The water churned and frothed, lapping at the banks with its silver tongue. As the river flowed northward, it carried bits of the sky with it: pink and gold, glittering blue and black, as the sun sank into the horizon and died in a burst of color. The waters parted against Gyrados's sleek scales. Blanche was perched against its shoulder. She scanned her surroundings. Keydin Forest-part of Team Valor's territory-had given way to a countryside of flowing golden grass, as soft as a brush of a fairy's hair.
Even now, as she traveled up the wide river, she kept her shoulders tense, her ears pricked. This part of the land still belonged to Valor, with its spies as numerous as the rats in a grain house. She pried the fields with her eyes, combed over the territory for a quick flicker of movement, any shadows that darted on their own, any crunch of leaves that might signal a watchdog.
It was quiet tonight. Inwardly, she sighed in relief.
Gyrados rumbled. She stroked its scales.
"No one knows when the Great War started," she murmured. "Some say that it had no beginning. That it had existed for as long as time itself." Something white hovered at the edge of her vision. She tilted her head up to gaze at the moon, fat and round and impossibly bright.
"I can't help but think," she said carefully, "what it would be like if it wasn't like this. If I could just come and go as I pleased without glancing behind my back, without fear or worry, because the world would have no borders."
At this, Gyrados gave a noise of surprise.
"I know. It's a silly idea, isn't it?"
It rumbled again, a throaty thunder from deep within its chest.
The countryside began to thin out. Team Valor's territory was far behind them now. Ark Town was just below the ridge. A neutral town, she knew, where it belonged to neither team. A safe place.
And, Blanche hoped, it was where she'd find her answers.
"Thank you," she said, as she jumped down from the Pokemon's back.
"Gyrr?" It asked. It lowered its mighty head, and up close, she could see the glint of worry in its big rolling eyes. Blanche scratched its chin.
"Don't worry. I'll do everything I can. I promise."
Once it was tucked safely into its Pokeball, she made her way toward the town washed in moonlight.
Even from this distance, she could tell something was off. The roads lay empty, barren. She was the only person in the entire street. Her footsteps were uncomfortably loud. Not a breeze stirred. Strange, she thought. It wasn't that late of a night. A glint of sun could still be seen behind the mountains. So why was it so empty? Every window she peered into was either dark or drawn shut with curtains. She could feel the tension in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. Despite her coat, she shivered and drew her collar over her chin.
The wind here was unfriendly.
Should she call out? Should she knock?
Blanche strode through the quiet streets at a brisk pace, holding it out for as long as she could. Finally, she made up her mind. Drawing herself up to a random house, she knocked on the door.
Nothing happened. No voices, no frantic scuffling, no creaking floorboards. She counted to twenty five. Still nothing.
She was beginning to wonder if this town had been deserted when, ever so slowly, something unlocked. The door creaked. A crack appeared, no wider than her thumb, and beyond that was only darkness.
Then an eye. It studied her for a heartbeat. Then-zip!-back into the darkness, like a snail into its shell or a beetle scuttling back into its hole. She could make out muffled whispers.
"This is the leader of Team Mystic," she said loudly. "I came because there was trouble."
"We know who you are," answered an old, wheezy voice. Blanche imagined an aging tree, gnarled and knotted and ancient.
"The witch of Agnesi," it said. It hesitated.
The voice suddenly hardened. "And what kind of trouble could this be? Have you come to finally lay claim to this place? Ark Town has belonged to no one but itself. Agnesi herself promised that seventeen years ago. You have forgotten?"
The eye peered out at her, squinted, as though trying to find the person named Agnesi in the woman standing before it. Blanche imagined it to feel quite disappointed. She had inherited the same pale hair, but that was all. None of Agnesi's courage or wisdom.
The eye seemed to realize this.
"Of course I haven't," Blanche said quietly. "My mother knew what she was doing." She raised her chin. "If I am not mistaken, you still have yet to repay her kindness."
The eye disappeared.
Blanche waited. She watched how the fallen leaves dappled the sidewalk in golden freckles, stirred to life by the chilled wind. The moon glowed softly. A silver halo shimmered behind it, and the stars were awake. They blinked down at her. With her skilled eye, she scanned the night sky, searching.
There. It shone more brilliantly than the rest of them, a diamond against black velvet. The Orphic Star. If anyone else peered too closely, all they'd see was one lone dot, blinking by itself in the night. But she knew better, because the Orphic Star was no ordinary star. It was in the shape of an eye, shimmering and blinking, washing the land of Team Mystic with its gentle light.
And even if you closed your eyes, you'd still see it because it burns so brightly. It follows you wherever you go, and no matter where you are, it'll always find you. So don't feel lonely, alright?
Someone had told her that once. But who had it been? Why did the voice sound so familiar?
The door began to creak once more. The darkness widened. She waited. Then she stepped inside.
It took a while for her eyes to adjust. There was no light. A couch and lamp were settled into a corner. A wooden table in front. Rooms out back, a T.V., a bookcase, a hallway. She took it all in. There was a kitchen to her right, judging from the faint outline of a pot. Only then did she notice the people.
There was a middle-aged woman hunched over on the sofa, a little boy-girl?-in her arms. Then an old man. Even before he spoke, she could fit the voice with his face, an aging tree. Gnarled and knotted and ancient. He hobbled on a cane. A white mustache tickled his upper lip. Wrinkles were carved into his face like the crinkled lines in a ball of paper.
As she studied him, she realized that he was peering at her as well. His brow furrowed close together. Then drew apart, his head tilting up and down to take in her height. He was only tall enough to reach her ribs.
