The tavern had no name as far as Vallion was aware. It never really needed one. Its notoriety and purpose were more than enough to cement it in people's minds. It was loud and terrible. It was the nucleus of all villainy in this corner of the kingdom. It didn't even have that nice fire that the other inn had. It was affordable and that was the end of its positive traits.

This tea, though. It was alright. Better than drinking that Torkoal's self-heated hot water. Even if this cup of tea did originate from a crate of illegal goods that he stole himself.

Vallion set the glass down between his coils, sitting on a raised step not far from a crowded furnace. While still terrible in every right, the louder quality of the tavern had fallen to the wayside for just this morning. Not a single fight had broken out. A tangible anticipation had gripped even the roughest members of Shardurr, temporarily uniting the rowdy population into a single, universal bated breath.

Something was about to happen.

As if it wasn't already quiet enough, Brute himself plowed through the swinging doors and stomped his way in. The Druddigon's presence inspired everyone whose lips weren't already sealed to withdraw into their seats. Vallion had learned recently that seeing Brute at all was a special occasion to be feared. The dragon rarely made his presence known among the gang. Nobody knew where he slept, or where he would go when the jobs were done. It was common knowledge that whenever he showed up, you shut the fuck up, and you listened.

Brute didn't stop until he was in the very center of the room. He looked up at the second floor, peering at the arched ceiling to make sure everyone that sat on high perches or peered over the railing were in view. His shoulder had finally healed, it seemed. The scar underneath his eye remained.

"Listen up!" boomed the dragon, his guttural growl seemingly shaking the foundations of the building. "Drop whatever the fuck you were doing today. Something came up. Meet up at the fifth warehouse down the road in one hour. Tell any others who haven't heard. Do. Not. Be. Late."

The murmur of affirmation of immediate. Still, Brute lingered. He eyed the Serperior from afar for a few moments, then made his way over with the same aura of brutality. Vallion raised the tea to his lips and tilted his head back, returning the glare with a sidelong one of his own.

"And you," the Druddigon grumbled not more than a foot away. "Forty minutes."

Vallion finished sipping at his drink. "Whatever you say."

A huff of smoke was the dragon's only response. Brute turned away, and lumbered out the very same door he came in.

It took a full minute before even pokemon as rough as these dared to speak up again. This time, the chatter was about what this sudden assembly could be about. Most of what reached Vallion's ears was certain that it directly involved The Family. They were probably right, though there were more rumors swirling around in the mix. Ones pertaining to a certain upstart that's been pulling their weight more than anyone else. The Serperior felt a few stares be pointed his way. It was flattering in a crude sort of way.

Half an hour later and on the third ten-minute anniversary of his cup running dry, Vallion gave into his boredom and left for the spontaneous meeting, frowning at the snowfall that immediately started to land on his snout.

Even in this hemmed-in little valley of poverty, it was far more quiet than it should have been. The surrounding hills served as natural acoustic barriers to protect it from the hum of the city, but also kept the rowdiness contained just the same. The sun had only now started to cast its rays on the back of the dense clouds above, so perhaps the lull was from passing dawn. Even that seemed like wishful thinking.

The winding street went on for quite a ways, almost deserted apart from him. He knew the place already. It was the same warehouse that he visited to meet up with Roserade on the day of his first task. This whole block mostly consisted of huge storage facilities that were seemingly ignored for the most part. Just places for richer guilds to dump their unwieldy supplies and assets to forget about until they were needed again. It helped that Shardurr had already paid off the entire private company that was supposed to guard them. For all the petty crime they were known for, Chenza and her direct underlings had a surprising amount of power they could throw around at a whim.

Vallion approached the warehouse in question with the slightest pangs of apprehension. Blaming it on nerves, he peered into a crack between the huge folding gate and saw nothing but dirt and darkness. Pushing into the opening with his head, he slowly entered, a smell of age and neglect on his tongue.

It took a while for his eyes to adjust. It wasn't as pitch black in here as it originally seemed, though the slight opening he came through was all there was to see by. There were three rows of racks that spanned the length of the warehouse and climbed three shelves high. The racks were empty, apart from a few small boxes and some tarps.

"Right on time, Bright-eyes."

He couldn't place where Chenza's voice had originally echoed from, so he didn't try. "What are you scheming now? I doubt huge meetings like this are common. You can barely fit ten of your people in the same room without someone getting hurt."

