So I said something about updating every four days or so. Well, I lied D: At least I got this done faster than before...
Note: I don't advocate drinking alcohol, nor have I drunken it before.
Chapter 26: Talking Points
Levina and Shadrach walked into the DFAC, followed by the three surviving RMs. The Umbreon flattened his ears as he looked for the part of the cafeteria that resembled but was not actually a bar. He smirked as he saw the chairs lined up before what was probably an unauthentic oak counter. It was not a bar, but rather an "establishment erected for the proper consumption of myriad types of beverages and drinks." The eyes of any military bureaucrat who approved everyday requests would have simply glazed over at the verbose name.
An Absol, polishing a glass that was previously filled with "a glass of carbonated beverage whose ethanol (or hydroxyethane, for those who really wanted to throw off a particularly watchful official) content was that of an unknown amount," spotted the five of them coming over. "Hey, Shadrach!" he greeted as they took some seats. "What'll it be today?"
"Give me a Lilycove Breeze," he said quickly, looking around him to see if anyone heard the name.
"And you?" the dark-type asked Din.
"Do you have anything with one part Oran and two parts Passho?" he said, unfamiliar with all of the different beverages they served.
"No, but I can make it. One part alcohol, right?" Din nodded. "And you?" He looked at the Leafeon seated besides him.
"Same as him."
The Absol took out a steel container. "Right. And yo- wait, how old are you?"
The Garchomp looked back at him. "Not old enough."
"You look old enough, I'll tell you that. You uhh... still want something?" Levina was certain that Siria would have knocked the living daylights out of him if she was there.
"Do you have any Haban juice?"
"Yeah, I'll get you that. And Levina, right? I saw you a couple times around here. What'll it be for you?"
She blinked. "I don't drink."
Shadrach nudged her. "Remember what we're here for."
She sighed. "I don't know... a beer, I guess?" It was the first alcoholic beverage that came to mind.
"Sure thing."
As the Absol began mixing, Din was the first to break the silence. "I... it's hard for me to imagine. Are Talal and Ward really gone? On any other day they'd be here drinking."
"Talal wouldn't have," Jul said as the Absol poured a blue concoction into a tall, thin glass. "Ward would have drank to his heart's content."
"Yeah... usually Talal would be training with Nuwai." The Vaporeon gave her a smile.
She looked up at him from the glass she drank out of. "It's a good thing that you evolved, though," he continued. "Are you going to keep your name or get a new one? You're no longer a 'little fire,' after all."
The Garchomp frowned as she set her glass down. Her true name, the one that no other 'mon could actually decipher, had rested within two individuals: Talal and herself. Now that the former was dead, she was the only one with that knowledge.
"No," she said as the Absol passed a light blue drink to Shadrach. "Talal gave me this name. At first I wanted to because I couldn't stand the idea of staying a Gabite, but..." She smiled sadly. "I think I'll keep it."
"A wise choice," Jul said as he took a drink. "This is good!"
"Well, he's a really good barkeep." Shadrach took a swig of his own. "Though I don't know if Nuwai would give him a run for his money."
She mumbled as she looked down into her cup. "Probably not."
"Last one," the Absol said as he slid a mug of beer down to Levina. It slid perfectly on the mock wooden counter, stopping inches before her folded arms. She stared at the amber, foamy liquid. A few bubbles rose from the sides of the mug to the surface.
"Anyways," Shadrach said, "I'm not certain if RMs do this, but we usually drink to the fallen." He nudged Levina again for effect.
"So." The Umbreon raised his glass. "To Ward and Talal. May their sacrifices never be forgotten." Everybody, even an extremely hesitant Levina, raised their glasses in a toast.
"To Ward and Talal," they repeated before taking a sip of their drinks.
Levina set her mug down, wrinkling her face at the taste. The drink was bitter, almost like black coffee. A little too bitter for her liking, but also quite crisp and smooth. There was a telltale hint of bread in the aftertaste; she assumed it was from the yeast. Either way, to her it didn't taste very good, but interesting enough to warrant another try.
She drank a little more of the brew. The same taste returned, albeit much more subdued.
Then she took another sip. And another. And another. And yet another...
