily stood erect, making him nervous and swimming in guilt as he considered it was his fault it happened, just like all the terrible things that had happened since he'd been resuscitated. Why couldn't they leave him in a coma to die in due time? Everyone else's lives would surely be better without him interfering in it, especially his former partners'—they'd still be looking forward to the birth of their first child, perhaps the first of a few. Why why why why why?

James eventually gave up his hunt and reluctantly returned to The Silver Bullet to see if his wife had returned there, praying she was okay but at the same time fraught with anxiety and tension in case he never laid eyes on her live body again. He tried his best to shake off those negative thoughts, but it was difficult to do that when his stomach was filled with a deep sense of foreboding which he couldn't justify or ignore. He walked through the partition into the staff's lounge, spying Elora smoking on the couch. She obviously didn't hear his stealthy entrance as he walked behind her without so much as her neck tensing at another person's presence. He reached out and grabbed the wrist which held the cigarette and twisted it so she burnt her shoulder. She released a sound of pain and moved to stand up as she dropped the item, which he carefully picked up and examined to see if it was a normal one before finishing the rest of it. As he stubbed it out in the ashtray resting on her stomach, he forced her off the couch and ordered she went to her bedroom. She knew better than to cause a commotion and walked dejectedly up the stairs with him in tow, knowing it would be incredibly different from the last time they'd done that.

He threw her on the bed and pinioned her, nothing to show even the merest hint of desire in his motions. Fear was evident in her eyes and he felt no guilt, not after the way she'd knowingly set him up the night before to be the person he most hated's sex toy. Venting his anger to its most extreme wouldn't be enough punishment for what she deserved. He noticed the skin around his hands were now a startling white as the blood flow ceased, but it didn't phase him in the slightest even though his nature saw hurting women as wrong. But she wasn't a woman, she was evil. He adjusted his position so his weight was pressing into her stomach, forcing her to lurch upright to combat the pressure. He grabbed the back of her neck easily and she stared at his scarring along his neck, not having noticed it as that severe in the past, feeling ashamed and haunted when she realised what she was really like as a person. He didn't raise his voice at all but when he said in a smooth tone that she was to tell him everything she knew, there was nothing she could do but nod mutely, knowing the situation was as dangerous as she feared. A slight smirk across his lips informed her he was aware of it too.

Lindsey unfolded a piece of paper in front of the terrified male, enjoying the look of near-hysteria in his eyes. She leant down to catch his eyes directly, wanting to savour every moment at its most maximum, and when she was done with her twisted foreplay, she showed it to him and began to explain her plan to him.

"All the times we lay together, you were afraid of me. This is proof that you were right all along, though you weren't sure why. Cutting my wrist and sleeping with me against my will was the worst mistakes you could have possibly made, as now you face my wrath. Fuelled by bitterness, hatred and fury, you deserve much worse than this, but when this is through, there's more to come your way. A quick easy death will not be yours in any circumstances. This is a grant of probate, which activated the will I made out in your name when the computers were back on track momentarily, forging your signature excellently as you've had me do in the past many times. You died and left everything to me. As far as the workers know, there's nothing to prove otherwise as they saw James head in quite angrily, a few strangled cries and then left the area in pursuit of him in case he entered through some of the lesser known entrances. It was then we dragged you down here, the blood cleaned up by one of the pokémon you modified to drink blood, later killed in case it rebelled as others have done in the past. This is my company now, completely above board as far as an illegal corporation goes. Everyone knows we were linked together over the last couple of weeks, so it's not that difficult to pull off. Nothing is more than you'll ever be worth. Nobody will grieve your death; they'll celebrate. My regime will be more difficult but I know how to work them, whereas you never did because you never worked below leader I did for a few years. You'll regret running this place and crossing me, especially when you figure out you're going to be a subject for medical testing, as lackeys have been for you in the past. Maybe next time you wake up, you won't be as you are now. In any event you won't be alive as such ever again"

She departed from the laboratory; leaving him the bitter proclivity of perpetual imprisonment. He barely recognised this cell and knew it was one abandoned many years ago, and with it being sound-proofed as standard, he knew screaming for help was futile, but he tried it anyway. He declined slumber's invitation, aware he couldn't stay awake ceaselessly. He knew reducing her to secretary instead of killing her was a mistake, but knowing where his crucial error lay was meaningless when he was unable to turn back the clock to do that scene over. He was less than nothing, just as she drummed into him, unable to think of a single person that could see through her crafty lies to save him from this hell.

James' mother decided to linger in the city for a while, to see if anything could occur for her to confine her to the area to avoid returning to her house straight away, and so remained in the tallest hotel in the city. It wasn't that much of a distance to travel, but she just needed an excuse to put it off for as long as possible without it looking obvious to anyone else. She sipped first class tea from a fragile porcelain cup, overlooking a grand panorama of the bustling city, able to see just about everything from the poorest area to the richest where she presently was, and as far as the river at the edge of the intimidating forest. Something chilled her and she knew it didn't originate from the cold atmosphere; she felt as if persons unknown all around her were considering ominous machinations, yet no eyes rested on her in the vicinity. Her paranoia-spawned sense was either out of service or perhaps she wasn't to be the intended victim, or else it was just her guilt crawling through her nerves from all her past assassinations. She tried to act as if everything was exactly as it should be, but her manservant knew something was upsetting her, seeing the faint tell-tale signs he'd identified a few years into her service. He knew better than to ask her what was wrong, knowing weakness of any description was loathsome in her eyes and was not willing to be found the latest victim of her untraceable wrath. She tried her hardest to shake the repulsive feeling away from her body, yet it swarmed the air until she felt nausea with worry—a characteristic never associated with her, praying it would pass before she returned and her flaw became perceptible to all. Instead of diminution, it worsened increasingly with each transitory minute; its derivation unknown to her yet trepidation assaulted her soul mercilessly.

Meowth watched sadly as the shell of a human sat in a foetal position on a hotel bed (convincing the owners single-handedly why they should allow such strange guests had not been easy for the pokémon) and wondered what had happened to make his sanity a forgotten thing of the past. Part of him wondered why it hadn't struck sooner, when he considered everything the male had faced in his young life, but he knew it was ultimately his fault. If Cassidy hadn't been his victim—which he'd never intended to happen as the drugs had taken full control of him upon awakening—the ditto would never have been involved and neither of them would be left picking up the fragile pieces as they were now. He doubted if Butch knew what day of the week it was, and the words spilling in his confused state made it evident he thought Cassidy to still be alive, or else he truly believed he could see her somehow. The situation was clearly so tragic, yet nothing was willing to give either even the slightest break, and the strong scent was sounding alarm bells in Meowth's head since he hadn't been that strongly doused in the aroma when they sat in the beer garden. He prayed that if the pokémon was still out there somewhere, it would choose to end its torment, though his raised hackles made him feel uneasy, and he knew the battle was bitter but not quite through yet.

