A/N - Thanks for all reads, reviews, faves and follows! =D I really appreciate each and every one! I'm glad so many are enjoying this story, and I'm really enjoying re-writing it!

16 - The Clean Place

Tinker sat with his arms folded across the table, resting his head on them while deep in thought. The egg lay in a make-shift nest before him - a jumble of blankets and a few of the fluffy feathers he'd harvested from its old nest. He'd managed to get it beating again, but was the nest actually warm enough?

The door clicked open behind him and his ear pricked up as Skipper shuffled into the room.

"Ye still watchin' that thing?" he asked.

Tinker nodded and let out a small sigh. "Yes. But I fear a few blankets and a pawful of feathers can't hold a candle to a mother."

Skipper stopped behind him and placed his flippers on the back of his chair. "Ye ever thought o'actually usin' a candle?"

"It might sound like a good idea, but I fear it'll just set the blanket on fire."

"Ah, right ye are. An' that won't do th'egg much good, aye?"

Tinker pushed himself up and scratched his nose. "It's a wonder the mother actually left it. Perhaps they were killed by the poison?"

"Perhaps, aye." Skipper clicked his tongue. "Ye could always ask one o'th'mothers 'ere to warm it for ye? Although I'm not sure how she might react… I mean… 'tis a dragon, Tink."

"It has actually crossed my mind to ask one of the mother 'mon here," said Tinker. "There is a ninetales who has two pups of her own. But I think few pokemon would see this the way I do."

"Right enough." Skipper raised his flippers in a shrug. "I still dinnae ken why ye wanna hatch an altaria egg. Although ye did make a few good points. Perhaps ye can sway th'Elites or somethin'? 'Cos if ye dump this egg on someone an' they find out what it is, they could send all o' New City into an uproar."

Tinker stared down at the bundle on his desk. "That's what I fear."

The thought had crossed his mind several times already. More than once he'd questioned his own sanity. Sure, all baby pokemon hatched innocent. But it would still grow up to be a dragon. One of the very pokemon types the Outcasts had been warring against. The egg would hatch as a swablu and believe the first pokemon it saw was its mother or father. Like any other hatchling, it would ideally grow up with its own parents beliefs and morals. If the Outcasts could raise it to be on their side, they would be exploiting one of the Darkness' weaknesses. Dragon-type moves were effective against their own typing. Tinker and the rest of New City could raise the little hatchling into a formidable warrior who would strife to wipe out the Darkness and bring peace back to Estellis. With no ice-types left in the world, the Outcasts had been at a severe disadvantage. So having such a pokemon on their side could turn the tide of battle in their favour.

But would anyone else see it that way?

Tinker flopped back into his seat with a sigh. "I'm taking a massive risk here, aren't I, Skip?"

"Aye, that ye are." Skipper folded his arms over the back of Tinker's chair. "But ye heart's in th'right place. Ye've got New City's best interests in mind, and ye rescuin' a defenceless egg."

Tinker opened his eyes to stare at the blankets. Part of it had fallen away, revealing the egg's creamy surface. He quickly fixed it and sat back in his seat.

"But ye can't keep it a secret forever, Tink," Skipper explained. "'Cos once it hatches, it's gonna grow up fast like any other tyke 'ere. It won't be long before it's runnin' round New City wantin' t'play wi' th'other pokemon. Sooner or later, ye gonna 'ave t'come clean."

Tinker pinched the bridge of his muzzle. "You're right. I can't just hatch it without telling those who live here." His paw flopped into his lap. "I'll call a meeting of the Guild Elites. I'll come clean and tell them about the egg, then we'll take it from there."

"An' if they want it gone?" Skipper asked.

"What else can I do? If they believe the pokemon inside will grow up to be a massive threat…" Tinker gave a weak shrug and stared at the bundle of blankets, "then I have no choice. I'll have to destroy it."

...