"And so," a inebriated Ampharos started, her entire face flushed red, "I was like 'Hmm, he seems hot,' but then I didn't say anything because, you know?"
Shadrach groaned and put a paw over his face as she giggled incoherently. He didn't know what atrocity he committed to to be the recipient of Levina's spontaneous, random talk, but he wished that Arceus would tell him so he could never do it again.
"She had only... one glass," Din commented, mouth agape. "I'm not seeing things, right? Just one glass?"
"Not even one." Jul smirked "Half, more like."
"But then there were a lot of 'mon like that all the way back then, cause, you know, I was a teenager then." She looked into her mug and took another drink. "Anyways, I never really asked him. But you know, later on..."
The bartender looked at her oddly. "That her first one?" he asked Shadrach.
"Yeah."
"I'll tell you what," he said. "I had 'mon (mostly Air Wing guys) who came in and slammed six beers down, and even they weren't as Zapdos'd as her. What gives?"
"Low tolerance, I guess." He then turned as something tugged on his sleeve.
"Hey, Shadrach."
He warily looked at the Ampharos' reddened face, slightly startled that the orb on her head glowed far more brightly than usual. "Yes?"
She pressed a small device into his paw and laughed. "I think I'm saying some interesting stuff, you know? So that thing's a recorder. Give it back to me when I'm a bit more sobered up? Okay?"
"Err... right." He slipped it into his breast pocket, noticing that the Absol was giving him a certain look.
"Someone's gonna notice sooner or later, so would you mind uhh... getting her out of here?"
He nodded, perfectly understanding his concerns. The last thing he wanted to do was to close the local bar that almost every 'mon on base frequented. "Come on, Levina. We have to go."
"Why?" she asked disappointingly.
"Because, uh... it's late, and we have to get back." A complete lie, but he couldn't think of anything better.
She surprisingly relented, getting up from the seat as Shadrach put a few bills down on the counter. He nodded goodbye to a snickering Jul, a disbelieving Din, and a rather indifferent Nuwai. Levina seemed to be able to walk somewhat correctly, and staggered slightly as the Umbreon led her out.
Luckily, the majority of the area surrounding the base was comprised of empty, snow-filled space. Shadrach looked up into the dusky sun and wondered if his drunken friend would figure out his lie.
"Where are we going?" Apparently, she hadn't even given thought to the excuse he gave.
"To a place where we can't be seen."
"Why?"
Because you're drunker than a Skuntank, he wanted to say, but he mercifully restrained his mouth. "Because there's someone who wants to make us do an assignment that I really don't want to do."
"Okay," she replied emptily.
They continued to walk for a distance until he could no longer hear the ambient din of the base. Shadrach squatted on the ground, not willing to freeze himself by sitting in the snow. Levina had no qualms with doing that as she fell with a giggle.
The Umbreon sighed and shook his head. It had taken him so much coaxing to get her to even take a drop of alcohol just to honor the dead soldiers, and now here she was, absolutely plastered from only half a glass of beer! He estimated that she'd be a little more sober in half an hour, hopefully less due to the frosty nature of the snow she sat in. Just thirty minutes, no more.
"Hey, Shadrach," he heard once again. This time he didn't say anything when he looked at her.
She completely ignored his silence. "You know, I've been thinking. You know Sirius? That Latios that got in our squad a few months back?"
Shadrach blinked. "Yes. Why?"
She smiled a bit. "You know, do you think he's cute?"
The question caught the Umbreon completely off guard. "Err, what?" he asked, unwittingly inviting himself to be privy to something he would soon dearly wish not to have heard.
"You know, I think he is, in his own little way," she mumbled, growing even redder as she looked down. "I thought he was a jerk or something in the first month or so, but he's pretty nice, actually. Like, he's an idiot sometimes, yeah, but you can tell he cares a lot for Siria, and us too."
The Umbreon twitched as she began to emotionally unravel before him. "I don't need to hear this," he said in an effort to deter her. "I really don't."
He absolutely failed. "And he's good at repressing some feelings, too," she said a bit more sadly, unconsciously beating her tail into the snow. "He probably has to deal with a lot of dead soldiers, you know? But he's so optimistic... it's interesting, really. You know that he cares for us, but you don't know anything about what goes on below..."
