Chapter 4: Dystopia
"Are you ready?" Hibiki pried as Suma seemed to rifle through her thoughts. By Arceus, he knew he wasn't ready.
Their meeting yesterday had left him feeling more taxed than he had at first expected. He'd already spent an hour or so taking stock of the whirlwind of his thoughts and feelings, and then his conversation with Al had done little to help that— actually, it had left him feeling more overwhelmed. He didn't regret his consent to Al's request, was actually grateful to know that, if they survived, he would yet be of some use to someone. But each onward-leading step was the heavier for it, and he had finally lain himself down to sleep the night before with a cocktail of anxieties gnawing at his mind and stomach.
And to top it all off, they hadn't yet heard from Ash… or Mewtwo, or whoever it was that would emerge from their union. Either they had been thinking in unison or his own nervous thoughts had ruffled hers (who could know how sensitive she had become?), because she heaved a flustered sigh and gave him a pleading look. But he could only shake his head, "You know we can't afford to wait."
She stomped her foot, pouting. "But what if he's not ready? What if… what if it didn't work?"
Hibiki felt his own frustration stir, but did his best to stifle it. "Giovanni walked away from his transformation, Suma. If… I doubt that his absence has anything to do with whether or not it worked." She wilted a little at his response, and he could see the question in her despite her deflated demeanor. So he shrugged. "Honestly, I'd wager he's just… assessing himself, figuring out how to proceed. Making a plan."
And that restored a little perk to her expression, and she protested with a half-hearted severity. "You and I both know Ash hasn't planned a thing in his life— he's all impulse."
Hibiki nodded, "Right." He stepped closer a put a hand on her shoulder, knowing that if he wasn't careful his next words could start another fight. Mustering every ounce of gentleness in himself, he said, "But it's not Ash we're waiting for, Suma." Her eyes met his hard, daring him to mock or jibe, but he knew enough not to take the bait. He chose instead to elaborate, "You were there when we met Mewtwo— it was like the texture of the air was different around him… and the way he communicated with us? He answered our thoughts before we even had a chance to order them."
The fight began to go out of her as he went on, but Hibiki could see the childish part of her somewhere behind her eyes, hurting and indignant. "What about it?" she prompted after a few silent moments.
Hibiki let himself smile, glad she had decided to abandon her own bait for his. "Mewtwo has spent years on his own, with nothing to do but sort himself out. I think that's why he was so in tune with our thoughts— he's pushed his sensitivity to new heights. Right now?" he wondered, squeezing her shoulder to keep her eyes on his, "He might even be trying to get a feel for Giovanni."
She bit her lip, studying the floor of the empty dormitory with worried eyes. She looked back up, "You… you really think so?"
He let his hand fall. "I think," he said, knowing this wasn't about Ash or Mewtwo, "that we have to trust them to do their part… while we do ours." And that would have to be enough, at least to convince her to put her fears to rest. Her eyes swam a little, perhaps amidst the depth of knowing he couldn't give her assurance enough— that there wasn't assurance enough— to silence fear entirely. Then they refocused, and while it wasn't conviction in them there was at least acceptance. And that would have to be enough for him.
She nodded, "Well… I guess we should tell the others—"
"I had them start teleporting in small groups an hour ago," he answered, knowing her mind. "By now, forty of them should be reaching the rendezvous point Ash gave Eric and the others. Fanpan and Yiji have probably made good use of the Graveler you guys confiscated and fissured the barracks up real tight. By the time we get there," he concluded, "everything should be in place for us to start shutting down the warehouses and offices on our way to Alpha Corp."
She blinked at him. "Wow, already?"
"I was just chatting with Al before I came to check on you," he said, hiking a thumb towards the door behind them. "Qita said she and her group had just met up with Eric and that the rest weren't far behind. Fanpan was in position and awaiting my order before I came in— which I gave."
She frowned, slumping and seemingly unsure what to say. "You didn't have to do all that," she muttered, "I would have done it… eventually."
He nodded, smiling. "I know you would have. I just…" he trailed off, searching for the words to make his actions seem a little less conspicuous. When he couldn't, he shrugged. "I guess I just… knew this wasn't going to be easy for you. So I took care of it myself while you worked through things."
