Her footsteps splash and pitter across the stream. The badge whirring in her claws, Dexys leads them through the canyon with her partner, and the little boy dragging behind. Nothing other than their ultimate objective has changed about their method of operation. She uses her superior speed to cut ahead, if something warrants stopping she will..
Tall, dark hexagonal pillars begin to surround both sides of the river. Suddenly the rain begins to pick up as if someone were flicking on a light. With the rain cascading down the rocks become slick.
Her claws can no longer find purchase. The Zoroark slips, tumbles, then catches herself on one of the masses of stone. Dexys looks behind her.
Halcion and Prinn have not stopped. They are still chasing her shadow downriver. The stream may not be the deepest, but Prinn's still peddling his way down. Must be faster than running - she's not a water type.
Dexys looks into her hand. Her badge has stablized. The needle is now pointing towards and up towards one of the identical mouths leading deep into the earth. Whoever they are following, they are in there.
CRACK!
Lightning roars overhead, lighting up the black skies. Thunder rings in her ears as rocks hail down from above, cascading through her ghostly body, into the river below. Where there is once a cavern are now a pair of red, frenzied eyes. A Luxray stands head to toe in jet black, iron armor, its fangs crackling with lightning. A shiver runs through her when she hears it speak.
"I've found you, interloper."
Glowing chunks of quartz light the black, formic corridors of the dungeon. The smell of seawater hits his nostrils, the dungeon's air becoming more pungent with every step deeper into the earth.
After three floors down he begins to fall into a monotonous rhythm. Check rooms, look for slumbering fellows, fly past them if need be, and burn and sucker punch his way through any feral which gets in his path. He sustains himself off of whatever scraps he finds on route to the other floor, biting into apples, crunching old oran berries if he takes a hit when soaring past these mindless creatures. Honchkrow knows he is being followed; the more he leaves behind for his uninvited friends the further they are slowed down.
There still is the question of who those people were. The three furthest away are likely explorers or bounty hunters looking for the coin, no way the boss is sending more than what's needed to swat an annoying Krow of hers. This leaves the dark thing. He recalls the way it moves, gliding across the stones with uncanny finnsesse. Could be anything from a strong adventurer to the dungeon driving him mad. If it wants the gear as much as he does then it's going to pry it from his cold talons.
These gears have everything to do with what is happening. The oddities being reported in the mail, the strange new arrivals to the Dusk Continent, and the feather and whoever his boss' sponsor is. It all seems to stem back to the bounty.
ust because these new gears don't cause a calamity when they are ripped from their sockets, it does not mean it's not going to bring out the worst the world has to offer searching for their power. If someone can have the wealthiest - by extent the most powerful - person in the Dusk Continent in the palm of their hand, then they need to be opposed. Not by virtue or heroics, but by the fact they likely do not have him or his family's peace in mind.
If he gets out of here with the Gear he needs to find someone he can trust. Maybe Winter, maybe his son if he will let him show his face. His boy sure ain't the type of person to try ruling the world, he's raised him better - no one else could have.
He did not even catch that one Lucario's name. The lady teller dropped her little Riolu kicking and screaming, dropping the poor boy without much explanation other than saying she has to. Maybe she knew he was the one, or perhaps, Honchkrow was simply the right rich bird at the right time. It would be months before they knew what happened with her, and that boy took the news well, surprisingly.
Honchkrow saw him as a Murkrow without wings; albeit he trusts Rei a bit more than the dozens upon dozens of mail birds who see the biggest Honchkrow around and joins them.
The walls around him become more and more dense with crystalline formations. The ground, which was once flowstone, slowly forms into a dense mud. Each step he takes is accentuated by a loud splotch. He starts to forgo walking altogether, instead carefully navigating through the tight corridors on his wings.
Lot of the creatures here are water and ground types. Not the fish-like ones, the two leggers who might enjoy rolling through the mud of a mangrove. It is still unbearably cold, although the water is still mildly warm and full of salt. Just a dungeon doing its thing - brought by the The Sea of Time being a wreck.
Occasionally he can hear the roars of ferals from afar being torn apart by whoever is trying to catch him. His lack of footprints are a blessing in throwing the thing off his tail feathers as he flutters into a mud-covered chamber with a hole in the floor. The sounds of wind are loud, the stench is stronger than it's ever been. The end of the dungeon is near, if not beyond this stair, then the next one over. He takes the moment to perch on a stone, pulling out some objects from his crest.
He has a plain seed. One of the ferals here was a mean graveler who hit him with a rock slide, to which he was forced to chomp into the one precious reviver seed he found. There's a Rain Orb on his person, oran, an apple, and the ever so common Blast Seed. He swallows the Plain seed, chomps into the apple for a burst of sweetness before what lies ahead, then steps into the fray.
