It had all gone wrong. It had gone so, so wrong.
And yet, Spark should have seen it coming. He should have come up with a way to mitigate the inevitable. He'd been worried that Candela would finally break, but he did nothing to stop it. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he'd told himself that she was stronger than he was, and stronger than Blanche, too. After all, she'd managed to keep it together better than either of the other leaders. In his gut, Spark knew it would come crashing down, that not even the mighty Candela could withstand the fire burning in her head.
But he did nothing.
He had watched helplessly as Candela was devoured by the legendary bird inside her. He'd failed to protect Blanche, who had reached for their friend, and who should have known better. Blanche must have been in denial as well, their usual logic overthrown by their concern for Candela.
It wasn't meant to go this way. Team Rocket was supposed to agree to Blanche's truce, and then they all should have climbed the trail. On the way up, Spark would have separated Dillinger from the bunch, and he and Hypno would have…
It didn't matter. Nothing did. Spark was cold and blind and paralyzed. Was this death? Why did his body still ache? Why couldn't it all just end?
He couldn't be dead. Not after everything he'd survived. Death would be too much of a gift at this point. Spark focused on opening his eyes, but the task seemed monumental. He strained until he could see a sliver of white light.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, his sight returned. Wherever he was, it was freezing and headachingly white. Perhaps this was some sort of terrible afterlife, and he was trapped here for all eternity, alone and shivering and unable to truly die.
But Spark wasn't alone. A dark figure lay nearby, her back to him, completely still.
"Candela?"
She didn't reply. Adrenaline surged from Spark's heart, jumpstarting him enough to crawl to her across what he now realized was ice. He turned her on her back so he could see her face.
Candela looked like she was sleeping peacefully, her face totally relaxed, her breath rising in clouds of steam thanks to the frigid air. Without thinking, Spark pulled her into his lap and hugged her close, relieved to find her body warm and alive. As he held her, he searched for hidden injuries, for broken bones or electricity burns or gashes from the fall. Miraculously, he found no new damage on her body. Maybe Moltres was to thank for that.
Moltres. Spark couldn't make sense of the dramatic change in the pokémon's attitude as it overpowered Candela. In Candela's mind, the bird had seemed volatile, sure, but also hurt and seeking comfort from Candela. There had been a strange kind of love there. What had happened? Was the pokémon losing its mind as well?
Would the same thing happen to Articuno? To Zapdos?
The pieces of the puzzle fell in place in Spark's frazzled mind. This icy room, Articuno… where was Blanche? He twisted his neck to look around. There, almost within reach, was the cart, and next to it, so pale that they nearly blended into the ice, sat Blanche. Spark yelped in surprise and horror as he met their wide-open eyes, which looked frosted-over and sightless. Veins of ice laced across their skin, forming intricate designs on their graying flesh.
"Blanche!"
Spark dragged himself toward them, pulling Candela with him, afraid to let go, as if she would disappear if he stopped touching her. He lifted an unsteady hand to Blanche's neck and flinched back, shocked by the inhuman coldness of their body. They were frozen into the wall, their back partially hidden by the ice that spread from it.
They should have been dead. They looked dead. But a soft hiss of air and the almost undetectable rise and fall of their chest told Spark that Blanche was still breathing. He fumbled for a pokéball from his belt, his fingers numbed and clumsy from the cold.
His sandslash leaped out of the ball, spikes raised, already on the defensive.
"Sir Slashalot, it's OK, we're not under attack," Spark hurriedly reassured the pokémon. "I need you to dig them out! Q-quickly!"
Sir Slashalot jumped in alarm as he followed Spark's gaze to Blanche. The sandslash immediately scuttled closer and began tunneling into the wall, throwing ice-shavings behind him carelessly as he went. Spark shielded Candela from the artificial snow, holding her face close to his chest.
In a matter of seconds, Sir Slashalot had carved Blanche free. The Mystic leader slumped forward, eyes still wide and unblinking. Spark tried to hold their limp upper body up with one arm, unable to do much more in the cramped space.
"Good job, S-Slashy," Spark said, teeth clattering. "Can you t-tunnel us out of here?"
