25.
Running in Bibbers
A few hours earlier…
Candice begged to wear a different uniform. Ice users didn't wear black, she said. People would think she was scary in black. And she wasn't scary. She was the nicest and prettiest of all the Sinnoh Gym Leaders. Just look at Volkner, she said. Without that jacket, Volkner would only dress in black and industrial gray, and that made him look sleepy and irritable, with only his close friends knowing he didn't bite. A palette really could affect one's mood — she was into that psychology. And Flint was into crystals, she said, and manifesting, and if she wanted to have snacks with Flint on the couch in the penthouse again then every little message to the cosmos was critical.
"Black is Alpha protocol. Obedience is critical," said Matori.
"Then let me wear a skirt at least. I once saw a female agent wearing a super short skirt!"
"Impractical. Return to your seat, Agent Icicle."
Matori would make a terrible Gym Leader, Candice thought. There was no mystery to her. No hint of intrigue. No sense of unseen strategy. She was as practical as possible, starting with the black uniform and ending with her blasé taste in male accomplices.
Onboard Matori's exclusive aircraft, "Agent Icicle" sat next to a broad-shouldered leg-jiggling goon who probably huffed his own deodorant to wake up in the morning. Two more stood up front piloting the blocky thing, while a fourth in glasses sat so still in his seat across the aisle she wasn't sure if he was even alive. These were goons, Matori told her, and not grunts, because grunts were Team Rocket's fodder — an embarrassing class all their own, and Alpha Class demanded nothing but calculated excellence.
"What about Marcell? Couldn't I wear a belt on breeches like him and the guys? The bibs are hard to move in."
"Stop mentioning that Inflated Beta," Matori hissed in annoyance.
Candice heard this numerous times. But whenever she stopped mentioning Marcell, the goons would start. According to the goons, Marcell was one crackling crime away from climbing to Elite Class, where they hoped he'd assemble a squad from below and impart the secret of his superpowers. Matori overheard this conversation. She was a secretary. She heard everything. And for wishful thinking she threw them off the aircraft to dangle from a rope over the open ocean until their screams fell to raw-throated whimpers.
They were descending now. Matori was seated on an elevated platform at the back of the helm to supervise, and her command brought the aircraft's four upright propellers slowing and the blocky body rumbling as it came to rest in a forest clearing marked by a blinking red pylon stuck in the ground. That was grunt work — setting up the pylons so the Alphas could arrive in style.
Candice took a deep breath as her heartbeat outweighed the craft's diminishing vibrations. She hadn't dared cross her legs on the ride. They were still asleep, owing to the bibbers wrinkling without give beneath the gray boots squeezing around her knees. The red R covered the breast of her jacket, zipped up to the collar in the back. Her gray gloves reached her elbows. Her hair was tied into a neat round bun behind the black beret.
Nude lipgloss only! No glitter! And the only excuse she could make if pictures got out was that she'd been promised she could see Flint. She was rescuing Flint. Flint was alive. He had to be alive. She hadn't felt him die. But then again, she hadn't been paying attention.
This is what it means to be a Gym Leader! In a pinch? Throw a punch!
Flint wouldn't want me getting in danger for his sake.
But she's dumb, right? The Rockets are all dumb. That's why they haven't taken over the world yet.
"Agent Icicle. Be responsible. We've reached our destination. Disembark."
"Sir!" barked Candice, too loudly.
She jumped out of her seat and ran gracelessly to the hatch, already open and folded down into the dirt. The bibber pants were riding up in the back, and the beret wasn't sitting right. It needed pins. But that was a problem for another time, as Candice planted her feet beside those of the glasses goon (he was alive after all) and the three other men. Their fists were clenched at their sides. Their spines bent inward, their chests puffed out, their chins went high and brows went pinched.
Matori paced before them, her own uniform immaculate. She knuckled her glasses so they sat straight with the bandage still across her left cheek. The sunset flared off the lenses, painting a tiny yellow halo on the hull of the craft. Then she folded her hands behind her back, lifting her nose to scrutinize even the inch of asymmetry in Candice's feet.
