.
.
.
Unova, Castelia City
Behold, O Man, you can create life. You can destroy life. But, lo, you have no choice but to experience life. And therein lies both your greatest strength and your greatest weakness. But He solved the equation on the Silent Planet: Maryterdom!
-the Hisuian Coda, Book of Soaring Wingull, 3-42. Johtoian influence debated
.
"Well, shoot."
Agent Looker of the International Police stood before a large sign covered in meticulously-painted letters that seemed to flicker when he looked at them, right in the center of the sprawling metropolis of Castelia. It was a bomb threat, plain and simple.
Attention: I have placed a memetic bomb in Castelia City, which will be triggered at exactly 12:00 Standard Unovan Time, on September 26th. I have no demands.
"At least he's concise," Looker said to his Toxicroak. "Of course, the absolute worst thing here is that it's probably just some kind of twisted prank. Cover the sign with a heavy tarp; find one somewhere. This news will spread like wildfire.
Toxicroak walked off to fetch a covering, but Looker knew that concealing the message wouldn't stop the bomb itself. Glancing at the ring of spectators that had formed around him, Looker took his phone out, green with a golden insignia on its cover, and called Command.
"We don't have enough manpower to search the entire city," Looker explained.
"Aw, don't say it!" Anabel groaned.
"We are going to need outside help, Anabel."
"Please don't say it."
"I think we should call Tercano."
"Dammit!"
...
Later
Pokedex Holder Green stared at the sign, and blew a smoke ring in contempt from her cigarette. It was a metacigar, designed to repair the damage it caused to the lungs with a web of nanites. She would have to smoke a copious amount before this crisis was averted.
"I think it's the same one that we've been after," Green said, pointing at the shimmering letters with her cigarette. "Notice how the letters flicker when you look at it? That's his calling card. Everything he's ever done has that involved. No clue who he is, though."
"Reality bender, probably," Looker said. "You know how contact with other worlds has changed things. Memetic bombs! I wonder what the agent is. If it's a Berryman binder, we're screwed beyond belief. But if not, we could have an inoculant ready by tomorrow morning. This is why universes should keep to themselves."
"He might be natural," Green said. "Not from the Library or a Way. All we've got are a series of attacks, some anomalies in lockup, and no real leads to speak of. We don't know who he is, or if they're even a he. Hell, we don't even know if it's just one entity. Could be more, could be less."
Looker motioned for Toxicroak to cover up the sign again. "Right now, our guys are sweeping the city for some clue as to where the bomb is. Our psychics have narrowed it down to the city square, but that might only be because of all the Akiva radiation being emitted. Any idea what it may look like, from the Association's perspective?"
"Last month, it was a Goldeen statue in Hau'oli City," Green said. "We ended up passing out forget-me pills like candy. A memetic bomb...no, what if it's a bomb that's memetic? The idea of a bomb? That could be more dangerous than an actual bomb, or even no bomb at all. Panic works in strange ways."
"You certainly have a way of inspiring confidence, Agent Green."
"They don't pay me for my speaking ability," Green said, fishing in her pockets for another cigarette. "Don't worry, we'll find it."
"And if we don't?"
Green sighed, exhaling a cloud of harmless steam. "I'll get on the phone with the other branches. Maybe they'll send some Rorian Commandos in. It'd be wise for them to start prepping task forces in case we need to lock down the city."
"A million people, under lockdown? I don't think that'll work out so well."
"You have a better plan?"
Now it was Looker's turn to remain silent.
"That's what I thought."
.
.
.
Almia, Southern Fringe
As long as what you are afraid of is something evil, you may still hope that good may come to your rescue. But suppose you struggle through to the good and find that it is also dreadful? What if food itself turns out to be the very thing you can't eat and home the very place you can't live, and your very comforter is the person who makes you uncomfortable? Then, indeed, there is no rescue possible: the last card has been played.
-Chairman Bronze Tercano, private journals
.
"Data," Kellyn said, standing at the threshold of his home. "I need more data."
Perceptive, this one, Kate thought. Even with his store of information, his knowledge remains finite. You can't express the boundless in the limits of language or printed words. Still, his data horde must have some uses, however.