She didn't answer, but just stood there staring at him. When at last he would have started toward the door, she shifted and then closed the distance between them. Wrapping her arms about his waist, she planted her cheek against his chest. She was short, and slight of frame, even for a Johtonite, but there was strength in her arms as she clung to him— her embrace speaking volumes of gratitude and need. He wasn't a… touchy-feely sort of person, so he had to fight the urge to squirm at the sudden contact. Instead he wrapped his own arms about her shoulders, returning the embrace.
After a few awkward moments shuffling about their dormitory, making sure they had taken everything they might need and were free of anything they didn't, they made their way out to where Al waited for them. There was nothing to say amongst them now, so none of them spoke. Instead, Hibiki took Suma's hand as they each planted another on Al's shoulder. With a deep breath, he allowed their world to shift like fuzzy images on a bad television. For a few, split moments, everything went black. Then like a scene played in reverse, sight and sound came back into wavy focus and then materialized entirely.
Without comment, they surveyed their surroundings— they were just beyond the edge of the tree-line within the forest at the southwestern foot of the city. As planned, they made their careful way toward the breach in the woodland behind them and, upon finding the general area clear of any passersby, proceeded north toward their rendezvous point. It was an old, foreclosed bicycle shop, one of the satellites to a chain that had gotten it's start in Cerulean proper. It was abandoned now, and sat frowning among the low-lying foothills of the mountains to the west.
It took them fifteen minutes or so to reach it, and there they found Eric overseeing the organization of the individual squads responsible for each strike point. Each attack would be timed several minutes apart, to suggest that a lone band of rebels was working their way northeast toward the Headquarters, but in truth each squad would assail and disarm every warehouse or office, then work their way toward the secondary checkpoint: the now useless and empty PokeCenter. It lay, neglected and disheveled, nestled next to the central campus— so close that it was nigh on foolish and thus well out of mind.
Eric seemed both pleased and troubled at their arrival— pleased because things would now truly get underway, but troubled because he had not yet confirmed the success of Fanpan and Yiji in their efforts to seal off the barracks. Aware of this, the sixty-odd people gathered to challenge the new and terrible world order shuffled about uncomfortably, exchanging nervous whispers. It also didn't help that Hibiki wasn't able to provide them a straight answer as to Ash's whereabouts. He could only tell them that Ash would arrive later, with a terrible and secret weapon in tow. And despite their circumstances, that answer did seem to put most of them at ease.
Ever attentive to detail, Hibiki suggested that Al relay psychically with Fanpan and the others— it would do them little good to march into the city before it's defenses were down. And reasonable as it was, Al was unable to comply. Giovanni's presence was nearly as thick about Cerulean as Mewtwo's had been in the Everwinter woods. While his didn't lay tangibly over the land the way Mewtwo's had, it did cause considerable distortion of the energies in the area. Rather than explain that at greater length, Al simply said that even were he to attempt to communicate with him, it was unlikely they would understand (and vice versa).
And Hibiki didn't like that. These were the kind of unexpected hiccups that always had him fumbling. It was then that Suma seemed to right herself at last, the moment needful of her decisiveness. They should proceed as planned, she decided. They would learn nothing waiting here, would accomplish nothing without moving forward. Their whole plan was a gamble, so what if the stakes had been raised a little. And that was true enough. So, with burgeoning determination, the Resistance divided and made it's way into the city.
But nothing he had yet experienced, or been told, could have prepared Hibiki for what he found there. He'd last been here only a little more than a year ago, and had found it to be one of the most colorful places he'd known. Johto gleamed in the daylight with it's glass and steel and gold-bronze towers, a land of industry and technology. But despite Saffron's claim to the title of capital city of it's region, Cerulean was more it's heart than the metropolitan hub ever would be. For a city planted in the inland valleys, it had had the gentle and bright colors of a town that belonged to the sea. It's buildings and houses were of shy pinks and blues and dimpling greens and yellows. Fountains and pools peppered it's properties where water Pokemon and their trainers worked and played and relaxed.
