The Premier groggily shifted in his bed to look outside the three slits which served as windows in his chamber. He glared at them, noticing a puddle below them on the floor of his room. A nasty thunderstorm had blown through the previous night, which disrupted his most peaceful sleep in cycles. As an electric-type pokémon that loved making noise, he chuckled at the fact that nature's own rancorous sounds agitated him, although it had more to do with his blanket being partially wet.

He looked to his immediate right. Either his mate left sometime during the night, or she had risen earlier than he did. The space next to him wasn't warm, so he ruled out the latter. He slapped his forehead as he came to the realization that his mate hadn't slept with him at all. Perhaps he was dreaming such? His current mate preferred her cabin and had been there this entire time. He sighed as he sat up. He vaguely started to wonder what became of his first lady, the one his damaged brain kept mistaking for Fisher and now the Director. Damn that malamar.

He exited the bed finally, feeling a lingering soreness in his legs which unfortunately hadn't gone away overnight. How did senior Medic manage, with his arthritis and all? The Premier was still a bit too young to have symptoms of old age. He had another ten cycles to reach that point. He probably had a defensive weakness of some sort. Maybe that explained it.

The sky was cloudy when he looked outside. No surprise there. He guessed it was still morning. Not like the band would question if he showed upon the commons now. He could just say he had a bad night, and they'd believe him.

"Best I go and account for everyone," he told himself. He did this routinely and silently once a day. He felt deep down that one day he'd exit his den and the entire band would be gone, having left him, or they would be dead, and he was the sole survivor, since no one accessed his chamber. He knew it was a ridiculous thing. "You're the only toxtricity left," his mind said, "and now you're alone to shoulder your species' trauma. At least it all will die with you."

"No, I'm not the only one," he responded to himself. "The band's still here…" That squid was in his head this morning. He couldn't stay in his chambers any longer. He rushed to the door, unlocked it, and shoved it open.

As usual, he saw no one from his vantage point. He wanted to panic. He shook his head and took a deep breath. He rounded the bend, shaking slightly, and then looked down upon the common grounds below. He saw two of his kind there… probably Fisher and Hunter. He immediately relaxed but then was gripped by a sensation of anxiety when he heard a low-ender nearby cry out, "Uncle!"

Uncle? He turned in the direction of the voice. Approaching him on the ledge was… oh, his nephew Mason. And… wait, was that Forager's toxel with him?

"What is it?" he asked Mason distantly.

"Uncle, there's a problem. Err… Miss Director…" He shrugged and shook his head. "Her cabin collapsed, and for better or worse, she wasn't in there."

"What?" the band leader snapped, his voice laced with static. He resisted the urge to push the low key toxtricity and toxel out of the way, but something stopped him. Mason was holding the toxel's hand, and quite tightly at that. He knew that these two were like brothers, although that didn't explain why the toxel was there.

"It's early afternoon now," Mason said. He pointed at the bandmates on the common grounds, their heads inclined as they focused on the Premier. Mason exchanged glances with the toxel. "We're getting worried. We came to you because we know you can help us locate her."

His nephew sounded like he was on the verge of speaking more, but the Premier extinguished the possibility, for he grabbed Mason's shoulders and pulled him closer, dragging the toxel closer as well. "Where'd she go?" he yelled.

Although Mason appeared worried, he hadn't reacted to his uncle's manhandling, keeping his face rather neutral. In retrospect, the Premier knew Mason was doing so to try and keep him from overacting. He silently thanked the Lord for low-enders.

"Premier…" Mason redirected. "First, Director taught you navigation tools… which is why I'm asking you… to help us find her."

"Of course!" the Premier cried. He bolted past the two and they followed in pursuit, all of them making haste to the common grounds out of breath.

"Is it true?" the Premier asked the toxtricity on the commons.

"As Mason said," Fisher started as she and Hunter approached him, "Miss Director is missing."

"We've haven't seen a flicker of her frill," Hunter relayed.

Forager emerged from the nursery and said, "Sentinel was around earlier, but has made herself scarce, and she mentioned nothing about the whereabouts of your lady."

"Director's cabin fell apart," Junior Medic added. "She wasn't in there when we checked, but she was in it last night. If she was injured, she would've come to us, unless she's in a poor state."

Senior Medic stepped near his apprentice and said, "We can't find her scent, other than near the cabin." He shook his head. "We don't know where she is."