"I apologize for the lack of a briefing," said the sneasely little woman. "Security was salient. Rest assured the grunts who marked this location were dealt with, and each of you has been provided an appropriate alibi. As you may be aware I went AWOL shortly after the destruction of the Vermilion Gym. I am directly disobeying orders by launching this mission, especially without executive approval. But make no mistake. Team Rocket has my full devotion."
Candice felt shifting beside her. Or maybe she was shifting. Matori was Alpha of the Alphas — an entirely glitterless girlboss — but even she received commands from the top. Self-direction was reserved for Elite agents only. Except now everyone was into renegading. Matori herself had said so. Because the big boss liked it when Marcell took the initiative. Or… that didn't make any sense. Why would Matori imply that…
Oh, she's got a huge crush on Marcell! Candice realized, a strained smile tugging at her lips.
And then her mind was all over the place. Would they go together? Matori and Marcell? Had they met in person already? Did he know how she got the hand-shaped burn? What would the meet cute even look like? How would the kiss happen!? An electric kiss, that's what it would be. His heart would be a knotted ball of energy, spiking when she got too close. She'd be practical. Punchy. Pulling him in by the shoulders and shoving her lips onto his with as much passion as a staple gun plunging zinc into plywood.
And his face would be… his face… What did his face look like? Without the burning eyes and veins. Without the supernatural. Candice drifted back to that tense meeting in the super-cold mist. She'd touched him, and heard his voice, but got no clear view of him before he peeled away the human shell. He seemed shaky and thin. His voice, when he finally did speak, was focused anger — a tenor, crackling, yet darkened. Brassy-golden. Kind of like Volkner's, she thought, but changed somehow. Wait, Volkner had been in Vermilion too, hadn't he? No, that was Rotom's mistake. Just the maintenance worker, after Marcell attacked. Or…
"Agent Icicle," Matori snapped. "We're moving."
Now they were marching on ahead through a tangle of shedding September trees, occasionally throwing commands to their Pokémon and clearing the way. Matori had her Dark-Type Alolan Meowth perched on her shoulder, while Skuntank, Purugly, and Toxicroak kept away the hordes of glowing-eyed Ariados and Starly with only their fangs and claws in view. Candice called out Glaceon. She had the other Eevee evolutions tucked away too, but they weren't always interested in listening. Volkner's Jolteon had already bitten her with staticky fangs when she tried to pet its spikes. Flint's cuddly Flareon was shedding cinders.
"Sir? Do you think you could explain our route again?" Candice asked. "I got a little distracted back there."
Two of the goons snickered. Matori's face was anything but friendly as she turned around and saw how far behind Candice lagged.
"I can't explain again. That would compromise critical intel."
"But… huff… who's even listening way out here with all these bugs? Sorry I'm not a spy every day."
"We're not spies. We're Agents of the New World Order."
She was nice enough to halt and let Candice catch up this time, but there came no smile. Not like back in Vermilion, when that hand-shaped burn needed aloe.
"Be happy I'm not asking more of you," Matori said then.
Candice bit her lip, wincing at the waxy taste of nude gloss.
"You realize the broken furnace at Headquarters could be fixed at any time, but there's a reason these uniforms are made for all types of weather. Sometimes it's better to let the heat keep rising until we really need an engineer."
With two fingers, the Agent of the New World Order tapped her bandaged cheek. It made a crinkly sound, like the scales were sloughing off beneath the gauze.
She was starting to wonder if "seeing Flint" could be her only excuse. Yes, maybe, if Matori compared him to a broken furnace and everyone else thought he was a pile of black glass and ashes. (Police wouldn't declare, but the media called it, Candice saw, the last time she was allowed to look at her phone. Thanks to the grifters, Diantha had canceled her latest World Coronation battle to make a public statement once and for all she was not old enough to be la mère biologique de Monsieur Périlla. Although she sent her condolences, and wore a vermilion headscarf for solidarity.)
But an AWOL vacation wasn't warranted if the guide was a criminal with a crush on the thing that did Vermilion. Not when the thing that did Vermilion was still at large, and Snowpoint was out of a protector.
