7.

Undercut

Look, this comes as no surprise, but whatcha need is an older guy
With a little bit o' life experience, the right clothes and the right appearance

Volkner didn't know how to build a mech.

He'd fixed the microwave. It could now heat soup to perfection the first time. It also kept an eye on the laundry machines and folded clothes, warming and drying anything that didn't get dry the first time in its own chamber. The next step was to combine washer, dryer and microwave into one appliance to make space for the vending machine Meowth wanted. Excessively modified, of course, so it could also function as a dishwasher.

Very early that morning, the squad took the bus to a trailhead and then hiked a good few miles up into the foothills where a warehouse served as a bigger secret base. Here was stored a Meowth-shaped hot air balloon and an immense disguise wardrobe and the space and tools and parts — oh, the parts, the sheer budget on these morons! — to design and build machines beyond imagination. Meter-thick rolls of plotter paper. Daily airlifts of screws and bolts. A state-of-the-art design software subscription and a disgustingly advanced 3-D printer with every color of filament.

With the roll-up door of the warehouse open to green hills and a red Kantonian sunrise Flint would adore, Volkner sat himself down at the computer and did absolutely nothing of value. The others told him to build a mech. He'd now spent a solid hour and a half printing misshapen models of the Cool S and seeing how high he could stack them. The neon purple filament had just run out. He pinched a minty green piece between two fingers, standing on tiptoes to reach his new record height.

"Eh? What's dis about?" Meowth rasped from below. Volkner held up one finger while he strained to place the last S, but the cat was quick to use his Fury Swipes on the tower, and the pieces flew everywhere.

"I spent all morning on that."

"Yeah? And where's dat mech I told you to build?"

"You think I can build one of those in a single morning?"

"I do it all da time and I'm a quarter your size, so you're puttin' us behind schedule, Volky. I t'ought you was a mad genius. You cheatin' us?"

Volkner slumped back into the torn-up office chair. He pulled up both legs and kicked the desk, sending him rolling out onto the grease-stained concrete floor.

"There's no such thing as genius. I learn quickly and I like tinkering, so it's easy for me to work on my complex contraptions. Creativity might be part of it too, but that's more related to the 'mad' part of the description. I wonder if that's why I can't stand being around other Gym Leaders. We're all equally left- and right-brained and none of our interests outside battling are compatible. I think Roark the coal miner even has this whole made-up lore surrounding me and my plot to make fossil fuels obsolete."

"You're stalling."

"Really?"

"We ain't gonna trust you if you ain't gonna trust us."

"You definitely lost some trust points when you told me I couldn't sleep fourteen hours a day. Genius brain needs extra rest."

"Do you even know how to build a mech?"

"Can't say I do."

"Well, dig. James and I can teach you da basics this afternoon. Ya think if we worked on one together you could get da hang of it? Ya see, we got this structural integrity problem that somebody like you might know how to fix. It involves da mechs blowing up when dey get hit by a certain Pikachu's Thunderbolt attack."

"You're not insulating them properly."

"Well, we've always tried to use less conductive alloys, but—"

"Insulation, Meowth. Are you using the liquid rubber sealant that comes in spray cans at the hardware store? Because you should be."

Meowth's thick upper lip curled up. The cat didn't know whether to feel stupid or bow at a competent engineer's feet. Meanwhile the competent engineer just yawned and shrugged. Volkner no longer had the capacity for arrogance. It had left him long ago when he realized he would always be the most interesting person in the room and it wasn't the least bit gratifying. That was why it hurt to be in a room with other Gym Leaders. They were all in various stages of the same revelation. The logical next step was to one-up each other in quirkiness until Roark was shouting how Oreburgh coal was world-class quality and how he just loved the smell of diesel and Volkner was burying his head beneath his jacket and wondering what it would smell like if Roark got struck by lightning.

"Why this afternoon? Did you have something planned before then? Nap time maybe?"

"You gotta wipe those crusties for dis, Bolt Brain. We hafta introduce you to da boss. Get you a proper uniform and directive. My guess is with your sparklin' credentials, you can skip training and start right out in Alpha Class."

Now the coolness froze. Volkner froze, one blond wing of hair falling loose between his fingers.

"Alpha Class."

"Yeah. Our syndicate's sophisticated."