Cleo groaned and cracked her eyes open, only to be greeted by dazzling lights that shocked pain into her head. She clasped her paws over her face and rolled to the side, letting out a long hiss. She tried again, parting her claws to peer at her surroundings. It hurt less, but the light was still dazzling. As it faded, she could make out a pristine white floor that lead up to a barrier of iron bars, criss-crossed so the smallest of pokemon would have a hard time squeezing their way out.

Her limbs felt like lead. What was in those blow darts? She flopped onto her back and sat up slowly, licking her lips. Her mouth felt like a desert.

"Where am I?" she croaked, rubbing at her throat.

"The Clean Place."

Those words hadn't been said with as much joy and innocence as when she'd first heard them. She turned her head to see Mischief sat against the wall, looking as rough and beaten up as she felt. His right eye was puffy and he seemed unable to stop fussing at it.

"The Clean Place…" Cleo mumbled as she looked out through the bars. Beyond was a white room, the walls dazzling as they reflected the artificial light above them. Cleo had never seen lights like them, and she was beginning to wish they'd go away. Several more cells made up the walls of the room, with curious faces peering out at her and her party. Their low voices became clearer, more distinct, soon replacing the throbbing that Cleo had assumed was all in her head.

She shuffled back against the cold wall, giving the cell another glance. Spark lay beside her, motionless but still breathing, while Harlequin lay in the middle of the cell looking as confused as Cleo was.

"It's a Heretic lab," said Cleo.

Mischief turned to look at her. "What's a lab?"

"A laboratory," Cleo said, as though it would be more helpful. Then she added, "It's where they do experiments, I'm guessing. I don't know why Heretics have them." She rubbed her face with both paws. "Although the pieces are starting to fall into place."

"So this is where I'm from?" Mischief waved a paw at the outside. "Did I… did I work here?"

Cleo snorted and gave a pained grimace as she adjusted her sore body into a more comfortable position. "I think it's safe to say you were on the same side of the bars as we are now."

A strange grating noise filled the cell. Cleo turned to look at Harlequin. They appeared to be laughing, their eyes closed with amusement, but the noise was more akin to a strangled cough.

"A test subject." Harlequin fixed one eye on Cleo and pushed themselves up until they were sitting rather uncomfortably. "Makes a lot of sense."

Mischief leant forwards on his knees. "What do you mean it makes a lot of sense?"

"Ignore her." Cleo waved a paw at him and turned to address the smirking zorua. "Do you know what they do here?"

Harlequin's smirk widened and they tilted their head to the side. "The Heretics have loads of labs like this across Estellis, but what they do is kept secret."

"So you've no idea?"

"Haven't the foggiest."

Cleo folded her paws in her lap and gazed out at the laboratory. None of them knew for certain what the Heretics did, but she was starting to get a good idea. With Mischief's recognition of it, the Heretic's comments and that tyranitar… It was most likely to do with that pokerus strain. Cleo flinched at the memory of that behemoth. Enraged, crazed. The look in its eyes was identical to Mischief's when he lost control. Did they really create those pokemon here? Turning living things into weapons? Her blood boiled at the thought of it.

Whatever they were doing, she feared they were about to find out very soon and the answer wouldn't be leaving these walls.

"No." Spark shuffled beside Cleo and raised a paw in dismissal. "No more dancing…"

Satisfied her friend was okay, Cleo turned to address Mischief. "How much of that battle do you remember?"

Mischief lowered his paw from his swollen eye to answer, but he was cut off as the double doors across the room swung open.

"Oh, I doubt he remembers much of it!" The speaker almost purred with satisfaction.

Cleo let out a gasp and tried to push herself to her feet. A male meowstic approached the cell, strutting with his paws tucked behind his back. He looked over his prisoners and finally settled on Mischief.

"I think you'll find," said Rio, "that this whimsicott suffers from some degree of memory loss."

Mischief perked up at that and his eyes widened. "You have my memories?"

