I'm a monster. This chapter is the one where the storyline takes a considerable turn to the dark, so the ending may be a bit squicky. Watch out.
Don't own the song (or album, for that matter) Crossfire Barrage; Crow's Claw has that honor. Check them out if you like amazing metal Touhou.
Chapter 23: Crossfire Barrage
"Taking heavy fire!" Sirius shouted for redundancy. Shadrach rolled his eyes, starting up the door gun on the helicopter. He blasted away at the shadowy figures poised upon the rooftops of nearby buildings. We've been ambushed, he noted hurriedly as he felt the heat radiate off of the barrel. We've been ambushed, and someone set us up. But who?
"Echo One, we can't take this fire anymore. Get up," the helicopter pilot said coolly.
"Hold on, we got a casua- argh!" Shadrach let go of the minigun's triggers for a moment at Siria's shout, frantically worrying that she had been shot. "Make that two," the Latias continued. That set whatever doubts Shadrach had to rest.
Shadach angrily looked up into the sky. Turning the channel to the gunners' frequency, he demanded, "Where is our support fire?"
"You're too close."
"Fuck that! Broken Arrow!" The Umbreon invoked the command with no little weight; after all, if done improperly, it could kill all of them.
"Guns, guns, guns." And with that note, the helicopters began to empty whatever remaining ammunition they had on the ground below them. Bullets whizzed dangerously close to the struggling Special Forces members, reminding them all that they had little time left.
"Echo One, I can't wait any longer. The helicopter can't take any more- shit!"
Shadrach blinked as the pilot lost all sense of professionalism. He didn't really have to ask why; the warning claxons blaring from the cockpit and that strange, eerie, whining sound coming from the tail rotor both assured him that holding the helicopter still for even a moment more was sure to result in all of their fiery, imminent deaths.
Despite all of this, the Umbreon was utterly surprised when the helicopter began to lift off, leaving behind several figures on the ground beneath them. His vision honed in on a particularly red one.
"Siria! Siria! SIRIA!" her brother bellowed over the roar of the helicopter. "...Siria..."
"The hell?" Shadrach shouted at the pilot. "What the hell are you doing? They're still down there!"
"Better to get some out alive rather than lose all of them," he said composedly, having recovered from his moment.
"Yes, but-"
"Out of the way!" a hoarse voice yelled. Shadrach's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he saw Talal run and leap out of the door of the helicopter straight into the middle of the crossfire.
Wait, but why didn't Ward restrain him? As the thought occurred to the Umbreon, he looked back into the chopper. A Lucario laid motionless on the metal floor as blood pooled around his head. He bowed his head at the steel-type, figuring that a stray bullet had caught him in the ambush.
The Latios sitting next to the dark-type fidgeted a little. "Fuck it," Sirius said. "Fuck it all."
Shadrach owed it only to his trained reflexes when he caught the Latios' leg as the dragon attempted to jump out of the helicopter.
"What? What are you doing? Let me go, you fucking bastard! Let me get to Siria!" the Umbreon heard Sirius yell. "Let me go!"
"Damn you! Don't you realize that you'll get killed?" His efforts were graciously repaid with a terrific kick to his muzzle. He winced in pain, but didn't let go for fear of permanently losing him.
"Who cares? I don't! Let me GO!" the Latios continued to shriek.
For all it was worth, Shadrach was able to hold the struggling Sirius long enough to drag him back into the chopper. He first felt amazed at this Herculean feat, but then realized that the dragon he had been warring with had gone completely limp.
"Fuck!" the Latios screamed out the door at the enemies far below him. Then he rounded on Shadrach. "Why wouldn't you let me go? Why the fuck did you stop me? Why did you stop me from getting... to... Siria... You would understand! Aren't you her boyfriend? Why did you stop me?" He was shouting at the top of his lungs, coming dangerously close to crying
Shadrach looked down, unwilling to face Sirius. "I... I..."
"Well? Let me go!" Shadrach lunged once more as Sirius tried to escape through the door. He tackled the Latios to the floor and pinned him there.
"What would she do if her brother was dead? Because of her? What would she think then?" he hissed into the Latios' ear.
"She'd be mad because I didn't save her in time! Get off me, you bastard! She might be dying right now, for Arceus' sake!"
"No."
"What-"
"You can stay held down like this until we get back to base, and I can have you temporarily imprisoned for misconduct," he stated emotionlessly.
Sirius' body began to heave in sorrow. "What kind of monster are you? Do you care for her at all? I don't believe that-"
"You don't have to believe," he said quietly, feeling quite insulted by the remark. "Yes, I know that I'm in a relationship with her, and that you're her brother, but sometimes... there's no choice. Neither of us can do anything about it. We just have to hope for the best."
At that moment, a voice decided to make its way into his head. Don't leave me.
As if on cue, his jaws formed the vestiges of, I promise.