Shadrach continued to squat, not knowing if he should just high tail it out of there or act as her confidant. He first contemplated doing the first, but quickly realized that doing so would leave a drunk, particularly unstable Special Forces 'mon out high and dry to get picked up by a few MPs.
So the latter it was.
"And you know, that's the problem," she continued as the Umbreon mentally debated. "It's like, it's so hard to tell what he's thinking all the time. You think he's like, 'Oh, gotta go hit on her,' but is he really like that? Is he really out to get someone, or is he flirting for the kicks of it?" She shook her head in frustration. "It makes me think a lot, and the more I do, the more insecure I get."
Shadrach perked his ears at this. "Insecure?"
"Like, oh, I don't know! I mean, you know how he hits on me a lot, right? And I always pretend to act like I don't care or just dust him off and whatever? The thing I'm wondering about is..."
He had to actually lean in closer to hear her mumble, completely unconscious of the fact that he was enthralled by something he previously wished to have no part in.
"Does he actually like me, or is he just making fun of me? Cause, Arceus forbid-" She inhaled sharply. "I don't know what happened, but- oh, Arceus... I can't believe I'm saying this, but I like him."
Shadrach widened his eyes.
"I don't know why; some parts of him just want me make to hurl, but I like him a lot. It must be one of Arceus' terrible divine tricks, or something. I don't get it! I don't! He's a player, yeah, but that doesn't matter! It's just that he's sweet and kind and all of that, even though he doesn't seem or act like it! It's frustrating! It's just- ugh!"
She waved her arms in the air. "And I'm not one for sentimentality, either! Who would have ever thought I'd be the one who'd fall for someone! The idea's ridiculous! Preposterous! The first thing I told myself when I saw him? 'Don't get involved.' But what am I now? Involved! Ever since that one night!"
"Well..." he started.
"I mean, I don't know what's going on anymore! The thing is, I know him so much now! I used to like Charlie, but, well... he's dead, and the more thought I give to it, the more I think that I never really understood him. Sirius, on the other hand... I mean, I know him so much better! I know when he's happy, or when he's sad, or when he's gonna try something stupid like hit on me!"
Her voice winded down to a whisper. "And because I know him this well, I thought that it'd be impossible for any girl to like him. But the problem is, I keep saying, 'no,' but something inside me still says, 'yes...'"
"And the worst part?" she continued morosely. "He doesn't know. He's so thick-headed and oblivious to the fact that I like him, or the idea of romance in general! It's bad enough trying to express your emotions and have them just ignored, but it's the worst to have to bottle them up because you know they'll never be understood in the first place!"
Shadrach felt that he should say something, possibly a word of encouragement or two, but he didn't know what exactly to say. It could have been both a good or bad thing; one one hand, he could avoid getting electrocuted from accidentally pissing her off, but on the other, she was apparently emotionally wrecked on the inside.
"Ah, well..." The Ampharos shakily stood up. "Thanks to listening to me, I guess..."
When Shadrach too arose, he was surprised to feel Levina hug him, if only for a moment. The aloof, sarcastic operator no longer so? Or maybe because she's drunk...
"I think I can find my way back to the tents. I'm sleepy," she said as she took a hesitant step forward.
Definitely because she's drunk.
As he watched the yellow figure clumsily retreat, he nearly jumped as something beeped in his shirt pocket. As he fished the recorder out, he turned as pale as his black features allowed him to. The tiny, LCD screen simply read: "Data capacity full."
The Umbreon stared at it as if it was a ticking time bomb. It had all of the information that Shadrach never thought Levina would even say, let alone experience, but she really need to know what she said? Ignorance was bliss, as she had quipped a few days ago. It was nearly impossible for him to imagine the emotional convulsions she would go through if she known that she had said all of that. He knew the various interesting effects alcohol had on people; in this case, it appeared to him that it brought out Levina's more emotionally open side, spilling out secrets that she herself didn't even realize.
Reaction formation. Shadrach guessed that Siria were here, she would have supplied such a scientific term. It would certainly explain a lot, he mused. From how Levina always appeared to not care about Sirius to the point of physically beating him but all the while subconsciously thinking quite the opposite...