Sir Slashalot saluted with one of his long claws and pounced at the wall, where he set to burrowing. The sound of scraping ice exacerbated Spark's headache, and he tried his best to block it out.
Something rustled in the cart, causing Spark to jolt. Yellow fingers reached over the top of it, followed by a familiar face.
"Hypno! Are you OK?" Spark asked.
The hypno climbed out of the cart and tumbled to the ground. He sat up and clasped his arms around himself, trying to keep warm. He nodded, the motion almost lost in all his shaking.
"Good! C-can you help me move them?"
Hypno nodded again and shuffled close enough for Spark to pass Candela to him. He took her under the arms and began to drag her toward the narrow tunnel Sir Slashalot had made. Spark followed suit, awkwardly hauling Blanche along as he used his elbow to pull himself forward, since the tunnel ceiling was too low for standing or crouching.
The ice walls were only a few feet thick, and Hypno and Spark slid out of Sir Slashalot's tunnel within seconds. After the bright glow of the ice chamber, the surrounding darkness felt especially oppressive. Spark felt his way across the cold stone until he felt Hypno's leg, startling the pokémon.
"I'm sorry for spooking you, Hypster," Spark said, trying to lighten the mood, though he felt anything but light. He reached around in the dark again, shoving away chunks of ice, until he found Candela, the plush of her weathered jacket a familiar sensation under his fingers. He rested his hand on the pokéballs at her waist.
"Flicker? Can you hear me? Which one are you in?"
One of the pokéballs rocked under his palm, so he picked it up and called out the pokémon inside. Candela's ponyta pranced out of the ball, acting as a torch against the surrounding blackness. Flicker whinnied and stamped his hooves, upset at the sight of the unconscious leaders. He went straight for Candela, dipping his head low to nuzzle her, grunting anxiously when she didn't stir from her slumber. He stomped the ground again, overwhelmed by the situation.
"Whoa, Flicker! Easy! She's going to be fine!" Spark said. "But I need your help for that, alright? I need you to help warm them up. Especially Blanche. Can you do that?"
Flicker shifted his weight from side to side, then lay down close to Blanche, allowing his fire to grow.
"Thank you," Spark said, pushing Candela closer to the warmth. He rested her head on Flicker's foreleg, and the pokémon gently lay his head over his trainer in the ponyta equivalent of a hug. He fanned his flaming tail across Blanche's frosted body, applying an even and constant heat.
"Perfect. Let me know the second something goes wrong, OK?"
The ponyta snorted, apparently agreeing to the terms.
Spark sat back with a sigh, and Hypno sank down against him. The two leaned together and caught their breath as Sir Slashalot sniffed around the space, his claws tapping against the stone. Spark took the opportunity to assess the area as well. Several yards away, he could see a sharp edge to the stone slab they rested on, with nothing but shadow beyond it. Spark wasn't sure how deep the drop-off was, but he didn't want to find out. The sphere of ice Blanche had encapsulated them in must have struck some sort of platform in the side of the chamber wall. It had to have been one hell of an impact, because the ground around them was littered with shards of ice that had splintered away from the main sphere.
High above him, blue crystals lit the distant cone of the volcano. Getting back up there wouldn't be easy, but what choice did they have? At least Spark knew where they were. At least they hadn't fallen into the depths with the Rockets.
Spark swallowed around a lump in his throat. There was no way he could have known the floor would give way like that, right? It had been accident. He didn't know Gyarados's weight and the force of the water and the impact of Rutabaga's Discharge would do this much damage, would result in all those Rockets and their pokémon falling, falling...
Without warning, Spark keeled to the side and vomited, alarming both Hypno and Sir Slashalot. Spark coughed and wiped away a trace of bile.
"I'm sorry," he said, weakly. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. All those lives…"
He choked back another wave of nausea. Hypno placed a warm hand on his back as he collected himself.
"They were terrible people, but they didn't deserve that. And all their pokémon…"
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about their pokémon. I'll take good care of them."
