Chapter 1: The Devil Wears a Blouse and Slacks

Beyond the mountains, in the shadow of the League, and half-sunk in its rocky womb lie the ruins of a young castle, built off the backs of slaves and miscarried by those who owned them. Its many towers reached at odd angles, their jagged parapets grasping at the sky in desperation, but they were tethered to failing foundations as the crevice gradually swallowed it like an arbok. Such fine masonry and architecture were never realized and N's castle, though an icon of evil, had a troubling beauty to it. The flying buttresses that no longer supported the base, the gothic windows of shattered stained glass, and the statues flanking every grand entrance hall were considered works of art, though no one ever spoke of who made it. They all knew Plasma employed stolen Pokémon.

Perhaps the grandest statue was the one that used to stand in the courtyard. Its fractured visage vaguely resembled Ghetsis if you leaned over to match the angle it was laying in. They captured his likeness well, down to the permanent lines in his face and the robes that called back to religious leaders of old. He was sliced apart at the knees, likely from a leavanny's leaf blade, and left behind two stumps on the pedestal with a faded plaque, though its words were long gone.

The only inhabitants left in this unhallowed ground were mandibuzz. They were known to haunt landscapes that reminded people of their mortality like the crumbling towers left from the age of the Dragon and the lowly graves of unnamed carrion. Here, they roosted in the peaks that belonged to the seven sages. It was quiet and undisturbed by even the ghost Pokémon roaming nearby.

For the first time in years, the ruins had a visitor. He ignored the numerous signs that read "KEEP OUT" and "DANGER! UNSTABLE AREA" and slipped in an unknown entrance through Victory Road. He of all people felt entitled to walk its halls as he built it.

He crossed the courtyard and stopped to look at his twin lying on the ground. He tapped the nose with the butt of his staff and watch it slip off his other face, taking a handful of dust with it on the way down. He stepped over deep gashes in the stone, dipped down into craters and stopped at the crumbled tangle of staircases snaking their way into their respective towers like a wobbly web. The only remaining path was the main steps. The mandibuzz crooked their necks as they eyed their first visitor, their jagged beaks giving them a permanent smile to match their hungry eyes. Ghetsis did not mind their presence; at least his work meant something to someone.

He knew the castle at its conception. Ghetsis had a hand in every piece to make sure each brick was laid correctly. Afterall, if you wanted a job done right, you had to do it yourself. That was what Ghetsis considered his downfall; he trusted too many old men, grunts, and his own son with more responsibility than they can handle, and that misstep earned him a knife in the back.

The hushed scrape of his robes slithering behind him broke the silence. Ghetsis walked slowly, but with direction. He wasn't here to sight see, but to meet someone. But he did come early to collect his thoughts.

He reached the hall leading to the main attraction in the castle, a child's playroom. Ghetsis raised N as his son in here, deciding every step from his the very first one to the last one he took in that castle, but all that remained of those days was this playroom, now tilting away into the chasm below, little by little as the earth shifted. Each major occupant had their own quarters here; the towers belonged to the seven sages and the Grand Hall to Ghetsis himself. Only a few remained loyal. Only one member remained in that castle.

Ghetsis' staff clacked against the cold stone as he haunted the corridors, recounting the events of his last battle. He traced his hand along a wide gash in the wall from Burgh's Leavanny and her leaf blade attack. The scar ended just before the floor gave way to a trench, likely a collapsed tunnel from Excadrill's dig attack. The next chunk of hall bore dark char marks from Elesa's potent electric-type attacks. All this mess, courtesy of Unova's gym leaders who so valiantly came to ruin Ghetsis' plans. Of course, he couldn't really put all the blame on them; his treacherous son put the final nail in that coffin.

N, the boy he raised defied him at the most critical moment and with him went Reshiram; one half of the equation that equaled victory.

Ghetsis thrust his staff into the door blocking N's old room. It gave away with ease and crashed to the floor, sending up a puff of dust. The noise echoed through the empty stone halls, but nothing stirred. Even the Pokémon weren't keen on trespassing. The once vibrant wallpaper and toys were faded from their few years of underground solitary confinement. Ghetsis stepped inside, his staff muffled by the carpet. He nudged aside toys, stones, and clods of dirt. The whole room was precariously balanced, but Ghetsis couldn't care less about his own safety at this point.