He sighed as he pocketed the recorder, deciding that he'd hide the recorder for probably until Dialga stopped time. As he watched Levina slowly but surely stagger back, he followed from a distance to make sure that she got back safely without doing something asinine.
Siria sneezed and let out a couple curses.
This was not how she intended to spend her liberty at all. The Latias shook her head before falling back on the pillow, grimacing as she recalled that she never quite cleaned it out the night prior. She really had to wonder: how did she even get sick in the first place?
A bluer dragon walked through the door with a cardboard box in claws. He set it down on his bed before lightly touching his sister's head. "Still hot, I see."
"Arceus, if you find a way to twist that into a joke I swear that when I get better I will find something to shove up-"
Sirius snickered. "No, but thanks for the idea. I didn't know you had such a mind."
"What?" she indignantly started. "If my bed weren't so dusty, I would get up and hit you."
"Hm?" He gave her a questioning look.
The Latias rolled her eyes in return. "All of the dust in this room is probably what got me sick," she groaned. "Including my bed..."
"Well, we can fix that." She saw him turn around for a moment to move the box off his bed. She then stammered slightly as the Latios picked her up, blankets and all, and set her gently on his own bed.
"What gives?" She sneezed and looked angrily at her brother. Of course only he would have the nerve to do what he just did. "Only Arceus knows how much dust is on your bed-"
"None, actually," he admitted, looking out the window.
"And how do you know this?" She felt an pounding feeling in her head, more intensified than usual due to her Psychic typing.
He smiled dolefully. "Dad told me he cleaned it a week before we came back. I don't know about your side, though; he probably didn't because he wanted to respect your space."
"Of cour-" Another thought suddenly crossed her mind. "What time is it?" She would die of shame if it was past si-
"It's eleven in the morning, or as how you'd like to say it, eleven-hundred."
"Oh." Her face went blank for a moment.
"You overslept by exactly five hours and sixteen minutes," he said as he looked at his watch.
She twitched. Five hours and sixteen minutes of work (even though it would be done in her father's presence) that wasn't had. "I'm going," she announced before Sirius pressed her back into bed.
"No."
"But-"
"Get some rest," he said firmly. "You can rest now and work later, or work now and stay in bed for the rest of the week." When she started to object, he continued, "If there's one thing I'm not 'dumb' in, it's medicine, so stay put. I'll be back in a minute with breakfast."
She glowered at the Latios' winged back as he left the room. Her? Not do something productive? It mystified her that for the first time in what must have been forever, she wasn't required to finish a directive or file a report. The feeling made her extremely uncomfortable, and the fact that she was sneezing half the damn time didn't help either.
Now that she thought about it, the idea that she was antsy because she didn't have orders to follow was disturbing in itself. It had been a whole year since she'd ever seen the civilian life, and it was as every bit as confusing to her as it was the year before, not to mention the year before that year, and so on...
What are you going to do with yourself? She honestly couldn't supply an answer to that question. There's going to be a point in time when one day, you won't have anyone barking orders or commands at you. Absolutely everything's going to be up to you to decide, not like in the military where it's all neatly organized and filed for you to do.
"Hey, Siria." Her brother walked in, bowl in one hand and glass of water in the other. She saw him set the food down on the table behind her bed. "Oatmeal," he said as he stirred a spoon in the bowl.
"Thanks." A sniff and a sneeze escaped her.
The Latios looked concernedly at his sister. "You sure you don't need an extra blanket or anything?"
She didn't know whether to be grateful or insulted by the question. "Not really," she said. "But I need something to do."
He sighed. "Still? Well, of course; look who I'm talking to." He lifted the box he had brought in and set it on her sheets.
"There's some stuff in here that we haven't sifted through. I was first going to look through it, but someone has to be pushy. Be careful, though, some of it's a bit dusty," he cautioned as the Latias extended an arm towards the cover.
She nodded her thanks before lying back down again. No matter whether she liked it or not, Sirius was right; she was pretty weak. She was humored by the fact that a Special Forces 'mon tempered against the deadliest missions the organization faced could be felled by something as simple as an illness.