Spark jumped to his feet in a flash. Dillinger's voice echoed in the chamber, but he knew it couldn't be the real Dillinger. No one could have survived that fall, not without Blanche's ice cocoon. It was his mind playing tricks on him again.
But if that was the case, why did Hypno look so frightened? A quick survey of the other pokémon confirmed Spark's fear. It wasn't just him hearing the voice. It was real.
Dr. Dillinger landed daintily on the stone shelf and called the fearow that had carried her there back into his ball. The pockets of her lab coat bulged with pokéballs. She smiled at Spark, and it wasn't her usual cutesy grin. The woman looked utterly deranged as her bloodshot eyes darted wildly to assess the scene. Hypno clung to Spark's legs, paralyzed by fear.
"Let me tell you, Sparky. Retrieving these things was no picnic. But I couldn't let them go to waste," Dillinger said.
For the first time, Spark noticed the blood on her sleeves. His stomach turned again. She'd gone down into the pit to take the pokémon from the grunts who had fallen to their deaths. Spark felt torn. On one hand, he was relieved that the pokémon had been rescued, but on the other…
Dillinger's laugh was raspy and manic. "What's the matter, Spark? No snarky one-liners for me this time?"
The air next to her flickered, and suddenly, a second Dillinger appeared a few feet to the right of the first.
"You have got to be kidding me," Spark hissed under his breath. Was one of them not enough?
Both Dillingers tilted their heads. "I'm sorry?"
Spark straightened up. He'd been waiting for a moment like this. No, it hadn't come about in the way he'd planned, but he couldn't let the opportunity slip away. Not with his friends lying defenseless next to him. Not after all they'd endured.
"Didn't you get my text, Doc?" Spark asked, forcing a smirk.
The two Dillinger faces soured in unison. "Don't call me that."
"I specifically warned you about Candela, but you just couldn't help yourself," Spark said, stepping closer. "And now you have the nerve to confront me? I'm starting to think you didn't read my heartfelt message."
Dillinger narrowed her eyes and checked over her shoulder. "What the hell are you looking at?"
Spark's blood chilled. He'd assumed the new Dillinger, the one on the right, was the hallucination. Had he been staring into empty air this whole time? His ears warmed with embarrassment.
The Dillingers snickered. "Oh Spark, you're in pretty bad shape, aren't you? Did you knock your head inside of Blanche's ice sculpture? Or is something else going on?"
Sir Slashalot rattled his bristles at Dillinger menacingly. Spark waved him off, and pointed toward Candela and Blanche. The pokémon took the hint and ambled into position near Flicker, ready to play defense if he had to.
The Dillingers suddenly started to move in opposite directions, pacing a slow circle around Spark. "It's pretty wild what Candela pulled off up there, don't you think? At first, I thought she was somehow channeling Moltres' power, but that just made me wonder where the actual birds are. Shouldn't they have come to your rescue by now?"
Spark tried not to look at either iteration of Dillinger. He remained perfectly still, unable to trust his senses. Maybe neither of them were the real deal. He tried to estimate the source of Dillinger's voice, but his stone surroundings threw the sound in strange ways, making it impossible to nail down.
"Unless the birds are already here," Dillinger said, closing the circle tighter.
Spark slipped up and let his eyes jump between the two of them.
"What's the problem, Sparky? Seeing double? You're going mad, aren't you? Just like the original royals," Dillinger said, her voice giddy. "Is that what happened to Blanche and Candela? They finally lost it? Couldn't share their heads with legendary pokémon anymore?"
"Sounds like you've got it all worked out," Spark replied, as coolly as he could.
The Dillingers tossed their hair. "Well, it takes no less than a genius-level intellect to get where I am today."
"Stuck in a hole and covered in the blood of your teammates?"
Both sets of eyes glared daggers at Spark for his comment. "I'd watch my mouth if I were you."
"I thought you liked my one-liners," Spark replied. "But I could be wrong. I don't share your 'genius-level intellect,' after all. Now, are you finished taunting me? Because we're on a tight schedule."
Dillinger scoffed. "You're going to help me escape? Just like that? I had sort of hoped you'd put up more of a fight."