"And your squad is…"

"We're just a lowly squad o' Beta Class field agents chasin' after a powered-up Pikachu. Da boss'll need your brain for more important missions. You could be stealin' other Gym Leaders' Pokémon! All for da Greater Rocket Good of All!"

"Wait… wait, no. No, I gotta stay with you guys. If my secret gets out to your boss or the public, I'll be underwater with the Sinnoh League and in fiery hell with my handler. Can we bank on that not happening?"

"Are you with da Sinnoh League, or Team Rocket?"

"Team Rocket, all the way, but…"

Jessie's voice rang from upstairs. Meowth took Volkner's hands in his paws and tugged, but he wouldn't budge out of the chair. Finally, after a fierce staredown, he finally rose and followed the cat up the stairs to a closed door on the upper level. Jessie opened the door a crack, motioning for them both to enter. Meowth followed orders, but Volkner stayed put, flattening his back against the wall and only sneaking a peek at the activities within.

It was dark, but the back of James' blue head popped up over the back of a sofa. He was focused on the image projected through dusty air onto the stained stucco wall opposite. An imperious woman. Ivory skin and deep purple hair cut into a severe bob. Sharp eyes winged and glazed behind the flash of round-lensed glasses. Body wrapped up tightly in a burgundy pantsuit and fingers tapping the table before her in impatient earnest.

"Does this engineer actually exist?" she hissed in a voice like vinegar.

"Of course he does!" Jessie replied, her grip on the doorframe tightening. She popped her head out and mouthed Get in here to the new recruit, but he only stared back, blinded by the idea.

"In completing Giovanni's grand plans, each level of our syndicate is needed to fulfill a purpose. But whenever I speak to you three, I'm left satisfied with the Beta-related banter behind your backs in Alpha Class. You say an esteemed engineer has left his position and aims now to aid our malicious ambitions, but when I ask to see him, you stall."

"He's busy, that's all," said James, still cool under the circumstances.

"Yeah, dig! He's building a mech fit to brawl!" snapped Meowth.

"I don't see that in your mission log. Does this engineer have a name? Is he someone I would know?"

"Certainly he has a name," said Jessie. "It's Vol–"

Volkner stomped on her foot, and she choked.

"Marcell. Say it's Marcell."

"It's Marcell," she said, much to the confusion of her companions.

"Marcell. Interesting. All right, Beta squad. I'll give you one day. If you can't produce Marcell and his mech by then, you're getting written up for false reporting… again. Headquarters out."

The projection went dark, and Volkner sighed… at least until Jessie stomped on his foot in revenge.

"All right, Gym Leader jerk. Who's Marcell?"

"Old nickname. Don't ask. You're not gonna introduce me to your boss as Volkner. That wasn't part of the deal. Team Rocket gets my skills, not my identity. And I get Rotom, and you get… maybe a higher paycheck, which was higher than mine to begin with, so don't complain you're not getting rich for recruiting a Gym Leader."

James came out to make sure the engineer existed at all. He crossed his arms and leaned against the guardrail. "I could see your idea working eventually, as a side task, but Rotom isn't our primary directive. It's Pikachu. You don't dictate our mission. All orders come from the boss, Giovanni."

"These days they all come from Glasses Goon Girl Matori," Jessie scoffed.

"Wobbuffet," said Wobbuffet.

"Dat's what I told him. If he tells da boss he's Volkner and he built da Sunyshore Tower, he'd get put in Alpha Class and den he'd have leeway."

"Not Alpha Class," said James. "That's too low, even, for what he's accomplished. He'd be an Elite Class engineer."

"Team Rocket could make me Elite? Damn. The Sinnoh League won't even do that. To join the Four, a Gym Leader's gotta defeat the current Four and then win a rematch with one member to steal his seat. I can kick Flint's ass at two in the morning, and they won't give me his seat 'cause they think I'm gonna rewire the League HQ to shoot lasers."

"You and dat Flint are pals, right? Why'd you wanna take his seat? You two could be Elites standing side-by-side."

Volkner tensed his shoulders. "Sometimes I think it'd be worth seeing Flint get knocked down a peg. That's all."

It was then when James happened to glance over the guardrail and see the warehouse floor. No mech. Not even a partial mech. Just the little plastic bits littering the place and the office chair rolled to the opposite wall.

"Yeah. About dat. Volky don't know how to build mechs. We gotta show him da ropes."