"Premier," Mason began, his voice's intonation suggesting a clandestine meaning, "Should we… start at the cabin and then go—"

Among this overwhelm, the Premier shouted in agreement and then proceeded to grab Mason roughly and drag him and Forager's toxel into the forest. The toxel complained about being unable to keep up, as he had been separated from Mason. The low-ender shouted at him to follow the beaten path. Any attempt on Mason's part to slow his unhinged uncle fell on deaf ears.

"My arm's going to come out of its socket!" the young toxtricity complained. The Premier kept on running, using his nephew to ground himself to reality. He couldn't believe this; he needed a witness. Upon reaching the cabin, the Premier stood before it dumbly, finding shattered boards and dilapidated wood which had caved in on itself. He made a notion to approach the rubble and try and see if his mate was still under there, but Mason seized him from behind and stopped him in a strange embrace. "No," he said, pointing at the ground before them. Flashes of light met the Premier's eyes as he turned his head. "Broken glass," Mason grumbled.

"There you are!" the toxel said as he encountered them. "Boy, I wish to be evolved, I have such stubby legs!"

Mason stepped away from his uncle. "She's not here. However…" He directed the Premier to follow him. Instead of meeting the structure from the east side, Mason went and approached it from the west side as it had no window. He stepped on to the debris and picked up several planks of wood which had been tarred together. He held them up to the band leader. "What's this look like to you?"

A deep, purple-black stain colored the grey wood erratically, like someone had flung coal dust upon it in a rudimentary attempt at painting. "Is it burned?" the Premier guessed.

Mason kept a stoic expression as he walked up to his uncle and presented the boards in front of him. The Premier took a whiff, and no acrid scent of smoke emanated from the wood. "No," he said slowly.

"These planks are from the south side of the structure. This part faced the inside. Someone used a dark-type move inside the cabin, Premier."

"Who?" the Premier said, shrugging.

"Miss Director doesn't know any dark type moves."

"Lady Director knows boomburst, overdrive, toxic, and…" the Premier stalled. "Poison jab? Or still discharge? She also knows her toxel moves, but she's out of practice with them, of course."

"Some band members know dark type moves, Premier," the toxel mentioned.

"As do a bunch of other pokémon," the Premier denied.

"So Liepard jumped her then?" Mason asked without bothering to mask his disbelief. "You know… few dark types live around here, and the ones who do know better than to meddle with us."

The Premier shook his head. "Liepard can't even open a door."

"So, who do you think the attacker was? You can't blame the storm. If that was all, the Director would've got help or would be under there." Mason enunciated the words levelly and with a hint of conviction.

The Premier caught on and then asked, "Mason, you know something about this, don't you?"

The low-ender smiled slightly, but his face then reverted to a plain expression. "More like a very good guess."

The Premier rubbed his arm. He could feel his skin crawling and his frill buzzing. "Who?"

"Premier," he started. He then closed his mouth and looked at his toxel friend. The babe nodded at the young low-ender.

The toxel said, "Sentinel, Premier."

The low key toxtricity shook his hands out and then sighed. Mason met his uncle's eyes. "Uncle… have you been blind to your sister's animosity toward your potential mate? Your sister's not on the commons and hasn't been since this morning."

"My sister?" the Premier asked, mirroring his nephew's words. His brain finally realized this was Mason's ulterior motive for seeking him out. He hadn't expected such words to emit from the two friends' mouths. "Are you accusing her of this?"

"I am," Mason admitted, staid as the epitome of his form.

"Where's your proof?" the Premier growled.

The toxel started, "I've overhead in the nursery, leader. She wished your mate to be dead."

The leader looked from one male to the other, and given any other situation, probably would have applauded their audacity. The Premier acted like he hadn't heard the baby. No way his sister would do that. She wouldn't hurt one of his ladies.

"She would. She's always had power over you," a voice in his head claimed. "Just like me! You can't get enough of it…"

He slapped his forehead and then clawed at the air to reorient himself. All he could manage to say was, "This is a serious accusation you're making that can remove you from the band."

Mason narrowed his eyes slightly. In an atypical confidence, he said, "I don't care. Kick me out. If mum did this to your mate, she might do it to you, or to anyone. I'd rather be anywhere but here if that's the case. Premier, you see, I don't want to hear mum say that she left of her own accord. I won't buy that ponyta-shit."

Some curious band members filtered into the clearing. Fisher, Hunter, and Forager entered to witness Mason arguing with the Premier. The two never butted heads. Mason usually was overlooked or left alone and never agitated anyone. Seeing this, Hunter said, "Son, what's going on?"