Blanche saw it coming from a mile away. In a split second, she jerked her arm up and caught his cane with a fist, before it could whack her on the head.
The old man smiled. "Well." he chuckled. "Maybe you are Agnesi's
daughter after all."
She surveyed the room. "Why is it so dark?"
"Wouldn't want to draw attention to ourselves. It's best to lay low."
"You're hiding from something. Who is it?"
The old man hesitated then. His eyes flickered back and forth, first to the middle-aged woman (his daughter?) and the child, then back to Blanche. He coughed.
"How much do you know?" he asked.
"I know enough to see that we are all in great danger. The Pokemon are attacking left and right. If this keeps happening, no one will be safe from them. I need to find out why they're doing this."
"Yes." He sighed and made his way over to the couch. His bones creaked once he sat down. He winced. The child-Blanche could see it to be a girl now-jumped on his lap.
"If it's been happening in the towns too, then I can't imagine how worse it must be in the forest," he said. "That's why we lock ourselves in. Hardly anyone goes out in the mornings or evenings. Only during noon. But there's something else." He leaned forward. "There was a siege here just a few weeks ago."
Blanche sprang to defend herself. "It wasn't my Team."
"I never said it was. These people were dressed all in black. They stole a lot of things. Jewelry. Food. Electronics. But strangely, the things they were most interested in were the Pokemon. Pokeballs, trained ones, wild ones, you name it. We tried our best to fight back."
"Did you see where they went?"
"Once there was nothing left to take, they stormed out north. I apologize." He bowed his head. "That probably doesn't help you."
"It's good enough for me," she replied. I was right after all. This wasn't an ordinary accident. There were people, actual people, behind it. She lost herself in her thoughts. Just what did they want? To attack the towns? But what for?
Blanche blinked. A quiet scraping had started up. Somewhere in the ceiling. She raised her eyes and scanned it.
Scritch, scritch, scritch. A muffled banging. Rustling.
The girl whimpered and buried herself into the old man's arms. He nodded gravely. "It's started."
The scratching grew stronger. The beating of skin against skin. It took Blanche a few more seconds to realize it was the sound of wings.
His eyes grew round. Even from the gloom, she could see how they jumped, how they quivered.
"It happens every night, once the sun goes down. They keep trying to break in. It's the same trouble with the other houses too. No one ever gets any rest. Can you help us?"
The little girl gazed up at her, and she could see how the old man's arms trembled as he wrapped them around the girl. How frail he was! His arms were only a pair of withered twigs, yet he still pulled her close to his chest, as though he could protect her from the thing upstairs. A sheet of paper holding up against a torrent of bullets. A mouse against a lion.
Blanche watched them for a few minutes longer. Then, without a word, she turned and followed the sound. It took her up a flight of stairs. Down a pitch-black hallway. She put out her hand and let the wall guide her. The beating of wings grew louder. Louder. Louder. Until it was the only thing she could hear.
The attic door hovered, bathed in shadow. Blanche fingered a Pokeball. Hesitated. Then, slowly, she placed her hand on the door and heard the wood creak as it opened. The muffled noises didn't stop. Instead, they grew louder until it roared in her ears. Too dark to see. Just a sea of blackness. The smell of dust. And a high pitched squeaking that hurt her ears. As quickly as she came, despite the frantic pounding of her heart, she banged the attic door closed behind her and whirled around to face whatever lurked in the shadows.
Blanche couldn't make out what it was. Wings slapped against her face, her entire body, stinging her, beating her down. The squeaking grew angrier, more insistent, until her ears rang with it. Then came the pain. Needle-like, tiny nips that quickly grew overwhelming. She fell into a crouch and covered her face with an arm.
"Scizor, come out!"
The bright flash of the Pokeball only lit up the room for a few seconds, but it was enough. She saw tiny shapes darting through the air. Hundreds of them. They slashed at her skin with their sharp wings, bit her, tangled themselves into her hair. A whole flurry of swarming, squeaking Zubats. Blanche caught sight of the attic window. The glass had been broken. She sucked in a startled breath. Never had she seen this many in one place! Why were they drawn into the old man's attic, desperate enough to break through a window to get in here?
Blanche winced as another struck her, catching her cheek with its fangs until a wetness dribbled out.
"Scizor!" Her Pokemon moved to shield her, but Blanche stepped back and commanded, "Bullet punch! Take out as many as you can!"
"Scizor."
Scizor's claws began to glow white, pulsing with energy. When the horde of Zubats flew in once again to attack her, Scizor stepped in front and fought back with blows of its own. The burning glow was enough for her to make out the tiny bodies as they fell back, some plummeting to the ground, others crashing into the wall with the force of it. Her pulse raced.
"Excellent, Scizor! Drive them back through the window!"
Scizor reared back and raised its claws. Then, with a mighty lunge, it slammed its fists full force into the torrent. The Zubats whirled backwards, squeaking furiously.
But something strange happened.
The Zubats didn't escape out the window. They didn't run away at all. Instead, they backed off into a corner. It seemed that they were studying her, looking her up and down as one would squint at a difficult puzzle, scrutinizing her.
It was only when they started moving again did she finally realize. They rose as one. They beat their wings in perfect unison, as though they were puppets controlled by string. The squeaking had stopped. It was a hulking black swarm made up of hundreds, all flying together in the same pace, moving their wings all at the same time. Up, down, up, down, with a wind strong enough to threaten her backwards. Her hair whipped wildly against her face.
She saw what was coming, like the old man's cane rushing toward her. "Scizor, get behind me!" A hint of fear in her voice, of panic.
Enough time to curl her fingers around a second Pokeball. The monster rose toward her like a tidal wave. The gust from their wings blew back her coat so that it struggled away from her with a life of its own.