He came upon a toy train. It was for young kids and had a smiling face painted on the front that regarded him with lifeless happiness. He lifted his staff and speared the toy right between the eyes. The plastic crunched like bone, and he swung the staff, whipping the thing off the end. The train whacked the wall, stirring a curtain of dust from the ceiling. The whole room groaned and swayed on the thick rebar running through the concrete like tendons. Ghetsis took note of this and swiftly left the room.

He checked his watch, which read "5:25 pm.", only five minutes before a supposed 'supporter' agreed to meet him there. He slid his wrist into his robes and made his way back to the main entrance.

The Grand Hall was designed like a king's throne room from the castle of Hammerlocke in Galar. A beautiful carpet used to span the length of it, leading up to a tiered altar and finally, a throne, fit to his liking. A thick crack spidered its way up the altar and slashed across the throne. Another project thrown in the trash.

Ghetsis ascended the altar and placed a hand on the arm of the throne.

"Interesting design choice. Did you view yourself sitting there at some point?" Someone said from behind.

Ghetsis spun around and his mechanical eye caught the stranger's face. She was a plainly pretty woman with an implacable age. Not particularly young, but not old either. Her brown hair was trimmed to chin length, and she was dressed mildly in slacks and a blouse. No Poke balls on her belt either, yet she looked quite at ease in this dingy hall surrounded by hungry monsters.

"I did. That time has passed however." Ghetsis swiped a layer of dirt off the seat and felt it between his fingers. "I supposed you're the 'supporter' who's been bothering me?"

"If I didn't bother you, nothing would be accomplished today. I think you'll warm-up to me after I explain myself better." The woman said. She had a smooth voice and spoke like they were mild acquaintances in an office.

Ghetsis scanned her with the mechanical eye. Inconclusive. Her face was quite literally too generic for the scanner to identify. He sat down on the throne, reclined, and crossed his legs. "Go on, I have nothing left to lose, not even time." His voice trailed off.

The woman approached him, ascending the altar until she was on the same level as him, but looking down. Ghetsis felt as if cold water had run down his back when he looked into her eyes. Her pupils were like pits, distinctly darker than the most shadowed corners of the room and deeper than the chasm they hung over. A gentle smile dressed her thin lips, though it was about as genuine as a mannequin could muster.

"Your entire goal was to rule Unova, was it not? 'Team Plasma' and your son were nothing more than a front. All that trumpeting about freeing Pokémon, stirring up civil unrest, and procuring legendary dragons for the dreams of one man, though not for the reasons he advertised. It was a notable attempt, but you relied too much on achievement to be happy in the end. I say enjoy the ride, the hardest part about conquering a nation is what to do with it afterwards anyways." The woman mused with a shrug.

"I had a vision for the world afterwards." He corrected. "Those in power are nothing more than slakoth taught to wear clothes and sign papers. The poor continue to get poorer and the rich richer. There's talk of legalizing homosexuality and pulling ancient texts from schools in favor of a more 'modern approach' at learning, as if morals and well-made men are a thing of the past. My sages, they understood. They saw how the young people today have been bastardized and their heads filled with lies. I intend to correct our course. I don't see anyone in the election cycle more capable of it."

"You really trust yourself that much with the fate of the world? Or is that your excuse to crown yourself king?" The woman questioned him, testing the dust on Ghetsis' throne herself.

Ghetsis felt his energy shift from neutral to hot. "You think a young woman like you knows better? I've held positions of power before your parents fucked."

Her smile remained as placid as ever. "I'm not questioning your ability to rule; you've made it clear that even the dumbest can do that as long as they can hold a pen and I frankly agree. No, I just believe that we should all be true to our desires. You want power, plain and simple. I don't see what's so wrong about admitting that. It's as human as sex, love, and death."

"Don't call my desires human." Ghetsis snapped. He sat up, posturing himself against this tiny girl.

"Would you like to know how I discovered myself? Maybe that would help you understand what I mean." She asked. She slipped a gloved hand in her pocket.

Ghetsis leaned on his fist. "No, I'd rather you defend why I should be here in the first place."

