Fire is a mysterious element both revered and feared throughout the world.
The man's fingers moved in precise, practiced patterns across the floor spreading the thick, tar-like substance across the ground to complete the intricate, interlocking circular formation. He understood clearly, that what he was doing would irritate a lot of people in a lot of high places but it seemed as if it didn't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore except the surface, he had to disturb the surface to get to what he wanted underneath and that meant fire, which meant that everyone who defied his lord and master had to suffer indirectly and then directly.
The sea sprayed up in all directions as he continued to mark the bow of the boat with letters that only the people the message was for would understand a threat and demand all in one swoop. He didn't worry about failure because his part was almost over, his part in his master's rise to power would end here on this boat roaring into Slateport's Bay gunning for the ship arriving with the first load of coordinators for the Bicentennial Grand Festival, the fools wouldn't even know what it them but then again he wasn't too sure that he knew what extent that the man he served would go to for his sense of justice.
He closed his eyes and remembered the wrong done onto him all those years ago, the hatred that burned in his belly for the freaks and all those who sided with him. That hatred had made him susceptible and easily manipulated, everyone said so and while he knew it he also knew that he didn't care as long as he got revenge on them. The man had assured him that this would strike them good, get to the heart of their kingdom and if he survived he would get to take the heart of the one who did him wrong all those years ago.
Just thinking about it made his ass sore; he could hear the screaming woman he had attacked and the low bass growl of the man's voice in his ear as he tied his hands securely around his waist. "So you think that you're a rapist huh, boy? Well let's see how much you like it, let's see if you've got the stones to take back what you've given." He hadn't been able to sit down after the man tore through him, ruined him, and stuck a TM Case up his ass for good measure. He snarled at the memory and hated himself for getting hard, the thought of being dominated, the thought that someone out there had gotten the better of him in the worse possible way made his cock throb deliciously.
He wanted revenge alright but he also wanted to feel that again, humiliation in such a way made him humble. Made him believe in his quest for success, made him believe that he was really alive and that he in some way was no better than anyone else; his head was getting big again in light of his recent successes both serving his master and his personal achievements, he might never be a master but that didn't matter so long as he continued to win. This was one battle that he had to win, win or cease living, he heard the boat's engines roar as it put on the last bit of acceleration and looked down at the bottle that had started it all.
While he had promised that he would go to his AA meetings he never did, alcohol had just been a gateway to other things like drugs and violence and rape and eventually this… murder. He shut his eyes as he remembered his last punishment for failure, his woman had been brutalized as he was beaten until he couldn't take another step, until he couldn't crawl to her defense or raise his hands in his own. He wasn't sure if he even wanted this anymore or if this was just him trying his hardest so this would never happen again, either way he couldn't forgive any of them… ever.
His eyes moved to the pistol stowed in the bottom of the cooler beside him and he patted the top, it would make his next job easier than it would have been if he was supposed to make it look like an accident. Making accidents kill people is harder than it seems regardless of what the movies portray, you would think with super powered monsters running around it would be easier but for some reason it just wasn't. Putting a round in Steven Stone's head would be easier than taking the time to fake a gas leak or something like that; he was going to be the victim of a mugging gone wrong.
Afterwards all he would have to do was light the symbol and watch the masses panic. It was bad luck for the Rescue Squadrons and the Guardsmen to cross paths and the superstitious Slateport Guard would most likely thing that the Forest or Desert Rescue were to blame. The two groups were at a cease fire but the war between them still raged.
The only way that they could operate was in absolute chaos and to start a mess here would bring on a shit storm from the local authorities but it might be enough to distract them from what he was trying to accomplish. Steven was just a distraction; it was all just a distraction.
Whatever the others had planned was a relatively negligible point all he wanted to do was prove that he was the best that had ever been and no one, not even the League could stand a chance against him. He was simply the best that had ever been or would ever be.
-ooo-
In one smooth, controlled motion he brought the Remington Model 597 up to his shoulder and fired once at the onrushing monstrosity. The explosive crack of the bullet echoed in his ears at what seemed like the same time as the monster exploded like a water balloon filled with pudding dropped from a fifth story window. He brought and scanned the entrance to the cabins below deck ignoring the whispers of the civilians at his back and the hole he had blasted in the deck.
Most of the men he worked with on a regular basis preferred using .22LR Ammunition for work like this: close quarters with a high chance of taking each other out with friendly fire. But there was the chance that you would have to fire twice if you missed and less of a chance of putting a hole straight through the hull and slowly sinking whichever girl you happened to be on at the time. Devyn, like his father kneeling four feet behind him and just off to the left, preferred using .17 HMR hollow points when dealing with Jellicent on ships because it popped the bastards on contact. The more powerful ammunition was considered by many to be too expensive and too powerful at such a close range for taking down such relatively small game.