Oh, Snowpoint will be fine. It's too cold. Nobody goes there. So Candice scoffed inside, nearly tripping over a log. Not a log. The chunky body of a Bidoof! It grunted and rolled over, curling inward. Candice was still behind the others, but she knelt quickly to apologize for kicking it and settling it in a soft patch of moss.
One last burst of breath (and bit of chafing) and she was behind the goons one final time. Tromping through the trees was over. Now Matori's Meowth scratched away the last brambles and leaf litter and the space ahead was clear and smelled of autumn mud. Fishy air sank beneath the setting sun and settled in soft ripples of green water lapping at sand.
They had reached a lakefront. The wind was calm today, and the sleek black fishing boat moored to a sunken wooden dock was marked discreetly with a red R bobbing on the transom. Without instruction, the goons climbed in, strapping on matching black life vests around their necks and chests. Now those were totally impractical, Candice thought. Who was going to see black-on-black in a rescue? Did they change color when inflated?
"Take a seat," said the leg-jiggling goon, but the boat was only eighteen feet long, and there were only enough seats installed for four of them. She was forced to sit on the floor next to him again, and this time he kneeled, rolling his boots behind until one jabbed her in the bottom.
Within moments, Candice's hands were freezing. One flew to her forehead, holding down the black beret (Pins!) and the other got splashed when the goon driving wrenched the wheel and took a mighty turn out of the bay and onto the open lake. The motor whirred. The bow lifted and bounced on shuddery waves. Matori sat tall in the seat up on the bow's platform, watching the green-gray rippling like a vigilant Staraptor. The map on the screen of the electronic depth finder was flashing and pinging. The boat had been this way before briefly, but now it diverged from an earlier course, traveling along over deep sandbars and climbing underwater altitude.
"STOP!" Matori commanded after a brutal ten minutes of fish spray. The carpet was soaked, and the nude gloss was caking.
The driving goon gently pulled the lever back to resting. The boat slowed until the waves pooled back in behind and gave it one last push forward into open water. Now the treeline was miles behind them, and the opposite horizon was nothing but a line of green meeting brightening gold. At last, it was evening.
"Trim the motor all the way," Matori barked then, and this was done, the low droning and dripping of propellers cut off by a screech when it reached its banking point. "Equip," she said, and from the rod compartments each of the goons withdrew shiny black weapons. These they clicked and twisted and loaded with pellets and locked and perched on their shoulders. Only common Rocket net guns, but no Sinnoh Gym Leader could recognize them as such!
One goon gestured to "Agent Icicle," but Matori shook her head. No net gun for the newbie, and she was fine with that. Not that she knew what to do with herself otherwise. Ever since the hotel lobby bathroom she'd been following along and trying to keep her mouth shut. In dark tunnels beneath Vermilion City. In the back of a van that reeked of smoke and cooking grease. Struggling into a sweaty used polyester uniform in public restrooms on cold, scum-flooded beaches, locked doors picked with wires or exploded with miniature pipe bombs. All marked with a capital R. Not that anyone explained the reason. And maybe that was the point, said the forever-cold part of her soul. Ignorance exchanged for ignorance. Distrust for distrust. And in criminal business, no one is the wiser.
"The Master Ball," Matori cut, gloved hand grasping.
"Sir," said the biggest goon, and produced a fireproof lockbox from the back of the starboard rod compartment, clicking open both hinges and lifting the cover to reveal a Poké Ball resting within molded foam. It was a purple Poké Ball, with two red gemlike bumps shining on either side of its upper hemisphere. Between these, just above the button, was a small white capital M.
"It will catch without fail, but only as a last resort," the sneasely woman cautioned.
"What should I do?" Candice asked, and instantly wished she hadn't. She'd been putting it off, limiting her own 'contributions.' What was this? Help Matori with her mission, see Flint. Was this helping? What was helping?
Matori didn't respond. She was tapping her thumbs on the screen of a Rotom Phone, the corners of her mouth curling slightly in annoyance.
"I can't get service."
"Sir," said the glasses goon, "At just after five this morning Marcell destroyed the province's 5G tower, likely as part of his mission. We're in a deadzone."