"Oh, and-" Sirius produced a small, golden bell, putting it next to the steaming bowl of oatmeal. From her position in the bed, Siria saw that the Latios wore the most mocking, shit-eating grin she had ever seen. "This is for when you need help."
She blinked before glaring at him. "I swear that when I get better not even Arceus will save you from an ass-kicking!" she hoarsely shouted as he escaped from the room giggling.
When the last hint of blue faded from view, she heaved a tremendous sigh and stared at the cardboard box before her. Leave it to Sirius to make fun of her from every possible angle whenever something unfortunate befell her.
But as she gingerly opened a flap of the box, she couldn't help but feel grateful that there was at least one supporting figure she could rely on in her life. Her brother could have very well been a massive bastard that didn't care for her, inherent genetic predisposition notwithstanding.
Enough thinking, she chided as she opened the box. Just as Sirius had suggested, a nearly invisible cloud of dust arose from the interior as she held her breath to take a look. Amidst stray smaller boxes and scraps of paper laid a large, leather-bound book. She traced a circle in the fine dust seated on the cover before opening it gently, not wanting to agitate her sickness any more.
Her eyes narrowed at a set of six small black-and-white photographs of a Latios and Latias pair. The former was dressed in fatigues while the latter donned civilian clothing; from those details, Siria easily guessed who they were, and a faint anger rose within her. Had he treated mother the same way as he did I one time?
She began to flip through the photo album, pausing only slightly to see the finer details in a few of the pictures. Parks, mountains, canyons, coffee shops all passed her vision as the photographs transitioned from grayscale to color. Her father was an avid picture taker, having became a combat photographer in his service in the Halcyian Defense. No images of tanks or warplanes or firefights clouded the family-centric album, though.
Her flipping decreased as she saw two new figures begin to dominate the pictures: a pair of children, one streaked red, the other colored blue, but both sharing the similar hue of white. The thought of calling Sirius over and making him cringe at the word "cute" briefly crossed her mind, but she thought better of it; besides, the images before her were far more intriguing.
The Latias' impressive memory allowed her to remember every single event since birth, but something about seeing them so solid and defined in photographs gave her a different understanding of them. She couldn't help but snicker at a young Latios getting slapped by a Dragonite (she had brought the family camera to school that day), or grin when she saw the same yellow dragon and a younger Latias posing together (probably the same day, if not moments after the previous event). Her name was Alyssa, she remembered. Perhaps they'd meet up sometime that week. She was a good friend of hers, after all...
Her smile quickly faded as she noticed the recentness of the photos. A figure that once stood there was no more; there was one Latias less among the three. She noticed that she smiled less and less in the pictures, but she didn't really need to ask why.
The last page of the album gave way to reveal the leather backing of the book. Siria blinked; she hadn't recalled going that fast through the pictures. Then she flipped back to the last page again. The final picture was of them; she had her back turned to the camera, already making her way to the Army compound in the background, and Sirius was grinning and waving at who was probably her father. The stark transition from the lively civilian setting hardly a page back to the cold, singularly military image in the entire photo album was not lost on her.
She felt a pang of guilt at the thought; her empathetic nature hardly blunted the emotion that she knew her father must have felt. That feeling then turned into suspicion as she narrowed her eyes at the closed door. Had Sirius intentionally put the album there in an attempt to foster sympathy in her? Or was it simple coincidence that something so valued would be ignored and passed on to her?
The Latias sniffed and looked up, figuring that the dulled voices were in the next few rooms. But I can't hear them, she mulled. She wanted to know Sirius' reason for giving her the photo album, and whether it was by accident or intent.
Taking care to make as little noise as possible, Siria slipped out of her bed to the floor. She had considered breaching her brother's mind to see what the two were talking about, but the chances of her getting caught using that method were slightly too high for comfort.
The door gave little complaint as she turned it ever so slowly, allowing her out into the small hallway that led into the main room. She noticed that the muffled voices came from the door across from hers, and crouched besides it to get a better listen of what they were saying.
"... so of course, that's how it's like right now. We're moving a lot quicker than in the last few years," she heard her brother say.
"Is that so?" an older voice asked. "It must have changed a lot since the last time I was in the military."