He looked at the jelly left splattered around the hole in the polished wood and decided that the advantages far outweighed the disadvantages. Mentally he ticked off the amount of ammunition left in the cartridge, six, and proceeded through the door and down the stairs. Eyes alert to whatever danger might be lurking in the darkness, you could never be sure just how many of these things came to shore at a time.
The news had come in sometime around three that morning when one of the Watchers at the Eastern Edge Lighthouse had radioed in with the horrifying news that a cloud of Jellicent had swarmed a boat that had been running with its navigation lights out. The only reason they had seen it at all was because the old piece of gristle Jaska had experience finding the dangers of the depths and had caught onto the Jellicent flashing purple and blue lights beneath the surface before they attacked. Needless to say that the boat had crashed into the rocks underneath the lighthouse and exploded but the information they needed was spread to each of the guardhouses in the city.
With the innumerous people flooding into the city every day by land, sea and air it was imperative that they dealt with this situation quickly and effectively. The siren had gone off just minutes after Jaska had flagged the boat and the message had been sent out by the Watchers, everyone was to wake up and abandon the docks for the relative safety of the shore and the guardhouses. After rounding up only the most stall worthy of the Captains and ship hands that had offered their assistance dealing with this potentially deadly situation the Slateport Guardsmen had begun sweeping the docks and surrounding waters around them.
Devyn hadn't made it onto the scene until five o'clock but they had had to wait until five thirty for those who hadn't been on duty to arrive and gear up, shortly after the preformed teams divided the civilians up amongst them and set out to clean shop. At eight o'clock now they were only half of the way done and Devyn's team had racked up an impressive one hundred sightings and seventy-four kills. It could have very well been seventy-four kill sightings and seventy-four kills because it was impossible to tell one you had seen before hovering somewhere out of range or in a place for a bad shot and one you had just shot.
Up ahead he could see a T-intersection and mentally Devyn cursed, "Biron. Two corners." His voice was rock steady as he focused all of his senses on the ship around him and could feel when the man behind him tense for action as the otterdog at the brown haired man's hip flattened itself to the ground and poked just his nose past the edge of the wall.
The orange furred creature instantly shot into the T-intersection, marking a harsh sound of challenge like a crazed thing. The yellow collar around his neck inflating in a display of his dominance and power, the blue fins on each forelimb fluttering back and forth in an almost mechanical threatening way, the otterdog's brave and fearless nature displaying itself.
Biron was one of the squad of Buizel that the Slateport Guard had trained specifically for sniffing out and rounding up Jellicent in closed quarters. While they did have a teams of Vaporeon, Dewott, Marshtomp, Tombre, and Bibarel with various levels of success despite the reported success from other Guardsmen the very obedient and people pleasing Buizel had made themselves famous in Slateport. That orange body launched itself immediately to the left and Devyn threw himself into the intersection already shouting the command to Birons, "OUT!"
The rifle came up and his eyes registered the horror of the creature standing floor to ceiling in the hallway before him. The blue pale stood tall on three thick tentacles marked with icy blue diamonds, two larger clover like tentacles preoccupied with keeping otterdog away from its face, red eyes filled with hatred and malice. The Jellicent's mustache like adornment on his face flushed purple in its anger, the crown like adornment flashed again and again with that strange purple light.
All those tiny details came to him in the instant before the .17 HMR tore through its body. Those eyes turned to him for just an instant before its body rippled like water a stone had been thrown into, filled with surprise. It's "hands" stopped fighting with otterdog who was already backing down the hallways barking like mad. "It must've thought it had hold of a devil…" Devyn though before the ripples reached the hole that bullet had left and its body no longer able to maintain the pressure needed to remain solid burst into a thousand tiny pieces.
Five bullets left in the cartridge. "Find."
Birons took off like a world class sprinter, turning a sharp right and slamming into the door to the first cabin with enough force to crack the wood beneath the paint as the door flew open. The door slammed against the inside of the room and swung shut again as Devyn reached it, without breaking stride he kicked open, "OUT!" He saw the flash of a tentacle coming straight for him, pink this time meaning that it was a female, and he pulled the trigger. Heart racing in his chest as if it meant to escape it the young man counted again.
Four bullets let in the cartridge.
The otterdog was squatting before him, rubbing his nose against Devyn's leg beneath the Kevlar, polyethylene blend of the pants to his armor. Devyn reached down and rubbed Rodney's head affectionately, the sound of a single shot fired somewhere behind him turned both of their heads.