"Damn him."
The glasses goon was rapidly clicking the keys of his laptop now. "RocketSpot satellite went online an hour ago, but bandwidth is compromised. My guess is it's been hijacked by the protest in Oreburgh City."
"Localize. That protest was rumored to host the Hokulani Hacker with Clemont Meringue tailing."
"Already done. Central IP relocating every 0.03 seconds."
"Why did he need to take out the cell tower? His mission was to kill the Gym Leader and recover the Rocket Bombs."
"Sir, would he really do it?" asked the leg-jiggling goon. "If the rumors are true, that is. And we're specifically targeting Gym Leaders—"
"No reason anymore to act like there's ambiguity. He came to our aid willingly, greed and grudges guiding him. If that plasma's melted his neurons enough he's either our greatest weapon or our biggest mistake. Either way I don't trust him to follow a single order. And I fully expect Giovanni to underestimate his capacity for evil."
Now the goons were interested. They looked to their squad boss with glinting eyes and goofy grins.
"He wouldn't betray us at this point, would he?" asked the skinny goon who drove the boat. "As long as Team Rocket can give him what he wants."
"He doesn't know what he wants," Matori snarled, still tapping. "He's just a junkie. Team Rocket is too proud an organization to indulge him."
"The electric powers then," said the leg-jiggler. "Is that from us?"
"It's from him. With us."
"How's he doing it?"
"His file says he registered a Rotom in a research lab. He's letting it possess him."
"Genetically modified?"
"Shiny?" asked the boat driver.
"No it's not shiny. It has a taste for human impulse."
"Why aren't the rest of us doing that?" asked glasses goon. "Performance-enhancing Pokémon parasites?"
"Because none of us are him," forced Matori.
"Kinna sounds like you're just jealous," said Candice. "Unless…"
She trailed off, deciding once and for all to keep her mouth shut. The sun was beaming red on the horizon now, and her insides were beginning to twist.
"Unless what, Agent Icicle?"
"Nothing," Candice mumbled.
Matori looked up from her phone, gaze piercing right into Candice with a lot more force than whatever aesthetic board staple gun she'd sketched up earlier.
"What were you going to say?"
The wet carpet was very interesting. The nude gloss was nothing but a sticky film.
"I was… I was going to say I thought you might be interested in Marcell? Like you have a little crush on him? Because… I dunno… he's a much better villain than you, you kind of called him a sexy renegade when we first met. Nothing sexier than a crazy creative type. His sign isn't Scolipede, is it?"
"Hold her."
"SIR!"
Leg-jiggler and driver each seized an arm, and Candice was forced up into a seat, squeaking as Matori stood up tall before her, too-skinny silhouette blocking out the sun.
"Giovanni thinks the same way," came the vinegar rasp. "I resent the man, so I must be obsessed with him."
"Well, no-no-no," Candice buffered. Her mind was buffering. "I meant it in… like a girl power way, like we can talk it out if you need to, but I understand maybe that wasn't the right thing to say, and that's why I wasn't going to say it. I just don't understand the situation very well, and I thought there might be something more I'm missing—"
"What you're missing should've been obvious to you a long time ago, Snowpoint Gym Leader. You and everyone else who's been blinded by his shine."
The corona shone brighter, redder. "You're lying," Candice said, but it was starting to make a lot more sense if she wasn't.
"You understand what's happened here, don't you?"
"No."
"Why do we call that man a renegade?"
"Because he's… committing crimes. Sporadically — he's not following your rules—"
Don't follow me, the note had said.
The blue jacket was left hanging in the closet.
I need to know how it works. I need to know now, and if I'm not allowed to do anything productive around here, then I need to know right now.
The Pokémon were left in their balls on the stand on the table in the guest bedroom, save for Electivire, which Visquez just happened to pluck off her attacker.
Thanks, Flint.
Flint and Volkner's battle scorched the beach, melting sand. With all their power, they razed and raged like it could be their last.
The gears are turning the wrong way in there. I can see them.
And of course, a tricky fox couldn't emulate a body perfectly unless it had a reference, but she'd been too drunk that night to realize.