Right then, the Umbreon wanted to stick his head out of the helicopter and throw up. He had promised Siria a single promise, one that he thought that was going to be simple to keep.
And now, as he got up off of a sobbing Sirius, he wondered whose intention was right. Was it right of him to have stopped Sirius from going after her? Was it right of him to sit and watch how things played out? Especially after the promise he made? How much of a hypocrite was he?
Shadrach morosely sat down on a chair, putting his face in his paws as Sirius continued to choke and cry over the Latias' loss.
Siria first stared in shock as the helicopter departed before her eyes. Her surprise quickly departed as several tracer rounds whizzed by her. As she formed an attempt to hit back at them, she saw a great conflagration appear in the sky above her. The charred, crackling hulk of one of the attack helicopters plummeted down to the earth below, victim of a Tamsus rocket.
"Back down! Retreat!" she yelled, motioning for Nuwai and Jul to go back down the stairs. The two wisely followed her lead and left the enemy fire before it could harm them any further.
Now back in the "comforts" of one of the bedrooms of the complex, Siria looked over her two remaining squadmembers. Her attention flickered over Jul; he was alright, and still ready for combat.
Nuwai was a different issue. "Let me see that arm," Siria said. The blue dragon hesitantly stuck it out, allowing the Latias to see a circular wound on her upper arm. She noted that a small bullet had lodged itself into the tough hide.
The Latias rolled up her sleeves and began to tear apart the fabric surrounding the entry wound. "That has to come out," she said, pulling out her standard-issue knife.
"W-what?" the Gabite asked. She stared at Siria fearfully, wondering if she was actually going to do what she implied.
"Jul, guard the door," the dragon commanded. As the Leafeon went to do so, she said more softly, "Try not to think of the pain."
Nuwai trembled at the thought of a knife slicing through her. Her fear was made all the worse because of the training she had done with Sirius in order to avoid being stabbed in the first place. "But you're injured too!" she said, pointing at the Latias' shoulder in an attempt to forestall the inevitable.
"It's only a graze; don't worry." She smiled slightly as she cast a glance towards the mildly bleeding wound.
I'll try to help you along mentally. Don't be scared. Of course, the assumption that she was supposed to be scared in the first place frightened the Gabite even more.
As Siria firmly grasped her arm, Nuwai couldn't help but whimper a bit. "Shhhhh," the Latias said out loud. Don't think about it. It'll be just a moment.
The Gabite felt a soothing feeling coursing down her arm as the Latias poised the knife carefully above it. I can get used to this, she mused before Siria stuck the knife into her.
Contrary to her expectations, the blade didn't bring an absolutely terrifying scream to her mouth. Rather, it was a warm, dull feeling, throbbing slightly but yielding no major amount of pain.
"Alright, done." Siria held the bloodied piece of lead between her fingers.
Nuwai blinked. "What, already?"
The Latias giggled. "You looked as if you had been smoking something. In other cases, you could have been mistaken for a drunk."
Her face flushed at the remark. "Could not."
"Don't deny it. You enjoyed it." As Nuwai set out to formulate another response, Siria's smile quickly turned into a frown. "We still need to figure out how we're going to get out, though. We're most likely trapped in, especially since we couldn't get down to an alleyway. We have to fight our way ou-"
The door suddenly burst open. Jul, with nearly supernatural reaction time, tackled the figure to the side and held a knife against the perpetrator's throat. Siria and Nuwai nervously looked on, much more uncomfortable at the realization that they hadn't been aware of their surroundings.
"Jul, is that you?" an old voice asked.
The Leafeon breathed in slightly before withdrawing his weapon. He stood up straight at the mention of his name and extended a paw downwards. "Talal, if I knew that was you, I wouldn't have tackled you."
Talal took the extension gratefully and got up wearily. "I know that, Jul. Too bad your skills didn't come to fruition until now..." With a grunt, the Tropius collapsed again, diverting Siria's attention from healing up Nuwai's wound.
"You're hurt! she exclaimed, seeing a flash of red on one of his sides. He merely grunted and turned his body so that she couldn't see his wounds. This action did not pacify the Latias, who hurried to his side.
"They're only minor wounds," he placidly said as she gasped.
"What... what happened?" she asked. Several bullets had pierced the Tropius' side, causing blood to leak out slowly. His leafy wings were also riddled with holes, although those did not bleed at all.
"Nothing."
Siria sighed, beginning to use Wish on the wounds. "How did you even get back here? Unless..."
Talal too sighed, and leaned back in anticipation and exhaustion.
"You went straight through that fire to come back here." Siria stared at the audacious Tropius. "You could have gotten yourself killed! Why didn't you stay in the chopper?"
"Obligations."
"What kind of obligations?"
He turned his head to the two 'mon guarding the door. "Obligations to protect my family."