The Silver Bullet, 20:00 hours…

James sat in the workers' lounge, smoking a cigarette to calculatingly aggravate his throat. He hated his presence there as he'd wrenched every sordid detail possible from Elora, who worked steadily in the bar to avoid him, ignoring her breaks for the first time since she'd owned the establishment. He felt so incensed yet there was little he could do, seeing as he couldn't turn back the clock and he wasn't sure how his life could possibly get any worse. She'd planned his torment long before it happened apparently, receiving the cocaine hours in advance, and the friend she knew running the Serpentine Seductress was a person he'd worked with regularly in the past. It seemed no matter the distance between then and now was always going to be irrelevant, and he suddenly wished he'd never left home and come clean with Jessie long ago. Now he didn't know where she was or who she was with, and it worried the hell out of him. As he willed to hear from her, the phone rang unexpectedly and jolted him from his reveries. After four rings and still no sign of someone coming to answer it, he stood up and walked to the device besides the entrance to the bar. He didn't even attempt to hide his resentment for his predicament so he thought sabotaging the tavern's clientele might help his ill mood.

"Sluts central, need a fix?"

"Funny you should say that, I've got someone here you might be interested in hiring. Her body's not the best, but what do you expect when she's some white trash's little plaything?"

His blood ran cold as he instantly identified the voice as his ex-dealer, and he knew immediately who he referred to. He shook as he knew that his ideas of hearing from her should include her safety, which was obviously not a factor as he knew from the sobbing in the background. The butt of the cigarette burned his fingers and he flicked it away, sucking the skin momentarily as he needed to plan this carefully—one wrong move and they were both dead. He heard a strangled scream of hers and he literally turned grey with shock, and he knew he was possibly too late to save her. As she whimpered next to the voice piece, he heard his instructions to return to a certain place in five minutes, and any later than that he'd find a corpse. He knew of two places implied, but he only had time to try one of them in the span of time allowed. It was either the alley he'd grown up in or the place where he used to hand over women and receive drugs to sell, both easily reached from there, but the gap between them made it a difficult choice to make, as if he called the wrong place, he'd lose his soulmate forever. He thought frantically, bursting into activity when he heard du Paor saying he'd wasted a minute and a half already. He sped out the main exit, alarming the punters and staff alike, but he didn't care about what they thought. The only thing he cared about was in grave danger, and he followed where his heart was telling him where she was at the moment. He sped towards the alley in spite of the excruciating ache ripping up his leg, afraid to acknowledge its cries to slow down as he knew his time—and hers—was running out rapidly. When he got there, despair flooded him; the place was deserted.

Meowth stalked the streets; he'd sat looking out of the window when he got a blast of Cassidy's scent, so overwhelming he couldn't think for a few minutes until the shock of it all dissolved. He'd checked Butch was secure and unable to leave in his present mental state before hunting the creature, knowing that if they got anywhere near his friend again he'd lose more than his sanity. There was no apparent source of the scent as he followed it, and as strong as it was, he knew it wasn't slowing down or speeding up, as it wasn't getting stronger or weaker in the dismal weather. He traced it along steadily, and eventually it became too diluted for him to work out where it went for a moment. He heard a cry of pain, and when he sought to investigate it, he noticed a young meowth squealing on the ground as an angry-looking persian toyed with it. He saw the danger in the situation and launched a surprise attack on the evolved pokémon, clawing at it viciously until he felt his anger was vented and for an excusable reason. He knew that had he not stopped, the older creature would have made sure its victims were dead, unable to allow such a disrespectful attitude to go unpunished. When he ensured the Persian was dead, he turned to the kitten and gasped when he saw it—it was his ex-girlfriend Meowsie.

The kitten walked over to him and nuzzled him affectionately, before unsheathing its claws and launching a vicious attack on him. At first he thought it was a minor lover's tiff between them he'd mistaken as something more serious, but when he recovered from the unexpected attack he identified the scent as the one he'd hunted. The whole scenario had been a set-up, where the ditto obviously researched his past to throw him off his guard even more. To his dismay, he saw a duplicate creature approaching from his left, and the 'dead' persian rose from behind him, hardly giving him any time to create a strategy as they resumed their natural shapes. He understood why Butch was in his present state; the situation was similar to something from a horror movie and he felt his own mind slipping from his control. He tapped into the fury that had resulted in Cassidy's death, and he didn't stop until he felt certain the creatures were dead and his senses returned to normal. He caught the scent of something else in the air and followed it when he was finished—it wasn't often he smelt his friend's blood permeating the air with its salty taste.

Hopkins found it tiresomely difficult to sleep. His mistress had retired half an hour previously to that, and he usually took whatever chance for slumber he received, knowing with his job he must always be efficient and to be tired was to be unprofessional. It was for this reason he'd never had a proper girlfriend—he'd hardly had a proper kiss. He knew he wanted to maintain his father's work and perform with the pride and dedication his father had applied until his death. He refused to partake in any typical teenage activities such as smoking, drinking, whoring and brawling in case it marred his record for future purposes, so he had no true friends, certainly no acquaintances outside of his place of work. He looked out at the view of the city, illuminated by the dying sunset and the neon street lighting simultaneously, the clouds rain-bearing and occasionally they spilt their contents out onto the world below. He knew something was bothering her, but to impose a question regarding her health would be most inappropriate, and his job came before friendship, no exceptions. He sighed heavily, wishing the life he led was simpler than it was at times, all the deceit and often the whole illegality in a high-class family was a bit too much for him to cope with, especially when he'd taken half an hour off in all the years he'd worked there. He'd felt guilty about it ever since as it was the minimum time he was able to hold a funeral and burial for his father with when in his eyes he should have ignored the procession and carried out his duty as he knew everyone expected him to do. Something caught his eye and he noted it as peculiar and immediately sought his mistress to inform her of it, even though he'd never disturbed her intentionally in the past before. He considered this as he knocked on the door; he became furious that he allowed his work to slip so badly as it was presently doing.

