Chapter 11 – The Vault
Karo returned just a short while after he'd left. He was accompanied by Breanna, a granbull from across the street, who fetched the dried cheri berries from Karo's kitchen and administered them to Syr. She also provided a couple of sitrus berries from her own cupboard for the nosepass's injury.
Syr had never watched Karo eat before. After finally doing so, the arbok decided he'd never watch it again if he could help it.
The granbull also tried to get the grafitti off of Karo. She was only partly successful.
After Breanna left, Syr explained what had happened to Esaax at the Haven. He then asked Karo if he knew anything about the evolved form of wobbuffet.
Karo gave Syr an odd, sly look. He beckoned the arbok to a closet that, when opened, appeared to contain nothing other than an obscene message scrawled in yellow smeargle ink. Karo brushed his nose against the back wall a few times, drawing an invisible pattern, and the wall slid aside to reveal another, larger room.
"After you," Karo said, ushering Syr into the hidden room before entering it himself.
Syr wasn't surprised by the secret room; this wasn't the first time Karo had shown it to him. He also wasn't surprised when he felt the room begin to descend; he'd taken this elevator a couple of times before.
"I take it this means you know something about what wobbuffet evolve into?" he asked.
"You could say that." The elevator came to a stop. "Now, you're not gonna find one hair of smeargle in here," Karo said, snorting grumpily. "Stupid furballs, scribbling their filth—I'd like to show them who likes to eat their own…"
Syr and Karo exited the elevator and entered what Ren had dubbed the Vault. It was a large room that housed all of Ren's most valued possessions. Just as Karo had predicted, there were no signs of intrusion by smeargle.
The Vault contained more books than anything else, arranged on towering bookcases that lined the wall directly in front of Syr as well as those off to either side. Syr's gaze swept over the vast book collection. "Which of these has what we want?" he asked.
"Never mind them," Karo said, making his way further into the room. "I kinda got the impression that you're in a hurry—" Syr made an exasperated noise at this, with the face to match. "—so, for the sake of time, just watch the screen."
The screen Karo was referring to was mounted on the opposite wall to the elevator doors, covering a large portion of it. Syr slithered over to Karo, who produced a deep and very resonant sound. The overhead lights went out, and the screen before Syr and Karo flicked on.
"Number thirty-nine," Karo said. Words and symbols flashed briefly on the screen, and then a film began to play…
A pokémon battle was about to begin in a gym lit by glowing, pale green crystals. The walls were decorated with carved figures of pokémon over a softly glowing background of shifting colors. The floor was covered by an equally colorful mosaic depicting planets, comets, and stars.
Ren sat on one side of the arena in a dark-colored, metal chair. The strange lighting and the camera angle didn't allow for a very detailed examination of his appearance, revealing only that he was slight of build, completely bald, and dressed in simple, entirely black attire.
Opposite him, his challenger was seated in a chair like his own. The camera revealed somewhat more of her appearance than Ren's. Like him, she wore dark clothing, deep blue denim for her jacket and pants and black for the rest of her outfit. Unlike him, she had hair: dark, unkempt, and reaching down past her shoulders.
"You're sure you want to do this the old-fashioned way?" the gym leader asked. "The special features of my gym do exist solely out of consideration for the challenger."
"Thanks, but I came here to battle a gym leader, not a gentleman," the challenger responded.
Ren gave a quiet laugh. "Very well, then. Who's it going to be?"
The challenger produced a nest ball. "Go, Alain!"
With a burst of light, an alakazam appeared. Alain gazed intensely at the gym leader, holding both of his spoons in one hand while thoughtfully stroking his long whiskers with the other.
"I see," Ren said. "Acheron? Could you step forward, please?"
There was no poké ball of any kind thrown, no flash or sparkle of light to herald the entrance of Ren's pokémon. Instead, the summoned creature emerged from the shadows at Ren's side. Rays of pale green light fell upon Acheron, revealing…
"All right, is that what you saw?" Karo asked.