My last chance.
If she acted too soon, the Zubats would see it coming and dodge it before it hit them. But if she was too slow, they'd tear her to pieces.
Come on. She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. Slow down. Calmness washed over her. Instantly, her flaring pulse was snuffed to a low drumming. Her eyes opened. The attic seemed to quiver at its edges. Her ears pulsed with a low humming.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The swiping of each Zubat's wing was like a leaf fluttering to the ground. Their fangs gleamed white as needles. They closed in, closer and closer.
She didn't look away. Didn't flinch.
Closer still. Their mouths were open wide. Wings flapped as slow as bumblebees flitting lazily from flower to flower.
Then as close as she dared. If she wanted to, she could reach out a hand and touch them.
Now!
"Hydro pump!"
Hrooommmm! Blastoise's cannons slammed into them with a force powerful enough to snap steel beams like sticks. Water surged out at breakneck speed, ramming into the flock and blasting them with a heavy wave, faster than she could blink. Crushing them, pounding them into dust.
All that was left was a ripping hole in the side of the attic. The stars peered through. Highlighted beneath the moon were the Zubats, some crushed and lying still at her feet, others twitching. Blanche heaved a shuddering, relieved sigh.
Her eyes narrowed as she crouched down at the body of one of the Zubats. It squeaked feebly and attempted to stand up. Its wings flopped weakly. She reached out to brush its fur, searching.
There.
A single curved scar. The shape of a lightning bolt, smaller than a fingernail. But Blanche's keen eyes saw it all. She huffed and stepped back, her hands clenching into fists.
Scizor tilted its head to one side. "Sci?" it rasped in its metallic voice.
"Leave them. They're not a threat now. But we have to hurry."
The Zubats. The Tauros. They weren't normal. Something had made them group together into herds, into swarms, to attack and reign havoc on everything they saw. An ordinary Zubat would flee as soon as it saw Scizor's power. But these ones hadn't. They hadn't an ounce of fear. And no Zubat she came across had ever attacked like this, teaming up with one another to match each other's movements perfectly. Just what were they doing in the old man's attic?
"It's like someone's controlling them," she murmured.
She touched it again, searching for any other marks in its fur. Nothing except for the scar. How did they do it?
"Come on."
Blastoise blinked at her.
The old man and the woman were waiting for her down the stairs. They were huddled in the kitchen, hiding, holding each other close. Blanche wondered how noisy the fight must have been.
"A whole swarm of Zubats," she told them. "Another thing to add on the list."
"Thank you," the old man breathed.
"You're bleeding!" the woman fretted. "I'll get you some bandages."
With a start, Blanche realized that her nose was cut. A long one had been slashed onto a cheek, along with countless bite marks on her arms that welled up with blood. They stung. She hadn't noticed the pain until now.
"No," she replied. "I have to go as soon as I can. Will you point me to Professor Willow's lab?"
"Just down the street. A big, white round building. You won't miss it."
She nodded at them, turned, and began to walk.
The little girl suddenly piped up. "They took my Togepi." Her voice quivered. "Please, can you bring her back? She must be really scared."
Blanche didn't stop. She stepped out the door. Before she left, she told her, "I'm not a hero with a cape. You should have taken better care of it."
But she didn't say no.
Beams of shimmering moonlight shone down on shards of glass strewn haphazardly on the floor, twisted metal rods, cracked walls and overturned tables. Books lay dying like broken white-feathered birds. All the doors had been thrown off their hinges. Metal machines stood sullenly and stared at her as she passed by, their systems dead and ruined.
Blanche stepped over a pipe on the ground and meandered down the hallway.
"Do you remember this place, Vaporeon?"
It shook its head as it padded beside her.
"Of course. You were too young. Only an Eevee when the Professor gave you to me. I don't exactly remember him either." She wasn't sure whether to feel bad or not. If she tried, she could recall how the summer sun outside had breathed fire onto her skin, but the air inside the lab was cool and right. Golden rays of sun peered in through the windows. The professor had been kind to her, she remembered. She could take in pieces here and there, of graying hair, a white lab coat, a warm hand clasped over her own. But that was it. She couldn't picture a face.
The summer heat left and once again she felt the chill of the autumn night seeping down her neck. Glass cracked under her shoes. A part of the ceiling had fallen away, and she ducked to avoid walking into a jumble of wires that tumbled out of it.
This place wasn't old. Blanche could tell from the footprints on the floor, how the computers' screens were still warm. This had all happened today, maybe this morning. All the eggs had been stolen. The Pokeballs and Pokemon too, and all the research papers from the drawers. She could guess that the important files on the computers had been swiped, too.
The halls frustrated her. The lab was much too big. If only she could find the camera room, she could go through the security tapes and see who had been here this morning...
"Mach!"
Blanche ducked down into another room. "You found something?"
Machoke showed her a box on an overturned desk. Some kind of recording device. She pressed the button and listened.
The sound of glass shattering. Something metallic was wrenched and thrown across a room with a loud crash. 'No, don't-' A man's voice, twisted in fear.
Static. The broken machine relooped and played again on its own.
Glass breaking. Something heavy crashing into a wall. 'No, don't-'
It replayed again. Then one more time. Finally, it sputtered and slowed to a drawl before stopping at last. Was it Willow? She didn't know.
Sighing, Blanche got to her feet again. This was going to be a long night.
Vaporeon stopped her with its tail. The fur on its back bristled. "What's wrong?"
She stared in its direction. Her line of vision was blocked by a heap of desks and chairs. She couldn't see past it. Cautiously, with Machoke by her side, she made her way toward it. Her feet echoed on the floor.
