Interlude Fourteen: Champions in Their Field

"Look who it is! How are you, Cynthia my love? Not still in mourning, are you? Who died this time?"

Laughter echoed around the small group, and Cynthia laughed with them as Alder lunged in for a kiss. Screw you, you pathetic old drunk. As he kissed her on both cheeks, his ginger whiskers clawing at her face, Cynthia had to resist the urge to kick him in the groin. Every year she was greeted with the same joke, and every year she was forced to play along like a good little girl lest she be the one accused of causing a scene.

You wait until your childhood best friend tries to decapitate you and see how fucking cheery you feel. Once Alder finally released her, Cynthia grabbed the first glass of champagne that passed her and forced a smile as she downed it in one.

"Careful sweetheart, frail thing like you, it'll go straight to your head!" Alder aimed his broad grin at her but his eyes focussed on the small crowd of industry professionals that were lapping up his every word. As much as she despised him, Cynthia could not deny his showmanship: his booming voice, that thunderous laugh, the way he could make ten thousand people in a stadium bow to his every will. Some said the only reason he was still Champion was that no one had the heart to take him down.

Looking at him up close, Cynthia failed to see the attraction. With a bushy, untamed mane of hair, the same shabby tunics he wore practically every day, the constant smell of rum protruding from his body, there was nothing physically desirable to offset his ego the size of a Wailord nor the misogynistic, homophobic attitude that hadn't withered at all during his Championship.

She always complained about Alder after every encounter, and Lucien would always respond with the same thing: Charisma. You can be the rudest, foulest person in the room, but if you can hide it behind a big smile and decade old jokes, no one's going to care.

Cynthia wished she had that. She was popular with the public, she knew that, but their fondness for her came from a place of respect rather than adoration. She didn't have Alder's charisma to disguise her faults, nor the personality to be able to simply ignore what people said about her. Cynthia was tired of questioning herself every time she put on one of her black cloaks, she was annoyed that she had to ask herself nearly every day whether or not to dye her hair, to seem more presentable, more open. Opinion polls were always being shoved at her, telling her that she looked too dowdy, too bored, too sullen, too masculine, too dark.

Part of Cynthia knew she shouldn't care, that the admiration of the public hadn't saved her on Mt Coronet, yet every time one of these Battle Conferences happened, her self-doubt went into overdrive. It was a pain, she was embarrassed by how she acted and knew that once it had passed, she would quickly remember that there were more important things in life than looking good. Yet now she couldn't help stare down at her all black ensemble, wishing she had gone for something else.

Voices around her suddenly registered, and Cynthia realised she had been standing there gormlessly for what must have been minutes, all eyes watching her as their owners quietly smirked behind drinks. Grabbing a second glass, Cynthia looked around the sea of faces for someone familiar and friendly, but the gym leaders and Elite Four were outnumbered by the sales representatives and 'battle consultants', whatever the fuck that meant, that filled up this convention every year. Least she get roped into a conversation with some pushy Silph Co. executive about new technology to improve her strategy, Cynthia reluctantly inserted herself back into Alder's group.

" – that's the trouble when you give these Elite Four people a chance at the big title." Alder talked with his hands, waving them around like two hairy hams, sending droplets of brandy soaring over a crowd too infatuated to notice. "Sure, they are all good trainers, they wouldn't be there otherwise, but they are only little speedbumps along the road to my front door. They don't have what it takes to actually be Champion."

"I agree they promoted Lance far too soon – it was all about keeping those dragon folk on side, I've been saying it for years!" A shrill woman, grey hair in a tight bun, stared at everyone with wide eyes as though forcing them into agreeing with her. "However, that league would be doing much better if he was still in charge."

"Kris defeated him though, you can't –"

"Yeah, with a god! I mean, anyone would lose if they had to face a bloody god! I'll give the girl credit, she has managed to hold on to this title all this time, but she is not a patch on Diantha. She was Champion for, what, two decades, and even in the end she ended every fight with at least three Pokémon still standing and never once had to call down fucking Xerneas to lend her a hand."