"Famil-"
"Would you have abandoned your own in a firefight?" Through his red-misted gaze, Talal evaluated the Latias before him with testy eyes. "Especially after knowing them for so long?"
"...no," she said quietly.
Talal didn't seem to notice her reply. "There are ties that bind. Nuwai and Jul aren't just subordinates to me; they are closer than that. It doesn't matter if they're not of my flesh and blood. It doesn't matter that we come from different places and have different histories. All that matters is that we share heart."
"We've come a long way. Fighting, bickering, yelling, dying... but isn't that what family is? As the eldest, I have the responsibility of caring for them. And if I have to fly straight through enemy fire to do it, then I will, by any means possible, do it."
The sickly Tropius coughed a little, painting the ground crimson with blood. "Of course, it would do a bit better if I was dressed up in a suit before I said all of that, but these circumstances don't quite cater to my wishes."
As if to complement his last statement, a door slammed on the floor underneath them, complete with muffled yelling and stamping feet. Talal's eyes darted towards his healer. "Siria, they come. What will you do?"
The Latias, entranced by the grass-type's insight, quickly snapped out of her contemplation. She stood up and looked around her, mind clicking as she began to plan everything out. The room was bare, save for a bed. No windows or skylights existed, and even if they did, Tamsus troops would have undoubtedly been guarding them. "Jul, stand to the right of the door and perform close-range strikes on whoever comes in. Nuwai, stand to the left and take out anything that Jul can't. I'll take the back and hit from afar. Talal, you're still too injured; get under the bed and minimize your profile."
To her surprise, none of them, even Talal, dissented. Jul slid up to the left side of the door, preparing a blade on his arm in preparation for battle. Nuwai took his right, and ejected her rifle magazine in exchange for a new one. The Tropius made his way under the bed as Siria squatted in front of it.
They heard the crash of a door. "They're not in here, either!" a voice cried.
"There's only one more left. We'll get them dead or alive!" All of the Special Forces 'mon tensed at the declaration.
Footsteps, made all the more audible by flimsy wood paneling, approached the door. All of them took a deep breath and prepared for the worst.
CRASH.
As the door swung open, Jul stepped out and stabbed a rather zealous-looking Floatzel in the neck. As the water-type's look of triumph subsided to surprise, the Leafeon quickly withdrew his blade to yield for a blazing Dragon Pulse attack. The beam, catching two other approaching 'mon off-guard, incinerated whatever body parts that happened to be in its way.
A deathly silence fell in the entire building as no more Tamsus soldiers approached the door frame. The Floatzel's body began to soak the floor with blood, adding to the other two's hemorrhages. One of them, possibly a Drapion, clutched at a hand that no longer existed, while another tended to a gaping hole in the middle of his stomach. The mild shuffling of feet around the blind spots of the door told them that the battle was only beginning, though.
"How about some 'nades," a voice whispered. Apparently the 'mon didn't know that his voice carried over to the next room, Siria noticed.
"Yeah." The sounds of two faintly popping metal pins accompanied the affirmation.
All in the room looked to Siria for further commands. She held up a hand to order them to stand down, and concentrated her psychic skills on the door. She saw a faint, yellow barrier begin to form around it, wondering if the Light Screen would finish forming before the Tamsus 'mon chose to frag them.
"Fragout!" one of the 'mon shouted, sticking out a paw to toss a grenade into the door. That cry turned into a hurried yell when it merely plinked against the invisible barrier and dropped to the floor. "What the fu-"
A dull explosion shook the floor as thousands of tiny metal fragments embedded themselves in the two insurgents' bodies. Their groans after the fact indicated that they were not dead yet, just in such agonizing pain that they were no longer threats.
"Siria, any more?" Nuwai asked.
She took a quick scan of the area. "They're waiting," she whispered. "They're on the roof and on the ground floor. They can't afford to send any more , so they're waiting for us."
"So what do we do?"
The Latias sat down on the floor and ran her hand through her hair. The pressing issue was not whether they would be able to get out of the building alive, but whether they would be able to get out of the city alive. The attack helicopters would have undoubtedly already notified FOB Fearow of their failure to extract, at the least... Whether the military would send in an evacuation team or not was more concerning to her.
She looked at the map on her unit's screen, locating the secondary extraction point they had previously agreed upon. If anything, the helicopter would attempt to meet them there. ...but what about the Army's invasion of the city? Would they still attempt it if the kingpin was alive? And if they did, would they traditionally call in air strikes as they usually did? Would they be mistaken for insurgents and become blue-on-blue casualties?
Siria started as she heard the slight patter of footsteps ascending the stairs. She immediately crouched and assumed an attacking position.
"Surrender! We know you're in there!" a voice called to them. "We can wait until you weaken, or you can give yourselves up now. We treat our prisoners of war with great respect."
The Latias couldn't help but snort at the baldfaced lie.