James walked down the alleyway, willing the welling tears not to fall even though he couldn't see a sign of his wife. He could never live with himself if his stupidity was the cause of her death, so he wanted to certify this place was empty before he tried anything else. He felt hollow as haunting memories attacked his thoughts of everything he'd done there without remorse, from dabbling with drugs to full-blown addiction where he lured virgins there to save his own skin. He hated what he became, and it was these memories that made him reject even pharmaceutical drugs for a long time. He loathed breaking the abstinence the night before; making his presence known was not a smart move, especially when his wife was still recovering from a forced miscarriage from the creators of evil within the city. His shoulder throbbed from where his mother had struck the knife in it, and he was vaguely aware that it had started bleeding again. His blood dripping along this stretch of concrete was again nothing new, and he was used to losing a lot more than this in the past. He still needed to exact revenge for those responsible for slicing him open with the intentions of leaving him to die, but he knew that he'd never pull it off. There was one of him, greatly hindered with plenty of lacerations gathered over his life, and an army of narcotics, who would probably be supplied with a month's supply of drugs in reward for their deeds. He didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell, and as he reached the end of the unoccupied alley, he clenched his fists and almost succumbed to his depression when he suddenly stiffened as he felt he wasn't alone. Then, a noise came from his right, and a phone rang.

He spun around, the loathing fuelling his determination to succeed in this, and noticed something different about the area; a wall was there that hadn't been in existence when he'd lived in that stretch and it didn't look as solid as the others. He warily put his hand against it, and it swung open to reveal a miniature warehouse of sorts, prostitutes clearly using this as a make-shift brothel as well as a storage area for illegal items gained by equally unlawful means. It seemed the place was created to throw the law off its tracks, as it was only a few metres away from a busy street and yet it was concealed well enough so only a person that knew the place as well as James did would know if something hadn't always been there, no matter how cleverly disguised it may be. He knew people were watching him, yet he saw nobody in the ill-lit room, not taking the time to examine his surroundings as if he stopped to watch a place for long enough, his back would be exposed to welcome an attack. When he reached the wall furthest from the entrance, the door slammed shut and the room became harshly illuminated as someone flooded the room with bright lighting. He caught sight of his wife, and immediately wished he hadn't.

Sunset City, 04:20 hours…

Special Agent Pryer was flicking through criminal records, to certify she was gathering the correct information before passing it onwards to the police department in Viridian. She'd ended a date with her husband Darien early hours earlier when a comrade alerted her to something they'd picked up from the transmission on James' leg. She regretted accusing him of having anything to do with his child's demise, but she'd received a lot of valuable information on four people they'd tried pinning things on for years but were previously unsuccessful. They couldn't find the fifth one at all, and by the time someone had reported he'd been actively committing drug-fuelled crimes including sodomy with an unwilling victim, he'd already vanished. She took it on herself to hear anything else relating to him, regardless of the hour of the night or what she attended; this criminal had escaped the forces' grasp for too long. As soon as she had every piece of information James had given her about a certain Henry du Paor, she'd send the co-ordinations to Viridian police station and nail him at long last. He was not about to evade their grasp again.

She came across something on the tapes that scared her immediately, and without a second thought she reached for the phone. She pressed the extension number for the person with her exact job across the country and waited for the call to transfer through, knowing they were a few hours behind in time. It was approximately a few minutes after the twentieth hour in the city, and were it not for the distance she'd have travelled there herself. She passed on all relevant information when the agent finally picked the phone up. She talked to the agent casually, as just like all officers were inter-related one way or another; she was related to the other special agents in the Intelligence sectors. This person was actually her younger sister, zippier than the average worker as she was fairly new to that line of work. Sarah's attitude was hard for her to listen to as it approached five o' clock in the morning, yet it was pleasant to hear an enthusiastic worker when usually everyone just wanted to clock out as soon as they'd commenced their respective shifts. When the phone call was over, she took her sister's advice and arranged to travel to the area in question via helicopter. The 212 Blackbird wasn't the fastest in the world anymore, but when it was the only aircraft in their possession at present, she had to make do with what was there. If she arrived too late to be a part of the squad raiding the area, she could at least partake in the questioning, have a relaxing break away from the office and more importantly, from her husband and his embarrassing friends.

Viridian City, 20:12 hours…

James really wished he could have seen Jessie in more desirable circumstances, away from the present grave situation they were now in. Were it not for the fear across her face, the audience, or mainly the blood seeping from her cuts he may have been slightly aroused. With all of those factors present, and since he didn't know how long she was there to be other people's sex toys, it was thoroughly disgusting for him. She was manacled against the back wall, the iron cuffs cutting her delicate skin and tears spilled freely from her eyes. The fact she was completely naked was irrelevant as protruding from her neck was a syringe with a clear substance in it, and he knew it could be anything from water to battery acid. He wanted to rip it out but he knew he'd risk more damage to both of them if he did. He felt deep regret when he didn't respond the way her pleading eyes begged him to, as her mouth was gagged and she was unable to utter a sound. Blood dripped between her legs and she tried to cross them, but the manacles were at such a height it was impossible to do it for long unless she wanted to lose power in her arms and make her weaker and susceptible to more sexual assaults. He turned around and faced the person responsible for all of this as he approached almost silently, James' instincts as a thief kicking in where he would have fallen victim to an unfair punch, but at least this way he expected it and protected himself sufficiently.

"You made it with thirty seconds to spare. But then again, I never said I wouldn't kill her when you get here, nor did I guarantee your safety"

"I knew you too well to be that gullible. I can't see why you're even interested in this game. Didn't you tire of it when you sliced me up?"

"Far from it; you're a stupid piece of white trash if you believe that. That was the tip of the iceberg, as the cops cut short my fun. I was glad to see you weren't stupid enough to spill your story to them, but the whore you stayed with was quite a catch"

"She wasn't a whore"

"She looked like one, and she acted like one, didn't you have the manners to pay the bitch?"

"I never slept with her"

"Are you saying you're too chicken to do anything like that? Rumour has it that it wasn't your kid I helped to kill"

"I'm not a family-fucker like you are, and if you think you can get me to go for you by bragging about killing my daughter, think again. I know all about your usual tricks, the dagger in your hand waiting for you to thrust it into my stomach. I've seen it in the past; you'll need something else to catch me out"

"If that's true then you must've wanted me to thrust something else into you"

"She knows if you're just saying this for my wife's sake. She knows I was high, with another woman. She knows how appalling your performances are as well, as she's told me a few tales about you. She knows you only get drugs for other people to sell, for you to take their money and women as you've always done. It's the only way someone would bed you. She doesn't need to tell me how pathetic you are; everyone here knows that"

A sharp punch across James' face would have been enough to shut him up in the past, but he was used to the other male and so spat out the broken tooth, ignored the blood that started to flow from his serrated molar and readied himself for the rancorous encounter that was certain to follow. Unfortunately, his guard was up so much for the person standing in front of him, he reacted too slowly to the two people behind him, one of which stabbed a knife into his lower back, barely missing his left kidney. The shock of it was enough to stun his system momentarily, which was all the flunkies needed to fix him against the wall alongside his wife, but not near enough to touch her.