Mason turned away from his uncle and observed his father and the increasing crowd near them. "Where's mum?" the youngest low-ender demanded.

"She was on the commons earlier," he said, his expression stressed as he looked at Fisher.

"Why didn't she mention the Director's absence? Why was I the first one to know this?" he asked, pointing at the rubble.

"Son, calm down," Hunter said. "This is very unbecoming of you. You're usually not like this…"

Mason waved his arms like he was trying to fly. "Someone attacked the Director and she's missing!" he thundered.

"Since when have you become so concerned about her?" Scavenger mentioned as he joined the throng of toxtricity.

"She's a bit difficult, mostly from being an outsider, but I can relate, never been much liked here anyway," he said. "I was to fix her cabin and I came out here to find it like this, and no one was inside or nearby. Mother nonchalantly told everyone she was sleeping in. Sleeping where? With the fishes?"

This caught the band's attention, particularly the Premier's. "Son," Hunter said rigidly, "Are you intimating that one in the band attacked her?" He clutched Fisher's hand automatically, using her as support for what he feared would come next.

"Yes," Mason admitted without preamble.

"Who?" Scavenger asked, an expectant glint in his eyes that conveyed he already conjectured who Mason accused.

"The one who reared my egg," Mason asserted, crossing his arms. "Sentinel."

Scavenger's face brimmed with amusement, and then he left the group and started walking back to the commons. Mason watched him with a faint smile on his face.

"Wait Mason, what are you saying?" Hunter asked. He practically choked the words out.

"I already told the Premier," he said.

"So have I," Forager's toxel concurred.

"Babe," Forager pleaded, "Do you realize what you're doing?"

"Yes," he said. "Rebelling, like good toxel and toxtricity should, against injustices like this."

"You'll be removed from the band!"

"The Premier hasn't said so yet. Even if he does, then I'll go with Mason. I'm going to evolve any day now. I can feel it." He placed a hand on his chest and breathed in, closing his eyes, like he was focusing on an internal sensation.

"I hate to say this," Fisher broached, "But what if this is true?"

"Fisher, don't speak such things!" Hunter shouted. He embraced her and murmured, "If you and Mason are removed, I'll have only Taylor…"

The Premier caught Mason's posture straightening and his face expressing reassurance. Hunter let Fisher go somewhat, and she expressed, "Dearest, everyone knows that Sentinel never liked Director from the moment she showed up. She can remove bandmates, however, if several of us have problems with her decision, we can…"

"Fisher!" Hunter cried as the elder Medic made his way toward the scene. "Say no more!"

"What are we putting that tortured soul through?" Senior Medic asked, pointing at the Premier, who looked frozen, his hands on his hips as he wordlessly watched the increasing tension between his bandmates.

"We can't divide like this again!" the Premier screeched.

"Then mother shouldn't have—" Mason started saying but was cut off.

"What's going on?" a female voice called from behind the throng of agitated electric pokémon.

Sentinel showed up. The Premier didn't know whether to be terrified or relieved, for a sinking feeling had been developing in his chest. His mate was absent, and last night they parted on good terms before Director headed to her cabin to rest. Where was the Director now? She could be bleeding out in a cave, or dead already.

"Sentinel," the Premier said as his sister stepped between Hunter and Fisher, and probably on purpose. The Premier looked at Mason behind him and waved his hand, signaling him to stand down until Sentinel gave her explanation. The thought of his sister fighting her own son churned his stomach and he wanted to avoid that altercation if possible. Mason's face was set in a frown as he took the hand of his toxel friend again. "Explain to me, please."

"Explain what?" she deflected.

Mason would have probably blurted something at that, but Fisher approached him and then attempted to console him. She rubbed his shoulders and then brushed his arms— an action she often had done when he was a toxel in the nursery. She then kissed his forehead. Hunter watched the scene grudgingly, his eyes flashing from his son and Fisher to the Premier and his former mate. He appeared conflicted and for good reason. Forager walked up to him and then grasped his arm. The two amped toxtricity looked at each other, knowing what was to come next would undoubtably affect their offspring.

"I wish to understand why you said the Director was sleeping when she wasn't in her cabin at all," he said with a huff.

"The sun had just risen and judging by the time our concert stopped last night, I assumed she was still in her cabin sleeping."

"Assuming isn't conformation," Fisher interrupted. "You simply did not account for all your bandmates."