"No, you fool. You had them removed, although you won't remember that." The Heretic gave Mischief an unsettling smirk. "Pity." He then turned to Cleo who sat with her mouth flapping open like a beached goldeen. "You seem surprised. At a loss for words. What's the problem?"

Cleo shook her head sharply and fixed him with an amber stare. "You're a meowstic."

"Yes. Well done." He clapped his paws.

"No, you… how?" she gasped. "I thought all meowstic were wiped out years ago. The fire… I only escaped by chance!"

"Well, there are two standing in this room so I guess you were wrong." He turned his attention to the other two pokemon.

"No, how?" Cleo demanded, turning frantic. "How did you escape that fire? Did anyone else?"

He fixed her with an intimidating glare. "I ran. I have legs, I used them."

"What, and you joined some Heretic lab?" Cleo spat. "Your family would be so proud."

Rio's eyes flashed dangerously, and Cleo found herself pressed against the wall by an invisible force. It was only brief, but enough to cause her aching bones to complain. She slid down the tiles onto her bottom as the meowstic turned back to Harlequin.

"Now," he said. "This is an interesting development. I tried to put you in a separate cell, but you seem rather attached to your friend here." He gestured to Cleo. "I imagine that's not by choice?"

Harlequin's canines poked out of their lips. "Not remotely."

"Very well. We'll have to leave you stuck in here for now." He gave the zorua a half-smile. "You can explain your situation to Enigma later, when he gets here."

Harlequin's blue eyes widened with fear and the fur prickled along their spine.

Rio turned his attention onto Mischief and tutted. "As for you, I would like to know how you lost our tracking device."

"We destroyed it," said Cleo.

"Oh?" The mewostic raised an eyebrow. "So you found it?"

"What is he talking about?" Mischief asked. "What's a tracking device?"

"It means you were being tracked," she explained, not taking her eyes off the male meowstic. "By these Heretics."

Mischief raised his paws in a weak shrug. "What for?"

Rio narrowed his eyes at Cleo. "How much do you know?"

Cleo kept her mouth shut, but all eyes in the room fixed on her. Save for Spark, who wiped a sleepy paw over her nose and rolled over.

"Cleo doesn't know anything," said Mischief. "If she did, she'd tell me."

"No. He's right." Cleo grimaced as a sour taste filled her mouth. This wasn't how she'd wanted him to find out. She sighed and rolled her head back against the wall. "Spark and I already know you're a Heretic."

Mischief stiffened then turned to examine his right shoulder. His face fell and his jaw went slack as he looked between it and Cleo.

The other meowstic chuckled and his face creased with laughter. He shook his head and placed a paw against the cell to steady himself. "Oh, so you found the mark as well as his tracking device?"

Mischief shook his head slowly. "So I'm a Heretic?!"

All amusement left Rio's face and he examined his claws. "Mm-hmm. Born and raised. You were actually a highly valued member of our program."

"You mean your wicked pokerus program?" Cleo spat.

Rio looked up with a start. "You know about that?"

"More than you'd expect," said Cleo. "We looted a vial of the stuff off some weavile in the Winding Woods and had it examined. We know you've been trading for it with the Shadow Lands."

"Really?" Rio's smirk returned and he tucked his paws neatly behind his back again. "You're not as informed as you might think, kitten. We've not been trading with the Shadow Lands. We've been trading with outlaws."

Cleo's mouth fell open. "Outlaws?"

"Yes. Outlaws. They get brushed under the rug by you Outcasts, don't they?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "You like to pretend they don't exist." He stood back from the cell then turned towards the door. "Well, I'd better go and prepare for our guest. I'll see all of you again soon."

The double doors swung shut behind him, blending back in with the immaculate white wall. No windows to show what was beyond it. Not a single glimmer of hope.