No longer. The paint had rotted and seemed even to mold, while other buildings had become decrepit and still others even crumbled. Noxious fumes rose from the stinking pools throughout the city, now teeming with algaes and bacterium that left them discolored. More disturbing than the desiccated state of the city itself was it's massing emptiness and roaring silence. As Hibiki and Suma, together with four others from their group, proceeded northwest toward their strike point, they passed vacant houses and inoperable places of business. They hadn't expected to see much, but… nothing? No one?
Despite the almost curious lack of need for coversion, they chose to communicate among themselves through Al as they moved. When was the last time any of them had been in the city?, Hibiki wondered. Lo, one of the young men with him, said that a few of them had been north almost a month ago to make deliveries from the farms of it's rotating crop. It had been in much a similar state, he told them, when they had been here. None of them had expected to find it so starkly empty. People had mostly kept to themselves, and the streets were only mildly traveled, but it had still been a city.
It was more a ruin now, Hibiki decided. But further discussion was put aside when they reached their destination. "Are you ready?" Hibiki asked Suma and the other four. They nodded. The plan was for Al to use Illusory Field, a psychic technique that caused the matter in a certain radius to appear other than it really was. Anyone could look directly at them and would only see empty air, would hear no footfalls, wouldn't even see doors open and close to admit them. This was a smaller facility, a private post office for Alpha Corp. that oversaw shipments into and out of the city. Since it was not necessary to spare any of it's employees to ensure their plan unfolded as expected, they would hypnotize everyone inside and leave them all temporarily catatonic. For the sake of effect they would cut it's power. With a nod of his own, they hunkered down to wait until the appointed time.
In sixteen groups of fours and fives, the Resistance stalked their marks like rats looking to catch a snake off-guard. It took them about an hour to find their positions, though they had expected to need more in taking care with a so densely populated city. Instead, each group was unnerved to find it seemingly abandoned. But they would not allow themselves to be deterred, not now. So, having taken their positions and found them earlier than expected, they were left with nothing but the anxious wait until their individual times came.
The first group, as planned, burst into their assigned warehouse in the southwest behind a brawny Machoke. Splinters of wood, concrete, and drywall erupted amidst it's bowels and clouded the air of the two story, open-aired repository. But when the air cleared, the little band found their warehouse to be empty of all living souls. This disturbed them more than the silence of the city itself. Alpha Corp. was now the largest corporation in the world, with it's hands in uncounted divisions of the scientific fields and economies and even the military. A warehouse like this one, where valuable raw materials were stored, should have been not only carefully guarded, but as busy as a bee's nest.
Instead, it's only occupants were mountains of crates and steel shipping containers that diced up the floor into a labyrinth of aisles and narrow walkways. The band of four with their two Pokemon felt it unnecessary to search the warehouse— it was as eerily silent as the city outside. They debated amongst themselves as to what they should do for a short time; this was to be the spark for the whole chain of events they had designed. While there were fifteen other such locations to lend urgent voices to credit the assault on Alpha's operations, what if each of them were just as empty as this one? Had they been expected? Is that why the city was empty? Wouldn't it have been more prudent to prepare an offensive instead of a retreat? Surely they weren't that great of a threat— the elements of strategy and surprise were the only advantages they really had.
In any case, it was clear there was nothing for them to do here. It would likely have been unproductive for them to investigate any of the other targets, so they elected to move on to the checkpoint, hoping that the others' luck faired better.
It didn't. One by one, each of the fifteen other squads commenced their assaults only to find the warehouses, offices, and dormitories entirely empty. They did not appear abandoned, however. It seemed as though work in the city had been progressing as normal until fairly recently— offices housed stacks of recently dated paperwork, shipping houses were organized with soon to be shipped wares nearer the docking doors, and the dormitories were not emptied of their tenants' possessions. It was as though at some point, for no reason any of them could guess, people had just dropped what they were doing and left— going who knows where.