"Yes. Yes, it is," Syr answered almost breathlessly. The arbok could barely believe his eyes, but the sight they presented told the truth: whatever Esaax had become, Acheron was the exact same thing. "They're desperate for information about these things back at the Haven. To think there's been one here this whole time…"
"Eh, not really," Karo said. "We didn't spend a whole lot of time at home back during the gym days. Afterward, the big guy ended up wherever Ren did."
"Right…" For a moment, Syr worried that the conversation was about to take a sad and awkward turn, but thankfully it did nothing of the sort. He returned his attention to the footage, watching the battle begin in earnest…
In the gyms of the Apex League, the trainers weren't allowed to issue commands to their pokémon. Ren and his challenger had to sit back and watch their pokémon carry out the battle on their own terms.
Sensing the presence of the dark element within his opponent, Alain knew his psychic attacks were useless in this match. He furthermore identified Acheron by sight as a former wobbuffet; as such, Alain knew the rest of his attacks risked doing more harm to himself than to Acheron.
Alain quickly formulated a plan to get around that, however. He transferred one of his spoons to the other hand, then summoned one of the techniques he'd inherited from his medicham father. The air around the alakazam crackled with electricity, and miniature bolts of lightning began a frenzied dance around one of his hands.
Meanwhile Acheron stood calmly on the other side of the arena, his long tail waving as he watched his opponent with a faint smirk. Alain surged forward and leapt high into the air, his psychic power letting him hover over the head of his eight-foot-tall opponent for a moment before slamming a thunder punch into the back of Acheron's neck.
Small tremors rippled through Acheron's body as electricity briefly coursed through him, but he kept silent and showed no visible signs that the thunder punch had caused him any actual pain—until an orange aura blazed around him, sending the alakazam flying with the force of his counter attack.
Grunting in pain, Alain telekinetically righted himself in midair and looked intently at Acheron, hoping to see evidence that he'd successfully paralyzed him—the less pain Acheron could feel, the less he could inflict. But Acheron's tail was waving just as fluidly as it had been before he'd taken the thunder punch, and his legs stayed steady beneath him.
Accepting this, Alain lowered himself back down to the ground and implemented the other aspect of his plan, hoping that it, at least,
wouldwork on the first try. He transferred his other spoon back into his empty hand, and then a dull red glow filled his eyes. A ball of energy in the same color gathered between his spoons and then fired at Acheron, bursting into jagged red streaks that snaked over his entire body on impact. The streaks gave a single red flash, then turned black and vanished into Acheron's skin. Alain smiled—Acheron's counter technique had been successfully disabled.
Acheron regarded this new development without any concern; he hadn't planned to rely solely on that technique, and knew he could do just fine without it. He shut his eyes, letting his mind sink into a deep meditation.
Alain wasted no time in launching more attempts to paralyze his opponent, hoping to succeed before the effects of his disable technique wore off. The gym was filled with the crackling sounds of electric power as he delivered three more thunder punches in quick succession. Acheron reacted to none of them.
Alain moved back from him, once again checking to see if Acheron was showing any signs of paralysis. Acheron's skin was blistered and raw at the site of each thunder punch's impact, and he reeked of charred flesh and trembled on the spot.
Those tremors subsided very quickly, however, and the moment they did, Acheron's body suddenly took on a bright red glow. The light expanded outward in a bide attack, forming a shockwave that knocked Alain off his feet and blasted him clear across the arena—he almost went flying right into his trainer's face.
Acheron grinned as he watched the alakazam on the other side of the arena struggle to catch his breath and get back onto his feet. This, Acheron decided, was a good time to bring out the big guns—as weak as his opponent had become, he might only have to do it once. Besides which, he figured he'd played around with him long enough.
He let a dark-type charge build around one hand, seeing a faint, off-white glow surround Alain as he did so. The alakazam was trying to heal himself—but too late. No sooner had his injuries begun to mend themselves than a black beam came roaring forth from Acheron's hand and struck him. Alain screamed in agony—and curiously, so did Acheron.