One moment later he is in this freezing place of quartz and mud; the next he is an identical warm hallway. The dungeon's winds carry his wings down the hall. Upon spotting an orange glow at its end, he immediately books it.
He flies out into a large, underground clearing. The mud of this place travels down a slick, long ramp into a lakebed of dark goop. Giant pillars of stalactites dangle down from the concave ceiling, some draping as far as to touch the mud lake below. And above it stands a Time Gear surrounded by its glistening orange filigree. The wings of light are bright enough to overpower the soft glow of the crystals by the lakeside.
Honchkrow flies out of the opening, stopping by the lake to dip his feet. It's not as deep as it looks. A fine layer of cold water sits right above what feels like a sticky foot of quick mud. He springs after giving it a test, and soars right towards the gear, digging his feet into the flowstone nearest to the floating object.
He feels like his boss, dangling upside down as he reaches out for the gear. He wraps his wings around the cold metal, then pulls.
The Gear falls out of its socket the same time his talons give way. He grabs the cold metal as he plummets alongside it, hitting the lake of mud with a wet, hard splash. His feathers become drenched in mud.
Surely and slowly, weighed down by the mud clinging to him, Honchkrow gets back onto his feet. He shakes the grime off his wing and looks at it. The Time Gear, pulsating with an orange glow, is in his grasp.
And strangely, this rushing feeling he had when he plucked his first gear does not come. He gives it a shake. Nothing.
"I did not anticipate that someone would reach it before me."
The voice echoes across the lake. He turns, and standing at the water's edge is a tall, dark figure. Stilt-like legs embed themselves into the ground beneath it. Its body appears hewn into the shape of a jacket, and its blue eyes stare into his being. Pieces of its figure taper off and glow with venomous light. It looks like a being of the deep sea.
Something is familiar about this creature, he cannot place it.
There is the body of a water-type in its hands, some maddened Lombre. It drops the corpse to the floor, and speckles of pinkish light flow from the feral into its arm. The figure shudders, collecting itself.
"I am Darkrai. My true name does not matter.." She reaches into her cloth-like body, pulling out another one of those badges, her diamond is blue. "As Leader of a guild, I have my explorers and your interests in mind. I need these Time Gears to see my plan through. If you could do so peacefully-"
"Darkrai?"
As he spits the name out, the name becomes suddenly familiar. It is one of those legendary types. Not just a force like Dialga or Winter, but someone who, according to records of the Chatot Guild, had brought the Grass Continent to its knees.
"Do you know me?" She glares, standing at the lake's edge. "I suppose you will make this go swiftly."
"You tried to do something stupid with these gears already, right?" Honchkrow spits, stuffing the metal ornament into his chest. "You set the Grass Continent spinning out of control with your plans. I belong to the Dusk Continent. I am not letting you do this against o my home!"
"And how could I have committed such atrocities when I have only now come here?"
What? That makes no sense! A different Darkrai? Why is a complete stranger of a Darkrai searching for the same thing the previous one had such an obsession over?
Honchkrow wrangles himself in before panic and confusion take their hold. Instantly, his red eyes turn to the badge in her hands. He sees the Lombre on the ground beside her feet stirring in its rest as if nightmares were assailing its mind. Even if she may not be responsible for this Darkrai's crimes, she has to have been the one who turned Soapstone Swamp into a ghost town.
"Soapstone Swamp, what about there?" Honchkrow growls at the dark-type. "Why did you take all of those people out?"
"I draw on dreams to sustain and heal myself. I needed to heal myself after crossing into this world." Darkrai raises her head up to sniff the air with a nonexistent nose. "The phenomenon you call The Sea distorts your world, and using it, I crossed into yours in my search. It tore into me, and while weakened, I drew on the only source I could to heal myself: the nightmares of those around me."
"I assure you, the sacrifice of one settlement is a necessary stone on the road to saving your land. If there were other ways to heal myself, I would make advantage of them." She taps her badge. Her fingers glow with venom. "What do you know about this?"
"People from somewhere else wear it." Honchkrow tells her, trying not to look away. "You sounded confused. You're not our Darkrai are you?"
She nods.
"Consider yourself pardoned of past crimes, but I still can't trust you. I'm keeping this gear to myself until I figure out what is going on. So much of what I understand has been messed up by the arrival of you and your guildmate. I need to sit down, think about what this gear has to do with the Sea, and consider my options."
"I don't think you'll let me go." Honchkrow flashes the gear for a split moment. "All I want with this thing is to figure out what's going on with it, the Sea, and you and your guildies. I don't care about fame, I don't care about money at this point, I want to make sure my boys are safe."