"Oh, Diantha, god how I miss her," Alder sighed. "Not only was she a great trainer, but she was a fantastic actress, and fuck, was she beautiful!"

"Alder!"

"It's true! There's never been another beauty like her. I only met her once in person at once of these things, but she was more handsome in real life than she ever was on screen – and that includes that love scene from Midnight in Lumiose," Alder added, winking across the circle at Cynthia.

"Oh yes, remember her gowns? Who was it that said she could walk in wearing a trash bag and still be the most beautiful woman in the room?"

"Winston Diamond," another woman answered, an audible swoon in her voice. "Now there was a gentleman – no offence, Alder, but that man is the ideal Champion: poised, elegant and charming whether he was facing an opponent on the field or across the negotiating table. We really need someone like him again." With no subtly whatsoever, the woman turned and gave Cynthia what must've been the filthiest look she could muster. It was nothing new to Cynthia: she regularly encountered people from a different generation who acted as if she had stolen the Championship from Winston Diamond instead of defeating him fairly and definitively in a gruelling three and a half hour long battle. The flow of alcohol was making her patience wane, and Cynthia had to swallow back her pride with a glass of white wine from a waiter, downing it in one, missing Alder's latest joke that made the group roar once more.

"Jokes aside, these conventions have never been the same without her." Alder spoke with a heavy sigh, cutting the laughter off instantly, and Cynthia almost gagged as she saw how admiringly his supporters were watching him. "It truly is a shame we lost her. We've never had anyone since to rival the level of class and grace she brought to this game." He raised his tumbler, half empty after his overdramatic gesticulating. "To Diantha, the greatest female Champion this world has ever known."

"To Diantha." Cynthia didn't raise her empty glass. She stared at Alder, focusing on the lines around his faces, the crinkled, leathery nature of his skin, the untamed mane that descended down his back. You wouldn't have given two shits about Diantha if she had looked like you.

"Diantha may have had looks, but she died before she could do anything to stop her region from burning to the ground." Alder's false modesty was replaced by shock as gasps rippled around the circle, but Cynthia ignored them, her fury too strong. "And the only worthwhile thing Winston Diamond ever did in his life was to underestimate my Garchomp. I may not dress like the dead woman you use to wank to, Alder, but considering I walked through the doors of hell and managed to stop the apocalypse, I think I can wear what I damn well fucking –"

"Cynthia is that you?!" The shocked, angry expressions softened as a man in a sequined white tuxedo stepped forwards, hand gripping tightly on Cynthia's shoulder. She herself turned and glared at Wallace, but her annoyance faded as the adrenaline passed and the realisation of what she said came back to her.

"Uh-oh, Wallace's around, better watch yourself boys!" Alder boomed, his smile uneasy as he gazed at the two Champions.

"Oh honey, you don't have half the experience you'd need to handle me." Wallace grinned and winked as the crowd giggled, but when he turned back to Cynthia it was clear the joy was forced. "I know he's revolting, but people are staring, darling, I could hear you over the busboy's orgasms; why don't you go find the children and brood with them until the opening speeches, give you some time to clear your head, m'kay?"

"Always looking out for me, aren't you?"

"Bitch, please, I just don't want you distracting from my outfit." Wallace winked as he gently shoved her away. Cynthia was left stranded in the middle of the convention floor, alone, unanchored from any friend or group. She stared around, trying to find a friendly face, but while Alder had been successfully distracted, it was clear within seconds that it would take more than Wallace's sparkly outfit to make everyone else forget.

Fuck, I hate parties.


Buzz sat alone in his office. The sun had long set, leaving him in darkness except for the dim glow emitting from the screen before him. He had opened Alaska's blog hours ago, had read it countless times, yet as midnight approached, he still could not look away, could not ignore her words.

I underestimated you. Months ago, when this had all started, Buzz never imagined being in this position: sitting alone in the dark, stuck in a wheelchair, his grand scheme falling apart by the minimal efforts of a pubescent foe.