Each brigade debated and argued amongst themselves, suspecting that the others were likely finding themselves in the same position. It took some longer than others, but eventually they all reached the same conclusion— the only thing they could do now was proceed to the checkpoint. Whether it was rooted in a mounting anxiety or in the desire to preserve some sense of caution, each group found themselves refraining from speaking. But as they made their way to the heart of the city, their paths intersecting in their course, all pretense at coversion was forsaken and those that had yet to reach the PokeCenter filed down a central avenue in a growing mass. But even this was not to be as planned.
The remaining forty-odd members of the Resistance who had not yet reached their checkpoint found those who had standing dumbfounded before it's ruins. This was not a simply dilapidated building, sired by the state of disrepair and strange decay rampant among the rest of the city. No, this building almost seemed to have been intentionally destroyed. It's roofing was not caved but torn and thrown about the area, its walls not crumbled but smashed. And now they did speak, quietly among themselves, wondering what on earth had become of this city.
After some consideration, few of them were surprised to find it it's present condition— Suma and Hibiki had already mentioned how Ash's friend had spoken of the "wrongness" of what Giovanni was doing, how it defiled the laws of nature the way a disease defiled the body. Somehow, his experiments and research had upset the natural order of things— perhaps to the point of increasing the rate at which material decayed. Only the PokeCenter seemed to have suffered violence, and the source of the decay marring the rest of the city could not otherwise be explained.
It was the only plausible answer, many of them agreed. Some argued the idea was outlandish— wouldn't the city's vegetation and plant life have grown out of control, moss and vines climbing and covering it's buildings? Instead, the recreational pools of water were now cesspools, the parks were acrid stains and the trees seemed to have withered entirely. By and large and speculation aside, it was hard to know what to think.
More troubling still was the silence of the Headquarters to their left. It was generally known that businesses had suffered in Cerulean because the main campus required so many to keep it's operations functioning. Even with the city so empty, this was the place that should have been busiest of all. It had not fallen into the clutches of the decay that had eaten at the rest of the city, that was certainly clear. But did seem poorly tended, as well as empty. Smokes and fogs and mists clouded the atmosphere of the city, the pollutions of the operations at it's heart. But only now did they realize that the towering smoke stacks were cool and empty. The city seemed to be devoid of all life entirely.
As they conversed among themselves, their churning fears making them forget the caution that had initially hushed their conversation, they began to wonder if their coming would serve any purpose now. What if the city had been abandoned? Giovanni had plans, it was rumored, to gather the world's legendary Pokemon to use as weapons of mass destruction… what if he was now bringing these plans to head? What if they had missed their chance to quell this storm before it had mustered it's full force? How could they stand against an army of legendary Pokemon, led by a near god-like being?
Maybe now, the only thing they could do, the only hope they had, was to flee. To hide. Some among them would not even entertain the idea, but others were becoming quickly irrational with fear. Seeing this, a few among them suggested that they retreat— their staying here would do them little good now, especially if Giovanni had indeed abandoned the city. Worse, what if they fell pray to the wrongness that plagued the city? Their leaders— Suma, Hibiki, and respected few among the Resistance and Ash's refugee— advised that they not be hasty. They did not know if Giovanni had fled or not. It was one thing if he had, but if he was sequestered somewhere in that building, unguarded by the masses and his military? They would be fools to leave now. Desecration or no, almost all of the obstacles to their goal had for whatever reason been removed. If they were to go back now, it would be wise for them to assure themselves that their coming had indeed been a waste.
But many of them were beyond the reach of reason or wisdom now. Either their swelling nerves or the unnatural atmosphere had robbed them of their wits. Without explanation or response to their fellows' objections, nearly twenty of them forsook the scene. Those that refused to desert were left huddled in the city's central square, studying the hulking building before them whose shadows had eaten at everything around it like a cancer.
After several silent minutes, some of them began to sympathize with their departed friends. But knowing the truth of their leaders words, they would not join them until they were sure that they had come for nothing. Who, then, would go? Who would carry out the search? Surely not all of them, they knew nothing of the compound and while most possessed the dignity to remain they did not possess the courage to enter in. Hibiki, they recalled. He had been one of them, before joining the cause of the Resistance, had worked in this very facility. If anyone was fit, was responsible to such a thing, it should be him.