"And I will let you know I will keep on fighting to my last breath if it means I can protect my family. When I figure everything out, you can just have my gear."
This gives her pause, and enough time for Honchkrow to survey the room. The dripstone offers good enough arial cover, but she is standing in front of the only entrance out of here which itself is up a slippery slope of mud. If she is smart, she will sit there forever. However, if she does, those three explorers will come right through to confront her and turn this into a three way confrontation. He can't expect those explorers to be forgiving towards a criminal making off with a precious thing; his time is now.
If he can fly past her, then go down the hall, he will appear at the dungeon's enterance. Then it is a matter of flying away from Darkrai to safety. If luck is on his side, then perhaps the Guildies will show up in the nick of time to do this Darkrai in.
"I hold all the answers you seek, Honchkrow." She shakes her head. "Believe me or do not. One choice ends with you walking free from here, another your demise."
She knows his species. This is not her trying to get under his skin, this is her attempt to get him to fork over the Time Gear.
"You know much more than anyone else I have crossed. Understand what is at stake, and know I make no attempt to deceive." She holds out a hand, a ghostly glow emanates at her fingertips. "I cannot let you leave here with the Gear on your own. Give it to me, and join me."
"For what?" He asks, pushing the gear further into his crest. "What do you have that my old boss couldn't give me? Money, information? Things I can't possibly figure out on my own? Nobody in this world has reason to trust you after what your predecessor did.."
"I am leaving with this gear. That is final. Track me down afterwards or whatever you plan to do, I am not parting with this thing." Honchkrow glares at her. "Why do you even need it?"
"Why would I tell you?" She says, returning his gaze. Darkrai plants her legs into the earth, preparing herself. "You have made up your mind. And if you will not give your gear for the betterment of your continent, there is nothing I can possibly do to dissuade you from making a grave mistake."
The only grave mistake would be giving her this.. He may no longer be under his boss' wings, but he is still a protector of his boy.. Throwing vague "I will save this continent" statements around does nothing to persuade him, it simply gives Honchkrow every reason to plant his feet even further into the mud. He watches her hands carefully, waiting for the second they twitch.
"Why now? Pressed for time? Got someone you're worried about?" Honchkrow tilts his gaze, and suddenly, he remembers something. The golden feather. "Are they here?"
She flinches.
"If you cared about this guild or this place, then you'd be doing everything you can to help us. You'd pal up with the Scholars, try to uncover whatever can be so important." Honchkrow extends his wing. "You don't care about this world or this continent, you just want the Gears. If you did, you would walk away from this. I already gave you your out, and I ain't me who's making the stupid decision here."
The cold, dungeon winds continue to breeze through the underground, bellowing outwards from the dungeon and gliding over this lake of mud. Both pokemon lock eyes, neither moving, both waiting on the other to crack. Darkrai was the bane of the Grass Continent, he is not about to let another one become the Dusk Continent's downfall.
Honchkrow can feel the mud slowly creeping off of him, he can sense the air coursing from the entrance up the beach behind her, and smell that intoxicating salt all around him. Honchkrow takes a deep breath.
He sees her hand move.
A Thunderbolt screams past him as he dashes forwards. It hits the surface of the mud lake, failing to streak across the murky surface and shock him. He flaps his wings, letting out a gale of Heat Wave which passes straight through the dark creature, forcing her to recoil. He lands at the edge of the lake while she backs away, himself having made it much closer.
"What's your malfunction?" He shouts. "Just let me leave!"
Darkrai extends a hand scored by heat and lightning crackles on her fingers. Honchkrow, standing at the edge of a muddy lake, throws himself straight into it. The bolt strikes true. He feels the heat strike his chest and the lighting across his plumes, but the thick layer of mud turns the fatal blow into a meager caress.
Another move builds up between her hands as her venomous fingers shine a dark hue. She runs straight towards him, racing across the slick surface. He faces her approach, too heavy to fly. And as her grotesque hands touch the Krow underneath the layer of earth, he delivers a stern, brutal Sucker Punch to the face behind her crest.
She falls backwards. A horrid, stinging sensation surges through him from where her hands touched him. His eyes grow heavy. A sense of exhaustion overcomes him. Honchkrow shuts his eyes, then.
As fast as he was about to fall asleep, he reopens them. Was that a sleeping spell? It feels like it. Whatever she was trying to do she was not going to work on a Honchkrow who works himself into sleepless stupors with worry. His Insomnia buys him precious seconds, time he spends barreling as fast as he can to the entrance up above.