He had expected resistance, and after the last few years knew the girl could be an issue when she first waltzed her way into his life. Yet Buzz had assumed that once she faced the threat they posed, she would simply disappear and become a forgotten memory by the time he marched into the Indigo League. He had all the money, power and influence in the world at his disposal, and all she had was a childhood pet. She should have run home screaming for her mother, or at the very least had the decency to die quietly off screen.

The fact that she had outsmarted him, wounded him, dismantled his plan, all the while seemingly unperturbed by everything she had done, Buzz still could not fathom how easily she had ruined him.

Hate makes her vengeful; hate makes her want to defeat you, to crush you.

Buzz slammed the laptop shut. It had been days since his encounter with Gideon, yet the scientist's voice rarely left his head. His words were haunting him, following him everywhere he went, a constant reminder of his failure…

"Stop it stop it stop it stop it STOP IT!" Buzz swiped his arm across his desk, clearing it of the few things decorating the surface, and turned his chair to face the window. It was not his normal office, that was still being rebuilt, allegedly – Silph had let Buzz return to work, but the damage to his building had raised questions, and there were rumours of an investigation based on 'allegations'.

Something else she's taken from me. Buzz clenched the arms of the chair as he stared down at the street, watching the people out at dinner, going clubbing, embracing romantically under the streetlights. Five years ago Giovanni had had these people cowering in their homes, yet a greater threat was operating from the same city and the people didn't even care, parading around his base like it was no big deal.

This is all down to her. Alaska thinks she can beat me, she's putting that out into the world, so no one care's anymore. They are going to let a little girl fight their wars for them. Giovanni was right all along, you people deserve to be ruled, you deserve everything that comes to you. Maybe I should write my own blog, do something big so you worthless scum can finally see…

Buzz leant back in his chair, smiling. Why had he never thought of this before? People didn't care about the future, but they were moved by the past. There was something he could do, one way to get the world's attention, one way to show them what a threat he was.

If Alaska is determined to stop me, then I will make her pay on a stage she is all too familiar with. I will not let her beat me, I am not going to fall the same way Giovanni did.

Buzz dived for his phone, ignoring the pain in his groin as he tumbled to the floor. He was shaking with excitement, unable to control himself as the thought of his new plan spread to every inch of his body.

I did not realise you were so petty that you need the commendations of others to gain satisfaction…

"SHUT UP!" Buzz screamed into the empty room as he dialled, putting the phone on loudspeaker and waiting to hear Amanda's voice. He may be too sore to walk, he may have let two teenage girls hijack his plan, but that all ended tonight. Within the next few days, the whole world would know his name, and he would become as infamous as everyone else. The thought consumed Buzz so much he didn't even register that Amanda wasn't picking up her phone.


"You know, you are meant to be the hostess of this thing; a good host doesn't throw up before her guests have."

Cynthia had found refuge at the bar at the back of the conference room. It was easy to forget what she had just done while tossing back drink after drink, sullenly avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Yet it was impossible to ignore Argenta. Cynthia looked up and turned to face her friend, managing a mild smirk at her joke.

"Hey, was wondering when I'd run into – wow, what are you wearing!"

"This old thing?" Argenta looked down at her sparkling magenta pant suit and shrugged, not without letting the briefest smile cross her delicate face. How's that for charisma, Cynthia thought, but managed to hold back her words this time.

"I'd suggest we had a drink but I think you might've had a few too many, so why not just some water then." Argenta signalled at the waiter as she nestled herself onto the neighbouring stool. "So, let me guess; Alder again?"

"Who else?" Cynthia took the glass and sipped, leaving Argenta to tut dramatically.

"I don't know why we still let him into these things – remember last year when I caught him pissing off the balcony into the Ever Grande waterfall? Disgusting."

"It wouldn't be a Battle Conference without Alder reminding us all he grew up in southern Unova."