"You're a bit of a masochist, huh? Kinda kinky. I dig it," Spark said, raising his voice to make sure his intended audience caught his meaning.
The two Dillingers sneered in disgust. "Are you threatening me? Please. You don't even know where I am. You can't trust your own eyes."
"I don't have to trust my own eyes. I have someone else I can trust," Spark said.
Sir Slashalot burst from the ground like a torpedo, sending one of the Dillingers flying into the air while the other one flickered out of existence. Spark shook himself free of Hypno and leaped for Dillinger as she fell, pinning her to the ground by the wrists, using his weight to immobilize her torso.
"I am super glad you were paying attention, Sir Slashalot," Spark said. "For a second there, I was worried that I'd been too subtle for you."
The sandshrew huffed, offended by the notion.
"Get off me! I'll tear you apart! I'll rip your guts out through your throat and strangle you with them!" Dillinger roared, bucking and twisting to escape his hold.
"Wow! What happened to all that decorum, Doc?" Spark asked, fighting to stay in control.
"Don't call me 'Doc!'" she screeched, kicking violently out to the side and catching his injured ankle.
Spark flinched, giving her an opening to strike. Dillinger wrested her arm free and clocked the side of his head. Spark saw stars for a second, then felt the buzz in his fingertips, just like he had when he'd shocked Blanche out of cardiac arrest. He tried to pull away, but was too late.
Dillinger's screaming escalated as Spark zapped her, but he managed to let go and sit back before the electricity could do serious damage. The screams faded into a pathetic whimper as she stared at him with those watery, bloodshot eyes.
"I'm sorry!" Spark reflexively exclaimed.
"D-don't hurt me!" Dillinger squeaked.
Spark didn't like how satisfying it was to hear the terror in her voice. In the span of a second, she'd transformed from vicious to absolutely pitiful. Her cowardly nature had revealed itself.
"I'm not going to hurt you. Calm down," Spark said. He couldn't believe he was speaking so gently to the woman who had ruined so many lives. "I'm going to get you out of here, alright? But there's something I have to do first."
"What is it?" Dillinger panted.
Spark stood slowly, allowing her to sit up. He almost felt sorry for what was about to happen to her. Almost. "Hypno has something he'd like to share with you."
Dr. Dillinger got to her feet, careful to avoid the scattered shards of ice, her face a mask of confusion. Spark nodded to Hypno. It was time.
Hypno stood in front of his former master and placed his fingers against his temples. It had been Spark's idea to do this, and Hypno had eagerly agreed to the idea. He just hoped that Hypno's pain would be worth it.
Dillinger stumbled back and clapped her hands to her head. "What's this? What's happening?!"
"Hypno is sharing everything he's experienced with you, Dr. Dillinger," Spark explained. "He's using your transmitter to share every horrible thing that's happened to him and to his friends under your care."
Dillinger shook her head. "No. No. I don't want to see this."
"It's the cost of a ticket out of the mountain," Spark said, crossing his arms. "And if you think about it, it's not that expensive. You weren't actually there to witness the agony of all the last breaths. You watched tapes of pokémon dying and your shriveled husk of a heart felt nothing. Because you didn't even have the capacity to empathize with the suffering you'd inflicted. All Hypno is doing is giving you a little insight."
Dillinger howled and clutched her skull tighter, her sightless eyes rolling in her head. "Stop! STOP! They're just pokémon! Worthless fucking monsters!"
Hypno hunched over, as if he'd been punched in the gut. Spark clenched his jaw as his chest filled with rage.
"All this research on creating stronger bonds with pokémon, and that's how you think of them? Did it not occur to that genius brain of yours that you don't need diodes and deadly surgeries to communicate with pokémon? That the strongest bonds are forged by love and respect?" Spark demanded, his voice rough with emotion. "Face what you've done, Doctor. Face the fact that you've wasted your life searching for an answer that's been right under your nose all along."
"You're wrong!" Dillinger snapped. "You could never comprehend my brilliance! You will never know true strength!"
Static crackled between Spark's fingers. He couldn't let Zapdos get the better of him, not at such a critical moment.