The attack ceased. Alain, covered from head to toe in black scorch marks, twitched briefly before falling unconscious and still. Acheron fell to his knees, still gasping in pain in the wake of his own attack, but he stayed conscious. The match was over. The challenger had lost.
"So that's it, then," Syr said, knowing that Apex gyms allowed only one pokémon to each competitor.
"Yep," Karo confirmed. He produced the same low sound that he'd used to activate the video screen, and it shut off once more.
"That pokémon fighting the alakazam… what was that?" Syr asked.
"That," Karo said, "was a kwazai."
"Kwazai…" Syr echoed. "And that last attack he used…" Syr had never seen anything like it before, especially not from anything like a wobbuffet. This was no retaliatory technique—Acheron had attacked proactively, something wobbuffet were unable to do. Apparently evolution freed them from that restriction. "What in the world was that?"
"That would be reflux," Karo said. "It's a dark-type attack, and it's one of the nastiest ones there is, too."
"So kwazai are dark-types?" Syr guessed aloud.
"Psychic/dark, to be specific. Or, uh, that form is, anyway."
"What?"
"Yeah, there's a pure psychic form, too," Karo explained.
"…Just how much do you know about kwazai?" Syr asked.
"Meh… pretty good amount, I guess," Karo replied nonchalantly.
"Okay," Syr said. "Okay then. I've gotta get back to the Haven. And you need to come with me."
- o -
Syr and Karo arrived shortly thereafter at the Haven. Once through the doors, they were immediately greeted by a scene that neither had expected to find.
Teresa was unloading a small bundle of assorted medicines onto the nearest counter when she noticed the arbok and the nosepass. "Oh good, you're finally back!" she said.
But neither Syr nor Karo really heard her, particularly not Syr. This was because they'd noticed the tall, blue figure lying on a bench near where Teresa stood sifting through her portable remedies.
Syr moved closer to the unknown being. He was almost completely certain that this pokémon, with their blue skin and their black tail that held a presently-closed oculon in each of its four branches, had something in common with Esaax. He turned to Karo. "Is that…?"
"Yep, that's the other form," Karo confirmed.
Teresa joined them by the bench, carrying a spray-bottle of potion and a faintly glowing revive crystal. "Karo, I presume?" she asked of the nosepass. Karo responded affirmatively with a small grunt and an action that would've been a nod if he'd had a neck.
"What happened here?" Syr asked Teresa.
"Well, she showed up here and managed to let me know she was looking for Esaax, but something was driving her madder by the second. There seemed to be no calming her. And when we tried to restrain her, she started psywaving everything in sight before screaming bloody murder and passing out. Unfortunately, one of those psywaves hit Jen…"
"What?" Syr said, instantly worried.
"He's not hurt," Teresa assured him. "The poor kid's just had his brain scrambled a little. He got so dizzy that he just tipped right over and hasn't been able to get back onto his feet yet. But other than that, no damage done. He'll be just fine before you know it.
"I put him right over there," she added, pointing. "You can see for yourself."
She was indicating a chair off in the corner, where the snorunt was lying with his eyes half-closed. Syr, distracted by the kwazai, hadn't even seen him there. "How are you feeling?" he asked as he slithered over to Jen. Jen only groaned softly, rolled over, and turned his back on Syr in response.
"Best not to stimulate him too much right now if you'd rather he didn't throw up," Teresa said.
She took the revive and held it against the kwazai's forehead. Its glow intensified for a moment, then went out entirely, leaving the spent crystal darkened like a burned-out lightbulb. The kwazai stirred slightly and gave a soft moan, her consciousness returning. Teresa then began spraying potion over the scrapes and bruises covering the kwazai's arms; the wounds began fading away at once. "Poor thing. She must have taken a nasty spill on the way here," the chansey said.
"Who is she?" Syr wondered aloud as he gazed down at the kwazai. "Did you manage to get any personal information out of her before she passed out?"