Volkner…
"Volkner betrayed you," said Matori. "He said we could use his brain."
He wouldn't speak when she questioned him in the mist. Just refused. Like saying anything would betray his emotions too.
There's something I've always really admired about Volkner, Flint had said. He never has to feel if he doesn't want to.
And Candice believed it. Every word.
"Oh my God," she realized. "Oh my GOD!"
"Now that you mention it his sign is Scolipede. Unless he was lying in his file, but I don't think he's that sedulous about anything except machines. He betrayed you, Candice. Did you ever trust him?"
"No. Volkner didn't betray us," Candice argued, that knot inside growing tighter, chafing against her ribs. "He said he wanted to catch a Rotom. The League wouldn't let him. Flint wouldn't let him either, and he was already mad at Flint. So if he… He became someone else so he could have something to make him happy. And now he can't stop villaining!"
"Precisely. Which is a big pain for both of us."
"Then LET HIM AND FLINT GO!" Candice screamed, struggling hard against the four strong men holding both her arms and legs down to the worn leather boat seat.
"You said Flint believes in crystals and cards. Did he also tell you the legend of how Sunyshore spawns a mad genius every generation? I think we're justified in controlling Volkner's precious genius."
[Getting service! Beginning download of all the Flint videos!] buzzed Matori's Rotom Phone.
"Finally. Highest resolution, please."
"Flint?" Candice whimpered.
"You wanted to see him, didn't you? Well, now you can see him."
Her stomach froze. Her heart was a cold stone closing up her throat. Even her tears were icy, though not with the same magic as Flint's warm embrace.
She felt the goons grab her shoulders. They seized her head and forced her eyes open as the Rotom Phone hovered before her, cycling through a series of clips.
Flint shirtless and draped across an ottoman in Sunyshore Tower before it burned. The fiber was melting around his fingertips. His eyes were cinder-gray and hollow. His back was marred by three long cuts, with the crimson claws hovering in the corner. Grasping. Steaming.
Flint in nothing but gym shorts lying on a single wrinkled white sheet on a concrete floor, eyes clenched shut and body writhing as a Gengar phased itself in and out of his stomach. An unheard name dribbled from his lips while his brain was tangled up in nightmares.
All of Flint now tied up in the same sheet in some kind of laboratory. His ankles were zip-tied to the doors of a flask cabinet. Offscreen a team of Water-Type Pokémon used Bubble Beam and Water Gun on his face until he was choking and spluttering.
"You're hurting him," she whispered, tears blurring the screen into a red more beautiful than the sunset.
"So we can hurt you," Matori sneered. "Your pain is just the bait we needed."
BEEEEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!
The glasses goon glanced at his laptop. "Life energy detected. Huge Psychic waves coming in!"
"It's here!" Matori gasped. "CATCH IT!"
Candice had hardly any time to see what "it" was before the boat driver cut off her life vest with a switchblade and the leg-jiggler scooped her up to toss her over the side.
A cold shock jolted through her whole body as she hit the water and sank. Instantly she flailed, struggling to keep buoyant when the bibbers were still strapped tightly around her shoulders beneath the jacket. Her head bobbed up and she cried out with frigid water blurring her vision.
Behind the boat, the water splashed and rippled until a small and delicate creature burst through to the surface, floating up until it could survey the whole situation. Four pink frills shimmered on its head. Two long, feathery tails waved like calm tides. Two huge golden eyes widened and darkened.
"MESPRIT!" Matori screeched. "LEGENDARY BEING OF EMOTION!"
SKIK! SKIK!
Two nets wrapped around Mesprit's tails.
SKIK!
Another hit it right in the chest, taking it down to the water. It dove down and reemerged at the front of the boat, rising and glowing with pink Psychic energy.
SKIK! SKIK SKIK SKIK!
Candice was sucking down the numbing tastes of fish and leafrot. The boots were like stones. The fabric was soaking and sinking, and her muscles were starting to burn. She kicked in vain back toward the boat, hands slipping on the wet walls while the rocking waves threw her back.