The Weavile stepped out of the shadows behind one of the racks, a slight spring in her step. "There you go again, doing your Serperior thing, doubting what the commoners can do. You haven't seen just what those boys are capable of yet. Nobody's a soldier until you light a flame under their asses and dangle a carrot in front of their face."

"So what's this supposed to be? The carrot or the flame?"

The stale air shifted with the beat of a pair of wings. Freak landed on the corner of one of the racks. "You've already lit the flame, Serperior, but it's not under us. The Family's on the verge of implosion as we speak. A decade-long scheme is about to unravel, and we'll be the ones to pull the string taut."

"We could have done it ourselves," grumbled an earthquake of a voice. Brute had been waiting at the corner of the gate this whole time, somehow just out of sight. "I see no reason why the Serperior deserves to be here."

Chenza's laugh filled the warehouse. "Still sore about that, are you? Brute, you really need to get your jealousy in check. You've been acting like a second child."

The dragon grunted and sucked in a breath to retort, but let the words disintegrate at the back of his tongue.

"So about the carrot," Vallion started again. "We've put The Family on the edge. How are you going to convince your followers to risk their lives to make the final push? A cornered wildling strikes without reservation, and the guards have already swarmed that half of the city. They are prepared."

"Bright-eyes, honestly. Shut up. I don't know what makes you think I need your input on something I've been planning for years, or why you think you need to be in the center of it all. Just stand there and look menacing, why don't you? I don't need that persistence undermining what I'm about to do."

The best Vallion could give was a shrug and a sigh. Time rolled on, more pokemon came. The first to arrive peeked impishly through the entrance just as he had. After them, a precedent for boldness urged individuals to plow on through in the noisiest ways possible. No doubt this was gathering a great deal of attention from the outside. A trail of crooks and criminals, all funneling down the same street to the same place at the same time. Someone was going to notice. Perhaps that was intentional, too?

Soon a good deal of the warehouse was filled with Shardurr's ranks. You could see where clumps of pokemon started to form-cliques in the hierarchy, accumulating on the fringes of the crowd. The murmurs from before grew excited, buzzing off the arched roof of the warehouse and back down into their ears.

On Chenza's orders, Freak, Brute, and Vallion all ascended to the top row of the three racks. The discolored Swellow arrived at his perch with hardly a glance his way. Vallion silently spiraled up the supporting corner pole and garnered much of the same reaction. It wasn't until Brute, who climbed up the rack with a few massive beats of his wings for support, that the pokemon finally fell silent. The whole shelf looked like it was about to collapse under the Druddigon's weight.

"Quiet!" commanded the dragon, his own growl bouncing back at him. That was it, though. Chenza had offered no further instructions than this. In the moment that followed, a few tiny voices started back up, along with a few braver ones.

"What's going on?" somebody called out.

"Yeah! What're we here for?" another said.

The natural echo seemed to reverberate off the hearts of the crowd as well as the walls, sparking many to say the same redundant thing as if the answer would come any sooner if they all spoke loud enough. Vallion felt especially out of place up here, though at least most of the crowd was still looking to the Swellow and Druddigon rather than him.

Another quiet fell. The Serperior looked to see why, and saw Brute step aside to allow a Weavile past on the central rack. Chenza stood precariously over the edge and stared down at the collection of thugs like they were her loyal subjects. She probably imagined that they were.

The first dissenting call. "Who the hell'r you?!"

Before the single voice could multiply and spiral out of control once more, Freak let loose a shriek that stung at the ears of everyone unfortunate enough to be present. After that, he uttered a single command to his unruly flock.

"Listen!"

And so dozens of vicious eyes looked up at the Weavile and did just that. A smile broke out across her face. She extended her arms outwards like she was about to embrace the glares.

"Oh, it's been a long time. Most of you have no idea who I am, do you? Just another face you've already forgotten about before. It's kind of sad if you ask me. I wonder how many of you are left from when I created Shardurr?"

So that's what this was.

It took a moment for that last bit to sink in, but once it did, an eruption of noise and jeering completely filled the warehouse. Incredulous remarks with an unnecessary amount of swears mixed in. Disbelief and shouting. Who was this pokemon who dared to stand in front of them and claim such things?

But there were a few that Vallion saw bow their heads or shout down the rabble beside them. He could easily pick out which ones had been around the longest. The divide was clear, and though the vast majority were those screaming about this pretender, some almost seemed to convince those around them.