"I tried to get her name," Teresa said, "and I think I succeeded. It sounded like 'Intro'…"
"Ntairow."
Everyone's attention turned to the kwazai. "What?" Teresa said.
"It's N-tair-row." The kwazai's voice was breathy and lilting. She also sounded rather groggy at the moment—she was still in the process of waking up. "Is that all you want to know?"
Teresa opened her mouth to answer, but before she could get a single word out, she was interrupted by another chansey, one who was bawling her eyes out as she came barreling in. The new arrival just barely managed to come to a stop in time to avoid colliding with Teresa.
"Rebecca? What's the matter?" Teresa asked, clearly alarmed.
Rebecca tried to speak, but then froze, her mouth quivering as she stood paralyzed by some unknown horror. Finally, she burst into hoarse, violent sobs.
The noise abruptly brought Ntairow to her senses. She got up onto her single pair of long, stiltlike legs with a suddenness more befitting teleportation than standing. She held her tail high, its branches fanning out.
"What is it, Rebecca?" Teresa asked again, more slowly this time. She took Rebecca's paws in her own and gave her an imploring stare.
"It's… just…horrible," Rebecca managed to gasp out. She then backed away from Teresa and cast a fearful glance into the hallway she'd emerged from just moments before. Returning her tearful gaze to the others, "Here. It's over here," she said breathlessly, then took off down the hallway.
Teresa rushed after her as fast as her short legs would allow, accompanied by Syr, Karo, and Ntairow. Ultimately, Rebecca came to a halt, and once all of the others had arrived at their apparent destination, she wasted no time in fleeing the scene. She had not wanted to come back to that place and the sight that it presented, and upon seeing it with their own eyes, no one she'd brought there had to wonder why.
There was Madeline, lifeless and mangled. There was her blood, cast all over the floor and walls. And there was the door to Esaax's cell, left wide open, with a hole burned through the far wall that was more than big enough to admit an escaping kwazai.
Cries of shock, sorrow and revulsion filled the air. Karo immediately looked away from the slain mr. mime. Syr turned and retched, though nothing came up. Ntairow cried out and buried her face in one of her left hands while reaching out with both of her right hands to prop herself against the wall.
"My God… no…" Teresa's voice sounded very fragile. She leaned over the corpse, reaching for Madeline's remaining hand. The fingers, broken and burnt black, crumbled into dust at her touch. Teresa immediately began sobbing.
Shakily, Syr turned to Ntairow. The kwazai swayed slightly where she stood, as if she were about to pass out again. She was clutching her head and chest simultaneously, and the tension in her face told Syr that she was in very real pain.
"The darkness…" Ntairow said almost voicelessly. "The residue of it still hangs in the air. But he's not here."
She pushed herself away from the wall and began striding determinedly toward the exit Esaax had made, avoiding the blood on the ground with sure, graceful steps. But then she found the end of a long, purple tail coiled around one of her arms as if to try and stop her.
"Wait!" Syr called out, struggling not to be dragged along as she kept walking.
The kwazai finally stopped and turned her long, flat face toward him, wearing the glare to end all glares.
"…Listen," Syr said. "Esaax is my friend, too. If you're going after him, I'm going with you."
Karo approached Ntairow and Syr. The expression on his stone face was unreadable. "And if he's going, then I'm going," he said. "I'll look after you, buddy, don't worry," he told Syr.
Ntairow didn't feel as though she had the luxury of time or patience enough to argue with them. The urge to seek out the terribly troubled creature that Esaax had become and rush to his aid was hardwired into her brain—she couldn't easily resist the demands of her highly developed powers of empathy, and she flat-out wouldn't resist them when it was the suffering of someone she loved that spurred them into action. She nodded to Syr and Karo, and Syr released his hold on her.
The arbok looked back at Teresa. Tears fell silently from his gray eyes. "Take care of Jen," he told her. Then Syr turned away, and he and Karo followed Ntairow out of the Haven in silence.