"I know you're there. Stop hiding. Show yourself and it will be much easier for the both of us."
Machoke growled.
Blanche crouched down until she was face to face with an opening in the rubble. She peered inside.
Then froze. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. A chill ran down her spine. She didn't dare breathe, didn't dare move. Her eyes widened as she found herself staring down the barrel of a gun.
The woman stared at her with a stricken expression. One lens of her glasses was cracked. Black hair cascaded down her shoulders, and she wore a dirtied lab coat.
One of Willow's assistants, Blanche thought. She met the woman's gaze.
The gun faltered, then fell away.
"You're the ice witch," the woman breathed. She gave a tired laughter that was more of a quivering sigh. "It isn't every day that Team Mystic's leader herself comes to visit us. I'm afraid you've come too late to stop them."
"I know."
The woman parted the chairs away and stood, dusting herself off. "You may call me Sara. I work for Professor Willow. Or, well, used to work for him. There's no telling where he is now." She offered her a hand. Blanche didn't take it.
"Tell me what happened here."
"Yes, well. Follow me."
Blanche kept her distance as they walked through the winding hallway, knowing enough to stay wary. She eyed the woman's gun poking through her lab coat and wondered if she'd be quick enough to dodge a bullet.
Could she trust her?
Sara disappeared into a room. Blanche lingered outside. Steeling herself, she followed her in.
The camera room. A wall was covered with black, empty screens, half of them splintered. For a frightening second, Blanche wondered if this really was a trap, if she had led her here to corner her. But in a blinding instant, Sara pressed a button and a few of the screens lit up. The videos rewound to the beginning of the day. The lobby, the studyroom, the incubators, the front desk. Blanche watched as the scenes fast forwarded: a group of armed people swarming in through the front desk, breaking doors and windows. Dressed all in black, just as the old man said. Like a flood, they swirled through the halls, tearing down books from bookshelves, surrounding the lab workers, shattering the incubators. They rummaged through drawers and shouted words she couldn't hear. The swarm left as quickly as it came, taking the workers with them. It was all done so quickly, so orderly. They had planned this, Blanche realized. This wasn't an ordinary ragtag group of thieves. She whisked through them with her mind. Team Rocket? No. Team Aqua? Magma? Not them, either.
"I locked myself into a storage room," Sara said. She had been talking for a while now. Blanche hadn't bothered to listen. "They probably took Willow and the rest of the people with them for their research and knowledge. I don't know what they plan on doing with them. Have you noticed the Pokemon lately? They aren't acting as they should."
"Have you run tests on them? Have you found any results?"
Sara sighed tiredly. "No. No chemicals in their bloodstream. No man-made devices attached to them. What we did found, however, were strange marks on their bodies."
Blanche gestured impatiently. "Shaped like lightning bolts?"
Sara blinked in surprise. "Yes. That's exactly it. We have no idea what it could mean. No Team we know has an insignia exactly like it. Except, of course, Team Instinct."
Blanche waved it off. "It can't be them. They're having as much trouble as we are." Not to mention what their leader is like…
"So what are you going to do now?" Sara turned to her, searching silently for answers. Blanche had none.
Her phone rang. Sara jumped at the sudden noise, impossibly loud in the silent room. Blanche fished it out, alarm coursing through her. "Yes?"
"This is Clark from Unit 34. All clear in Honoway, Hoenn."
"You haven't spotted anything unusual in the city?"
"No, ma'am. It probably hasn't spread this far yet. We're still awaiting reports from Units 33 and 35."
"Alright. Move onto the next city."
"Roger."
Sara was staring at one of the screens, a hand on her chin. The blue glow illuminated her furrowed brow. The corners of her mouth tugged into a worried frown. Blanche followed her gaze. She caught a flurry of movement.
So they weren't alone after all.
She turned briskly out the door. Sara caught up to her. "Where are you going? What are you going to do?"
"Out."
"But...what about me?"
"I suggest you stop talking and stay low to the ground."
"You're...not taking me with you?" Her face held an expression of hurt, but Blanche didn't bother glancing at her.
"I don't need you tagging along. You'll only slow me down." Once they reached the hallway, she stopped abruptly. Sara nearly crashed into her.
Blanche took in her long black hair, tangled now and frazzled against her face. Her eyes behind her glasses, wide and frightened. The trembling of her shoulders. The quivering lower lip. Blanche's eyelid twitched. How messy.
Blanche kept her farewell short and pointed. "Thank you for all your trouble. We part here. Good luck."
The woman bit her lip and nodded. Without sparing another precious second, Blanche whirled around and hurried on her way, her steps quick and frantic. Vaporeon had to run to keep up. Machoke led the way.
The movement had been in Camera B, she remembered, so there was enough time to get out before they could see her. The front entrance was in the opposite side. Perfect.
She was nearly there when, without warning, a loud clanging racket split her head in half. It caught her off guard. She spun around. It sounded like someone swinging a metal rod. Footsteps. Heavy, not a woman's.
"Mach?" Machoke asked.
Sara's voice cut through the darkness. Shrill with panic.
"Don't come any closer! I'm warning you!"
Then, "Help!"
Blanche only quickened her pace. She continued toward the front door, blocking out the scream. I don't have time for this, she thought.
She was nearly there when another noise broke through. It was enough to send her skidding to a halt, like a runaway train slamming on its brakes.
Gunshots. Bam! Bam! They rang around the empty room, bounced through her skull, made her ears ring and her bones quake. Her pulse shuddered in her ears. Her heart pounded like a drum.
"Oh, for Arceus's sake," she growled, slapping a hand across her forehead. "I've got more important things to do!"