The cell was silent, save for the hushed voices of the pokemon in the cells surrounding them. They'd fallen silent during the meowstic's visit, and Cleo caught the odd string of discussion about their conversation. The tension in the air fell thick and heavy on Cleo, almost pressing her into the ground. She wanted to curl up and go to sleep, to wake up and have it all be nothing more than a bad dream.

"So you knew all along?" Mischief's voice was small and feeble. It stabbed at her like a dagger. "You knew all along and didn't tell me?"

Cleo tilted her head back against the cold wall. "I wasn't sure how you'd take it."

"Is there anything else you're not telling me?" he asked bitterly.

Cleo flinched and turned her face away from him. The can of wurmple was open. If she didn't tell him now, it would only make matters worse.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "You also have pokerus." When he didn't reply, she added, "It's a mutated strain that seems to make you lose control… and send you… well, mad."

"I'm not mad!"

She turned back to him, but he wouldn't meet her eye. "You know all those battles you have no memory of? There's a reason for that, and we believe this is why." She lifted a paw and shook her head. "Pokerus used to be a beneficial parasite that would aid those who have it to grow stronger than they would have otherwise. After a while, it would stop and the pokemon couldn't be infected by the same parasite twice. This strain, however… it goes beyond that. And rather than being a benefit, it turns whoever is suffering with it into…" She paused, searching for the right word.

"A monster?" Harlequin offered.

Cleo shot the zorua a glare. "Way to be gentle about it!"

Mischief's orange eyes glistened with tears and he shook his head at Cleo. "I'm a monster?"

"No!" Cleo dug her claws into her leg. "Look… I don't know what their plan is here. But whatever they were wanting to use you for, it isn't happening now. Okay? Not if I can help it."

Mischief turned pale and stared down at his paws. "Was it me?"

"Was what you?"

"Was it me who killed the noivern?"

Cleo was silent, but the longer she dragged it out the more his face seemed to fall as the truth sank in.

She closed her eyes and nodded. "Yes."

He covered his face with both paws and sank down against the wall.

"That's how we found out you can take down a dragon," Cleo explained.

"So there's a lot you've not told me?" he said. "Why? Don't you trust me?"

"Truthfully, Mischief, I find it hard to trust anyone," said Cleo. "At first, no. I didn't trust you. But… you're becoming a valuable friend."

Harlequin turned to examine the door to their cell. "A friend wouldn't lie."

"You're not helping!" Cleo snapped.

"I wasn't trying to." Harlequin fastened their jaws around the lock and gave it a hefty tug.

"I didn't lie," Cleo told Mischief. "I only kept that information from you because you had a lot to take in. How would you have reacted knowing all that at once? Because I'm worried it would have broken you, and seeing you like this only confirms my fears."

Mischief was silent and impossible to read with his arm flopped over his face.

Cleo shook her head slowly. "I will admit, part of me was worried that when you found out, you might rejoin the Heretics."

"And why would I do that?" he asked.

"Because it's where you're from," she answered. "You might have wanted to find out more about yourself, since you have no memories."

"You let me follow you when I was lost." He pushed himself up so he could look at her. "You gave me a friend. Why would I throw all that away?!" He paused and closed his eyes briefly. "I'm not your enemy!"

"I know that now," Cleo whispered.

"I hate to disturb this cushy moment," said Harlequin, "but you all seem to be unaware that our belongings have been taken."

Cleo looked down at herself, noticing for the first time that her satchel was missing. Her map, her Guild badge… she groaned and dragged a paw down her face.

"The bad news is I had picks in my bag," said Harlequin. "If I had them, I could get us all out of here in no time flat."

"Us?" Cleo ventured.

Harlequin's muzzle creased. "Of course! Given I'm attached to you, aren't I? I don't exactly have much choice."

"Why are you so desperate to get us out of here? Isn't this Enigma a friend of yours?"

"Under normal circumstances, yes. But I doubt he'll be very happy to find that not only have I failed my mission, I've been captured by Outcasts and now Heretics!"