Kellyn entered his vast archive, and directed Kate to place the copy of the Almia Times in a drawer. "I keep every single one. By this, I know what Rangers went on what missions, and what Pokemon worked for them and how they were helped. Will that be all?"
Kate saw that he had two wirefilm orbs in his hands. "Almost. What are those?"
"These reels? History, nearly all of it. Don't you have to get back to Veintown Base to report that you were successful?"
"I have a phone, comrade," Kate said. "Oh, show me the data on the Golden Age of Hisui! Have you ever studied that?"
"Hisui? Golden Age?" Kellyn was irritated and puzzled. Why would this girl want to discuss myths from the dawn of time? Kellyn's mind still felt crammed with the data from the Battle of Shalour City Computations that he had researched before putting out the breach fire: two hundred and fifty frigates, thirty battalions, support teams, pacification cadres, Priesthood missionaries, food requirements, Poke Balls, weaponry, uniforms, medals, specialists to produce raw propaganda, clerks, accountants, spies, and spies upon the spies. The Association's war machine was madness!
The Ranger hooked up a pulse-synchronizer attachment to the line of filmwire. Now he could flutter through the projections, looking into the deep past.
"Alright, I've found the era," Kellyn said. "Let me tell you of a few famous figures. We'll start with the Prince of Truth."
"Unovan? Did he serve Hisui?"
"Long before Hisui existed. He killed...perhaps four million."
Kate was shocked. "He must have had formidable weapons to kill that many, comrade. Was it Reshiram, or other Pokemon?"
"He didn't kill them himself. He killed the way leaders kill, sending out his legions against the Prince of Ideals. There's another emperor I want you to note, if you're interested: a Tar-Castamir, Lord of Logaria. He killed more than six million. Pretty good for those days, although the Logarian Empire itself killed much more outside of his rule."
With a feeling of callous determinism, Kate said: "Compared to modern warfare, those don't sound like impressive statistics."
"Very good, new girl," Kellyn said, dropping the filmwire reels back into the desk where he had taken them from. "At a conservative estimate, the races of Men and Pokemon-kind have been involved in ten thousand wars in one thousand years, some of which in other universes or many alternate realities bring up the total mortality count to sixty-one billion enemy combatants killed, by several different factions. Maybe we didn't cause that sort of death, but the Multiverse is a bloody place. We're just getting into the crossfire."
"I should take my leave," Kate said. "There's more to do at Vientown, if you want to report for duty. And don't think that we aren't doing good!"
A barking laugh escaped Kellyn's throat. "That amuses me. I merely had a sudden vision of Emperor Castamir saying something similar. No doubt he did."
.
.
.
Orre Colosseum
The one who boasts loudest typically has the least accomplishments to their name.
-Analysis of History, by Jibb of Unova
.
After another round of debates in the Orrian campaign, Bronze Tercano defeated his hundred-and-thirty-second gladiatorial foe in a Pokemon battle. Visiting observers from Bronze's entourage sat in the golden box above the circular arena for the event, delegates hoping to curry favor from the Orrian people, either with Cenvus or Tercano.
The magistrate of Orre, Evice, had declared a holiday in the region in anticipation of Bronze's arrival. A daily rest from labor had been declared, and an effort had been spent in the desert to create an illusion of gaiety about the Colosseum: banners fluttered in the dry wind, and new paint had been splashed about the walls in the complex. But off the main way, Bronze noted the rubbish heaps, the brown and scabrous buildings, and the frantic scurrying of the people and Pokemon.
This place was a tyrannous and brutal place, Bronze knew. His sense for rightness was deeply offended. Once he was put in a position to heal the region, he would make sure to dispose of Evice and his acolytes.
"The pressure's on for Evice," Tess muttered in hand signals to Moon. "That wicked man is beginning to see the price he is going to have to pay to rid himself of Bronze."
"Sometime I must recount for you the legend of Ho-Oh, the great phoenix," Moon signaled back. "Ah, here he comes."