"Alright Birons," the brown haired man said slowly, turning to look at the pale faced teenaged boy standing in the doorway. "Find."
-ooo-
"You don't want to see her." The statement chilled something in the very core of her soul, hardened it, straightened her back and tensed her muscles. Arguing with the woman would be like arguing with a brick wall if end up with her unconscious and bleeding with the high possibility of broken bones.
Her heart told her that Erin wouldn't hurt her, not intentionally but her head replayed the facts as they were, Erin Lynch Kirkland Braddock was a stone cold killer and had been since early childhood. She had been raised to be a Dragon Master, the leader of all three of the major clans and fighting her would be like trying to wrestle a dragon and if she wanted to die there were less painful ways to commit suicide. Her head told her that Erin wouldn't hesitate to kill her if it came down to it even as her heart screamed that Erin would mourn her loss. But that didn't mean that the larger woman wouldn't pop her neck like she was an unfortunate Unfezant that had strayed too close.
"Yes, I do." There was a flash of something undecipherable in Erin's eyes, something that must have some kind of cognizant thought that would have made Caitlin turn around and run back to the kitchen where the sun was shining and Charlie was making omelets. Fortunately Cynthia did not have the same abilities as Caitlin and it saved her from whatever they were hiding in the basement, the screams hadn't stopped until around six in the morning. "I feel-"
"Obligated to say goodbye, I know." Erin opened the door that she had been leaning on and beckoned her into the dimly lit staircase that would take her down into the darkness. At first glance it seemed like a cliché, the typical torture chamber that fit every stereotype that you had ever seen in a movie until she saw the shadows move. That, was not typical unless you were in one of those movies where being harassed by demons was the norm.
Well if you wanted to get technical people did call the Void touched demons and they did live in massive underground necropolises that usually featured architecture from the gothic era. If you wanted to get technical that is and being technical meant that she would draw back up memories of the rumors surrounding Winter.
She stepped onto the first stair almost expecting it to creak beneath her feet even knowing that the place was new and that all the stairs would be secured properly or Caitlin's father would have a fit when he inspected the place. That was one of the benefits of spastic parents she supposed, they did unusual things that made what they were doing look even worse by comparison. They were on two different kinds of insane and immoral and they were far on the side that gets you thrown into triple max slams where you'll never see the light of day.
Halfway down she could see the edges of a blue tarp, the absence of a large pool of blood meant that they hadn't removed a limb the hard way, with power tools and let her bleed to death. But that didn't rule out the possibility of welding a finger off or something equally as horrible, they very well could have gotten nails and drilled them into her knees for all Cynthia knew. She didn't know a lot because she didn't join the dream team when things got bad and they needed information that could potentially save lives, didn't like to be around the people they did horrible things too. Except that one time, just once when she had thought that she could handle it… Erin had picked her up and walked away from the tent with her and seeing what they had done to the boy the next morning had reinforced how unready she was to join the party away from the camp. Sundown didn't like rapists, showed them exactly what it felt like apparently though whether or not her enjoyed it she was afraid to ask.
She sincerely hoped that Sundown hadn't raped Dawn. That was worse than she deserved for her betrayal.
At the bottom of the stairs she paused and stared blankly the black haired teenager duct taped to one of those aluminum folding chairs that seemed to be ever present in public buildings. With her arms taped to her sides and her torso taped to the chair she couldn't see any physical damage besides the swollen left side of her face where Sundown had punched her to knock her out to they could bring her here. Tears streamed down her face and she was whispering something over and over again, shaking her head fiercely.
Winter crouched down before the girl and cupped her chin in one hand, Dawn shrieked and tried to pull away but the relentless vice like grip prevented her from doing anything but insuring that she would bruise more post mortem if anyone found a body. No one ever found the bodies. Eyes swallowed by black turned to observe the blonde neutrally; utterly passive as they waited for her to do whatever it was that she had come to do.
"Nothing will spare her life?" she asked but she already knew the answer.
"Her mind is already gone; dropping her into the Void is a small mercy. She will forget herself; forget what I have convinced her that I have done to her." Dawn flailed as best she could in the chair, "I have taken a white hot piece of metal and taken her eyes, I have taken a pair of tinsnips and her fingers joint by joint, I have taken her limbs and fed them to Sholto piece by piece, I have skinned her alive and fed the strips of flesh to her, to kill her is a mercy."
Cynthia's eyes snapped back to the mostly unharmed Dawn and marveled for a moment at the horrors that could be inflicted by someone's own mind. If it was true, if Winter had really done what she said and had broken Dawn's mind- "It would be a mercy." She whispered mostly to herself.