Meowth made it around the corner and noticed the dilemma his friends were in; thoughts whirring around his head provided little inspiration as to how he'd release them unnoticed when all attention in the area was focused on them. Behind him, three dittos silently slid up behind him, holding him down as he made to make a noise. They used telepathy to communicate with him so they wouldn't be noticed, melding together traits of many different pokémon in whatever form they wished as was their ability. He sensed their anger against him, but he also felt their hatred towards the person destroying the couple's lives. For their assistance, he traded something he wished he didn't have to, but he felt it was the least he could do to help them. He just prayed they knew the sacrifice he was obliged to make on their behalf, and let them finally know he was sorry for his actions and wished to be on good terms with them as opposed to ignored and hated. Part of his soul knew they'd never notice it at all.

One of the dittos transformed into Matt the bartender, as from their working with Meowth they knew who was likely to be involved in the operation, and a second turned into Elora. The third changed into a perfect camouflage shield, which hid Meowth as they moved towards the chained couple, just in case the distraction wasn't enough to grab everyone's attention. As they approached James who was squatting against the wall since his aggressors knew it would pain him more than a simple stretch; the ditto elongated itself and pressed a paw into his mouth, healing the bleeding broken tooth. He involuntarily bit down hard and cut into the invisible force, but the ditto didn't cry out. It retracted its limb and healed itself, pulling its body back long enough for the human to see the feline at his feet, signalling for silence. He looked away; not wanting to let the other people present see he was focusing on the ground in case they figured out something was there that shouldn't be. The creature healed the cut on his back which brought instant relief to the male, but the thick clotting blood remained in his clothes, otherwise it would appear too suspicious if it was clean should anyone stand behind him. Meowth attempted to pick the locks silently but it made too much noise, which James instantly covered up by pretending to attempt breaking them, hoping it would pay off. It did, but he received a heavy kick to the ribs in payment, winding him as he heard the dangerous creaks of his bones, showing they were possibly fragments by this stage. The creature only partially healed them, not wanting him to appear fine should they examine him a bit closer in the moments to come. The ditto then eased the cuffs apart noiselessly, using a telekinetic force to do bend them silently, and then when it was done, the intruders moved onto Jessie.

James had known to stay quiet instinctively; Jessie did not. It was just as well the gag muffled most sounds she made otherwise her squeal of shock as something brushed against her leg would have attracted attention to herself. She jolted sharply as something ran between her legs, though she half-noted her pain from the miscarriage was vanishing, and it felt like the torturous experiences she'd already suffered that night hadn't occurred. She hated feeling something on her skin, but it was like the wind, as it was an invisible force making its presence known. She caught James' eyes and he barely moved his head but she knew he was signalling for her silence, which she performed with utter frustration. She didn't know what was doing it when he obviously did, but she wasn't about to destroy their chance for escape through her typical moods. He needed her strong, and no matter how much she felt revolted by him earlier, she didn't want to lose the chance of being with him forever, especially in their present predicament. The sting vanished from her arms of being upright for a while, but they didn't release her; they knew she'd stagger forwards involuntarily, which would blow their whole procedure.

In an unexpected manoeuvre, she was suddenly dragged forwards, and it was only the strength of the dittos that stopped her from giving away their escape route. Du Paor ripped the strip of tape off her mouth to make her scream then backhanded her sharply to enjoy her pain as much as James' fury. It took all of the younger male's willpower not to leap up and beat him up, to vent the total anger that had grown relentlessly since his near-death experience all those years ago. He nearly re-cracked his teeth from gritting them so hard as he watched the junkie grope his wife shamelessly. Finally, he felt like he could take it no more, and against his assistants' wishes, chose to make his move. A move he'd almost instantly regret doing.

James' mother became irate by her butler's apologetic air; he'd expressed words to explain rousing her from her chambers which he'd never done before, and his timid manner was something that set her on edge for an inexplicable reason. Her sense of uneasiness had heightened at his calling, and when she examined the vista of the vast city, she understood it all in perfect clarity. She could see the situation her only son was in, seemingly helpless, and it was all because of the woman he claimed to love. He'd stung her terribly with his words earlier, but there was nothing she could do to erase the clock, but perhaps she could reconcile the situation by assisting him one final time before sacrificing her beliefs to allow him the independence he sought for so long. She opened the window to its full extent and waited for her manservant to pass her the cold weapon in his hands, fully loaded with the trigger on, just in case he injured his mistress in passing it to her. She focused through the scope, adjusting its telescopic abilities to enhance her vision of the dark area of the city, tracing the thin beam until she could see it was clearly on du Paor's skull. She lowered the beam slightly, knowing it was her son's desire to eradicate this man, and if she was to begin acting in a manner that would help him live the way he wanted, she would immediately respect his wishes. To infuriate her further, her target stepped behind her whore-in-law and as tempted as she was to pull the trigger, she refrained from it for the moment. Were she born of lower class, she would have cursed most foully at this point. As she was not, she simply chose to glare at the monster torturing her son, wishing sourly that looks could kill.

Team Rocket Headquarters, 20:59 hrs…

Lindsey paced around the office that denoted she was head of the corporation, feeling completely at ease and yet something was niggling at the back of her mind. She shrugged it away, not wishing for a conscience to come into play just when she was building a life for herself. She almost felt guilty when she considered how she'd gained her title, yet she felt it was reasonable when placed against the years of humiliation she'd suffered after her attempted coup d'état with Tyra. Poor Tyra, she thought. She'd never achieved her goals in her life, and she would die a failure it would seem. She had no idea the girl was already dead as the computers had been down since before her death, and her attention had been forcefully focused on the grisly matter of Jessie's miscarriage then. Lindsey had cleansed the private quarters thoroughly, not wanting to sleep anywhere that reminded her of her ill means of achieving her power. She had no desire to sleep on bloodied sheets either, as decorated by Jessie's body when she stayed there. The apprehension had grown in the building, as the workers knew foul play was the cause for Giovanni's death, and for someone to be able to pull it off must be an even more fearsome individual again. They were unaware of their former leader's constant screams for aid in the dungeons below, but if anyone had detected them, would they have felt obliged to help him, after his regime of terror?