Evice moved down the length of the hall before the golden box, bobbing on suspensors. The man had gone to fat, unable to support his own sagging flesh on stubby legs. His jowls bobbed, yet his teeth gleamed into an unsettling smile. A golden pendant glittered at his collar, and jewels shined where they had been woven into his robe.
The magistrate stopped before the rim of the box, seeing Bronze select his Pokemon: a Steelix. "Your husband is a good fighter," Evice said to Moon. "Did he not take on the Rorian League, the first and only one?"
Moon dipped her head with required courtesy. She stared back at Evice, taking on a posture of control that the cruel, bloated warlord would surely find unsettling. She must not reveal with her body's signs that Bronze had more intended for today in Orre than what Evice or his Cipher terror soldiers suspected.
"I hope that this fight will hold great entertainment for you, Magistrate Evice," Jake calmly said. At those words, Evice feared the man: a killer with the manners of a gentleman. Not a casual soldier, but of a dangerous kind nonetheless. The magistrate laughed it off as a good joke, resting his suspensors beside a Cipher aide.
Bronze Tercano strode out onto the sand, to the cheers of his supporters, and even a few daring boos. He consciously marked the areas of the audience that had less enthusiasm, hoping to use their malcontent for some purpose at a later date. He jumped on his Steelix's head; not a rental Pokemon, but his own, received from a man that was no longer a Gym Leader in another desert, long ago.
There were so many mouths yammering among the trumpeting flutters of banners! Bronze paused to accept it, content with this sort of obligatory praise, not a thing that could turn into a Jihad. He activated an advanced personal ray shield, the cancer-causing radiation being reflected harmlessly away by links of shigaweave fiber in his combat uniform. One could never be too careful.
Bronze had Steelix raise its head, and then he withdrew his Logarian dagger, holding it over his head in salute. It was customary that Bronze would thank Evice for hosting him before every match over the years.
He chose another route today. "I dedicate this battle to my wife and love, Moon Berlitz!" Bronze shouted.
Arceus! Moon thought, smiling. He's serious about what he intends to do today!
Bronze turned atop his Pokemon's head, watching the other end of the arena, from which another gladiatorial Pokemon would emerge, controlled by a virtual trainer: a thinking machine. Bronze's staffers had made a fuss about the use of AI, and the Association had replaced the adaptive algorithm with a simple set of predetermined variables, with the occasional increased ability or sudden disadvantage to create a more realistic match.
A low humming rose from the opposite door's suspensor-motors as it opened.
Out charged a gargantuan Centiskorch, bred to be far larger and more aggressive than its other kin. Steelix was still more than twice as long as the opposing Pokemon, but the Type disadvantage was a more pressing concern. A Fire and Bug-type against a Steel and Ground-type. Bronze suspected Evice of manipulating the chosen Pokemon, but he would defeat this foe nonetheless.
"I don't like the look of this one," Tess said. "These Pokemon are supposed to be drugged into a fighting rage. Yet this opponent stands like a trained fighter."
Bronze stared into the Centiskorch's yellow eyes, feeling an uncommon alertness there. He at first thought it was part of a plan made by Moon or Tess: an opponent that was not drugged, yet still hampered by another invisible factor. Bronze would face it despite treachery and win, then getting yet another excuse to dispose of Evice. Or this was Evice's plan...
The expert trainers in the audience were murmuring amongst themselves. "See how that Centiskorch stands. It should be agitated, attacking or feinting. See how it conserves its stamina while judging the Steelix's strengths. It should not wait."
Bronze felt his own excitement grow. "Hail, creature! Are you prepared to be defeated?"
A smile (a smile!) glinted across the Centiskorch's lips, the cold ferocity of a killer within the expression. Bronze marked how its segments were loose yet controlled: a whip of barbs. It roared, and then rushed forward on scuttling legs.
There was no hiding it now. The Pokemon should have been in a state of frenzy, not tactical thought. Every movement should have betrayed the truth that it could not win. There was fear in the Pokemon's eyes, but not terror.
Bronze would not call treachery, not now. Steelix twisted its tail to cover its face, an almost-greeting.
The Centiskorch pounced.