The voice now took a decidedly bolder tone. "If you will not surrender, then we will extract you by force." As if to reinforce his statement, the entire building rattled slightly.
"Siria?" Nuwai nervously asked, looking around the room.
She looked at the Gabite with warm eyes. "Don't worry. We'll be all right."
Obviously Tamsus had already lost all remnants of patience with them. "Five!" the same voice called.
Jul moved slightly to better increase his view of the door.
"Four!"
Nuwai pulled back on her rifle's charging handle to ensure that a round was still firmly placed in the chamber.
"Three!"
Talal groaned from under the bed, sorely wishing that he hadn't dropped his gun when returning back down.
"Two!"
Siria exhaled a bit of blue mist.
"One!"
All of them trained their eyes of the door, certain that they would fight the inevitable rush of Tamsus insurgents to the death.
"Zero!"
BOOM.
The entire left wall exploded in a hailstorm of plaster and concrete, sending Nuwai flying into the opposite wall. A stunned Siria turned her head left to see a Dragonite enter her field of vision and tackle her brutally in the stomach.
She felt pain. Lots of it. As her back met unforgiving wooden planks, the Latias gasped as the yellow dragon slashed at her, leaving several bloody gashes in one of her arms. She let a Dragon Pulse rip straight into his face, causing the dragon to leap backwards off of her.
As Siria straightened up and prepared to fight against the Dragonite, she saw through her peripheral vision a dark blue figure move through the door into the room. That minor detail quickly attracted her attention as said figure picked up Nuwai by the scruff of her neck and held a pistol to her head.
All fighting ceased when the 'mon became aware of this new development. An enraged Jul began to jump when the individual said, "If you come any closer, I'll kill her. I understand that she's a rather valuable 'team player,' as you would call them."
Talal crawled out from underneath the bed, glaring at him. "You dare... you dare take her life?"
The 'mon looked at the Tropius with crimson eyes. "Oh, no, I don't dare to take her life. I will if you don't do as I say." The flames on his back seemed to flicker in tandem with his short, soft laughter.
"Enough banter. All of you. Hands behind your heads. Now."
Jul shouted, "You bastard! I'll kill-"
"Hands. Head. Now." For emphasis, he prodded Nuwai's head with his pistol.
Siria shot glances at both Talal and Jul, who were obviously more connected to Nuwai than she. As even Jul gestured his surrender, Siria stared at the Typhlosion before her with bitter eyes before doing the same.
He chortled. "Someone bring the medicine, please."
The Latias widened her eyes at the mention of medication. As she looked at his white, formal lab coat, her thoughts started to coalesce into...
"I'd rather die before you inject me," she said.
The Typhlosion looked at her oddly. "Strange that you say that. It's not you who's going to die, but someone else. Aren't you selfish."
"Aiden, sir, the medicine." An assistant Houndoom held a syringe in his paw, a small pearl of clear fluid dripping off the needle's end.
"Ah, yes, thank you. Two of you restrain her. I heard that she is rather feisty." Siria felt two pairs of hands grabbing at her arms. She made an effort to resist at first, but then saw the Typhlosion press the gun harder into the Gabite's head. She slumped in surrender, not willing to sacrifice Nuwai's life for her resistance.
The Houndoom stabbed her arm viciously, but she gave no visible complaint to this treatment.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" Aiden asked. "But the benefit of negating your psychic abilities makes the pain worth it, doesn't it? We can't have you go around taking advantage of our lesser members' minds. No, that's just intolerable."
Siria simply glared at him. "You won't get away with this."
He laughed. "Says you and what army? I'm not too certain if the Army is intent on storming the city, like you planned. That's what our mole says, at least."
The Typhlosion then faked surprised. "Oops, mole? I didn't mean to say that. But yes, there's a mole somewhere in the system. I don't know where, and neither do you. Isn't that wonderful? Now, we can't have you struggling in the transports, can we? Knock them out, please."
The Latias saw several 'mon approach Talal and Jul with rifles and club them into unconsciousness. Then she saw black as an equally forceful rifle butt made contact with the back of her head.
"Here's what our satellite is telling us," the Walrein said, pointing at a map projected on a wall. A weary Umbreon and a moody Latios, among other Special Forces members, stared at the presentation.
"Echo One and three RMs were downed at this location around two hours ago. Stalker Five barely got out intact, carrying out Echo Two and Four." He pointed toward Sirius and Shadrach.
"Apparently Echo One and her RMs were defeated and taken as prisoner or hostage by enemy combatants at this point." The Latios couldn't help but stifle a sob at the remark. "They were then transported to a house near LZ Delta, where they first planned a secondary rendezvous. That is the last we saw of them about twenty minutes ago."
"Extraction of these individuals is vital. They possess much information that Tamsus would have no second thoughts of torturing out of them, including plans regarding the Army's strike on Riyaq that was supposed to occur this morning." The statement sent a wave of murmurs through the spectators as they considered the implications of Siria's capture.