Above her, the agents were big black blurs shooting at the glittering halo of Mesprit. All were screaming. Matori's voice came out raw. Steeling her legs, she managed to float up enough to grab the gunwale with one arm, but when she tried pulling herself up she slipped again. The flashing sunset splintered on the wrong side of the surface. Bubbles broke it further.
Clipped fingernails clawed at the boots and slipped, while cold poured past what seams were loose against the skin. Beneath the black uniform was nothing but darkness. The boat was rocking stronger now, sending ripples over her head and pushing her deeper down.
Then a dark sphere floated up between her eyes. Before it reached the surface she snatched it, wrenching her body up to breathe once more. She coughed and whined at the water still punching her chest. The Poké Ball remained clutched in trembling white fingers. She bashed in the button in with her forehead and watched in awe as Glaceon coalesced out of blue. The creature squealed, and Candice hugged it to her chest as it squirmed.
"RELOAD!" squawked Matori. "MEOWTH! USE BITE!"
"Skuntank! Use Shadow Ball!"
"Poison Jab, Toxicroak!"
"Glaceon. Use… Blizzard," Candice wheezed.
Her partner's fur was already sticking up and hardening into icy needles. It howled and spat out a barrage of snow crystals, instantly freezing a large patch of the water around them. Then it hopped up out of its trainer's arms onto the newly formed iceberg. Candice kicked over and slapped her elbows on solid ice. The clear-white mass rocked with the sound of crunching snow, but it was more stable than the boat, floating in place long enough for her to clamber up and fall to hands and knees. Her breath came out ragged. Strings of snot poured from her nose, and Glaceon licked her raw hands with a tongue like winter-rusted steel.
"Me! MEMEME!"
The legendary Mesprit was singing — or crying — as enough nets got tangled in its tails and it was trapped, falling to the water with a splash. With the long-handled fishing net Matori scooped it out and slammed it into the soaked gray carpet of the bow platform. She seized the Master Ball from its box. Thin fingers forced it through rubber-slicked cords and sealant-black strings toward the Pokémon's body.
"Don't fight me. Don't fight — Goons! Hold it down!"
"SIR!"
The four of them clamped their hands down around the nets. But as soon as their gloved fingers brushed the wriggling velvet fur they went limp. With blank stares and loose lips all four bodies slumped over, rolling off the platform and onto the wettest part of the carpet. A faint pink glow pulsed and faded from their cheeks. They then refused to move. Their Pokémon backed away afraid.
"You took away their emotions," Matori breathed. "They're useless. They don't care about anything. Yes, that's exactly what I need you for!"
"You don't need Mesprit for anything!" Candice cried from the iceberg.
Matori huffed. She stood up and ripped off the bandage in a single scratchy stroke. The shadow of a large broad hand still clutched her face as if it couldn't let go.
And then her body emitted that same strange pink aura. In the dimming light her skin was ablaze. Matori screamed. She fell to her knees, sobbing and punching the cold wet carpet. A guttural howl sliced the air as Mesprit tore her heart right open. A spike of pain shot through her stomach. All her worst feelings were boiling to the surface at once.
"I HATE WORKING FOR GIOVANNI! HE TREATS ME LIKE TRASH, DESPITE EVERYTHING I'VE DONE FOR HIM! AND AS SOON AS VOLKNER CAME IN HE TOSSED ME ASIDE, FORCING ME INTO TAKING CARE OF THAT FURNACE AND MAKING FUN OF ME! AS IF I HAVEN'T LOVED HIM FOUR LONG YEARS!"
"Spicy," Candice whispered, forcing a cold smile despite the ice still creeping beneath the bibbers.
"YOU THINK I CAN'T BE A PRINCESS LIKE YOU!? HAVING SNACKS IN THAT PENTHOUSE WITH SUSPENDER CINDERELLA LIKE HE LEFT HIS FLIP-FLOP IN YOUR HOT TUB!?"
"NO YOU CAN'T, GIRLIE, BECAUSE YOU LAUGHED ABOUT MY BOYFRIEND'S TORMENT AND THEN THREW ME INTO A LAKE!"