The Grand Bashar's feint and defensive counter with Protect were as good as a Champion. Still, a timed Flamethrower had come close to burning the side of Steelix's body. Bronze's fighter slithered away, biting into the Centiskorch's middle segments with a Thunder Fang. A gasp lifted from the crowd, the sound filling Bronze with elation.
The Centiskorch withdrew, and glared as if to say: "I do not fear your fangs!" Again it crept forward, half-ready and injured, its body bent backward to give it the most maximum protection from another blow.
Bronze heard his handlers yelling if he needed them. The Rorian Chairman waved them back to the audience. I'll give them something to remember before the plan goes into effect, Bronze thought. The people of Orre will remember this day with joy for generations. When I'm World Chairman, they'll never be able to forget me, to forget the awe caused by this day.
Again, the Centiskorch lunged. Steelix was grazed this time by the Flamethrower, and appeared to stumble. Bronze shouted for it to use Iron Tail once the Centiskorch had been thrown off-balance by the attack, recovering his posture as he heard the screams from the crowd. The sudden blow was less effective than Bronze hoped, but the opposing Pokemon had been harmed a little more.
Cheers! More of them!
The Centiskorch wandered around the far end of the arena again, debating what to do. Suddenly, the virtual trainer by the servo-door, that had only sent orders to the flaming insect by radio message, began to speak.
"I do not fear your attacks, Rorian swine!" the hologram said. "Your tortures and attacks cannot hurt a dead Pokemon. I will be dead before ever another handler lies a finger on my flesh! And I'll have you dead beside me!"
"Treachery!" Tess shouted. "I do believe that someone has trained this Centiskorch for this purpose! I call for a halt of the battle!"
Bronze stepped from one foot to the other on Steelix's head, regaining his composure. "Then I challenge you again, creature! A battle to the death this will be, and it is you who will perish, fell creature and all your wicked masters!"
Centiskorch flew into battle, pincers dripping with acidic poison. "Die to my venom!" the hologram yelled.
Steelix and its foe struggled across the sand, and Centiskorch's tail met Bronze's ray shield. The smell of ozone filled the air as the flames were absorbed by the energy field. It really does intend to kill me, Bronze thought, feeling a moment of desperation.
"Slam!"
The Centiskorch reeled under the momentary strike, its muscles slacking for a half-second. It was enough for Bronze. With a flick of his finger, Steelix lunged again, biting down on Centiskorch's head with another Thunder Fang. There was instant Paralysis in that blow.
Bronze had Steelix withdraw to give defeat its space. The Centiskorch waved, its movements slow and sluggish, before collapsing onto the ground. The virtual trainer gave a final rasp before deactivating. "Someday...one...of...us...will...get...you..."
A sad frown covered Bronze's face in the moment of shocked silence from the arena. In spite of frustration at the conspiracy to assassinate him, Bronze marveled at what had made this creature superhuman. It was impossible for it to communicate through the hologram, of course, which gave the insults a new dimension: Bronze Tercano was to be portrayed as an enemy of Pokemon.
All in the audience were cheering, except Evice and his attendants, who looked quite frightened. Jake had stood, grabbed the fat man's suspension chair in a possessive grip, and escorted him out of the golden box to be dealt with.
It was customary for the fighter to leave to arena, but Bronze had Steelix rear up higher, until he was at level with the lower grandstands. "Despite obvious plotting, I have won another victory. Unfortunately, it will be my last in this Colosseum!"
Confused whispers swelled, died down. What did he mean?
"Orre has been under the control of an evil man for far too long!" Bronze shouted. "Despite his best attempts to get rid of me, I will not be deterred in this war against thinking machines and political corruption! Cipher is to be disbanded and stripped of its power, immediately. No longer will Orre be oppressed."
Members of Cipher stood to leave, but their paths were blocked by burly security Pokemon and implanted Rorian soldiers, including masses of angry citizens. Bronze leaped from Steelix's head into the golden box, sending back his Pokemon as he reunited with Moon. "The reign of Cipher ends today! It will not be difficult. It is led by oligarchs, and an obese man that cannot support his own flesh without the aid of suspensors!"