"SHUT UP!" Once more, Brute's presence convinced a large swathe of the voices to go silent, but less than before. The dragon added, in an equally as demanding tone, "Save your whining. She speaks the truth. I was not first. Freak was not, either. This Weavile was."

"What is this shit?!"

"Brute! What the hell?!"

This really was just a miserable time. Vallion felt a vein in his neck throb from the cacophony, all the while Chenza stood glaring over the ledge of the rack, a fearless smirk directed at the score of pokemon that now wanted to tear her limb from limb. Surely there was a more tactful way to do this. She must have known that this was the only outcome of such a brazen announcement. Thoroughly annoyed, the Serperior extended his vines and cracked them like whips a few times, vying for control of the volume.

A very particular question stood out. "Why's that fuckin' Serperior up there?!"

It came from the same Incineroar who Vallion had disgraced during his initiation. The first one to throw a punch, he recalled. Like earlier, the fire type's question spurred those around him to ask the same, the shockwave affecting a quarter of the mob in moments. By this point there was a large amount of Shardurr who knew of the Serperior, but less that respected him.

Chenza thought that was an excellent opportunity to speak up. "Oh, You mean Bright-eyes? Come on, it's not that hard. He's up there because he's better than you, and he's been more useful to me in the last few weeks than you've been in years. How's that shoulder doing, Incineroar?! Didn't run back home crying to your rich Persian daddy, did you?"

Apart from that Incineroar in particular, most of the attention was channeled back into her, and there was even some laughter at the fire type's expense. She straightened her back and shouted over them all. "Alright, alright! That's enough, you idiots! I don't care what you believe! I'm not here to debate whether or not I'm in charge, because it's not about to matter who you answer to. I'm here to ask a very important question. Wouldn't you all like to see The Family crumble to dust?"

Even if the methods were just as crude as the pokemon she used them on, it seemed Chenza did have sway over her gang after all. Simply mentioning their recent rival raised eyebrows and swiveled ears, though it still wasn't enough to silence everyone.

"That get your attention, did it? Well shut up and listen! Or do I have to remind you of how they made us look like idiots?! That our money just wasn't good enough for them anymore?! They're the ones that cut contact with us, and for what?! Because we dared to collect what we were owed?! And when we finally took what was ours, they start attacking us in broad daylight?! Are you morons the kinds of pokemon that are gonna just take that? Are you like the pokemon in the east, rolling over onto your fucking backs and thanking Persian for the honors of getting stomped on?"

The answer was a mangled mess of overlapping dissent. She rode that sound like it was an updraft beneath her wings. "Obviously not! You wouldn't be here otherwise! You wouldn't be Shardurr! Don't you see how those idiotic birds made a mockery of us, then immediately slipped up and got the king's men on them! Why not finish the job, I say? Why not give them what's coming to them? Remember that they're the ones that want you to starve in the first place! It's their business to keep you hungry!"

The crowd cheered just as readily as it had once rejected Chenza's existence. "That's right! It's never been easier than it is now to crush them for good! I know you want them gone! I've wanted them gone for years! And why not take our fill while it's up for grabs? If the king gets his hands on their stashes, he'll just hide them away in vaults and let us all waste away for another winter! I don't care if you know who I am or not, you know I'm right!"

"We are not a band of thieves lurking in the shadows!" screeched Freak, his chest flared and his wings splayed. "We are not the scum of the city! We are not careless sons and daughters guided by impulse! We are the heirs of Paradise, and we are an army of our own! The time has come to take what is rightfully yours!"

It was getting out of hand now. Various streams of fire and light were launched into the air to the crowd's resounding agreement. Razor leaf confetti and geysers of mist. The uproar must have been audible to the rest of the block at least, perhaps even farther. Even Brute let loose a steady roar of fire directed towards the ceiling. West District had been waiting for a chance like this for a long time. The mold would finally be broken.

"You hear me now, don't you?!" Chenza was shaking. Her eyes had gone wild, too. She was a manic mirror of the crowd. "Louder! Let The Family hear you from across town! Let them know who's coming to put an end to them! Those fateless old crooks sitting on their mountains of grain will get their just desserts! Come on, louder!"