"You could say goodbye though your words would not reach her, Cynthia Stendahl." She shook her head slowly, if there was no point then why should she bother?
"She deserves no mercy, Winter." Winter's hand tightened viciously around Dawn's jaw, Cynthia reached out without being told and flicked the light switch throwing the basement into darkness saved for the cracks around the door at the top of the stairs. She squeezed her eyes shut, she didn't want to see the darker shapes move. Dawn didn't make a sound as the darkness within the darkness opened its maw and swallowed her whole. Wherever Winter had put Dawn it could be assured that whatever awaited her would be extremely unpleasant, they might be kind enough to put her mind back together for her only to have her convinced that nothing was wrong and she hadn't been found out.
Whatever happened from here on out wasn't her problem anymore. She was done with Dawn. With a strange sort of calmness she turned and felt her way back up the stairs to the door and rapped twice, it opened just enough for her to squeeze through and walk numbly to the kitchen. Heavier footsteps fall behind her but she doesn't need to look to know that it Erin, to know that it's the black haired woman's way of saying "I told you you don't want to see her." But the 'I told you so' game wasn't in the Dragon Master's nature so she kept her mouth closed. So she just didn't speak, words were unnecessary.
-ooo-
This city is a melting pot.
Damned if she didn't hate those words and the inaccuracies that were placed upon the city because people were not smart enough to realize that nothing within Slateport even resembled a melting pot. It might have been the years she had spent tending the forge, the years she had devoted to being a true Gow and the effort that went into every blow until every time she hit the metal it sung that brought up the true distaste of the words. For whatever reason she had gathered up every pamphlet and leaflet that were to be strewn across the contest grounds and stands today and gotten out a red permanent marker.
The solid block of red on each informational panel was anything but inconspicuous but that wasn't the point. The words fruit salad were written neatly above the block, each part of the city was in itself individual and distinct mixing together to create a very unique flavor not a combination of cultures so intertwined that it was impossible to tell one from another. The inaccuracy bugged her like losing a scale bugged Shan which was to say thoroughly and infinitely.
It could have been that she had visited places that were literally like a melting pot, so many things so thoroughly mixed together that it was impossible to tell what metal you had started with. Jubilife was the perfect example, a bastardization of what the world was supposed to be, like these ridiculous contests. Ridiculous contests that demanded that she be present on the contest grounds before noon even though the opening ceremony wasn't for another two days and even though every Coordinator was signing in and didn't need an official referee for any arguments that they got into. It was all public relations, they wanted the Coordinators to be comfortable around the people who would be judging them or keeping the alive for the duration of the Contest.
Despite the obvious attention she garnered from the crowd of people signing in on the far end of the covered tent no one had bothered her yet today. Maybe they knew about the fifteen foot long scaly reptile that had curled itself into a ball and lay dozing in the warmth behind her, maybe it was because they weren't used to seeing Erin doing anything but battling, maybe it was the tattoos they were unnerving.
In fact the League had wanted her to have them removed until Drake had explained in as many small words as he could that removing them would cast great shame onto all three clans and onto Erin herself. When they had suggested that Erin keep them covered at all times they had been greeted with indignation and a jab at Lance's pride. He did whatever he could to cover his to make himself fit the image that the League wanted to portray. Covering them was like covering all the artwork in the churches devoted to Arceus, blasphemy. In the end they had let her keep the menacing looking things only after they had agreed to let her yield her position as Champion to Steven Stone for reasons of her own.
That had been a screaming match to outdo every other meeting of the United Leagues of the world. Retiring or passing the position of Champion on wasn't as uncommon as people seemed to think but under normal circumstances the person who yielded the position gave the League a reason for it and hadn't just been named Champion.
Erin really didn't have patience for the rules, the system was flawed and the less control they had over her the better.
"Oh my! You're Erin! Aren't you?" she looked up and raised an ebony eyebrow at the man standing in front of her all but drooling, he was supposed to be some hot shot coordinator but all she could see was an idiot dressed up as a Cacturne.
"Who wants to know?" she took in the purple hair and sharp green eyes and the absolutely ridiculous outfit that had a diamond cut out so that his bellybutton and the piercing there would show.
"Harley, your biggest fan!" he gushed and closed in to within inches of the table. "And Slateport's sure-win competitor. After all I am the native son."
"Okay Harley," she recapped the pen and sat back, placing her hands palm down on the table in front of her in a gesture that she had developed that kept her from coming over the top of the table and smacking the foolishness right out of the man. "You do realize that the usual judges for Contests won't be here right? I mean Mr. Contesta and Mr. Sukizo won't have anything to do with this contest, they won't touch it was a fifty foot long pole. As for you being the native son no one from Slateport is judging the appeals for more than one day and this is a week long event."