"Yeah, probably. You know they've been a lot easier on relationships and things like that too? It's not like when they come down with the Judgment of Arceus when a couple's on base. It's surprising, considering how much the higher ups see them as being bad for military protocol and such."
Siria sat there, jaw agape. Please don't say it please don't say it-
"In fact, Siria's dating someone right now."
The Latias had no choice but to groan loudly inside her head, lest she blow her cover. Of course Sirius would say that; no amount of pleading or wishing on her part could stop him from making his series of innocent yet destructive comments.
"She is? Who?" The Latios' voice had a sharper inflection to it. Great.
She heard nothing but shuffling for a moment. Then, "A guy named Shadrach. Umbreon."
"Umbreon, huh...? I never trusted them; they're rather shady 'mon." Siria wanted to object out loud, but again, her covert position caused her to fall back into an indignant silence.
"No, Shadrach's a pretty good guy. Very direct and clear-cut; doesn't miss a beat unless he's under lots of stress. I'd tell you more, but, uhh... I don't think that you need the extra white hair."
"Tell me, Sirius. Or do I have to probe your mind for it? You know I'm not against doing that to children." Siria winced at the threat; her father was never one for lying.
"I'm twenty, dad! Don't you think I'm a little old for that?"
"Out with it, Sirius."
"Later?"
A begrudging sigh. "Fine. I'll hold you to that, though."
The eavesdropping Latias adjusted her position as nothing but silence interrupted by bouts of movement and lifting came from the room. She was about to retreat back to her bed (it was rather chilly for her) when she heard another query from one of the two in the room.
"Hey, dad?" her brother asked. "Do you know what this is?"
The older Latios paused for a moment before chuckling. "That's a pencil set your mom gave me a long time ago back when we were dating. I was never one for drawing, so I meant to pass it down to Siria. But after all of that... it never happened, so here it stays." She heard a sigh accompany something being set down gently. "Sirius, I wish..."
More silence, except this time there was no movement at all. Siria felt her father's emotions rise to a surge, restrained like water behind an ever-weakening dam.
His voice seemed to crack. "I wish that we could be a family again, like in the past. It was good then; nothing dysfunctional, nothing absolutely wrong. But all of that changed when she left... it was just..."
"You don't have to say it, dad."
She imagined that he cracked a sad smile at Sirius' remark. "It's fine. I had to live this for the past three years, so it doesn't hurt too much to say it now. I thought that after I'd left the military, I could try raising a good family, but I don't think that panned out in the end. Ever since she died, everything's been going downhill. I get fired from my photography job, then you two get expelled..."
"Dad." A harder tone worked its way into Sirius' voice.
"... but I don't blame you," he continued. "Your motives were good, and you protected her from them. It's just that it was handled poorly." The Latias' heart fell at this; she knew that it was her fault, no matter if the situation had been in her control or not, that they'd been shown out the door.
"But it's my fault!" She slightly flinched at an angry stomp on the floor. "If that hadn't happened; if I had prevented it all; if I had restrained my temper, then we wouldn't be like this! She'd be going to a top-rate university and not even have to deal with this war! I mean, I'd get drafted, yeah, but she would be exempted because of her undergrad stuff! Someone like her doesn't deserve to have what's happened to her for the past years!"
Neither said anything after Sirius' outburst. Siria, still crouched beside the doorway, felt even more pained than before. It was much like the photo album; Sirius wasn't an expert in containing his emotions and thoughts, so she had easily picked up on those, but it was so much different to sense them through her more basic senses. The irrational idea of bursting into the room and apologizing to him overtook her mind for a moment, and she nearly acted upon it before for the third time realizing her position; neither of them would likely take it well if they knew that she'd been listening in on them.
"Well," she finally heard her father say. "It's past noon. Lunch?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty hungry myself. Let me go check on Siria before going to the kitchen. I hope she's feeling a bit better."
The Latias jumped at this and scampered back to her room as quickly as possible. She nearly knocked the box off her bed as she slammed the album on top of it and set everything on the ground as gently as possible.
She had hardly covered herself with the sheets when the Latios walked into the room. "Siria?" he asked. "Are you feeling any better?"