"You're weak, Doc. If you want to understand strength, look into the faces of the pokémon you've murdered," Spark growled.
Hypno's muscles tensed as he redoubled his efforts to inundate Dr. Dillinger with his memories. Spark wished Hypno didn't have to suffer as well, but the pokémon had wanted this so badly.
Dillinger wailed and shook her head, her hair whipping violently with the motion. "NO! IT HURTS! IT HURTS!"
Spark ignored the pang of sympathy in his heart. "It's just a taste of the damage you've done. If Hypno endured it, so can you."
"I REFUSE!"
Dillinger clawed at the transmitter on the side of her head, digging her nails into her scalp and ripping at the device. Hypno's hands dropped in shock.
"Dillinger, stop!" Spark shouted as she continued tearing at her head, despite the fact that Hypno had clearly stopped transmitting. The static in Spark's fingers grew from a faint buzz to a sharp snapping of electrical currents, apparently reacting to his alarm.
But Dillinger either didn't hear him or didn't care. She yanked one last time and pulled the diode out of her skull with a sickening snap. Long, bloody tendrils dripped from it, and Spark wondered just how deeply implanted the device had been. Spark's head spun, and bile rose in his throat. This wasn't supposed to happen. He didn't even know this could happen.
Dillinger no longer looked human. Her face was warped into a ferocious snarl, and her shoulder hung at an odd angle, like she could no longer control her arm. Spark waited for her to collapse, astounded that she could survive such damage. Instead of falling, Dillinger launched forward, swiping a long spike of broken ice from the ground as she ran. Spark's chest exploded with a rush of adrenaline and electricity as the nightmarish shell of a human charged him. Hypno dove out of Dillinger's path, but Spark couldn't move.
He yelled for her to stay back, but the woman was too far gone. Spark caught her by the shoulders and was immediately blinded by the brightest light he'd ever seen. He felt Dillinger's body convulse under his hands as a fatal dose of electricity chased through her system. The air thickened with the bitter stench of burning flesh.
And then it all stopped. Spark's eyes adjusted enough to see Dillinger's charred face almost level with his, the smoke rising from her head, her mouth eternally frozen in an agonized O. She fell backward and thudded to the ground.
All was quiet.
Spark waited for her to move, but she didn't.
It was over.
"No…" he whispered as his knees buckled and he fell into a kneeling position at the dead scientist's feet.
It was never meant to be this way. He'd just wanted to teach her a lesson. This was supposed to honor the memory of everyone Dillinger had harmed. He hadn't meant to do more harm. His heart raced with the aftereffects of the adrenaline, and his breathing turned rapid and shallow as the panic set in.
He'd killed her. It didn't matter how much evil had dwelled in her heart. Dr. Dillinger was human, and Spark had killed her.
Sir Slashalot crept toward him and gingerly nudged his elbow. Spark placed his hand on the sandslash's head, and Sir Slashalot closed his eyes. He had to calm down for the sake of the pokémon. They all needed his kindness and strength.
"Thank you," Spark said, voice cracking. "You did good, Slashy."
Hypno stepped forward and stared at Dillinger's body. A single tear trailed down his face, which he quickly wiped away with the back of his hand.
"Hypno, I'm so sorry," Spark said.
Hypno shook his head and turned away from her. The expression in his eyes was a complicated mix of pain and relief. He sat in front of Spark and lowered his head.
"It's going to be OK," Spark said, as much to himself as to the pokémon around him. "We can't stay here. We have to get Blanche and Candela in the cart and find a way back to the trail, and then…"
He trailed off, losing his words in the fog of his brain. Where had this dizziness come from? The adrenaline? The hyperventilation?
Hypno grabbed his shoulder and pointed frantically at Spark's stomach. Spark looked down and struggled to process what he saw. A spike of ice protruded from the left side of his abdomen. In all the chaos, he'd forgotten the ice in Dillinger's hand. He'd assumed she'd missed. He couldn't even feel it, but he saw the dark bloom of blood spreading across his orange hoodie. His vision began to darken at the edges, and his head lolled weakly.
"Shit," he murmured as he tipped to the side, unconscious before he reached the ground.