The group mentality that Bronze had been so accustomed to commanding took effect on the audience. Well-placed Rorian citizens and soldiers dressed in Orrian clothes raised their voices in protest against the Cipher Union and its exploitive practices. From here, the revolt would spread like a wildfire, and with Association backing, the last remnants of the despotic organization would be destroyed in a week's time.
Swinging his ceremonial cape over his shoulders, Bronze left the box with Moon and Tess, seeing that Evice had been corned against a pillar in the hall behind the booth by Jake, quavering with fear and rage. "You!" the obese man rasped. "You'll destroy everything I built! Orre will be thrown into anarchy! What is the meaning of this?"
"I have no love for tyrants, under whatever banner they are found under," Bronze said, realizing that he now controlled the conversation. "The Orrian people are sure to vote for me...now that they will be given the right to vote. Although Cenvus has near-total support in Kalos and Unova, this new region will bolster my ranks considerably. All the world has seen me overcome treachery. They know that I am no craven."
"What did you think to gain by assassinating Bronze?" Jake growled. "Tell us! What did you think would happen!"
Before Evice could answer, his eyes glazed over. He sagged in his suspensors, lolling listlessly like a blob of unsupported flesh.
Tess checked his pulse, finding that the jugular vein under many folds of fat was lifeless. "Dead! Something killed him!"
A whiff of poison eked out of Evice's mouth, and Bronze immediately covered his face in the cape's cowls, frantically making imperative hand signals that Tess, Moon, and Jake should do the same. Green, translucent mist filled the hall, and as Bronze and his companions fled without inhaling, they heard other delegates screaming, clenching their throats as the poison killed them.
Evice's final attack: a poison nodule implanted in his mouth. But why had he killed himself?
Once the four were back in the comparative safety of Bronze's shuttle, Tess summarized her report. "There is no logical reason that Evice would have killed himself unless he wanted to avoid our Truthsayers. He hid something, even to the very end."
"But what?" Bronze asked. "If he had killed me then, I would have ascended to martyrhood. No, I sense a conspiracy."
...
Elsewhere
Wicke stood with Ariana in Aether Paradise, watching the chaos unfold in Orre through legions of watcheye drones. Evice had only been a supplementary part of the conspiracy, and he had taken matters into his own hands.
Fool! Tercano must discredit himself before dying. A glorious death in an arena match would have been the killing knell for the conspiracy. It was well that the fat man had killed himself before any more information could have been exposed by Tercano's psychic interrogators.
"What now?" Ariana said. "I understand that Laslo is reawaking the Cenvus clone in the bunker; the thing's conditioning should be complete by now. But we still need more leverage. We have nothing that Bronze wants, outside of the continued safety of his family. Even then, he will not trust us."
"We have more than you have accounted for, Ariana," Wicke said, holding up a bundle of papers that she had grabbed from a white divan. "The Sinis Trio recovered these from a secure Association vault only days ago: Tercano's first few journals that he wrote, including one only from a year ago. It'll be months before anyone notices that these aren't where they should be."
"His journals? What information could possibly be in there that would help us?"
"First, there's this," Wicke said, holding up an object salvaged from one journal that Ariana had not noticed. It was a thin strand of...something, and what appeared to be...
"A flower?" Ariana asked.
"This was between two pieces of paper. On the pages, we found this..." Wicke rummaged into the files, then found what she was looking for. Ariana leaned over and read the label.
A strand of my mother's hair, with a rare Gracidea flower that I once picked for her.
"So, Tercano has revealed himself to be a sentimentalist," Ariana said. "This is a weakness I was not expecting."
"Lily Tercano, his mother!" Wicke said. "There's more. Listen to this." She took up another sheet of paper and began to read from it. "This is dated the day of his mothers death, two years ago."
...
"The sand on the beach is as grey as dead flesh,
A green tide reflects clouded ripples.
I stand on the cold wet edge.
Dark foam cleanses my toes.
I smell driftwood smoke."
...
Again, Wicke looked up at Ariana. "It's also identified as 'Words I wrote when I heard of my mother's death.' What do you think of that?"
"He...he loved his mother."
"Oh, yes, he did. And we can use this love. This hair should supply the necessary genetic material...heh! Oh, yes! We have him now!"