"How crippling would it be if the Army went in right now?" someone asked.
The Walrein blinked. "Now? Thirty-three percent casualties, maybe more."
"What if we went down there with them? All of us, not just an element."
"Well..." he trailed off in the face of grunts and mutters of assent.
"Come on, pops. They're dying down there, and we gotta go."
"I'm pretty sure our RMs wouldn't give a damn whether we were ready or not if their own were duking it out down there."
"We can get Airborne to chip in, too."
"You all realize what you're asking for, right?" The bearded ice-type called for order in the room. "If we attack now, we are going up against a prepared enemy. One that is currently aware of our actions, no less."
"If we do just the extraction, we'll be up against an aware enemy, no less," Shadrach heard himself say. "An extraction now, of all times, won't work because they have the upper hand. We were only able to infiltrate the area last time because the artillery strike distracted them. That won't work again."
The Walrein hummed, considering the Umbreon's proposal. His thoughts were cut, though, by a breathless shout at the entrance of the tent.
"They're going! They're deploying!"
"What?" the ice-type asked with no small amount of surprise.
"The Army's moving in! I don't know what happened, but they're going!" the Growlithe yelped, breathing clouds of condensation.
"But why? And under whose command?"
"General Alem, sir. All they said was that Alem said that someone higher up wanted the field commander to invade, and they're doing it now!"
The Walrein started to object again, but was drowned out by the whoops and cheers of the Special Forces soldiers. Much to his credit, he regained his composure quite quickly due to the realization that there was no way he could say "no."
He slammed his paw on the table. "That's it. We're moving into Riyaq. Prepare to deploy in one hour from now."
Siria came to, but willingly kept her eyes shut for fear of what she would see before her.
That didn't prevent her from feeling, though. Her arms and legs were shackled to a wall, held firmly in place by solid steel shackles. Her muzzle was also sealed shut with duct tape or something of its ilk. When she tried to psychically unbind her mouth, the Latias was dumbfounded as to why she couldn't even nudge the tape at all.
Then she opened her eyes wide in sudden realization. That... drug that the infernal Typhlosion had been talking about really had wreaked havoc with her psychic abilities, as evidenced by her gradually increasing headache.
Looking left and right, she could barely see that all of her squadmembers were arrested in similar fashion. Nuwai still breathed soundly, unconsciously kicking against her restraints. Talal was watching the Gabite uncomfortably, and Jul was looking at... her.
"So," he whispered, furtively looking in the blackness of the room about to see if anyone was there. "What happened?"
She indignantly stared at him. "Mmmmmmmmph."
"Oh," he said Mareepishly. He tried to struggle against the shackles for what was probably the hundredth time. Siria saw the red areas on the Leafeon's wrists where he had rubbed against his restraints.
He looked back up at her again. "These things won't break for some reason. Guess I'm not as strong as I thought." Jul chuckled weakly.
Both of them remained silent , neither willing to pursue further "conversation." Comforted with nothing but the dark, Siria set out on thinking once again. Their escaping by themselves was impossible; that was clear. She didn't know what time it was, but chances were, the other components of her squad had already reached FOB Fearow. Ward and Sirius and Shadrach.
Sirius and Shadrach. The Latias' heart plummeted when she thought of them. She knew that the Umbreon would be able to cope with her absence well enough; the logic-oriented strategist would only concentrate on what really mattered: getting her back out. But she suppressed a moan when she thought of how her brother would react.
Hopefully he hasn't been stupid enough to do something ridiculous yet, like hole up in the barracks or shoot himself in the face...
She choked at the thought of his suicide. He wouldn't do that, would he? There was no way that he'd be able to part with life, no matter how tough the odds were.
A somewhat familiar voice, one that she couldn't quite identify, spoke in her head. He just might. He thinks you're dead. Imagine what he saw as the helicopter lifted up.
Impossible, she ruled after some quick deliberation. She knew he cared for her, but to that extent? The extent to which he would use his body as a shield against whatever threatened to kill her?
Maybe not so impossible after all.
The Latias slumped against the tremendous guilt that quickly filled her heart. Her brother was mentally decent (as well as licentiously indecent), but he wasn't exactly the paragon of mental stability, especially when it came to issues about her. He must be drowning in anguish. He probably feels guilty and hopeless, as if he can't do anything about it.
Which is exactly how she felt as she kicked at her restraints. No luck there.
What sucked even more was that she couldn't telepathically reach out to him and take even a bit of his pain away. She felt utterly frustrated that one of the few times that she wanted to contact her brother was a time when she could not.
Aren't you selfish.
Siria stiffened as she finally realized whose voice it was. It was that damn Typhlosion's voice in her head.
You only want him when you need emotional security. Outside of that, you don't even want to see him, let alone be associated with him. That's rather selfish, don't you think?