Harlequin spun to face the door and attacked the lock with tooth and claw. The bars shook and reverberated with the zorua's frantic attempts to remove the lock.

A disgruntled groan came from Spark and she sat up, rubbing her large eyes with one paw and yawning widely.

"Can't a girl get some sleep around here?" She looked around at the cell and her brow furrowed. "Hang on… this isn't my bed."

"Oi, sparky!" Harlequin twisted to look at her. "Stick your whiskers in this lock and bust it open!"

Spark folded her arms and frowned at the zorua. "Not with that attitude."

Cleo lowered her muzzle into one paw. "Spark, forget the formalities. Just give it a try."

Spark mumbled something under her breath and hopped over to the lock. She craned her head back to look at it then looked up at Harlequin and tapped a foot impatiently.

"Too high," she said.

Harlequin's lip curled back and they tutted. They grabbed Spark by the scruff, lifting the flailing rodent to the lock. It went too quickly for Spark to retaliate. By the time the threat had registered, she was perched neatly on the top of the lock.

Spark smoothed out her fur and her cheeks spluttered with static. "Give a girl some warning, hey?"

"Just bust the lock open." Harlequin looked away from her, still snarling. "Be glad I didn't eat you, Snack Size."

Spark clenched her fists and the static flared up into a spiral of electricity. She caught Cleo's eye, and the meowstic shook her head slowly. Spark let out a sigh and peered over the edge of lock to examine the keyhole. She made a thoughtful noise and turned her head to stick her whiskers inside.

"All right, here we go," she said. "One lock, busted open in three, two, one!"

Electricity flew from her whiskers, then a look of surprise crossed her face. She pushed herself up from the lock and frowned down at it.

"Huh… Nothing's happening."

Harlequin roared and threw their head back, marching from the door. "Non-conductive! Great!"

Spark watched after the zorua as they curled up with their back to them as far away as the collar would allow. The dedenne hopped from her perch, landing on all fours, and stood before Cleo.

"So… Harlequin's riled, Mischief looks glum." Spark spread her paws in a shrug. "I might need filling in here."

...

Rio paced back and forth in his office, glancing from the lone window to spot any sign of his returning messenger. He'd sent the chatot out to find Enigma shortly after the whimsicott had been apprehended, and there was no sign of either of them yet. Rio was beginning to grow more and more anxious as his mind swirled with a million thoughts at once.

A light tap resounded from the door and Rio froze, his breath halting as he turned to face it.

The door cracked open and Tantrum poked his head through the gap. "You in here, boss?"

Rio let out the breath he'd been holding and sank back against the edge of his desk. "Oh. It's only you."

"Nice to see you too," the vigoroth muttered as he slipped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. "You seem restless. Guess Enigma ain't shown up then?"

"Not so much as a jingle." Rio glanced back to the window. "I'm not sure we're doing the right thing here, Tantrum."

Tantrum paled and flopped into Rio's desk chair. "Tell me you ain't havin' second thoughts?"

"I have reason for them." Rio cocked an ear, just on the off-chance Enigma was lurking somewhere. Nothing. "I think it's best we don't relinquish the whimsicott."

"But that's the reason Enigma's comin' here, ain't it?" Tantrum scoffed. "'Cos it killed Boomer."

Rio nodded but said nothing, glancing over the abundance of files adorning his walls.

"Come on, boss," Tantrum went on. "If you don't give up the whimsicott, Enigma's gonna wipe us all out! Hydreigon's steamed right now, ain't he? 'Cos that whimsicott took out his ace."

"And foiled our plans before we could get them off the ground," said Rio. "If Boomer had made it back to the Shadow Lands, the plan would be in motion. He'd go back there with information about Type18, but no one would know he was a ticking time-bomb set to go off during his next training session. A huge chunk of the Shadow Lands would be wiped out from that dragon alone!" Rio's claws dug into his pads as he clenched his fists. "I hadn't calculated Boomer would run into any of the weapons we unleashed. No one was tracking Boomer. He was sent to return to the Shadow Lands, and if anyone found a tracker on him they'd trace him back to us. They'd know that something was up. I made a fatal error, Tantrum. One I'm paying for now." He shook his head slowly and perched on the edge of his desk. "If we'd held back and not released those experiments… Boomer would have made it back."