The woman sighed. "You're right, this world has lost its manners, and here I thought we were supposed to know one another before making a partnership." Ghetsis watched her hand ball up in her pocket. He slid his own hand back into his sleeve to place his finger on Hydreigon's ball.

To his relief, she drew what looked like a flat, jagged stone from her pocket. Other than its shape, there was nothing remarkable about it, though he was curious why it was there.

She turned it in the bit of light cascading through the cracked ceiling and it glittered like snow and reflected in her black eyes. "I studied your old plan and determined where things went wrong, too much reliance on others and a lack of back-up plans. You had one; the Genesect project, but I see that never came to fruition."

Ghetsis nodded in agreement.

"I personally spent years chasing down several leads and assembling my own plan, containing back-up after back-up. I have quite a bit of pull; I worked my way into the tech industry and then dipped into sponsoring a competitive sports team to breed my own soldiers. However, I don't expect them to stay forever so they aren't the crux of my plan; just a few boots on the ground to squash obnoxious gym leaders. Plus, I find real fights more exciting than just a cold war. No, the real plan involves joining two very powerful entities." She waved the stone in front of Ghetsis' face. "Your previous ideas were built on the pretense that Reshiram existed as a twin to another, but you've missed a crucial detail. When a beautifly emerges, what is left behind?"

Ghetsis laced fingers. "A cocoon." He answered.

"When the dragons split, they left a living shell, an ice monster who rules over absence itself." She explained.

Ghetsis narrowed his eyes at the stone and realized that its odd oblong shape resembled a scale. Was he wrong? Was there really a third dragon? If so, he could get his hands on the dark stone and this third dragon to overwhelm N easily. However, Ghetsis remained skeptical of this stranger's theories. He wanted to touch the scale for himself to know for sure if it was a cleverly carved rock or a real scale.

The woman continued with visible excitement. "With that dragon, we can open a whole array of possibilities. My lead scientist, Colress, theorizes that the right device can extract the dragon's power and amplify it, like it's a battery. We have that weapon in development, though I've got a personal project I think is more interesting. Are you familiar with the scientist, Olea Latouya?"

That name dredged an old memory of a pair of scared black-haired twins years before Team Plasma went above ground. He didn't remember them fondly as the smarter one shot and killed his zoroark in front of N, a moment he often blamed for N's change of heart. Children were so soft to the world, he never understood that Pokémon could be replaced, unless they were legendary dragons. But the twins belonged to a scientist that looked almost identical to them, albeit much older with more gray hair, but that wasn't an important detail. It was her work he chased for years.

"You aren't referring to the DNA splicers, are you?" Ghetsis asked.

"Exactly. Those dragons split. Why not put them back together again? Afterall, they granted the divine right to rule back in the day." The woman finished.

Ghetsis smiled at the prospect. That was his original plan, but Latouya was slippery, and he never got his hands on those splicers. This woman, a potential blessing in disguise was going to drop them right in his lap. However, Ghetsis wasn't ready to jump in headfirst. He searched her face and her words for any semblance of logic behind her motives. Everyone wants something, Ghetsis understood that well enough to lead his subjects into the darkest corners, but usually it could be distilled into one word. Love, knowledge, money, power, revenge; those things spoke to humans. What could she get out of it unless she was planning to swipe it from him at the very last moment?

Ghetsis sat forward. "So, what's in it for you? Why 'support' me anyways? I'm not interested in fanatics and acolytes anymore, that never worked in the first place." He gestured to the empty room. The floor rumbled and shifted slightly again, resting a few stones from the ceiling. "Everyone wants something and I'm not blind to people trying to use me as means to an end."

The woman lowered the stone to Ghetsis' palm. "Let me share that story about how I discovered myself." She pressed it into his hand, hard. The stone was freezing to the touch, so much so his bones started to ache.

Her smile grew wider. "When I was a child, I saw a lillipup beaten within an inch of its life and left to die in a ditch. I poked at it, examined the exposed flesh, and got a good look inside before a well-dressed man passed by on the road. I hid in the bushes to watch, curious what he would do. The man glanced at the lillipup, checked his expensive watch, and then hurried off. I guess his time was better spent elsewhere."