Not true, she argued back.
So why do you want to contact him? When's the last time you did so when it wasn't necessary?
Well, the last time was... was...
Was when?
...
The voice laughed. Interesting what you can get after a little bit of introspection, isn't it, Siria?
Shut up.
Yes, I'll shut up and leave you to your little delusional world. The voice followed Siria's exact wishes and left.
She felt not grateful that it had left, but rather even more stressed and tired. I'm not selfish, am I? Am I?
Siria looked around her, searching for reassurance from her squadmates. She was disappointed that none of them noticed her musings.
A door then opened, letting dim light spill into the room. Aiden, still in formal lab clothing, pushed in a small, metal cart with its lower half veiled by a white sheet. The glowing fire on his back was the only light in the room.
"Well, hello. How are we doing today?" he said with a wide grin. "Or perhaps, this morning. This evening? Maybe tonight? We don't know what time of day it is, do we? So sad."
When none of the captives responded, his face fell. "Oh, nobody to talk to, I see. Well, I'll put your troubles to rest and say that it's been thirty-six hours since you've been put to rest. We drugged all of you before shackling all of you up in here. Wouldn't want runaways, would we?"
Siria felt a dull sense of anger, rekindled by the Typhlosion's inflammatory remarks, begin to pulse within her. Unable to attack him psychically or physically, she remained content with staring at the tan figure as he picked up a thin metal rod off the cart.
He blew a mild flame on it and watched in shock as the metal melted right before his eyes. "Oh, whoops. I guess I picked up the wrong rod." He tossed the little bit of metal remaining in his paw at Siria's feet. "See, when the Halcyian Army came down on us the night we caught you, we had to secure all of our antitank and antiaircraft emplacements so we could kill off your friends. I think it worked pleasantly, seeing that they're residing comfortably all the way up at Base Fearow."
He tutted. "Well, some of them. There were a few nuisances who I had the pleasure of knowing personally. There was an Umbreon fellow, yes, asking for someone named Siria."
The Latias froze and clenched her fists.
Aiden mockingly raised his pitch several octaves. "'Oh Siria, Siria, where art thou, Siria?'" The fire-type then sighed softly. "It was sad, really. That look of absolute terror before I shot him between the eyes. But, you know, that's how life goes, isn't it?"
She began to see a red haze obscure her vision. She thought she had felt it before, but its intensity rose within her. Pure, unadulterated hate ran through her veins.
But what the Typhlosion said next shook her to the core. "But you know what was sadder? The Latios that was with him."
If she had her psychic powers, Siria knew that she could have torn him apart with a single thought.
"He first jumped over the Umbreon protectively. Quite fatherly, in my opinion. Then he turned to attack me. He was powerful, yes. But still, I'm no old 'mon myself, so I beat him up before I shot him. What a sad character. His dying words?"
He melodramatically sighed.
"'Siria... I'm sorry.'"
Those words elicited a whine from the red dragon, but Aiden seemed to be immersed in his narrative. "You'd think that a legendary dragon like him would have something better to do than live vicariously through his sister, don't you? And who's this Siria? They seem really obsessed over her, don't you think, Latias girl?"
The mention of her name seemed to dispel the magic that froze Siria. She began to kick against the shackles in vain.
"Oh, do you happen to know this Siria? Could you tell me who she is?" he asked. He smirked at his joke, realizing that her mouth was duct-taped shut. Of course, he had been the one to do the honors.
Seeing her struggle, Aiden put a paw to his muzzle in mock recognition. "No... could it be... so you're Siria! Oh, what a cruel twist of fate! To imagine that I killed both your boyfriend and your brother! Quite... fascinating."
"Oh, yes! Fascinating, intriguing, interesting, appealing, captivating, amusing! Even the thesaurus doesn't even begin to cover how tantalized I am by this development!" He beamed at the Latias, who glared at him with teary eyes.
"You're crying, I see. Perhaps at the realization that I'm standing here gloating instead of actually doing something. Don't fret, don't fret. In normal cases, I would have disposed of you long before because you just might be able to get out of your situation through some long, complex, improbable coincidence. No, I gloat only because I know that no one will save the day. No one will rescue you. No one will put the big bad out right before he shoots the hero. No, there will be none of that."
"But enough of that. I'm tired of talking. Let's get to the real subject of this morning... or afternoon... or night. No, let's settle on afternoon. It makes it easier for me to talk."
The Typhlosion bounded up to the Leafeon shackled to the wall. After a moment of investigation, he exclaimed, "Jul! Good to see you!"
The grass-type simply snarled and spit in his face. Aiden blinked for a moment, a little surprised at his audacity. Then he rewarded Jul with a smart slap across the face.
"Don't treat your benefactor like that, Jul. It's quite impolite, you see."