"You mean 'Marcell?' Jessie cut in. "Will Marcell reveal himself to Matori if Volkner won't? We've got an ultimatum here."

Volkner opened his mouth, but the gears kept spinning into infinity.

"You're not so good at thinking things through, are you," James chuckled. "Luckily there's a quick fix. We can make a Marcell to reveal to Matori, if you won't be Volkner for her. Jessie, you're on hair and makeup. I'll do costumes!"

"Right!"

"You guys are not putting makeup on me."

There must have been an inside joke, because the two human Rockets high-fived and sneered in Volkner's direction. James took his right arm. Jessie took his left. Meowth and Wobbuffet gripped his pants. Instantly he struggled, but they'd learned his strength after wrestling him out of bed, and it took no effort now to drag him back down the stairs and into the spacious bathroom, sink already clogged up with mascara and hair chalk and toilet piled high with discarded disguises. Jessie pulled the chain of a single lightbulb which shrouded the place in yellow and shadows. Meowth flipped the switch on the full-length vanity mirror, blinding them all for an instant. James was already tapping his hands along his own body, then exploring Volkner's torso to compare their sizes. Wobbuffet squeezed a sparkly makeup case in both flippers.

"Describe Volkner's eyes for me, Jessie."

"Straight brows. Heavy lids. Wide-set, downturned, and balanced."

"I've also been told they're blue," Volkner added.

"Shush. What are we going to do about your hair? Can we even wet-comb this?"

She grabbed his jaw in both gloved hands and tousled the tangles.

"Don't even try. You can't control what's ionic and iconic."

"It looks like some kid took scissors to a shag carpet then electrified it," said Meowth.

"That's exactly what happened."

"Stand still, will you!?" James cried.

"Faucet, Meowth. Shampoo. Scissors."

"No scissors, please."

"Scissors indeed!" Meowth growled, eye slits swelling in the flashing of blades.

"That was a piss-poor slant rhyme. I should know. I've been trying. Gah!"

He was silenced as Meowth cranked the bathtub faucet and Jessie forced him on his knees, bending him over to soak his matted mane. He cracked a smirk when Jessie squeaked. Evidently she shocked herself when the water and static connected. Still, any deterrent was short-lived. The charge was calmed with a glob of pearlescent milk-scented shampoo that she kneaded through the spikes until they all lay in lathered, flattened waves. Slimy suds dripped down over his pointed nose and splattered against the tub walls, mixing with the same dried crust of soap scum and lavender leg hair as the apartment bathroom.

All was rinsed. Jessie massaged in the conditioner, forceful to remove as much lingering electricity as possible. Then another rinse, and Volkner was allowed to sit up on the edge of the tub. He was gently patted down with a towel and combed — as well as he could be combed when his patchy self-barbering left no room for any obvious part.

"When it dries it'll spike again," he told his stylist.

But Meowth still had the scissors. Wobbuffet had procured a razor. James was fingering a wallet chain, which he'd somehow pilfered off Volkner's jeans during the shampooing.

"You just had one end stuffed into the back pocket without anything attached to it," he muttered. "What do you even wear this for?"

"So I can be a techy pirate. That's my Leader gimmick. Can't you tell?"

"How about more tech and less pirate?" suggested Jessie. In one quick move, she gripped his chin and snipped off both of the longer wings hanging in front of his ears. Then, with a short blade equipped and razor buzzing, she began to trace along the edges of his hairline. Trimming around the ears, fading down the back of the head to a shaved nape, cutting off fully felted chunks from the sides and shaping the sideburns into something civilized.

"Are you left-handed?" she asked.

"Ambidextrous, actually."

"Perfect."

She ran her fingers through the untouched top to fluff it. Then, with the shortest blade equipped, she carved a thin lightning bolt shape up from behind each ear. Wobbuffet blasted the blow-drier. The new style spiked immediately, shock of fluffy hair on top shooting straight upward, yet with more even form and direction than before, and sparkling with the conditioner.

"What do you think of that?" she asked James.

"You gave him an undercut?"

"You gave me an undercut!?"

"I keep saying I want to give James one, but he makes the same argument about his chin-length hair being 'iconic.' So I cracked and gave you one instead. Now, to combat the tired look a bit. Wobbuffet, do we still have the neon blue eyeliner?"