Ghetsis' hand shook from the pain, and he jerked his arm, but the woman was unusually strong and kept it pinned to his throne. His skin burned and hissed and Ghetsis fought the urge to scream.

The woman continued. "My curiosity only grew, and I stayed a while longer. The next subject was a women dressed in a uniform that I later learned belonged to a charity organization, though the name escapes me. Frankly they're all the same. Anyways, she passed the half-dead lillipup and only wrinkled her nose before continuing. That moment felt unexpected yet expected in a way. She too disappeared the same way the rich man did, not bothering to look back. Evidently charity did not extend to such low creatures."

"Let me go! You're a madwoman!" Ghetsis yelled. His hand was visibly steaming and his whole arm was rigid from the pain. He desperately yanked on her hand with his good one, but she didn't budge. He reached in his sleeve for Hydreigon, but the woman caught his wrist and the ball spun out of his hand, to the floor, and rolled down the steps, too far to be useful.

Her face had not moved from her generic smile. She spoke over Ghetsis' screams. "The last one came almost a full hour later, announcing his appearance with a loud, uneven gate that crunched and shuffled its way on the gravel road. He was clearly homeless, judging by his greasy hair and patchwork clothing. His foot was clubbed and dragged behind him pitifully while his hands held a heavy sack of returnables over his back. When the lillipup let out a groan, he stopped. Without hesitation, the vagrant scooped the lillipup up, adding to his burden. With that, two pitiful creatures shuffled off with haste."

Ghetsis' fingers had curled permanently, and the pain started to fade as the nerves had died. She released him and Ghetsis cried out, flinging it to the floor. It clattered down the steps, one by one, but the woman didn't chase after it. She grabbed his hand and lifted his palm to his face. The skin was blistered, some of which had already burst, and oozed clear liquid and the tips of his fingers were a disturbing grey.

"What is wrong with you?" Ghetsis shouted. Sweat dripped down his face.

The monster lifted her palms to her shoulders. "I've spent years mulling over that little moment. Growing up, I often wondered what kind of woman I would turn out to be. Too wealthy to worry about the world beneath me? A hypocrite? Or maybe I would be the hero of the story. But the answer is clear now." She leaned in close and Ghetsis looked into those black pools and saw his own reflection. "I am the one who left the lillipup in the ditch to begin with."

Ghetsis' chest heaved. His bones still throbbed, and his skin burned from frostbite. He shrunk in his throne. "What is wrong with you? Why should I trust you after this?" He demanded.

"Scales of the dragon, Kyurem, steal the warmth out of everything. He too wants to break and freeze the world until he sucks away all the heat, including the warmth we feel in our hearts. I have technology in the works built to direct that hatred, but I have no target in mind. You do. Don't you want your enemies to feel this too? Your son?" She suggested.

Ghetsis clutched his wrist, fighting back the pulsing pain radiating from his palm and through his bones. He looked to the woman. Her beetle black eyes glittered back at him like a hungry seviper.

Just touching scale hurt like hell if hell froze over. It only took a moment to destroy his skin and murder his fingertips, so imagine what a whole dragon could do. Or worse, what a designed weapon could do. All the faces, all the names that wronged him, wracked with frostbite over every inch of skin, not just their palms.

She was a mad woman, through and through, but she held the right carrot under his nose. He learned that he wanted to revenge more than anything.

"I'll accept your proposal." He said, grinning past the pain. "Let me find my last loyal followers while you muster yours. I want to see what Drayden's gym looks like dressed in a dragon's weakness."

The woman stood straight up. "I'm happy to assist you, Ghetsis Harmonia Gropius. My name is Mercy Whitlock."

A/N:

Hi everybody, this is my first fic and I'm not used to the website yet so there may be some formatting mistakes. If you find any, I'd appreciate a heads-up! My goal is to tell a good story, and I'd rather the format not detract from that. Helpful feedback or just a compliment are both appreciated!

Before starting this story, I want to stress that any negative views expressed by characters in the story do not reflect my own and many P.O.V.'s are subject to the character's own bias. The work contains LGBT characters and their struggles as it takes place during a time where society is only just growing to accept it (not the central focus, more of a background struggle to flesh out certain characters) and I want to make sure that any negative views regarding the matter are tied to the story.