The Weavile was basking in it now, head tilted back like she was floating on a cloud of bliss. Vallion was starting to get worried now. They might not even get a chance to capitalize on The Family's mistakes if this kept up.

And yet...The feeling was a little infectious, wasn't it? It'd be difficult to dispute that fact while standing here, high above a raging sea of that same rebellious energy. This was how she meant for it to be. Like a wave that washes over you, pulling you under now or submerging you later. It was intoxicating in a way. This wasn't how someone would conduct a street gang. This was a revolution.

People were going to get hurt.

...

One of the quietest sections of West District had come to life not an hour ago. Now, roads easily overlooked connecting a network of warehouses were crawling with diverted patrols of guards, who were none the wiser about the noise complaints they'd been getting in. They had only arrested a handful of pokemon of the dozens that were present.

Vallion watched from the black metal railing of a balcony not far from where the commotion had been. This vacant duplex was owned by no deed or paper, yet one of the most dangerous and notorious figures this side of Paradise had lived hidden away here for months. Brute preferred the basement, anyway, so it was quiet upstairs.

The raging mob that Chenza had summoned ended up dispersing with startling efficiency. He had expected the fools to go on a rampage there and then, but her words somehow got through even their thick skulls. It was impressive, and honestly a little frightening, how easily she could work that adrenaline-laced horde. Now that they had slipped away, everything had gone much too quiet. On this side of town, anyway. The tavern was assuredly a very terrible place at the moment.

The Serperior wasn't alone for long. Talons landed and clung to the railing beside him, seemingly from nowhere. Freak's preferred entrance. He must've wrapped up whatever it was he was discussing downstairs with Chenza. Nothing of import to Vallion, anyway.

"You fit into your new position quite well," the Swellow said after a time. "Especially for someone so new to Paradise."

"I feel the opposite."

"Really? A Serperior, feeling out of place in a position of power?"

Vallion shrugged out his vines and changed the subject. "I spoke to Zoroark a few days ago. He told me to say that he wished you well."

A squawking laugh snaked past Freak's beak. "Oh, you were the one that had to do that? Which form did he take this time?"

"A Hypno. Does that mean something?"

"Not really. Old man Hypno was always a major thorn in our sides when we were kids. He played the victim at all times-always thought that we were sniffing around in his business. It got to the point that we started to hang around his house without causing any trouble at all just to make him paranoid."

"You have quite the history, it seems," Vallion said. A hum came in response, then nothing. The wind blew flecks of ice across his nose and whistled in his ears. The Serperior didn't expect to feel invested, but there was something else on his mind. "What is this to you, anyway? This finishing blow Chenza is planning to throw at The Family. I've gathered that it means something to you in particular."

The Swellow's beak clapped. "Curious, now? What happened to being impartial?"

"Hmph. Then forget I said anything."

"That attitude isn't particularly stoic, either," Freak said, craning his head to preen a bit. His head was still beneath his wing when he spoke next. "I was born in Redland District. From the first dawn of my life, I was already involved with The Family. This business was something I was hatched into. I've never known anything else."

Vallion dipped his head. "Your parents were active in it?"

He chuckled. "You could say that."

"Ah." Vallion paused. He rolled that fact around on his forked tongue, digesting it slowly, before reaching out for another. "Why are you Shardurr, then?"

Freak stopped preening just to shoot him an dubious look. "Do you really expect me to dump my life story on you?"

The Serperior shook his head. "Fair enough. I haven't exactly given mine, and I don't plan to."

"...Still. I suppose I can phrase it another way." Freak shifted in place. "What does Chenza represent to you?"

Perhaps more than she does to you, he thought. A fellow human, maybe. A threat. A calamity waiting to happen. These weren't things he was willing to say out loud, and the deeper he dug, the more he found that there wasn't a concrete answer beyond them. What does she represent to him, indeed?

The Swellow continued despite his lack of reply. "Paradise is poisoned. It doesn't come from anything new or external. The sickness was always there, waiting in the roots, slowly manifesting in a way that was too difficult to notice. It's obvious pokemon were never meant to live this way. The Hollow knows that Paradise's fate is a downward spiral. You can see that, right?"

He blinked. "Maybe."

"What does a living body do when it is sickened?"

"It...alters itself to fight off the sickness, I presume. Changes its metabolism. Raises its temperature with a fever to burn off the illness."

Freak gave a satisfied coo, then went back to preening. "Shardurr is the fever."