She examined the contents of his bedside locker meticulously, not wishing to miss a vital clue that would suggest more ammunition to throw at him in future testing sections. There were letters from his childhood, and the more she read of them, the more she realised reviving his mother would be a wise choice—she obviously despised him more than anyone else on the planet, which she wouldn't have believed possible before reading the letters. She also discovered a cracked black leather-bound journal, which she also chose to pore over. The entrants varied dramatically from the totals of each rare pokémon submitted by each worker, to the more twisted side of matters of having photographs of each woman he'd slept with, mainly bruised and weeping, and then he'd chosen to mark their attributes and techniques as he saw fit. Curiously, whereas Jessie's had mainly long-winded insipid passages denoting what a disappointment she was, her own entry was more unusual. There was her registration picture taken years ago instead of one of her in bed, and the writing around it was pure gibberish, with odd words giving her the hint that she was an evil temptress destined to steal his mind and belongings from him. In the end, it appeared that much was true, she mused. She noticed a reference to a secret file hidden from the main server unless certain precautions were taken, and she cursed she hadn't attempted to fix the machines yet. Her curiosity went into overload, so she sat in front of the computer and almost immediately cut along the seam of the coding; her attention had been attracted by a glaring error James had left, showing her the code when certain co-ordinations were used. Unfortunately for her, although she could do what she willed with the computer in Giovanni's office, the data held in the terminal server deleted itself piece by piece, undetected. The visible coding was programmed to come up after a designated amount of time, as it would trigger the eradication of every file imaginable. She failed to notice the damage occurring, as she forgot about the page she wished to locate upon discovering what was taking place in a different part of the city. She felt iced to the bone, a feat not easily accomplished.

Viridian City Police Station, 21:05 hrs…

The helicopter touched down with a little turbulence, the bitterly cold wind altering the motions of the blades slightly. Special Agent Pryer stepped down, her long hair whipped back by natural and mechanical force simultaneously. She folded her long coat over her body to maintain some degree of warmth and strode the familiar path to the door to the main building at the near side of the rooftop. She fingered her key for a moment before placing it in the lock, thinking profoundly for a second about what mattered to her in her life, and what was irrelevant. She was touched particularly strongly with her present case, as she was currently bearing her husband's first child. Not even her darling little sister knew that, as she wanted to keep it hidden until the vital first three months passed. She'd miscarried in her early twenties, and had broken her heart open by planning its future, telling all of her family her good news. She was still receiving cards denoting family members' wishes of congratulations two weeks after she'd given birth from those who lived in distant parts of the globe. The pain never truly left her, and it was because of this she started feeling distant from her husband, as if she blamed him for caring about his friends more than he did about her and her child. She prayed this pregnancy would change things, as she wanted more than anything to return to their youthful phase of love, but life hardened both their hearts. Pushing Darien aside from her thoughts, she continued along the path that would lead her to the intelligence quarters.

She'd barely opened the door to the office she required when Sarah had glomped her, revealing her delight at seeing her big sister after so long, regardless of the fact they'd met last month and spoke on the phone daily. She gushed out details of her present boyfriend, Maxfield, and when she produced a picture of the man in question, the other woman couldn't help but think that he looked effeminate with his long curly brown hair, twin earrings and obviously plucked eyebrows. Minutes later, the pair were kitted out in full bullet-proof body armour, and with their designated dispatch team, they resumed their jobs. Louise found it difficult to stay awake, as it was nearly eight o' clock in her time, where she should be long in bed to revitalise her for her next shift. Absently, she rested a hand on her stomach as they travelled in normal but armoured cars to mask their entrance, as lookouts were certain to be hired. This was potentially the arrest of the century, and any mistake was unforgivable. Foreboding was the feeling in the tense atmosphere, almost suffocating each passenger, even though they'd been in scenarios such of this but of greater magnitude in the past. Somehow, this was about to alter their lives, yet nobody knew why as the innocents involved were not known personally by any of them to an extent that their demise would be noteworthy. And yet the sensation lingered.

James wondered how he could have lacked sense long enough for him to place both their lives in such a dangerous position. He'd sprung at the dark-skinned man and attempted to wrestle the gun and the trademark syringe-shaped dagger around his neck, and failed miserably. The gun was now pressed against Jessie's throat with the safety catch disabled; the trigger creaked ominously as du Paor applied more pressure to it. The dagger was nestling comfortably on the back of James' neck, with Matt acting ever vigilant with his Uzi pressed into the other male's abdomen. The barrel of the gun was angled in such a way that if it did not kill him straight away, the bullet would career south and rupture as much of James' viscera as possible. He knew that even the slightest movement would cancel his and his wife's lives, yet he couldn't bear to stand there and watch her being molested as she was. There were countless flunkies blending into the shadows, making escape look improbable in spite of those offering him support. The sight of Elora walking around in her scanty uniform sickened James further, all the times in the past where he'd felt highly annoyed at something or someone added together was nowhere near the level of fury building up within him now. His shadowy past clouded his present and could possibly obliterate any chance of a future with his wife. He'd never hated himself more than he did now either, but that hatred wasn't even a bare scratch on the abhorrence he felt towards the man causing this.

He forced himself to look away and blank his ears as best he could from the sound of his wife's body becoming a victim for the countless time that night. He wanted to make another move but he knew he'd be incapable of doing anything other than ordering their deaths. He'd never enjoyed being near the ravaging of the girls he'd brought back, and it was especially hard to hear his wife's screams of agony. For the first time since it happened, he was glad she was no longer pregnant, as if she had been, he could guarantee she'd have been a victim of a forced abortion by this stage. Jessie struggled to get away from her attacker but from her chained position, it wasn't the simplest motion to do when she had about a square foot of ground to move in before the position would break her arms. She was careful not to accidentally strike his arms either as she saw the gun was loaded and his finger was hugging the trigger dangerously. She couldn't allow him to destroy her marriage when she'd irrationally said she wanted nothing to do with James earlier, something she knew now was a foolish thing to say. Had she not fled without paying attention to her direction, she wouldn't be in this situation now. She felt horrible causing it all, and she knew he must hate her for this. He obviously cared about her to come and try to get her out of it in spite of her heated row with him, but she knew he really didn't do anything to deserve watching this. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, feeling too ashamed to look towards the man she loved, feeling too cheap and worthless to apologise in a way other than her constant crying. She'd run away from him thinking he'd slept with his aunt, but thinking about his tone when he'd said it to his mother, she correctly recognised it as something said for a verbal weapon only. She wished she'd figured it out sooner, just like she wished she'd never slept in Team Rocket Headquarters when she required shelter.