"Hah... benefactor? You're my benefactor? That's bullshit through and through."
He cocked his head at the prisoner. "Really? Who was it that so graciously took you in after you got lost on a wayward mission some years ago?"
"You ambushed my friends and executed the survivors before my eyes."
"Who was it that nursed you back to health?"
"You burnt all of my fur off my body."
"Who was it that taught you how to be so strong and powerful?"
"You tested your experimental drugs on me without giving a damn about how I felt or how I reacted." Through her tears, Siria narrowed her eyes at Jul's statement.
"Who was it that sent you back out into the world, fully clothed and fed?"
"You told your assistants that I was a 'failure' and that I was to be dumped in the nearest ditch they could find."
"Aren't I a great benefactor?" he asked as he preened himself.
"No."
Aiden hmphed, obviously unsatisfied with his answer. "Well, you're no fun, I see. What about someone else...?"
He took a remote out of his pocket and pointed it at Talal. On command, the shackles unlocked and released the grass-type to the ground with a thud.
Aiden strode over to the Tropius and squatted down. "Well, well, aren't you a senior citizen? Shouldn't you be in a retirement home or something?"
"You scum," said Talal.
The Typhlosion blinked in surprise. "And what a mouth! Maybe you don't quite belong in a retirement home." The fire-type kicked him in the jaw, eliciting a grunt of pain.
"Why do you do this? Why? Do you gain some pleasure from torturing others?"
Aiden, drawing back his leg for another kick, suddenly set it down. "Why, you say?" He first snickered, then grew it into a hearty laugh.
"Because I can." He completely lost it, laughing so hard that his cheeks actually turned a slight red. None of the other 'mon in the room partook in his humor.
"Ahaha... hahaha... I'm sorry," he said, wiping his eyes with a paw. "I've always wanted to say that for so long, and the opportunity was right there. Ahem."
"Why, you say? It's as if you imply that this is my job, 'torturing' 'mon and whatnot. It's not part of the job description; rather, it's a little tag that happens to fit a certain sadist part of me. My job is rather different. You see, it's science. Chemistry. Making and breaking bonds, finding the core essence of the universe. I just put it to more... biological uses." His eyes slit over to Jul for a moment.
"Science is progress. Simple as that. Science is what makes this world tick. How did you get here? Not by magic, I assume. How does a helicopter rise and fall? Science. The main rotor spin fast enough to create lift, the tail rotor creates torque that acts against that of the main rotor, and the bird rises. It falls when a rocket collides with its side and causes the rotor to malfunction in many interesting ways. But how the rocket flies? And how it malfunctions? Ah, that is a different matter that I don't have the time to talk about."
"I want to be part of this progress. Science is enthralling. It send chills down my spines. The sense of empowerment it gives its beholders is absolutely astounding. Science is something to be harnessed and used to its fullest extent. In this sense, I'm nothing more than a scientist. That is why I do what I do. Nothing more, nothing less. Those who impede my quest must be ridden of. Which is probably you, judging from how you got in this sorry state."
Siria saw Talal redden in indignation and anger for the first time ever. The Tropius roared, "Progress! Progress at what cost? You're mad! I know not of what you meddle with, but you have unquestionably gone too far!"
"What I meddle with? That's interesting. Ask Siria over there. She knows, right?" Aiden reached into a coat pocket and flashed a small jar of pure, black liquid at her. He smirked knowingly and put it away after seeing her eyes widen in shock.
The Latias' mind reeled at the revelation. So HE was the one responsible for all of this. HE was the one who had mutated that Glaceon. HE was the one who had taken Charlie from them. HE was the one who made Jul into the maniac that he was. And she didn't doubt for a moment that HE was the one who was responsible for all of those mutated fetuses in the lab she saw months earlier.
This realization and aggravation was only magnified by the fact that she was completely powerless to do anything to kill him.
A sudden movement caught her misty gaze. Talal had managed to stand up and throw a Razor Leaf at the Typhlosion. She mentally egged him on, going against her pragmatic feeling that the Tropius was in for some pain.
Aiden eyed the leaves contemptuously, and dismissed them all with a single breath of flame. "Give it up, senior citizen," he commented casually. "You're not what you once were in your prime."
He kicked Talal in the face once more, this time drawing a little bit of blood. "I ought to kill you for your impudence. I thought elders like you knew what respect was."
"Respect? Not for those of your kind."
The fire-type sighed and pulled out a pistol. "Not for my kind? Elaborate." He flicked the laser attachment on, beginning to peruse the grass-type's body with it.
"Your evil. Your delusional state. Your madness."
"Whoa, old-timer. Don't break a hip there. Hmm... our youth certainly have interesting nomenclature, don't they? But," he said with a frown, "Your comment kind of stung me a bit. I'm not that evil. If I was evil then I'd kill... ah. How old is she, that Gabite? Can't be more than sixteen." He trained his gun on Nuwai's head, laser dot dancing on one of her horns.