Calm, she told herself, drawing in a deep breath. A wave washed over her. That woman owes me.
Blanche turned back the way she came and started to run. "Machoke! Karate chop!"
The Pokemon barged past her, its powerful legs taking in yards with each stride. Blanche rounded the corner just in time to see it collide with a person she didn't recognize. A person dressed all in black.
They're here. But why had they come back?
Machoke roared and hurtled him into the opposite wall. He connected with a sickening crunch, then slid down where he lay, dazed. Sara was backed up into the corner, her gun still smoking and her face pale and clammy. There were three other people with them, two men and a woman, all in black. This should be easy. They hadn't been expecting their prey to fight back.
Machoke bellowed and charged at him. It raised its fists and lashed out in a series of punches, so fast they were blurs. It drove the man backwards, and no matter how hard he dug his heels in, Machoke forced him back, the blows pounding on his shoulders, his ribs, his head.
But Blanche wasn't expecting this.
The man let himself be driven for a few more feet, before suddenly latching his hands onto Machoke's large shoulders. The Pokemon grunted in surprise as, slowly but surely, the man began to push it the other way. It raised its fist again to strike a blow, but the man caught it, his arm a blur of speed. She could see how hard Machoke was straining, every muscle twitching, yet the man kept his grip on both its fists and stopped the punches from raining down.
What? How did he do it? Blanche noticed the muscles rippling beneath the man's clothes. But what human was strong enough to stop a Machoke?
Arms wrapped themselves around her waist. She jerked away. "Vaporeon!"
The arms unwound as a blue blur soared into the air and knocked the other man to the ground, striking his stomach so hard he cried out. Blanche wrenched herself back to Machoke. She gasped. No!
To her dismay, the man was carrying Machoke on his shoulders, lifting up a hundred pounds of pure muscle as though the Pokemon was lighter than a feather. No matter how hard it thrashed, the man kept an iron-hard grip on it. The muscles beneath his clothes quivered. He hesitated for a while, his breathing heavy as he struggled under the weight. It can't be real, Blanche thought. He can't possibly-
His knees buckled from under him. With a grunt, he hurtled Machoke with all his might. A loud whumf! A deafening crash, a thud, the sound of something breaking. The wall threatened to collapse as the bulk of Machoke drove into it, splintering wood and steel. Then dust. A great cloud of dust.
Blanche took a step back, her legs quivering. Just who was he? Who were these people? She whirled around and, with a stab of shock, realized she was surrounded. The Muscle Man had turned toward her, his chest heaving. On the other side of her was the third person. A woman. The second man was still writhing on the ground, his breath knocked out of him. Vaporeon hissed. Blanche slid her gaze from person to person, eyeing them up and down, taking in their strengths, their weaknesses. Two people against one. She could do this, couldn't she? The muscular man had just been lucky. Next time, Machoke wouldn't let its guard down.
Her throat was dry. Sweat trickled down her neck. And there was a droning noise, a strange buzzing, tickling the back of her mind. She tipped her head to one side and listened. Brzzzzzz…
Sara cried, "Look out!"
Blanche felt something coming. A change in the air. She ducked down, and right as she did, a blast of wind buffeted her face. She scrambled back just in time before a sharpened drill could pierce her neck. It drove into the ground seconds where her head had been, fast enough to split the wind in two, to whip her hair back and sting her eyes. It struck again, lightning quick. She lurched to the right, forgetting to breathe. So close! When it came again, she threw herself to the left, wincing as it caught the side of her face.
A Beedrill. But not an ordinary one. Brrrrrrrz. When it moved back, she stopped, breaths coming in gasps, hair tangled over her eyes. This one was big, much too big. She could see her reflection in its angry red glare. Eyes the size of dinner plates. Antenna whirring, twitching, tapping the air. Wings thrumming behind it, larger than palm fronds. Its drills as sharp and deadly as needles. Blanche stared at it for a moment longer. Her eyes shifted to what lay behind it. Sara backed up against the wall, staring at her with wide, frightened eyes. Machoke was once again locked hand-in-hand with the man, straining to throw him to the ground.
Blanche studied the Beedrill for a moment longer. She sucked in a deep breath. When the drills struck again, she was ready. She boosted herself to her feet in one quick hop and swept over to Sara, catching her by the arm.
"You aren't escaping us," said a cool, clipped voice.
She spun around. The woman clad in black. It was the first time any of them had spoken, and the voice chilled her to the bone.
Fur brushed against her ankles, and suddenly Vaporeon was there again, lunging at the woman. At the opening, Blanche tugged Sara's arm and sped away, breaking into a run. Her coat trailed behind her, feet clattering against the ground.
"Machoke! Vaporeon!"
At her command, they drew back from the fight and raced after her. Blanche had enough time to fish out their Pokeballs and send them back inside.
Sara panted beside her. "Are you crazy?" she gasped. "What did you do that for?"
"Too dangerous."
"But they're supposed to fight!"
"Did you see the size of that Beedrill?"
"Yes, but…" It dawned on her then. "You don't think they're...doing something to the Pokemon? Experiments?" Her hands flew up to her mouth. "Is that why...they tried to steal-"
Blanche gave a short nod. Another clue to add onto the list. Was that the reason why they had been kidnapping them? In any case, she couldn't risk them getting their hands on her own Pokemon.
Not after they took Steelix.
The gang wasn't far off. Footsteps echoed all along the corridor. A strange, metallic song. The steady thundering of buzzing wings.
"There's another exit in the back," Sara said. "Follow me."