"Well, I still think we should have neutered him a long time ago." Cynthia giggled and Argenta flashed her famous smile. Silence followed as the two simply stared at the other, an understanding falling between them that required no words. Though Cynthia had defeated her thrice in battle, she and Argenta had become friends through her sister, a bond that only grew after Carolina's death. Being the two most high profile female trainers in Sinnoh, their problems were largely the same, and though Argenta handled her issues with more poise and wit than Cynthia ever could, the Champion was always reassured that at least one person out there knew what she was going through.

"Is there a reason you're drinking so much?"

Cynthia shrugged. "It's a party, am I not allowed to drink?" Argenta's manicured right eyebrow shot up, a look Cynthia knew all too well, and she groaned and drunkenly leant in. "Alright, fine! It's this room, these people, the whole fucking thing!" She hissed. "Whenever I arrive at one of these things, I can feel everyone watching me, judging me, it's smothering. Most people have the common courtesy to be rude behind your back, but Alder – god, that man is just a pig!"

Argenta grabbed hold of her hand, and Cynthia realised she had been gripping the empty glass so hard it was in danger of cracking. "You're a Champion, honey, why does it matter what these people think?" She purred. "Most of them are simply jealous that all their money couldn't get them the one thing they've always wanted, and they want to bring you down so they feel better about their failure."

Cynthia slammed the glass down and turned away. "Oh please, they don't even know the meaning of the word failure." She spat the last word out, tipsily falling through her lips. Argenta didn't respond for a moment, hand still outstretched, face screwed up in curiosity, and then something seemed to twig.

"Are you talking about Mt Coro – "

"Of course I'm talking about Mt Coronet!" Cynthia hissed, her words slurring as she rushed to get them out. "I was their Champion and I couldn't do anything to stop Cyrus, he nearly – well, he did end this world, all I could do was watch. At least Diantha went down with her ship, I steered ours into a fucking iceberg and watched as all the passengers died."

"You shouldn't use metaphors, they really aren't your forte," Argenta said with a flash of a smile, and Cynthia snorted, quickly and briefly descending into laughter. It only lasted a few seconds though before Cynthia caught the looks of those watching her, before the crushing weight of over twenty years in the public eye came hurtling back towards her.

"It's just difficult. People expect me to be their idea of what I should be rather than accept what I am: I'm not the person who helped save the day, I'm the Champion who let her country burn for months. Coming here, dealing with Alder, it just reminds me that people want some beautiful warrior dream princess, not a depressed and bitter woman with no interest in their fantasies."

Argenta stepped closer and put her hands on Cynthia's shoulders, forcing her to stare into her eyes. "You may not be perfect, but no one is darling. You may have gone through hell, but I doubt Alder or Wallace could have handled it any better than you have. The war is over, Cynthia, you won! Why do you keep acting like you lost?"

For a moment, Cynthia felt relief. She wanted to believe things were so simple she could just ignore her feelings like this, just accept what she had done and ignore what everyone else thought. In that moment, it all seemed so possible.

But then she saw him: smiling, laughing, strolling casually towards the bar, Cynthia had known she would run into him at some point, but that didn't stop the taste of bile rising up the back of her throat. Tears filled her eyes, she hoped she could hold them back, but then Volkner looked up and saw her: he stopped dead in his tracks, his smile faltered, and Cynthia knew then and there she deserved how she felt.

"Because you don't know what I had to do to win it." Cynthia didn't say anything to Argenta, she smiled turned and ran. She heard Volkner shout after her, but she was already pushing through the crowd, head spinning in a cloud of emotions and alcohol, unable to stop the mental floodgates from opening.

The window shattered. Fire dancing up the walls of the library, reaching out to consume her. Garchomp slamming his fins into Winston's Mamoswine, using those same fins to fight off Team Rocket, using those same fins to save her life in lieu of his own. Viktor, Cyrus, The Messiah; grinning as she fell into the flames; grinning as she lay bleeding on the floor; grinning as the pillar collapsed around them. The children, the children screaming, the children dying trying to do what she could not.