She pretended to feign sleep. Go away. Don't investigate.
"Ah, she didn't even touch the oatmeal. Or the bell..."
Siria twitched.
"It's cold, too. No sense in her eating this." She could sense her brother swiftly moving out of the room, and remained still even after he had left. No sense in jeopardizing her cover in case he came back for something.
After she was certain that he had left, Siria cracked open an eye. A shaft sunlight streaming into the room illuminated a column of thick, heavy dust, undoubtedly thrown up when she had tried to stow everything away in a hurry.
Arceus dam-
She sneezed.
"Air raid! Air raid! Two enemy tangos inbound! This is not a test! I repeat, this is not a test!"
Shadrach arose quickly from his bunk and tightly gripped the knapsack he always kept under his bed. Pandemonium and chaos surrounded him; as amazingly loud sirens blared into the night, half-dressed 'mon scrambled to get out of the tents as quickly as possible. He too quickly became one of them, and weaved his way out into the open. Three mobile antiaircraft guns rolled loudly out into the staging area, heavy treads angrily chewing through the frostbitten ground. Many other soldiers manned smaller, stationary antiaircraft guns, swerving them at targets that were still unconfirmed or even located by fire control.
The Umbreon clumsily opened his bag and took out a pair of night vision binoculars. As he saw several missile launchers being prepared in his peripheral vision, he faced his eyes skyward to see if he could catch any flying objects.
"There they are! Open fire!" He saw hundreds of rounds of tracer ammunition fly out at two nearly indecipherable winged figures in the far above them. Undeterred, the silhouettes continued to fly forward at an incredible speed.
"What in the hell are those things? We can't get a lock!" he heard a soldier operating a missile launcher shout.
"Not fast movers, that's for sure! No heat signature like a jet's, but they're just as fast! They must be foxtrots! Shoot them down!"
Shadrach had to crane his neck now to see the figures fly above, knowing now that they were enemy flying-types. He remained in that position until...
"They're over us now! They're gonna bomb!"
The phrase worked like a charm. Soldiers everywhere scampered for cover, some seeking refuge under the eaves of buildings, others worming their way under tanks, and a few very strange ones hiding under helicopters filled to the brim with diesel fuel.
But no Hyper Beam burst came raining down on their heads; the roar of the antiaircraft cannons went unabated as the dark, winged silhouettes continued their rapid journey over the forward operating base. Hundreds of red-colored rounds continued to fly out at them as the Army 'mon began to repay the debt.
"Got one!" someone shouted. Shadrach trained his binoculars on where he guessed the enemies might be. One fell rapidly from the sky; the other immediately dived downwards toward its partner, attracting even more fire from the antiaircraft.
As he tore his vision away from the scene, he heard the sirens begin to die down through the thoughts beginning to form behind his eyes. The loudspeakers said something about the raid being over, but he tuned them out as well. What 'mon, he asked himself, could fly as fast as a jet? Several species, such as Pidgeot and Garchomp, could claim such airspeed, but only during certain occasions.
That was probably it. He quickly reasoned that some pair of foolish Tamsus 'mon had probably tried to assault the base by air, but had absolutely failed. He rubbed his eyes as he headed back to the tent, even though neither he nor any other soldier would be getting much rest that night. Their nerves were far too frayed for that.
Later that night, the intelligence department filed a report with a very similar conclusion: that two insurgents had tried to overfly the base in a scare attempt, and that the other had taken fear when one was shot down . There was no evidence that they could supply to corroborate the report even though quick response teams were immediately dispatched to where the first had been shot down. They had returned in a few hours, claiming that there was no body to be found; perhaps, they suggested, it had been completely torn apart by the high caliber rounds the guns had used.
What was not known by the intelligence officers was that the members of the "quick response" teams were actually individuals belonging to a highly classified, lightweight, and powerful military detachment. What was not written in the intelligence reports was that the soldiers had actually secured the body, and called in a special helicopter to extract it before returning to base. What was not documented in the end was that the helicopter had flown straight to headquarters far back north, where no prying eyes could see the payload.
And what was not known to any of them, blind intelligence officer or first-hand HTR operator alike, was the exact nature of what they had shot down that night.