The stinging of wind, the flash of black and yellow. Sara screamed. Blanche had just enough time to jerk her back, snapping her away from the angry, spinning needles. Her breath caught in her throat as her foot slipped, and before she could blink, she found the two of them careening down a flight of stairs. She winced. Her shoulder caught on one of the steps, her foot banged the side of the railing. The ceiling became the floor, the floor the ceiling. Which way was up? Her arms flailed wildly. Sara crashed on top of her. The world jerked back to stillness.
Blanche lay there for a few seconds, winded and confused. Hruummmm!
At the buzzing, she sat up with a gasp and placed a neat, well-placed kick right between the Beedrill's eyes. It reared back, hissing.
She staggered up. "Come on!"
They stumbled away. Blanche could see that this was some sort of basement, with stacks and stacks of boxes. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she pushed Sara behind one of them, squeezing herself in between a box and the wall. She peered out and waited with bated breath.
With a sinking heart, she realized that the Beedrill was blocking the stairs, the only way out. The footsteps grew louder and ran down the staircase. The people from before. They scanned the room.
Blanche turned back to Sara. "We have to be fast. Faster than the Beedrill. When I tell you to, stand up and run up the stairs as quick as you can. Don't wait for me, don't look back, and don't hesitate for even a second. Understand?"
"Yes, but will you get out too?"
"I told you already. I can take care myself." She didn't look at her, but kept her eyes fixed on the men.
But what she said next caught Blanche's attention.
"You know," said Sara slowly. "You're a lot different from what the others say."
Their eyes met. "They call you the Ice Witch. The North Wind. I've heard of the things you've done, the things you're capable of. But…"
Blanche knew what she was going to say even before she said it.
Sara said suddenly, "The Professor had something to give you. Did you know that?"
"Something to give me…?"
"He told me a few years back, that he was waiting for the right
Moment to tell you. Even then, I could tell by the way he said it that it was important. Very important. He wouldn't tell it to anyone, not even to me. You have to find him. No matter what happens, you have to keep him and that secret safe, away from these men."
It settled onto Blanche like the settling of leaves after the rain. She nodded. Willow had meant to talk to her? What could be so important as to-
Sara was talking again, her voice rising in urgency. "My gun is out of bullets, but I can still fight. Now listen closely. Once you go up those stairs, head straight down the corridor and turn right at the first chance you get. That'll take you to the lobby. Go left from there, then another left, and-"
"What are you doing?"
"-and there's an emergency exit at the door closest to the right of the room. Can you remember all that?"
"Sara, don't you dare-"
Sara stood up and yelled, "I'm over here! Come and get me!"
The men were taken off guard. Beedrill was the first to move. It zipped toward her, a yellow blur, needles outstretched. She dodged it just in time before it could pierce her, and the Beedrill had to veer off and turn in mid-air to find her again.
Blanche stood up shakily. "Sara, take my hand, we can-"
"Find the Professor!" she spat back. "I'll hold them off for as long as I can!"
Blanche hesitated. Then her mind turned and she made a choice. One of the burly men was running toward her. She stayed still, and right when he had shot out a hand to grab her, she punched his stomach as hard as she could and swerved away. His legs buckled beneath him. She jerked toward the staircase. The second man loomed into her vision. Bunching up her muscles, she bounded upward in a graceful leap and planted her foot onto his face. She felt his nose crunch beneath her. It gave her enough force to propel her forward the rest of the way, and she staggered as she dropped to the floor, nearly falling.
An arm shot out and latched onto her wrist, a bone-crushing grip that made her wince. From her waist came a flash of blinding white. The man jerked back with a pitiful howl as Vaporeon leaped out and sank its fangs into his arm, snarling.
"Vaporeon," she gasped. The Pokemon ran to her side and gazed up at her with a defiant look. Blanche nodded. They'd do this together.
She took the stairs three steps at a time. Her feet went pit-a-pat against the ground. Her blood roared in her ears. Before she left, she risked a last glance back. The girl was pinned beneath the Beedrill, and the men were closing in on her like lions circling their prey. She jerked her gaze forward and ran faster.
Despite herself, something in her heart fell. Sara…
She shook her head. No! Her emotions were getting in the way again. Keeping the girl with her would only slow her down. She pushed the thoughts of Sara away and pressed it down.
Right, left, left.
She turned this way and that along the winding halls. So far so good. No sound of footsteps behind her.
The door greeted her when she rounded the corner. At last!
A shadow spilled out across the floor. She was just beginning to turn around when something hard slammed into the back of her skull. Explosion of pain. A redness filled her vision. The last thing she saw was the face of the woman dressed all in black, her eyes glittering coldly.
Warm. The sun was warm like her mother's touch, bathing the waist-high meadow grass in a pool of gold. Birds trilled in the undergrowth, but no matter how hard she looked, she could never find anything. Just echoes of their song, flashes of their feathers. For a moment, she forgot who she was, what she was doing, and just wanted to stand there in the sun.
Eevee squirmed restlessly in her arms.
Blanche awoke with a start. It was cold. Her lips were numb and her fingers ached. The back of her head throbbed like fire, and it took her a few tries to open her eyes.
When she did, she immediately sat up. Bad idea. Her head burst in an explosion of pain. Stars danced in the back of her eyes. It took a few minutes for it to die down, and she picked her head up. Metal bars. A cage. The metal chilled her to the bone. Her hands were bound behind her back with a tight rope that left angry red scratches.
The first thing she checked was the belt of Pokeballs she kept around her waist. Bile rose in the back of her throat and her head threatened to reel again. Gone. All the Pokeballs she had brought with her. Angrily, she brushed the wetness from her eyes and suddenly remembered. It came like a sudden spark. Vaporeon. It must have managed to take all her Pokeballs and escape after she'd been knocked out. The walls had been riddled with holes and cracks, the right size for it to wiggle through. At least, it was what she hoped. She wished it with all her soul.