Cynthia wanted to stop the nightmares, but this was what she saw, this was the burden she carried, and as she sprinted across the conference room floor, she knew deep down she would never be able to rid herself of this feeling.


All was quiet in Fuchsia, not that it was ever anything different. The calm silence that engulfed the city during the day turned tense and fearful come nightfall, as though the monsters everyone feared were waiting out there in the shadows. Yet the streets somehow seemed emptier, lit only by the flickering lights of the lampposts, not a single soul outside to make their effort worthwhile.

Tonight was different.

A man sat outside the Pokémon Centre. The lamp above the bench had long ago died, but the man had made a living out of hiding in the shadows, going unnoticed until he so wished to be heard. Not a single person knew he had even entered the city, not even the girl he had sworn to protect.

This isn't the path I hoped for you, Alaska. Since that stormy night at the Celadon Mansion, the man had firmly remained in the shadows. He had not taken on this role to tell Alaska what to do, the hypocrisy of doing so only part of his reason. The choice was one she had to make, and attempting to lead her down the right path would inevitably have pushed her down the wrong one.

Yet here they were regardless. The man had been monitoring Alaska closely from afar, watching her personal conflict, hoping that everything would land the right way, guide her to the right decision. Over the past week as she passed through Celadon, allowing him to join her once more, it had become clear that she was struggling, faltering under the pressure being put on her from all sides. The man knew what it was like, but had assured himself she was stronger than he had been.

Never for one second had he thought they would win. Never would he have guessed he would ever read the words that appeared on her blog that day. Never would he have imagined when this all began he would be pushed to the point where he wanted to scream, helpless to do any good with his life.

Yet here they were. The man watched the Pokémon Centre, the lights dimmed, musky shadows surrounding the nurse's desk. He knew he would be able to get in undetected, go to Alaska's room and confront, make her see the errors of her choice, push her down the right path. But now that he was here, metres away from doing so, he found he no longer had any desire to do so.

You've made your choice, Alaska. I just hope for our sake you made the right one. The soft sigh that escaped his lips shattered the city's silence. Nearby curtains flickered, eyes peered out of windows, the sound carrying in the quiet, but the man had already gone. There was nothing for him here anymore.


Cynthia kicked open the door to a balcony. The seemingly endless oceans of Sinnoh surrounded her, blending with the night to create an inky black canvas that stretched on for millennia. It felt like she stepped onto the edge of space, and despite the rush of fresh air to her lungs, she could feel the darkness closing in. Her champagne glass shattered to the ground as she clawed the scarf away from her throat, exposing the thick pink scar that dominated her neck. Cynthia let go, letting it float away in the ocean breeze, and sighed. The cool touch of the salty wind finally calmed her, and Cynthia collapsed sideways into an empty chair, clutching her temple as her head continued to spin, but feeling more relaxed now that she was away from everyone, alone with just the stars for company.

"Um… hey Cynthia."

Cynthia shut her eyes, hoping that the voice came from inside of her, but the clink of glass on metal confirmed she wasn't alone. Swallowing a groan, she turned and faced Red, her heart sinking further as Kris awkwardly waved from next to him.

"Well, looks like I've managed to embarrass myself in front of every other Champion tonight. Is there a convention on or something?" She laughed deeply at her own joke, ignoring the sceptical looks the younger trainers exchanged. "What are you two doing out here? Scheming about something?"

Red cautiously stepped forwards, the same calm approach one might use when facing an Ursaring. "It's nothing, not that big a deal. Are you alright, Cynthia, you don't look –"

"I'm fine!" She snapped, swatting his hand away. "Don't treat me like a child; I've seen far worse things than both of you combined. So come on, what are you on about?"

Kris and Red looked at each other quietly for a moment before the former shrugged and stepped forwards, speaking for the first time. "You know what's going on in Kanto?"

Cynthia paused, searching her cloudy mind for the right information. "This is the girl Cyrus predicted, right?"