He looked down trodden but his eyes instantly lit up again. "Hey, aren't you a judge?" he asked as if wasn't common knowledge that the 'legendary' Grand Master of Hoenn wasn't supposed to be here smiling and happy and encouraging all the while looking powerful and indomitable all the while trying to look approachable by the public. It was just some public relations stunt to make her look more approachable, she wasn't so stupid as to believe it was anything else.
"Incorrect, Harley." She said softly, "I am here to make sure that the battles do not get so far out of hand that the city catches fire and to ensure that no one dies or is killed in battle." The last words were incredibly soft but the threat behind the words was menacing.
Shannis chose at that exact moment to raise his head, the massive triangular shaped jaws on the brute opening and expelling a huff of smoke over the man who hastily stepped backwards as if that would save him if Shannis got angry with him. If Harley really was her biggest fan then he knew what happened on Mt. Battle and the controversy that had sparked because of the incident.
It was common knowledge that it was illegal for any individual to have a captured pokemon before the age of eight if they were in school but most children received their first when they were ten. It was also relatively common knowledge that the Dragon Master clans had a certain infinity with dragons because they were normally paired with a dragon by the age of six. What was world news because of its sheer oddity was that Erin Lynch Kirkland Braddock had gotten Shannis to hatch for her at the age of two when she'd first touched his egg.
By the time that Erin had turned ten she and Shannis, fully grown and fully evolved, had set out on their adventure without him owing her anything and their bond being friendship. True ownership over Shannis hadn't been questioned until her last stand on Mt. Battle for the title of the very best in the entire world wherein her opponent had actually tried to capture the dragon. He had responded with roasting then man alive at the command of Erin. After being dragged back before the League Erin had explained in a way that when competing in Orre that killing your opponent wasn't against the law, it was just frowned upon by the general public.
There were other rumors that Erin had killed other people with the help of the dragon but that had been the only one.
Harley set his jaw and took another step forward, "Does this mean that the rest of us can see dream team in action?" maybe there was steel in him somewhere or stupidity. Erin's hands twitched with the urge to reach out and make him stop talking but the necessity of appearing calm and controlled so that the Hoenn League would appear as one united front against all those who would oppose League rules stopped her. She didn't want to have to fight that battle yet.
"Ah, dream team. Is that what you call it?" she asked, each word enunciated properly and carefully, mindful of her accent and the storm brewing in her belly."
"Shannis," he pointed to the dragon still staring impassively at him, his voice strong and certain of itself and its purpose. "Charizard, Milotic, Flygon, Spiritomb and Shedinja. I don't remember their names." He nodded enthusiastically, "How did you come up with a team that can beat the hell out of anyone who comes up against you?"
She recalled each of her companions by their names. Maybe he was one of her biggest fans but he would be hard pressed to outshine her mother. She offered him a bitter smile as way of acknowledgement. "Can I ask you something rather personal?"
"Fire away." Erin said as if he hadn't already invaded on her personal space and the silence that her presence commanded.
"I will never understand why you retired so early in your career Erin. You annihilated everyone who stood in your path and to prove you were the best you took your claim out of Kanto, out of Johto, out of Hoenn, out of Sinnoh, out of Unova and shoved it down the throat of every trainer in Orre. Carved your story and dominance into Mt. Battle and then returned to stand supreme over the Champion League and then just decided to stop. Why didn't you stay as champion?"
"Well they offered me the position of the Hoenn League Champion when I declined they offered me the position as one of the Elite Four. If I were a member of the Elite Four no one would make it past me and besides Ji'ji is the Dragon Master for the League, having two would be completely unfair for the competitors don't you think?"
"Unless they had an ice type with them." The purple haired man offered helpfully.
"In which case I would take Shannis to the air and bombard them with fire while staying completely out of harms reach using his superior agility to ensure that he isn't harmed." She came back calmly, this was something she was used to, they could talk strategy in battle all day. Talking about appeals and how to best wow the judges they would be here for a long time and not get anywhere.
"Your battling skills are fearsome, the amount of time that you must put into planning and training before each battle must be astronomical." Erin shook her head as a negative. "How many you must've gone through to get to where you are now…" the last was spoken more to himself than to her.
"I'll tell you what I told Ash Ketchum the day he lost his to me for the tenth time. Being a Champion means that you are what all the role model that young trainers base themselves off of, being a Champion means that you are the one that the world looks up to because you are strong and because you do what is right. I am not the image that ten year olds should strive to be."