Elora, willing to get one over the couple for their union against her, chose to adopt James as her plaything. He ignored her unfastening his clothing and biting him to vent her sexual frustration, she couldn't make him hurt more than he already was inside. He felt something at his feet other than the woman, and noticed the feline scratching his right foot. Something had occurred to the cat-type which might turn events in their favour, if only he could remember its location exactly. James involuntarily released a sharp intake of breath as a claw pierced his skin as it was unexpected, but it was taken for granted it was because of the woman's biting, as blood dripped along her chin and splashed on the ground. A ditto camouflaged the pokémon from sight to all but their subject as the creature continued his work, and when Meowth prised something free, the ball was no longer in du Paor's court.

Team Rocket Headquarters, 21:25hrs…

Lindsey held her breath. The atmosphere was incredibly tense in her office, purely because she was watching the scenario unfold and the camera was now in a feline paw. The virus continued to eat away at the files but she certainly had no idea it occurred, her mind too occupied with the life-or-death situation on the computer screen. She saw her prototype camera's reflection in the cat-type's eyes, and she willed him to bend back any but the leg pointing east, since he was clearly trying to find out which one would cause the explosion. There was a bare-blue dash running down the line of the one which could be bent back without detonation and she hoped the pokémon's sharp line of vision would detect it. She squeezed the edge of the desk to vent her tension, and wished she'd integrated a communication system into it so she could quietly hint at which to snap. When she'd designed the archetype she'd deliberately omitted that option as she knew if she was to ever have the misfortune of being bugged by her boss, she didn't want to hear his lecherous thoughts when she was getting changed for bed each night.

She noted a mark of decision glimmer in his eyes, and she became afraid to blink as she watched his other paw stretch downwards painfully slowly. Her heartbeat thundered loudly in her ears, each second seeming to last years—even though she'd never been overly close to the trio, there had been a charm to them that made her sympathise with their poor backgrounds. She screamed at the computer in anguish, not because she knew he'd picked the wrong leg—she didn't know what one he'd chosen as the final file to be deleted was the one she used then. She desperately needed to know the outcome of the selection but she was denied that right as the virus completed its work by leaving a nasty message on the screen, intended for Giovanni by the content of it. She tried to regain the signal on the laptop she'd used when they travelled across the country to the hospital, but that had also fallen victim to James' work on the computer as to an extent it was on the network. She prayed for their safety out loud, not wanting any harm to befall them now as for the first time they need not fear Team Rocket-related assaults on their persons, she wouldn't wish to exact revenge on James even after him physically harming her. A shiver ran up her back, not from chill in origin, and she felt fear like nothing before, although her life was unaffected by it. Yet something made her feel perturbed without a shred of remorse, and it was her not knowing what it was that increased it tenfold.

Meowth was intensely petrified of moving. He couldn't throw the device whilst his target stood behind Jessie lest he injured her in the explosion, and if his grip in any way lessened then he risked killing everyone around him if it collided with another surface. The idea of using the device had appeared when he thought about how sorry he was for working with Giovanni against them, and it sparked a memory of James' one-night stand with Tyra where she'd planted the camera on him. Perspiration stuck to his fur and his hackles were involuntarily stiff as he contemplated how long he could stay in that position without faltering. Finally du Paor was done, and he inserted the contents of the syringe which had protruded from Jessie's neck in one foul movement, making both her and her husband's hearts stop momentarily. A cold wave numbed her throat, adding an icy wave to the skin wherever the fluid travelled along her veins. She gasped for breath against the cold, and her heart beat quickened whilst its strength was lessening. Only one person present knew what was coursing her system, and from the gloating look in their eyes, it didn't seem like he was likely to reveal what it was until it pleased him. This action propelled Meowth forwards with great speed, clutching the device tightly in his paw as he charged past the ditto and into du Paor's stomach with as much force as he could muster. As the two stumbled backwards, Meowth lost his hold and accidentally dropped the explosive…

The Sparkling Seadra, 21:55 hrs…

An intriguing conversation took place in the almost vacant room between a young man named Butch and an empty plant pot tilted on its side. He wasn't aware it was a plant pot; he considered it a woman that was telling him where he could locate Cassidy, and she was doing so in a most charismatic comportment. Her hair matched her outfit perfectly, accessorised wonderfully as the shades of terracotta were absolutely identically. Her voice was lilting but retained a gravelly quality just like his was, and he felt like he'd finally met someone who understood him unlike everyone else who never attempted to scratch beneath the surface and discover his true personality. She was a delicate person; her round face structured exactly symmetrically, her eyes dark mysteries as they looked almost like holes, showing him all, including the scenery behind her. He felt embarrassed by his staring, wishing he had the right to look at someone as intricate as her without causing her discomfort. She had an earthly attitude with her thoughts fairly grounded which calmed him further, and she seemed to know what to say without any hint from his side. She told him how she knew Cassidy was safe and how he could go about finding her; he should get up and leave immediately to make sure she didn't get too far away from him.

"She loves you and needs you to be there for her. She waits at the botanical gardens at the end of Lavender Street"

"How do you know this?"

"She speaks softly to me, her voice as fragile as a single cherry blossom flower flowing in the fragrant summer breeze"

"I can't hear her, why won't she talk to me? Doesn't she love me enough to direct messages my way herself? Am I really worth nothing to her?"

"Were she not interested in talking to you, she would not talk to me first. She trusts me with her life, as she does with you. She fears you don't listen to her cries"

"Gods have I ignored her? Does she think I cheated on her, because if she does tell her it's not true, I love her alone; nobody else can come near me, not even you! Come back to me Cass…"

"Go now, she grows cold and needs your warmth if you are to see her tonight, stand her up and you might not get the chance again"

He thanked her and stretched out his hand to show his eternal gratitude, but he accidentally knocked her backwards and with a sickening crash, he broke every bone in her body. He looked at the fragmented woman and instantly paled; fear sinking into his thoughts as he contemplated the dilemma he was in. He bolted out the door and ran in the direction the woman had told him to go to, knowing his sweetheart was waiting for him. He saw people chasing him down the street, and as he carefully watched over his shoulder to watch the non-existent crowd, he knocked himself unconscious by running straight into an iron lamp post.