They surrounded the man and, gripping his sleeves with white knuckles, herded him west toward the main entrance. Suma chased after them, screaming her protest with Al stumbling behind. Upon reaching the main entrance they thrust him upon the steps that led to the main entrance, their voices curdled and faces twisted with angry fear. So much for dignity.
Hibiki sighed bitterly. Almost as soon as he had shouted the words over the din of panic around him, he had known they would be clamoring for him to carry them out. And he wouldn't fault them for it. Their mob-like behavior was another matter, but… these were a people crazed by a frightful world. He would achieve little in trying to rebuke them now. So, he chose not to protest. Instead, he called out to the forty-or-so who stood before him, "I will go, but it would be unwise for me to go alone."
At his words, the flustered crowd fell silent. At just the moment when he would have repeated himself, the strangest sound bubbled amidst the crowd. Laughter. Not even laughter, more like an ill-minded giggling. A figure pushed it's way through the crowd and suddenly Fanpan stood at it's head before him. The boy smirked haughtily. "None of these people are going to go with you in there," he said snickering.
Hibiki kept his voice low, but let his disgust shine through. "Fanpan, what… Don't make a fool of yourself now."
The boy shrugged, unheeding. "Going in there is a waste of time."
Hibiki gritted his teeth. "If you feel that way, why didn't you leave with the rest of them?"
"And miss that look on your face?" the boy grinned, incredulous. "Never."
Something wasn't right, and his friends behind him knew it. They shuffled nervously as he eyed them, almost the way a starved man stares longingly at a butcher's shop. Hibiki tried to recapture his attention, "Fanpan?" The boy turned again, that same strange look in his eye. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but…" he trailed off as the boy rolled his eyes. "Look, if you don't want to go in, don't go in. Leave, if that's what you want. But don't—"
"Leave?" Fanpan repeated, a sickening crack in his voice. "Oh my, no. Don't you know I'm right where I want to be?" At that, the boy thrust his arm out behind him, as if urging someone among the crowd to step forward. And someone did come forward, but not of their own volition. As if pulled by some unseen force, Yiji was ripped from among the crowd— barreling through them at inhuman speed. In a matter of moments, Fanpan held his own friend by the neck beside him. Those in the crowd who had been knocked from their feet tried to rise while Hibiki blinked, hoping his vision would clear. It didn't.
Fanpan's eyes did not stray from his, despite the frantic cries and urgent writhing of the man at whose neck he clutched. Then, as though he possessed some incomprehensible strength, he lifted Yiji from the ground and threw him over and past Hibiki, to crash through the dim windows of the building beyond. Many in the crowd screamed, and a startled cry raked at Hibiki's throat as he ducked involuntarily to watch the younger man soar overhead. Suddenly, the earth groaned and rumbled beneath him, and Hibiki was not able to keep his balance. He tumbled down the stairs to land at Fanpan's feet.
As he looked up, he saw the boy's feet leave the ground. He rolled onto his back as the haggard figure ascended skyward, halting some several hundred feet overhead. Now, he was laughing outright— a maniacal sound. As he thrust out his left hand the earth beneath them rumbled again, and the quake was followed by an ear shattering explosion. The walls and roofing of the barracks at the west end of the compound exploded outward, and the debris was cast so far that it fell inaudibly in the distance of all directions at once.
Then, pouring from within the remains of the structure to teem around them on all sides, was a horde of vastly hideous creatures. They were were mostly humanoid and bipedal, with some quadrupedal things among them. They might once have been human, Hibiki thought. Not anymore. Now he knew where the people of Cerulean had gone, or whatever was left of them— they had been here the whole time. Green and orange wings, red-veined and bulging muscle, violet tufts of hair that sprang from the tops of necks to travel the lengths of spines: it was as though the people of Cerulean had been disassembled and reassembled with various Pokemon parts.
An army of mutant, hybrid PokePeople. They weren't an army of legendary Pokemon, but… maybe they would be enough to subdue such an army. Hibiki did not doubt they would be enough to crush every last unspoiled person in the city. And now as he had expected, but in ways his worst nightmares could never have foretold, they would indeed fight… or die.