"Spot on. She's just posted another one of her blogs saying she's ready to do what needs to be done to stop Gideon, which we've kind of been waiting for," Red said, smiling slightly. "We were just wondering what we do now."

Of course you're relieved, you're the one that's meant to be killed. Cynthia laughed cruelly to herself, her fellow Champions watching in silence, and her private joke quickly collapsed into a painful sigh.

"Well, at least she seems to have a choice in the matter, I suppose. That's one thing we never got." Cynthia shook her head and sighed again, thinking of this girl she didn't know, imaging what she must be going through. "What's her name again?"

"Alaska Acevedo."

"Alaska…"

The Fall of Kalos and the War on Three Sides, that sets everything off. It paves the way for Red and Leaf, Krystal and Alaska, Brendan, Bryan, Yasmin, Kieran… and them… yes, I will meet the others someday, won't I… we both will, we are both there, on the mountain….

Cynthia leapt from her chair, phantom flames burning across her skin. She had to grasp the bannister to steady herself, deeply breathing in the sea air to remind herself where she was: there was a whole sea between her and the library, a whole lifetime between now and then.

"Poor kid," she said finally, opening her eyes onto the dark ocean. "I wouldn't wish this upon anyone. How'd she even get involved?" She asked as she turned and banged on the door, signalling a passing waiter inside.

Kris laughed and tossed back her drink. "That is the question I ask myself every morning. There's some prophecy about her, isn't there, that's how it always starts."

Cynthia swore incomprehensibly and clumsily lashed out at the chair. "All these fucking prophecies, shit, they're doing my head in. How many apocalypses is this now – five, six?"

"Seven, if you count Giratina."

"Good lord. Well, not a good lord, is he, if 'he's' the one responsible for all this. I wouldn't know, never met him. Maybe I should ask Charlotte next time I see her." Cynthia laughed, and for once the other two joined in, brief sniggers tinged in sadness escaping their sullen faces. All three fell silent as the waiter appeared in the doorway, the tray of red wine shaking in her hands. All three lunged at the same moment, pausing only as they surrounded her to silently take their drinks in turn.

"Thanks," Kris mumbled, and the waiter nodded, smiled for a second, and then ran back inside. Cynthia didn't give the woman a second glance, but she turned and found her fellow Champions watching her over the edge of their glasses. Turning back, it was instantly obvious why: the woman was young, probably a few years older than Red, smooth blonde hair that bounced as she retreated, possibly mentally writing a post for about drunken Champions.

Is that jealousy I see before me? Is that what you want to be, minimum wage lackeys, gossiping about the news instead of making it? You should put those dreams to rest, kiddies. I know your stories; don't kid yourselves into thinking you would have been happy with anything…

Even in her head, Cynthia drifted off. Something suddenly clicked inside of her, something that had been there perhaps her entire life but only now became clear. She almost wanted to laugh, stopping only because she also desperately felt like crying.

"You know what the worst part of all this is? Just how fucking selfish it makes you." Red and Kris suddenly looked up, envy replaced with curiosity as Cynthia sipped at her wine. "Look at you two, the way you were watching her. Let me guess, the voices in your head were going 'Why me, why did I have to do this, why couldn't I have had a normal life'?"

"Cynthia, you're drunk and this is only the first night of the conference, do you really –"

"Oh, fuck up Edward, I'm not just talking about you," Cynthia guffawed. "Do you think I'm any different? Sometimes I wish… no, scratch that – every god damn day I wish I had just stayed home that summer. Stayed in that nasty little town with my nasty sister and her nasty friends, dealing with my nasty old grandmother, only a moody Gabite and a bitter old woman for company. Never met Viktor, never heard about prophecies and orbs and fucking encyclopaedias, let someone else create a monster…"

Cynthia paused. She looked past their heads and across the ocean, focussing on the lights shining so far in the distance. She'd only been back to Sunyshore the once since 1985, yet at least once a day she turned towards it, thinking back to those few weeks, thinking of what had drawn her there in the first place, what kept her mind on it now. Neither Kris nor Red interrupted her, what she was staring at obvious to anyone, yet it wasn't long before Cynthia turned away, smiling.