"Like you said, you couldn't calculate that." Tantrum shrugged. "Were an unfortunate accident. But we can't keep that whimsicott. Not now Enigma's comin' back for it."

"But it took out a noivern, Tantrum," Rio explained. "We might have several Type18 candidates in our program, but that whimsicott is on a whole other level. If a pokemon has that much power, then imagine what it could do?! We could turn it into a weapon that could rival Project B!"

Tantrum spread his paws. "Or we could just infect another with Type18 and train it up. It'll take a little while but-"

Rio smacked his paw onto the desk, silencing the vigoroth. "We don't have much time, Tantrum. I've waited long enough for a chance like this!"

Tantrum dragged his claws down his face and sighed.

"Project B could wipe out half of Estellis alone," Rio explained. "So far, nothing else has shown as much power as that tyranitar. Until now. If that whimsicott is truly on the path to become a weapon like that, then we'd be an unstoppable force. Nothing here can stand a chance against Project B. That's why we've had to move it outside!"

"I know all that."

"Then why are you fighting this?" Rio asked. "You know what our plan is, and if we give up the whimsicott, it would be nothing more than a set-back."

"And if we hang onto it then we're as good as dead! That's a set-back if ever there was one!"

Rio closed his eyes and sighed. Tantrum was right, but he didn't want to admit it. "Something like this doesn't fall into our paws every day, Tantrum."

"No, but if we let Enigma take the whimsicott, then we'll be in Hydreigon's good books," Tantrum explained. "It'll cover us up for a bit longer, and-"

"And Hydreigon will know everything," said Rio. "He'll find out about Type18 and fight back. Start a war. Boomer's infection was meant to hinder that. He'd go off, and most of Hydreigon's armies - maybe even Hydreigon himself - will be wiped out. Tell me now that it's a good idea to send information back to him about Type18 with no other plan to fall back on?"

Tantrum opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut again.

Rio nodded. "You see where I'm coming from now?"

Tantrum shrugged and sank forward on the desk. "I suppose. Urgh, why can't things be simple?"

"Make preparations to start on Project C," Rio told him. "Grab the whimsicott and assess how quickly his pokerus infection is advancing. The faster we get a move on, the faster we can release the thing."

"And what are we gonna tell Enigma?"

"I'll think of a way to deal with him," Rio explained. "I'll tell him we lost the whimsicott or something, but he's free to take its friends and Harlequin."

Tantrum scratched his snout and looked up at Rio. "What's the deal with that zorua?"

"It seems he's a prisoner to the Outcasts." Rio slipped from his desk and chuckled. "I'm sure Hydreigon will be thrilled about that."

...

Review Replies:

Menir - Thanks for the review! Glad you're enjoying the re-write! =D

AdamFics - Harbinger stalks his prey, but he would have lost track of Enigma and Harlequin, especially since he decided to leave it a bit before trying to kill them again. He's a cautious individual, and he's less inclined towards face-to-face assault (hence dropping the tree to crash the ship). He also has no reason to leave the Moorlands Forest presently. As a nomad, he doesn't live anywhere, so he might linger for a bit where it's safe before moving on again when he feels like it. As for Harlequin, Tinker saw more use in using the assassin as a ransom. His logic is that, as one of Hydreigon's aces, one would think he'd think twice before risking the life of someone so useful to him. I can't say much about Spark this early on. This is a Gen 6 story, where back then the fairy-type was very new. Only time will tell if the Heretics discover she's part fairy!

Immortes - Thank you so much for your kind words! ='D I'm glad you're enjoying this!

Thanks so much everyone!

Please R&R! =D