"YOUR BOYFRIEND BURNED OFF HALF MY FACE WITH HIS GRIDDLE HANDS!"
"WHOSE FAULT WAS THAT, BIDOOF!? 'CAUSE IT WASN'T HIS!"
"YOU SINNOH LEAGUE FASHION DISASTERS ARE GOING TO PAY FOR—"
"NO! NO, YOU AREN'T GONNA CHANGE THE SUBJECT! NOT WHEN FLINT'S LITTLE BROTHER HAS TO WRITE A EULOGY!"
"OH, GO PUT ON YOUR RAIHAN BALACLAVA AND CRY ABOUT IT! WITH MESPRIT'S POWER I'LL SUCK ALL FLINT'S FEELINGS OUT AND THEN TAKE VOLKNER'S TOO!"
"VOLKNER'S RAICHU COULD BENCH YOUR SKINNY BUTT!"
"SKUNTANK! SHADOW BALL THAT SNOWPOINT CITY SUGAR COOKIE!"
"JOLTEON!" Candice commanded. She stood shakily and swung out her arm with stiffened fingers. "YOUR OWN SHADOW BALL! AIM FOR THE FRONT OF THE BOAT!"
Jolteon couldn't be any angrier, especially with the increasing shrillness of both women's voices. With its fur standing up in spikes it jumped up and barked out a crackling purple-black orb. The attack slammed into the water with a terrible SPLORSH, knocking the boat back ten feet and pushing Matori over on her side.
But this was a mistake. The Master Ball slipped from her fingers. In half a second the button connected with a portion of Mesprit's tail that had managed to wriggle out of the net. With one last cry the legendary Being of Emotion turned into a puff of red mist and disappeared inside the capsule.
Shake.
Shake.
Shake.
DING!
With that impenetrable miracle of engineering the legend was caught. And now free of the spell, (at least partly,) Matori picked up the ball and clutched it to her breast. Now the tears were quiet, and as she stepped over the bodies of her apathetic goons she served Candice one last brutal sneer.
"Glaceon! Blizzard at the boat!"
"You won't win that way."
"Then Blizzard the whole lake! Jolteon, Thunderbolt!"
In a storm of glittering diamond dust the water went cracking and clear. Candice sent her left arm forth like Volkner would, flat hand slicing through the frozen atmosphere.
"Jol-TEON!"
"Bye Candice," Matori said, hopping over the edge of the boat and standing on the ice with her arms spread wide. "Hope you freeze in that outfit."
"Wait. No, JOLTEON DON'T!"
Jolteon roared, its fur erupting into static. The thunderbolt arced over the ice in one huge blinding streak. When it faded, the other woman was gone, her only trace a faint twinkle among the first stars of evening.
"Damn Rockets. She's still dumb. They're all still dumb."
Candice felt dumb.
~N~
Oh my goodness! So much stuff since I went AWOL to graduate college!
—Levincia is covered in solar panels, implying Volkner put them there. Or someone else did and they function way better than Sunyshore's with the constant lightshow.
—Paldean Gym Leaders are not allowed to decorate or renovate their own gym spaces. Which is because Gamefreak had no time to make this game but let's be honest it's Volkner's fault. ;)
—Got caught up on the Netflix episodes and wtf anime writers!? Leon's abs are given more screentime than Flint?
—I decided I didn't need the Prussia nendoroid so I guess I don't need the new "Friends in Sinnoh" card with smiling Volkner either.
—Team Rocket might be leaving with Ash, which means that "wine bottle poetry" I wrote about James' leg hair back in February is now a historical artifact.
—But Ash's official departure actually gives me SOOOO much material for the original novel I'm working on… that which lies beyond the end of an era… Those Who Dwell in Empty Rooms… Welcome to the planet Lampo! (And yes, the very first chapter has a character based on Volkner who's butthurt about bike racks. XP) If anybody wants to chat about writing or Pokémon schtuff or even knitting I just got my degree and am looking for new friends — Noodz #6066 on discord!
Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net December 27th, 2022. Thank you so much for a whole dang year of this fic! It's been so much fun! (DO NOT REPOST ON OTHER SITES.)