"Nope. No eyeliner."

"You're in no position to argue, Blitzen Boy."

"Fine, but purple."

And Volkner grimaced as she made him focus on the vanity lights while sketching the thinnest purple wings at the corners of his eyes. He had to admit, when given the hand mirror, it was barely noticeable, and he certainly looked more awake, especially after the bulbous blue monster was finally allowed to open the makeup cases and slap some pale concealer on the blotches.

"The male engineer's uniform is the standard boots, breeches, belt, turtleneck and gloves like mine, but with a vest instead of a jacket and longer gloves to protect the elbows," James explained. "White for Beta, black for Alpha and gray for Elite. Meowth would wear it if he were human. The least an engineer has to accomplish is mech-building. He can be assisted by mechanics like me."

"But Meowth's mechs are crap, so he's still in Beta Class. I get it."

"I'm in Beta Class 'cause these creeps are my friends," Meowth retorted.

James continued. "The uniform is for all official activities, but you'll need civilian clothes as well. Disguises and such. I think these will help keep your rank surreptitious."

"But I'm wearing eyeliner. That's still suspicious."

"Right. Just try this on."

He was allowed to keep his jeans at least, but without the chain equipped. His street shoes had been replaced with a chunky pair of work boots, and the black t-shirt with a blue plaid button down over an undershirt and white gloves. To make him just a bit more eccentric, the look was finished off with a purple-tinted pair of safety glasses that toned down the sheer electric blue of his eyes. It wasn't the kind of outfit for constructing metal monstrosities of terrifying electrical influence, but it would do for a job interview in chaos.

He eyed himself in the mirror, both Jessie and James resting their hands on his shoulders and admiring their work like proud parents. His reflection was… a stranger. Convincingly civilian. Seemingly secular. Far-flung from the Thunder Bringer. Perhaps with an affinity for Electric-Types, but no obsessive specialist. And if his burns chafed and bled on the sleeves, he could say it was a workplace accident. That was true, after all.

"Whaddaya think of my new look, Electivire?" he asked, summoning his partner to stand behind them.

The ape reached around with its tails to poke both his cheeks, where the hair wings used to be, and his whole mouth tasted like burnt iron.

After lunch, they began work on the mech. Meowth drew up a rough plan: a twenty-five-foot tall mechanical Meowth operated on the inside by three technicians. The claws were extendable. The eyes contained launchable drones. The tongue was a retractable plasma rifle. The core was nuclear — one of those kitschy miniature kantonium reactors, to be exact — and this was only insulated in the mech's stomach by a few flimsy layers of vinyl tape.

"You know, I went to Lay School for a few years as a teenager, just so I could join the robotics club… and when we played with minikants we knew better than to just wrap tape around them. We were dumb teenagers and we knew that."

"You're super smart, though," James whined.

"Me and other teenagers. Flint knew how to rubberize a minikant, and Flint can't tell an electrode from an Electrode," Volkner stressed. "Plus you're expecting a minikant to shift its output up and down like an engine. Those things have one power level only and it's trash. You either use 'em for science projects or campfires. Roast some marshmallows over a big pile of 'em."

"We've been usin' minikants in our mechs for years and they've worked just fine, even in da giant ones," Meowth protested.

"What? Did you string a bunch together like a candy necklace?"

The silence told all. Volkner smirked, immersed in his element.

"What's with the plasma rifle? You just have plasma rifles lying around?"

"We do, actually," James said, hauling one out from one of the storage closets. He ran outside with it before unclipping the safety and aiming at the nearest bush. A shimmering blue stream erupted from the barrel and crisped everything within a six-foot radius. Even the soles of his boots melted and welded themselves into the steaming mud.

"We usually use it for breaking and entering," he clarified.

"And then there's the shape. Why a Meowth?"

"'Cause it's iconic," said Meowth.

"Okay. And what is it supposed to do? Catch Pikachu?"

"Absolutely. Da chamber's in da charm, see? Dat's why it's made of thick plastic! For insulation!"

"Do you have solar panels?"

"Yeah, we got some. What for?"

Volkner flipped a wrench with his right hand and caught it with his left.

"I'm gonna build a solar-powered mech."