"Yes, if I was evil, I'd kill her." He thumbed the safety on the pistol. "Yes, if I was evil..."
Talal gasped on the ground. "No, stop! Kill me! Don't kill her! Kill me instead!"
"Oh?" The pistol swung from Nuwai's head to his. "Do you have some interest vested in that Gabite girl?"
"I-" Talal then snapped his jaw shut, fully aware of what Aiden could do with this new information.
He sighed. "Not telling me? Let's ask the source herself." He strode over to Nuwai and put his paw under her chin. "Hello? Good afternoon? Are you awake yet?"
"Nngh..." The dragon opened her eyes slowly. They became quite large as she realized that a hostile-looking Typhlosion was staring straight at her.
"Ah, you're awake now. I have a question for you, Gabite girl. Just a simple one."
"Say nothing," Talal encouraged.
BANG.
"Silence." Aiden stared at the grass-type from over the sights of a steaming pistol. "Now, Gabite, where were we... do you know this old timer?"
She glanced at the Tropius lying on the ground, and decided firmly to stick to his wishes.
"Is that a yes or no?" No reply.
"Huh. So I'll take is as a no." Still no reply.
"That makes things a bit easier for me now," he commented as he walked back to Talal. "So you won't care if I do something to him." No reply.
He grabbed one of the Tropius' wings. "Huh. These look a bit flammable. Don't think you'd mind if I experiment myself. Out of all the grass-types I burned, I've never come across a Tropius before."
Nuwai gasped. "No, wai-"
And without ado, he tugged on the leaf and breathed fire on it. The wing gave new light to the room as it kindled brightly. Talal did not yell in pain, too focused on not presenting humiliating himself in front of Nuwai.
"Talal! Talal!" she screamed, thrashing against her shackles.
Aiden smirked. "I thought you didn't know him. But, oh well. I'm already bored; he doesn't seem to burn faster than others. Let's accelerate the process a bit."
Nuwai had to avert her gaze as a tremendous heat wave coursed through the room. This time, Talal could not stand the pain of being roasted alive; he screamed in pain as flame engulfed every part of his body.
"Hm. So close to dying." The Typhlosion towered over the burning grass-type. Oilly smoke emanated from Talal's body as fire ate at whatever exposed body parts there were. Nuwai bitterly watched on, feeling that she should be crying. Only a hard, heated rage engulfed her soul, though.
"But no, no, that won't do." He took a thin metal rod off the cart that he had brought in. "We'll try something a little more... interesting. Gabite, you better watch. You don't have a connection with him or anything, so it wouldn't hurt if you did."
He breathed fire on the metal, satisfied at the fact that it didn't melt away like the last one. He then crouched down to the Tropius, searching for one of his hooves. The metal glowed a bright cherry-red as Aiden held it carefully.
"I've always wondered. How much does this hurt?" He grinned sadistically.
Nuwai couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene, roaring in anger as the Typhlosion stabbed the area between the flesh and the nail with the hot end of the rod. Talal howled in pain and tried to edge his charred body away from the fire-type. His efforts were in vain, though, as Aiden continued to drive it even deeper into the nail.
He laughed maniacally. "I thought you didn't care for him! Why are you staring?"
As Talal continued to scream, the blue dragon shook with an unnatural rage. All of the times she was angry in the past hardly held a match up to the fury that she felt now. She wanted to take action. She wanted to destroy the Typhlosion in front of her from the inside-out, to send his internal organs tumbling from his gut as he cried and begged for mercy.
But like Siria, she could do nothing of the sort. The only thing she could do was watch.
"Nuwai."
She stared at the Tropius' face as it contorted in pain.
"Never... forget."
Aiden looked up from his work. "Not pained enough, I see. We can fix that." He breathed a little more fire on his rod to heat it up once more.
The Gabite winced as he cried out once more. "Never- forget-" he managed to edge out between his shouts.
"Never forget what?" she asked, vision beginning to water.
"Never... forget..."
"Oh no," the fire-type said, getting up. "You're close to dying, old timer. I can feel it. And there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. I was hoping to use all of my shiny new tools, too." He whipped the cover off of the cart he had brought in to reveal a vast array of spiked objects that Nuwai was certain was to be used for nothing more than pure torture.
"What to do with a nearly-dead 'mon... if I was cruel, I'd let you suffer. But I'm not, so I'll give you a quick, merciful death. Gabite girl, make sure you watch this. It's important."
Nuwai saw the Typhlosion raise his pistol and aim it at Talal's head. A red dot played on the blackened flesh.
"No," she whimpered.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Don't kill him!" she cried, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks.
"Don't not kill him? Alright."
Nuwai gaped as he narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip. She then averted her tearful gaze as he took aim and lodged a bullet straight into the back of the Tropius' head.