He keeps her in the corner of his eye, watching as she gets back up. She turns with fear in her eyes, extending her hand once more. Her fingertips turn glacial white. Lightning races between his feathers, and he hurls out a wave at the last moment.
An Ice Beam tears through Honchkrow, Thunder Wave surges around Darkrai's body. The wing it hits begins to weigh a thousand fold, and he falls, slipping down the muddy slope away from freedom. His left wing is gone, turned into a solid chunk of ice with a clean, devastating hole carved straight through it. And Darkrai is little more than a twitching piece of work rolling towards the muddy lake. Her legs, seemingly, disappear as she tries and promptly fails to hover away like a darkly-clad puppet on a string.
He got her, she has got him. Honchkrow has fought a legendary menace to a standstill. He'd ought to be proud once he gets away.
Honchkrow kicks and squirms, pinning his frozen limb infront of him. His one and only good wing starts to warm up with Heat Wave as Darkrai writhes towards him, completely unable to move her limbs without crumbling into a similarly pathetic pile like him.
"You, you got me good." He says to her. "But you're done."
His wing as hot as possible, he applies it to his frozen, torn up limb. It slowly begins to unthaw, not without excruciating pain surging through his body. He grabs a seed and Oran out of his mouth, letting the healing sweetness numb his wounds.
"As soon as I'm out, I'm telling the world you're here." He says between muffled bites. An intense heat builds on the tip of time. "You won't be able to breathe without every explorer under the sun hunting you down"
She weakly reaches into her coat, and brandishes a bright, metallic thing. Honchkrow throws the Heat Wave towards her and she disappears before her eyes, reappearing up the ridge and crumbling onto the slick floor. She teleported right back to where she was seconds ago.
Darkrai's entire body quivers and rattles, gear in one hand, a cold hand outstretched in the other. Her legs re-appear, kicking her limb body up the filthy slope. The dark-type's eyes burn with vengeance. She is going to end him.
Honchkrow up. The mouth of the cavern looms overhead, freedom, escape, and all the answers in the world are a couple hops away. If he were not frozen he could get out of her, but seeing another Ice-Beam about to form in her hands, she will shoot him down from the sky if he dares to move. Honchkrow has a choice.
There may be few people in this world he can trust with what he knows, with a gear no less.. Whoever is looking for them - they aren't certainly looking for the boss of the mailing business - they are searching for the gear. Thunder Wave is taking its toll on her, and he gear ability has something to do with movement. She has used it once, perhaps she cannot use it again? So, so many variables start racing in Honchrkow's mind as his wing feels colder, and the heat burns in his mouth.
It is not him who has a choice, it is her.
Honchkrow puffs up his cheeks, and lets loose a gale of Blast Seed fire - not towards her, but at his weak, and frozen limb. Unthawing it in a split second he takes the gear out of his crest and rips off his hat, holding both together as she recoils from what she thought is an attack. Honchkrow wedges the gear into his hat and with all of his strength, throws it straight towards the exit.
They both watch, and listen. The sound of it hitting the earth does not reach their ears. It made it outside. Honchkrow made the throw.
Wounded, and panting, Honchkrow turns towards the Darkrai looming next to him, her good hand still clutching onto a freezing ball of energy.
"Go get it. Go get the gear, or deal with me." A deep chuckle arises from Honchkrow. "I didn't come here alone, I've got everyone waiting for me already. If you want that gear, then you're gonna have to fight for it."
The chuckle builds up into a full blown laughter as Honchkrow coughs out a puddle of ichor. He is wounded badly, the Ice Beam has literally torn through him. She can see the desperation and anger in her eyes. He's won. She is fuming. She can't have either and it is eating her on the inside.
In the heat of the moment she scrambles towards him. She lurches over his half-conscious body, raising the cold ball of ice-type energy above his head, ready to let loose as she glares into his soul, screaming with rage with a look alone. The cool light begins to build, illuminating his hatless face.
Honchkrow shuts his eyes.
Rei, his family, all the time he has spent building up a mailing empire - all of it plays across the darkness of his mind. Rei would do the same thing in his place, he would spite this legendary if given the chance, and if that is him waiting for him outside the Mystery Dungeon he can only hope he's making him proud.
The Ice Move grows bright enough to shine through his eyelids. And then, he sees it, golden glow of a legendary from unbeknownst of this world. A golden feather, a light from something like a Darkrai would make a whole world of Darkness to try and avoid. Everything makes sense.
His eyes open to see her hand pressing right up to his beak. Honchkrow draws his final breath.
"I'm a Criminal, I was never going to live to be old and happy. Rei, you deserved better than me, my dear boy…."
The cold move presses against his face. He hears himself scream.
And everything goes black.