Now Meowth was in no position to argue, though the proposition was confusing. It was laughable to tell the Sunyshore Gym Leader that solar power was a dumb idea. James only shrugged and showed him to the collection of photovoltaic materials. Volkner hummed, biting one gloved thumb as he began to gather all the parts he needed. The plan had sparked something in his brain — the marvelous mechanical mad genius he would deny existed at all. Meowth, with his sharp eyes, could even see his fingers twitching and his pulse quickening in the excitement. His breaths even jerked every once in a while as he fought to control the arrhythmia within.

Volkner didn't even sketch out his own plan. The solution was too simple to require one, he explained. And while James and Meowth initially helped with the hammering and soldering and wiring and programming, they eventually found themselves pushed to the side entirely, watching from the guardrail above as Volkner filled the warehouse floor with a hulking mass of metal.

He threw off the gloves and gripped live copper with his bare hands to assess its conductivity. He gripped a wrench between his teeth and growled when static sparked along his jaw. Sparks poured forth from a blowtorch. Smoke and haze painted the atmosphere. The floor and walls were splattered with a black sludge of sprayable rubber sealant. And an absolute mess of solar panels found their way onto the circumference of a great cylindrical body.

"It's not really our style," Jessie murmured, reaching for another handful of potato chips.

"You should've seen his gym."

Meowth had long fallen asleep, Wobbuffet was clearing up the costumes in the bathroom, and Electivire stood intently monitoring the action from a distance, just in case its trainer needed an urgent defibrillating.

By sunrise the next morning, the creation was complete. It was no "mech" by earlier standards. Instead, the massive, paneled, lime green and purple cylinder was mounted on wheels like a tank. The top opened up like a paint can to reveal a barebones operating station, compact enough for one person to pull the levers. Behind the station was the base of a robotic arm that could extend telescopically and bend in any direction. Its hand had three fingers dripping with sealant for insulation. The same sealant coated the inside of the bottom chamber, just above the wheels, where any captured creatures could safely be stored.

Volkner, drenched in sweat and sealant and heaving from the currents coursing through his veins, finally set down the last ratchet. He found Jessie and James curled up together under a blanket beside the pulsing ashes of a minikant campfire, and with the static on his fingers, he shocked them awake with a light tap each.

"Get Matori," he told them. "Marcell built a mech."

James nodded. Leaping into action, he fetched the Rocket communicator from the upstairs room. Jessie fluffed "Marcell's" hair again and reapplied the concealer and eyeliner to his tired face. With the red Kantonian sunrise fully illuminating the warehouse walls, the projector was turned on and the call sent out to Headquarters. Volkner puffed out his chest. He steeled his gaze and shivered, for one brief moment, when he imagined the fiery wrath of Flint on the other side of that communicator instead of some secretary.

Not that he cared if Flint got angry. He was just afraid Flint was going to shake a screw loose and hurt himself. He certainly had the other night after their battle…

I was grateful for that last battle with him, dammit… He just used it as an opportunity to blow up, like he always does. He should've been the one thanking me for knocking him off his blazing, burning pedestal.

A gasp split the tension. Volkner snapped his head up to the projection on the wall. It wasn't Matori this time. It was a man, Giovanni, the big-chested, orange-suited, hair-slicked-back and snakey-eyed Rocket Boss himself, who glared down on his agents like a human Staraptor.

"Ah," he boomed. "So you're this esteemed engineer I was told of. Marcell, was it? You abandoned your old work and set out to join Team Rocket's plans of world domination?"

He had to fight the urge to look behind him and make sure Flint wasn't crouched in the corner. "Yes sir," he said. "My name is Marcell. I'm an electrical engineer and robot technician. This is my partner, Electivire."

"A Sinnoh Region Pokémon. Impressive. Are you from the Sinnoh Region, Marcell?"

"My origins aren't important. I can only offer Team Rocket my intelligence in the field."

Giovanni cracked a smile. "Very well, then. I will take you for your offerings alone. I watched the recordings the lowly Beta Squad made of your mech construction yesterday. Would you be willing to demonstrate the finished product?"

"Of course. Though the sealant still hasn't cured entirely. That could take another twelve hours." He stepped aside to reveal the full mech. "I have innovated upon your old method of fueling mechs with miniature kantonium reactors. This one is entirely solar-powered, but it can also take the power of an Electric-Type Pokémon to regulate its systems. Electivire, climb into the mech and use Wild Charge!"