The room was gray. Cement walls. Nothing else except for a spiderweb in a corner and her own cage. It was hardly big enough to move around in, and the bars held a wet and snuffed smell. Like fur. She wondered if a Pokemon had once crouched here in the same exact spot. Where was it now?
Her head snapped back up at the sound of a door opening. Always the steady throbbing behind her skull. Her mouth was dry, her lips cracked, and she stared down the people that entered with a white-hot ferocity.
The muscular man grunted and made his way toward her with a lumbering, threatening gait. The woman placed an arm out to stop him. Blanche didn't like the look of her. Calculating yet lazy eyes, like a dozing cat hiding its claws beneath its fur. She didn't like how that gaze slid coolly over her, as smooth as water, eyeing her like a piece of prey.
"You should have killed me when you had the chance," Blanche told her. When no reply came, she added, "My men are already on their way. They're all over the town. They know where I am." Which was a bold lie, but she kept her voice strong and unwavering. She glared back at the older woman's thorn-hard gaze.
Finally, the woman spoke. Blanche was surprised at how normal she sounded. "Not to worry, my dear." It was then that Blanche noticed the woman was older, much older. Lines creased the corners of her mouth, but that was it. No other wrinkles. Her long hair was pitch black without a strand of white, and her figure was curved and feminine. Yet, Blanche got the feeling that this woman was elderly, a butterfly with worn yet still pretty wings.
The woman stood before her. "You aren't leaving this place alive. Tell us all you know."
"I've seen the security footage. I know where you took Professor Willow, and if you were smart, you'd best be on your way now. I've already signaled my team. They'll make you think twice about crossing Team Mystic."
The woman tutted and waved her finger disapprovingly. "Best not to make such rude remarks, dear. You're not exactly in a position to fight."
Despite herself, Blanche bristled. Something about this woman set her nerves alight, made her teeth ache. Just like the Tauros from earlier, the Zubats, this woman felt...wrong. Somehow.
The woman turned her back to her, her smooth hair swishing across her spine. "Judging by the glare on your face, I assume you have no idea who we are. Let me explain. What do you notice about the man over there?"
The man? The muscular man, who could fling a Machoke like it was a sack of flour. He scowled at her.
"He's got a poor set of manners," she answered. Behind her, she wiggled her arms and tested the ropes. Too tight.
The woman sashayed over to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Ah, but what else?"
Blanche grit her teeth. "He's a construction worker?" She wiggled cautiously. Luckily the room was rundown, with bits and pieces of the curling wall scattered everywhere. Her fingers nudged something on the floor, something smooth and cold.
The woman feigned disappointment. "Now Blanche, I've heard you were a clever, intelligent individual. Apparently, I was wrong. You see here? He's no ordinary human. He can lift a car with both hands. He can lift two cars, even, if he put his mind to it. And he can run three miles without breaking a sweat. Pretty impressive, hmm?"
"Impressive," Blanche echoed. The piece of glass cut into her fingers, but the rope was beginning to fall away, ever so slowly. She could wiggle her arms a bit more.
"And me." She pointed at her face. "What do you notice about me?"
Blanche was beginning to hate this guessing game. Your face very much resembles a hog-nosed bat. But she didn't say it out loud. The rope loosened behind her.
"Will you believe that I am sixty two?"
Blanche couldn't help but give a jump. Sixty two? She looked no older than her thirties.
"Jealous, dear?" the woman tittered. Blanche would very much like to give her a nice kick. "And the Beedrill you met earlier. You've certainly noticed its sheer size. What I'm trying to say is-"
You're a band of traveling circus freaks?
"-that we can give you a marvelous offer that you can't refuse. I can make old men young. I can give you powers unimaginable, strength you can barely fathom."
The ropes were free, but Blanche kept her arms pinned behind her back, hiding them. Now all she had to figure out was how to unlock the cage…
"And I can make your Pokemon bigger, better, faster. The best in the world."
This made her stop. The words ran in a circle around her head. Was that why they were stealing them? To perform their sick, twisted experiments? They did manage to increase the size of that Beedrill. But it didn't explain why the Tauros and Zubats were going berserk. And how had they managed to get their hands on that many Pokemon? Tens of them, hundreds of them, tens of hundreds...Just how big was their organization?
"I can see you're thinking hard. I couldn't help but notice that Vaporeon you always carry with you. Strong enough for you, perhaps, but imagine how much better it could be. Swimming fast enough to become nearly invisible. Increase its powers. A water gun? Hydro pump? Bah! Imagine if it could summon whole whirlpools, typhoons, hurricanes! Nothing would stand in your way. And that weakling of a Machoke? We can bulk it up a bit, make it lift entire trains, airplanes, knock a skyscraper down with a single hit."
"Thank you for the offer," Blanche said coldly. "But they are good enough for me."
"Really, dear? I beg to diff-"
"You talk too much. Just kill me already and spare me the torture of listening to your droning voice."
The woman smiled, but she noticed it was strained. "I don't think you understand. You-"
Blanche rolled her eyes. "Any more of this and my ears will bleed. You certainly did manage to keep your youth, but your voice is as cracked and gnarled as an old lady's."
Bingo. The woman hid her anger well, Blanche could admire her for that.
She continued, "And even with your superior technology, you can't even keep your teeth from rotting off. A pity."