"That's the really awful part about this job. We're supposed to be role models, these people the public can look up to, but not even deep down we are really a bunch of angry, selfish arseholes wishing we didn't have to deal with them or anything else. Because we wish that someone else was standing where we were, that someone else had had to fight these big bad organisations so we didn't have to.

"But we've kidding ourselves, because someone had to do it. If we aren't the ones to save the world, then it means someone else has to be cast with this miserable existence… s'mone else had to watch their friends die, shun their family, watch the world burn around them while they stood by, unable to do anything.

"And as much as I hate how things have ended up, I hate how it was more. Have you ever been to Celestic Town? It's a hole. I mean, literally, it's a giant hole some dipshits decided was a great place to build a town. Every morning there's fog, and you have to walk to school holding hands so you don't fall down the hole and break your neck. There's always drunk tourists there who have made the pilgrimage to the shrine so you can never get to sleep, you can't walk around after dark because someone might come after you in the fog. It's horrible, it's suffocating, and if I had stayed, I probably would've jumped head first into that hole years ago."

Cynthia finished her drink, not noticing the tears rolling down her cheeks. "I hated my sister, but now she's dead and I miss her every day. For so long I blamed myself, telling myself she wouldn't have died if I hadn't turned Viktor into what he became, but that's shit. Fate meant this would happen, and she and I and many others could have died anyway if someone else had been in my position. Saving the world fucking sucks, but I guess someone has to do it, right?"

Kris and Red didn't say anything, their drinks going ignored in their hands. Cynthia sighed and threw her empty glass over the balcony, pausing dramatically as she waited for it to smash.

"I got what I wanted, even if it wasn't how I imagined… maybe I should just be happy about that, eh? I mean, you can only go on blaming everyone else for your problems for so long before you have to accept that maybe it's just you."

Kris looked her in the eye, face blank, and then she cracked a smile, for a moment managing to laugh. Cynthia laughed too, cackling slightly in her drunken state, before stumbling towards the door, pausing only as she had it half open.

"Tomorrow remind me I said this, I'm probably going to forget." She winked and giggled, and as the two Champions smiled back at her, Cynthia wobbled inside, briefly admiring her cloak in the window, savouring a lightness she hadn't felt… ever.


Oh, you poor, stupid child, you really have no idea what you're doing, do you?

The dense layer of dust that had built up over the past five years hung thick and heavy in the air as Gideon tore through the house. Tables sat upended, carpet had been ripped up and dumped in heaps, computers and televisions smashed. There was nothing here, just like every other safe house the scientist had searched, just like all the other hideouts he had dismantled over the past few weeks.

His trail was running cold. If he wanted to enact his plan, Gideon had to find everything he needed before Alaska and Buzz converged on the Indigo League. If they got there before him, five years spent in solitude, years more spent researching and developing this plan, his last hope of glory and power, it would all be over.

Yet, still Gideon laughed. Dust, glass and broken wood already obscured the discarded tablet, Alaska's blog disappearing under piles of suburban wreckage. Gideon had been avoiding all thought of her for weeks, but temptation had overwhelmed him, and now he was glad he had done so.

"You still think you can defeat me?" Gideon laughed as he swung his mallet through the last of Giovanni's computers, the outdated machine as useless and unhelpful as everything else in the house.

"You think teamwork and support will save the world?" White plastic flew through the air, sparks feebly spraying out of the computer's corpse.

"You still think there is hope for you and whatever plan the elites have cooked up for you?" Gideon turned back and eyed the spot where he had dumped the tablet, chest heaving, sweat pouring from his face. "Please, Alaska, don't make me laugh."

And Gideon's cackle continued long into the night. His mallet tore through walls, smashed the bench top, destroyed every piece of furniture he could find. His plan may be failing, he may be rapidly running out of time to get his way, but tonight, at least he had his little jokes.