The ape followed orders, wrenching open the top and sliding down into the operator's compartment. Its two tails plugged into holes leading to the auxiliary generator, and with a burst of lightning power, the mech rumbled to life.

"That was shockingly fantastic, Electivire! Now pull the purple levers to move it forward, and use the robotic arm to snatch up Meowth there!"

It took a few seconds for Electivire to figure it out, but the mech surged forward speeding out of the warehouse and zooming even quicker once it soaked in the morning sunlight. James had to hustle to carry the camera and Giovanni out with it. Meowth screeched and spat, running for his life, but the arm swung down and scooped him up, clutching him fast and resisting every swipe of his sharpened claws.

"Now, for the best part. Electivire! Drop Meowth and use Wild Charge on the whole mech!"

The cat came crashing down to rest on the grass. Then tendrils of white-hot lightning shot in every direction. The air was soaked with static, shooting up in a mighty pillar of light from the top of the cylinder. A minute passed. Sealant dripped and a few solar panels dropped from their positions, shattering on the ground.

And yet the mech still stood strong.

"This Beta Squad is concerned with capturing a powered-up Pikachu. Technical troubles on their part have delayed and deferred their directive. But Electivire's strength surpasses Pikachu's, and do you see this mech blasting off?"

Volkner couldn't help himself. He grinned and petted Electivire's cheek when it stepped down out of the mech to crouch beside him.

Giovanni, now projected onto the cylinder, clapped his hands in approval. "It's brilliant, Marcell. And you're completely new to Team Rocket. I say with your competence, you're fit to join our highest rank of engineers, in Elite Class. Does that sound intriguing to you? Being Elite?"

Volkner's eyes widened. His heart jerked, and he coughed. "Elite Class… I would get to set my own agenda…"

"You would, yes. Elite Class engineers work closely with Team Rocket executives."

"Sir, I would be honored to join Elite Class."

The Rocket Boss nodded. "I'm sure you would be very honored. But for now, I want you to join Beta Class and further prove your talents. You will assist those agents with their missions. Maybe a competent engineer will fill out the objectives on their mission log. Years overdue, I should say…"

Volkner's shoulders tensed a bit, but he nodded. "Whatever you say, sir. I'll join Beta Class."

"Splendid. I'll have you sent a uniform right away. Along with the parts for more of those solar-powered mechs. Now, you three, inform him of all your duties and learn from him. Headquarters out."

The projection vanished.

"Team Rocket didn't make me Elite, guys..."

"Chin up, Marcell. You're Elite in our hearts," said James.

"Yeah, don't call me that outside of Rocket stuff. It's not a funny nickname."

"Giovanni, you can't be serious. Would you really put him in Elite Class?" Matori snapped from the dark corner of the office.

The Rocket Boss closed his eyes and massaged the raised veins of his temples. "Certainly not right away. While he's with the buffoons in Beta Class we can monitor him from a safe distance. We must find out if he actually intends to aid Team Rocket, or if he's a spy sent by the Sinnoh League, with the blackout scandal acting as a cover-up."

"So then, you really believe Marcell's true identity is…"

"Hush, Matori. Don't question the obvious. Instead, you can prepare the Matori Matrix and plot a course for Sunyshore City in the Sinnoh Region. Then stand by. There's a real Elite we still need to eliminate before it's completely defenseless…"

~N~

They absolutely do just have plasma rifles lying around. I watched the Amaura and Aurorus episode today and it's hilarious watching James run around with that thing.

I love love love the etymology of Pokémon characters' names, especially with Legends: Arceus dropping ancestor easter eggs everywhere. Flint's grandma is even named for Perilla frutescens just like him! Zisu is the Chinese pronunciation of the common name "shiso," and Ōba is a green-leafed cultivar — a descendent, if you will! And her hair looking like Lopunny's ears, oh lord I groaned when I realized that. I now headcanon that Flint descends from a long and respected line of Lopunny trainers but he is a funnie man with fire name.

Anyway, Volkner's name Denzi comes from kanji meaning "electromagnetism" and denjiso, the local name for Marsilea quadrifolia. So "Marcell" is Marsilea + solar cell or storm cell. Plus here he's becoming a shady version of his former self, a la "Meet Marcell Toing." XD (There's an in-story reason for the name, too. Just wait…)

Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net February 6th, 2022. Reviews are Elite!