Immediately, the woman's hands flew to her face and covered her mouth. She snapped her fingers. The muscular man lumbered closer and hunkered down to fumble at the lock in her cage. Blanche waited, her breath quickening, but her face betraying no emotion. She balanced herself on the balls of her feet, still crouching. Wait for it...any second...Now!
She whipped past him. Too fast to see, too quick to catch. Her feet barely even skimmed the floor. In a few hops, she was past the man and running out the door. The rest of the building was just like the room; peeling wallpaper, moldy smell, cracks that looked at least a few decades old, a grape-colored carpet with one too many stains. She frantically dashed to and fro, searching for any escape route, but the faster she ran, the more her stomach sank. There were no windows. All the doors only led to more rooms. Panic was building up inside her, threatening to swallow her whole. Behind her came the heavy pounding of footsteps on dirty carpet, someone grunting. She picked up speed.
No choice. She careened into a room and slammed the door shut, pressing up against it with her back. She braced herself.
The heavy thud rocketed in her ears, sent the walls and door shuddering. Whumpf! Someone ramming their shoulders into the door. An inhuman strength. The hinges squealed. She pressed tighter, desperately holding the door closed. No hope-with another jarring thud, she went careening onto the floor. Cccraack!
She sat up, gasping for breath, glaring at the muscular man. He glared back. But, strangely...he didn't come for her. Just stared down at her from the broken doorway.
The woman appeared from behind her, and this time a smirk played against her lips.
"You've made this harder for yourself, Witch," she said. "I offered you power beyond your wildest dreams. I offered you a place in my open arms. Remember, this is your choice. Although, I am feeling a bit merciful today…Will you join us, Blanche?"
"Never!" she spat back.
"Very well." She snapped her fingers again. Another one of the cronies appeared and threw something into the room. Blanche flinched, but he hadn't been aiming at her; instead, at the carpet. Where it landed, a beautiful orange flower unfurled.
Blanche's eyes widened. She turned back to the woman, but they had already left. The door was just closing behind them.
"No!" She dove toward them, desperately jiggling the knob, and with a pounding heart, realized that they'd locked it. She whirled around. The orange blossom grew, larger and larger. The scent of burning reached her nose. The fire lapped at the carpet and walls hungrily with glowing tongues. Petals of flame soared toward the ceiling, and faster than she realized, the room was filling up with smoke. She tore her eyes away and kicked at the door with all her might. A spark of hope caught alight in her chest. The door was weak from the pounding the man had given it. If she tried, she could bust it open!
She rammed her shoulder into it. It didn't budge. Tried again. Then again. Whumpf! Wham!
The billow of smoke grew thicker. She was beginning to choke. The heat was stifling, burning her neck, bathing her skin with orange. She gave one final, feeble lunge at the door, and to her relief, it finally flew open, the hinges only hanging on by a thread. She staggered to her feet and fled from the hungry fire. Smoke had already seeped into the hallway. Blanche coughed.
But then her ears pricked up. She squinted, eyes watering from the thick smoke. What was that over the roar of the flames? That sound...it was like a voice. She stumbled toward it. Louder and louder it grew, until finally…
A cage lay overturned on the carpet, still locked, but something within it stirred. Blanche blinked in surprise. A Togepi. In their haste to get away, the woman must have accidentally dropped it. There were tears in its eyes. It squeaked and huddled away as Blanche crouched down.
"Hey," she said wearily. She was getting light-headed. It was hard to think. She coughed again, and swung the cage up, tucking it beneath one arm. There was a tag tied onto one of the bars. No time to think about that now.
Blanche ran and ran and ran. A few times, she tripped and fell. The Togepi cried out in alarm. It was a while before she found the right door, and it took a few tries before she could open it. Her legs weighed her down. She stumbled into the cool night air, and for one blessed moment, she could breathe again. She drank in the air like water, felt it fill her lungs with her sweetness, and collapsed to her knees. The scratches on her face ached. She was certain that one of them was bleeding again.
Blanche let the building burn behind them. They were in some kind of forest. The building had been weathered and ancient. It would be a while before anyone found out.
"Pi…" Togepi whimpered. Blanche coughed again and fumbled for the tag with numb fingers. She could barely focus on what it said.
Ten numbers. It took her a few moments. She saw things through a hazy fog. A phone number, she finally realized. She slipped her phone out of her pocket. At least the woman hadn't bothered to shuffle through her pockets.
She dialed. Held the phone to her ear. Would it actually work? And who would she be talking to?
It rang for a bit. Then-
"Hello?"
Blanche tensed, startled. She had no idea who it was. The voice bore no familiarity. But one thing was certain: it belonged to a child. She could barely believe it. The one from the old man's house? No. They sounded nothing alike.
"Hello?" it said again. "Hello, hello? Hell-o-o?"
Blanche let it hang up. Her arms fell limply into her lap. The flames crackled behind her, reaching up with golden fingers to pluck the stars out of the sky.
"Don't cry, Togepi," she said. "I'll take you back to your girl. Everything will be fine."
Vaporeon dashed past the trees, breath coming in gasps. Blanche's belt of Pokeballs was wrapped around its body, thumping into its hind legs every time it ran. Thoughts raced through its head. Should it go back to the base, warn the Team? No, it realized. What would those men do once they realized they were being followed? Hurt Blanche, no doubt.
Vaporeon skidded to a halt and paced frantically in a circle. What to do, what to do? An idea planted itself in the back of its mind, but it pressed it down, pushed it away, because it was a mad, frightening, and impossible idea. But Blanche…
It shook its head and began running once again. No choice, no choice! The belt tripped its paws and sent it pummeling to the ground. Vaporeon picked itself up again and kept on sprinting, ignoring the stings of its scrapes. There was no other way.