Du Paor struck outwards with his dagger to move the cat-type from his abdomen, rendering the feline momentarily helpless as he hit the kerbing heavily. He watched in despair as the device dropped slowly to the ground, too near it for his own comfort. He said a final prayer to save his soul from Juu-ra, the kitten of wrath, but it was needless. The metal object finally struck the floor, ringing a high pitch as it bounced off the stone flagstones harmlessly; no explosion came as he'd apparently wrongly opted for the safe leg of the camera. He noticed with a dry mouth it was difficult for him to get off the stones, his blood sticking to his coat and the thick liquid acted as glue which rooted him to the cold spot. Energy appeared to evade his grasp as he struggled to breathe, gaining oxygen in short rugged gasps from the deep puncture along his side and into his ribcage. He looked at his friends and attempted to voice his regret at his unlawful bitterness, but talking proved twice as difficult as breathing. Jessie broke into a deeper sob and looked away as soon as he'd been cut as she'd been splashed with his blood when du Paor flung him backwards whereas James nodded as a friend would and continued to watch his former partner-in-crime until his eyes glazed over.

Elora left her current position and wiped her lips dry of the salty blood contaminating them before she picked up the sticky dead feline by the scruff of his neck. She bored into his eyes with her own for a moment and then flung him a few feet behind Jessie where he landed with a dull thud. James wanted to kill her for her open nasty attitude that he'd never seen before, and he truly regretted becoming friends with her, never mind anything further. Her morbid and openly offensive manner repulsed him and he wanted to kill her almost as much as he did du Paor, his blood boiling with fury uncontrollably. His body stiffened and Matt pressed the gun harder into his prisoner's stomach, tempted to pull the trigger but at the same time not wanting to mess his new shoes irreparably. He'd learnt from past incidents that blood took forever to come out of designer white suede shoes.

A flunky wished to sigh to alleviate his boredom; he longed to be a part of the action instead of watching it unfold from the door, where he was positioned to ensure nobody attempted to enter without prior permission. His name was Drax, a pseudonym like so many other names in the business, but instead of having a name denoting his great deeds of the past, he chose it merely because he felt his actual name was nearly as boring as he was. He wished to take one of the women he escorted there, as he was a desperate nineteen year old virgin, unlikely to be chosen by any woman willingly. To tell the truth he knew nothing about what he'd do; the furthest he'd gotten was a game of spin the bottle when he was eight, and it had ended abruptly when he'd bitten the girl's lip open. Gods, he thought, I'm pathetic. He was so entwined in his own thoughts he was unable to pay attention to his surroundings, and certainly didn't hear the door behind him smash open until the police cars drove through at high acceleration. He fell crumpled to the ground, crying like a weak baby as the side of the door hit the side of his head and ripped the two half-rings out of his left eyebrow. The atmosphere became even more tense, destinies quickly being decided.

Anthony awoke with a killer headache and wondered how much he'd drunk the night before, until the harsh reality struck him in a precipitated moment. His hands were stiff and sticky from their position in the manacles, and he allowed a few tears to fall freely; he was stuck here alone, and in his opinion he couldn't look more pathetic to anyone else by this point anyway. She was right; he'd had nothing to offer her in the material sense as he was not considered rich, but in the spiritual sense he could have provided her with anything she wanted. He'd given Lindsey all of his attention, his heart and his soul, yet all she saw him as was a toy, something to alleviate her boredom until something better came along. He clenched his fists into tight balls as his anger and hurt grew, and forced them apart with strength he never knew possible. But instead of breaking what bound him to the table, he cut his skin with the effort, proving to himself that yet again he failed at what he wanted so badly to succeed at. His weakness marred his conscience yet again, and he struggled to remember the happy times he'd shared with her. Of course, these were limited as their time together had spanned a couple of days, and he'd asked her out whilst covered in a dead person's blood.

Pondering over his failures proved of little merit for the prisoner, in fact it made lying in the near-dark harder to endure in the miserable atmosphere. Suddenly the lights went out altogether, and before panic was granted sufficient time to set in, he heard the familiar clack as his ex-girlfriend's high heels betrayed her impending arrival as they struck repeatedly against the stone flooring. A glimmer of futile hope appeared in his mind, with the possibility she'd come to free him, as it seemed as unpredictable a move as any of her latest offerings. He heard the soft beeping as she pressed the correct code into the sensory pad after using her swipe card for proof of authority to do it, and the mechanical strains as she eased each of the security measures on the outside of the door free to gain entrance.

A faint strand of light from the far end of the corridor basked the doorway in a warm yellow glow, silhouetting the woman and making her look as alluring and as mysterious as she often could be. She left a bowl of non-nutritious gruel beside Giovanni with a long straw, warning him not to let it fall out of his mouth as she didn't care what happened to him; starving was as good to her as anything else as there were plenty of people out there she could manipulate into her services yet. Anthony had forgotten he wasn't alone in the cell, probably because he thought she'd set it up so he could be the source of their amusement. He bitterly imagined her releasing their former boss and proceeding to record them engaging in rampant sex to play back to him when he couldn't move from the operating table. He tried to think less loudly in case her acute senses picked them up somehow—nothing was impossible when it came to her it would seem.

She walked over to the jealous male and stroked the side of his face almost lovingly, as a mother would to its newborn child rather than a woman touching her partner to express her gratitude for his solidarity in their meaningful relationship. She was still spooked by what she'd seen before the virus destroyed everything, or rather it was what she hadn't seen that worried her. Unless she came across anyone involved in the warped tale, she would have to rely on it leaking to the media to learn the truth of what had happened. She wasn't sure if it had exploded as it would have been quite loud, but on the opposite side of the town compared to where she was now, which meant it would be little more than a muffled snapping of a rattata trap to her. He flinched and gasped beneath her soft touch, feeling numbed with disbelief when she kissed his forehead as it was completely unexpected. She whispered for him to take care and asked him to keep his equally tasteless food steady by using his stomach muscles, and when she was certain it was in place she wheeled the table from the room. When in the corridor, she winced against the light at the end of the hallway and flicked on the brightest light possible for the room within to spite Giovanni before she reactivated every defence mechanism on the outside of the thick steel door.

She wheeled Anthony into a more-frequently accessed room, and upon discovering a scientist still working in there, she motioned for her to leave for a minute. She locked the table and ensured the restraints were secure before placing the straw in Anthony's mouth and moving the bowl to his chest, carefully placing something to prop his head up under his neck to make sure he didn't choke on the meal. She met with the scientist outside and informed her of the new subject she had to work on for testing purposes. The scientist adjusted her small square glasses and nodded; this was an ideal opportunity for her to see what reaction a new potion would have on a human, and she'd feared under new leadership humans for testing upon would lessen if not cease altogether. Part of her wished she knew fear—a concoction had removed it years ago for her to continue in her line of work—as it surely could not be considered a good thing that she got a subject within hours of her taking control. Lindsey walked down the hall and returned to what were now her quarters, feeling victorious and uneasy as well as the overwhelming sense of guilt purging her thoughts.

