Sorry for the longer wait, school's speeding up but I'll still try to update once a week. Thanks TheNightstriker for the...ehm... enthusiast review.
Cynthia stares at the horde of papers on her desk. Files, books, letters, documents, pictures. She tugs at her hair in frustration, the blonde strands straining her scalp from the force. The champion's fingers uncurl from her hair to once again shuffle through the papers on her desk as she tries to organize the mess. Statements were thrown carelessly to one corner, myths that her Angel (Cynthia refused to call the child Mercury) brought up multiple times tossed in another. The multiple letters that Looker had sent her about the rising activity, along with a case file on the delusional team, takes center desk as the blonde fingers through them.
An aggravated sigh slips off her lips as she sinks into her overstuffed office chair. Cynthia has faced angry legendaries before. She had taken on the psychotic engineer that attempted to destroy the world, his attention-deprived commanders, and the destruction of her Grandmother's beloved research center before, but one little girl later and she can't even raises a hand to call an attack.
One child. That's all it took for the blonde powerhouse to be stripped of any reason.
Her pen hovers over a notepad, blank bar the few black spots her twitching had caused. The blonde drops the writing utensil, it wasn't going to use anytime soon, and digs through her pants pocket for her cell phone. She stares at the screen as she thumbs through her photo gallery.
Cynthia had a habit of recording her life through pictures. Nothing fancy, she specialized in art of battling not the art of photography, yet her cell phone's memory bulged with pictures of scenic skyscrapers, lake fronts, mountaintops, forests, and the occasional profile of a wild pokemon. However, one would notice that the aesthetic scenery seemed to give way for a new muse. Violet eyes and white hair, a red absol, a shy goomy, two fighting fully-evolved pokemon snapping at the other's throat. An awed child sprinting around the Solaceon Ruins that wouldn't hold still long enough for Cynthia to take a clear shot. Garchomp tromping through a forested area with the girl on her shoulders, the occasional picture the champion was able to sneak in of her sleeping, and even a few that Angel begrudgingly allowed to be taken. Those shot usually showed an annoyed scowl.
The champion raises a hand to thumb away the moisture that started accumulating on her cheeks and slips the device back into her pocket. A new found determination settles itself and the blonde refocuses her attention back onto the stacks of paper in front of her.
…
The Elite Four watch silently as their leader rushes out of the kitchen with a large canteen of coffee at the ready. It didn't take a brainiac like Lucian to know that the blonde wasn't sleeping that night in favor of torturing her body with an all nighter.
"What's she even lookin' for?" Flint asks his comrades.
Aaron shrugs and rubs the head of his caterpie in thought. Lucian takes time to ponder the question himself, but Bertha ends up beating him to the answer.
"Nothing in particular dear. She's searching for something to search for. For a mother nothing is worse than feeling helpless. Angel can do no wrong in Cynthia's eyes. As far as she's concerned, Team Galactic has taken her daughter, and there is no fury like a mother separated from her baby."
"She can't really be thinking that can she? Angel's not easily coerced into doing anything she doesn't want to. Face it, she saw the kid call the lake guardians to give them to Team Galactic." Aaron interjects. "Cynthia will always do the right thing, right?"
Lucian pushes up his glasses and tucks his new book, a theory on human nature, under his arm, "Think of it this way Aaron. If people told you your parents kidnapped a trainer's pokemon would you believe them?" The green haired man violently shakes his head no. "Exactly. Even if you saw them with a new pokemon, your loyalty and affection wouldn't let you believe that the accusation is true." The wise man fiddles with his glasses again, "You can't blame her. Cynthia is isolated, you know that. Civilians can't treat her like she's a human, awe blinds that. That child gave her the affection she craved. I'd say that she became a tad too attached."
Flint snorts in false humor, "A tad? I made the kid's eyes water one time and she hard core glared missels at me until I awkwardly shuffled out of the room."
Bertha lets out a slight laugh, "A mother can be quite a bear."
"No kidding!" Flint growls as he fixes his perm.
…
The small child runs her fingers through Calamity's white fur mindlessly as she fingers through a book outside the glass enclosure. The three creatures have been spared the red chain, the information lost to the Galactics when their researchers never rejoined the team. However, they were still confined to the transparent container. She closes the book of myths, not actually a published book but Cynthia's journal she swiped from the adult's bag when she had fled into the mist, and places the leather bound journal on the cushioned couch. Calamity slides off the sofa with her and the two stand before the cage as the being of emotion greets her.
"I'm sorry."
It's alright, hatchling. If this is what you believe must be done, we will abide. Uxie saw it, the dimension will be opened. How it ends…
"Is up to me I know." She sighs.
What I want to ask you is, where is your mother?
The platinum doesn't answer and instead stares at the ground.
It'll be alright hatchling. She'll understand.
"Understanding and forgiving aren't the same thing."
…
The figure stares stoically at the abyss before him. He ignores his darkening surroundings and doesn't even flinch when the large shadow falls over his body momentarily. The manic screeches bounce off his leadened heart. He runs one hand along the purple ball at his waist, but shakes his head and removes his fingers. The man looks upward before his glassy eyes face forward and he turns away.
The black shadows screeches again before rocketing across the expanse in blind fury. The force behind its speed cracks the shrubby trees into splinters, the obsidian wood heaving under the pressure. The suspended boulders twirl in their frozen position and the red dust blows up to cover its receding form.