James' mother kept her unwavering hold on the gun so that it was focused on du Paor, but she was unable to shoot as he'd resumed standing behind her daughter-in-law with his body hidden from her. She could shoot the side of his head, but it would prove little other than a scalp wound for him, and a shot that wasn't fatal was an unheard of notion to her—failure was never permitted in her eyes. Hopkins knew better than to speak, no matter how much he longed to; from all his years in her service, he knew no better enemy to make. Anything which caused an imperfection on her part, no matter how inadvertently, never once went unpunished. Patience was a virtue, which he chose wisely to adopt at this stage; an assassin-like skill with a firearm was currently her talent gleaming in the spotlight. She could stay like that for hours, and if she need do that tonight to protect her son, she would do it without a moment's hesitation. Should anyone make her son's wife a sobbing wreck, the pleasure should be granted solely to her from her lengthy dislike of the concubine. She was aware of the risk of being discovered in this situation, yet for the first time in her thirty-one years she considered her social status secondary to her family.

Abandoned Warehouse, 22:15 hrs…

The special agents were forced to admit they'd made a severe miscalculation, as this incursion was completely unlike any they'd experienced before, from either branch. The person they wished to arrest was evading incarceration by hiding behind the female victim, molesting her unequivocally as he kept the revolver trained on her. Any movement would indubitably spark the slaughter of the captives as the other affiliates present also held presumably loaded armaments devoid of any safety devices activated. They had their own weapons focused on him, yet there was little they could do, as their car was still too far away from them to do anything to alter circumstances, and each civil servant used the bullet-proof doors as further protection for their bodies in their offensive stance. Sarah soundlessly requested back-up thinking she was helping the situation, which rewarded her with a cerebral admonishment from her older sister. Louise, however, felt that if more police arrived, it would incite the butchering to occur sooner and aspired her twerp of a sister would somehow advocate the gift of thinking things through. The lighting running along the ceiling-less ramparts cast an undesirable glare across each of their visors, leaving them with the options of removing them and risking instant death, or ignoring the winces they were forced to make to control their visions and pray their aim was accurate enough. Neither was an acceptable option in their line of work, and Louise hoped that the shock wouldn't kill her unborn, as a second miscarriage would tear her heart more viciously than the first time around.

Du Paor felt more than confident that things would turn out whatever way he decided as he held all of the trump cards in this unfolding game. He gained no personal sense of satisfaction from touching Jessie up other than to infuriate everyone else present—he'd molest James instead as it would anger them even more, but he couldn't do it for two reasons. One was he'd have to resign his safety from behind the woman to get to him, and the other was because he could still see the bloodied mess Elora had left as she hadn't felt generous or bothered enough to refasten his jeans. His phone rang and he decided to prove how unconcerned he was and went to answer it, noting in astonishment it was The Silver Bullet calling, and since the two workers most likely to contact him were already present. Words failed to express his bewilderment at speaking to Elora, when he could clearly see her standing at the back wall, admiring another set of manacles. His grip on Jessie had obviously lessened in his retrieval of the phone, and the gun now had its safety catch on in case he shot himself in the process, making him wonder what was going on. Whilst he asked the person on the other end of the line why they were impersonating someone in his range of vision, he presented no threat to anyone until he hung up and then the circumstances would indisputably become precariously overwrought. He failed to vent his anger though, as six razor-sharp weapons were inserted into his neck, only barely missing the vital arteries and veins.

Meowth's coat bristled in anger at the man, the same feral hatred returning to him as it had the last time he'd undergone resurrection. The ditto which had changed into Elora had healed the wounds along his side when it had picked him up, and when 'she'd' thrown him in what had appeared an inconsiderate manner to everyone else, it had in fact thrown him on top of the camouflaged ditto. His strength had not only recovered to what it was before the accident, but it had in fact returned to what it had been at the height of his youth. His eyes were narrowed slits to the point it looked like his irises were a vertical impersonation of Brock, with his abhorrence visible in their midnight-blue gleam. His claws were like a reversed French manicure; the majority of each claw was a deep crimson and the bases of them clear of colour. Matt and Elora were no longer present; the dittos had returned to their natural forms as the illusion was no longer necessary so they stood next to each other behind du Paor. Their equally vicious looks guaranteed du Paor's safety was indeed a thing of the past, with weapons the ditto posing as Elora had gathered when it had examined the room pointed at him, silently waiting the chance to kill him.

Meowth lunged again, this time effortlessly breaking Jessie's chains and he felt pity as she crumpled gracelessly to the floor, and James immediately ran to her side to comfort her and say how he wished it had never happened even though he hadn't caused it. She nodded and listened mutely to his proclamations of love, his kisses along the side of her face feeling surreal as she couldn't acknowledge the danger was over. She felt it couldn't come this simply after all the hours of suffering she'd endured, especially when she suspected sentinels hiding in shadows, waiting for the innocents to drop their guards before making their moves. Her arms were like dead weights she carried as there was no feeling in them, the blood flow still not having returning to normal yet. One of the dittos moved backwards and stepped on the device Meowth had used earlier, activating it with body warmth and a huge explosion erupted, absorbed mainly by the three pokémon. As their bodies evaporated in the intense heat, du Paor decided to risk moving in the hope he could kill someone before his impending capture came into play. He knelt and took aim at the couple before him, knowing they were easy targets at their proximity and lack of concentration in his direction. He squeezed the trigger but nothing happened—he was out of ammunition and would have to replace the clip speedily and surreptitiously to succeed. Meowth launched another attack on him, scratching his face savagely to temporarily blind him, and then his boiling rage incited him to claw at his wrists lest he found a way to shoot his friends. When he was done, he left the man struggling to get to his feet and he examined the edge of the furnace to see what remained of his associates, if anything.

James' mother noticed her target was now free from obstruction and she squeezed the trigger, knowing her aim to be perfect as the gun had not wavered once since she'd assumed that position. She noted furiously at her impatience as her bullet hit a target, but not the one she'd aimed for. James assisted Jessie in standing to escape the inferno, but then they both suddenly fell backwards as one of their weights became much heavier, a coldness already setting in their bones as they fought for their breath. James screamed out his wife's name in anguish, her blood-curdling scream haunting him every minute until the day he died.