"Some aren't here for days at a time," she said, her eyes flickering over to her younger son.

"We know where Mason goes," Senior Medic said. "But Lass Director has nowhere to go."

Although Fisher was doing her best to keep Mason steady, she was failing. "Mason you can't possibly…" she trailed off as Mason broke out of her grasp and ran up to his mother.

He pointed at her and declared, "C'mon, just say it!"

"Mason, please…" his father started.

"Explain if the thunderstorm was a sudden thing and if the Director was in the cabin, why isn't she in there?" He waved his arm in Senior Medic's direction. "She would have found one of them if that was the case. She would've been injured."

"Prey could've got to her before she made it to them," Scavenger said.

"There'd be blood near the place," Forager's toxel mentioned.

"What prey?" the Premier rumbled. "The only thing around here that will contemplate bothering a toxtricity, injured or no, is a psychic or a corviknight."

"Most 'mons don't want to touch us, let alone eat us," Senior Medic said.

The Premier threw his hands up. "I can't believe we're having this conversation. She isn't dead, nothing is feeding on her…" He groaned hopelessly, "Where is she?" He brought his hand to his forehead in a fashion much like the Director did under stress.

"Mother, admit it! You threw her out," Mason announced.

Sentinel faced him squarely.

"Why lie about it?" he asked.

"I'm pruning branches of the tree so to speak. I need not be questioned as a leader for doing this. First, and foremost, I'm protecting some from making bad decisions," she said, looking at her brother, Scavenger, and then back at Mason.

"What?" the Premier asked, looking shaken. "You did this to her and thought I couldn't handle my own affairs?"

Sentinel wavered slightly. Apparently, she had underestimated how much her brother had warmed up to the newcomer. She nonetheless kept a confident composure as she said, "Yes, in your best interest. She was bound to lead you on another downward spiral, and this band cannot be weakened further."

"You did this without any approval from us!" Fisher argued. "And not even the band leader."

"I am also a band leader," Sentinel said.

"This is not how we make decisions!"

"You're ridiculous," Mason told his mother. "There's going to be no band at all if there are no toxels to become toxtricity."

"My brother isn't fit to be a father," she said. "You'd like to know why, son? You weren't even born yet."

The Premier looked like he had been stricken through the heart. "Sister, no!"

"Really Sentinel?" Senior Medic warned. "This is low!"

"I don't understand why you want to hurt me like this," the band leader pleaded, his countenance displaying not only betrayal, but also anger. "We were doing so well, we were getting so close, I told her so much, all of that, and she didn't quail. You can't possibly hold this against me!"

"Your loving uncle killed his own toxel," Sentinel said to Mason, acting like she didn't hear either plea. "Is he fit to lead with an unproven girl? That's why he doesn't bother getting close to toxels."

Mason hesitated at this statement. He started to scratch his chest as he needed some sort of release. He shook his head, his voice deep and staticky as he shouted, "I don't believe you. He wouldn't be our chosen band leader if he murdered babes in cold blood. Mother, stop projecting your crimes on to others!"

Sentinel bristled as fast as a whirlwind, every other bandmate forgotten but her youngest son at that moment. She strode into his personal space. "I've never harmed my children."

"Neither Taylor nor I believe you," Mason said, not backing down an inch. "Where were you during our infancy? Why were you never around? It's like we hardly mattered to you at all. What of your three dead babes? Were their deaths naturally—"

Sentinel slammed a cloaked, shadowy fist into her son's jugular. The force of the attack caused Mason to clutch at the area in pain. His frill flickered erratically, and when he tried to speak no sound came from his mouth.

"You are no longer welcome here," Sentinel said to him.

"Sentinel!" Hunter shouted. "He is our son!"

The mute toxtricity glared at his mother, and then launched an electric attack—spark, it seemed— which resulted in Mason catapulting himself at his mother. His mother, thinking her son wasn't going to retaliate against her, had her back turned as he struck her with a full-bodied blow.

Sentinel almost toppled to the ground, but she regained her balance and faced her enraged son. The other toxtricity watched the ensuing battle, doubtless Sentinel would be the victor, as she was older and stronger. However, as Sentinel intended to grill her son with an expert overdrive, Forager's toxel stood between the contesting family members.

"Not him too," he said, casting his arms out. Like a ripple on the surface of a lake, he then turned brilliant white from head to toe. Sentinel's attack hit the evolving pokémon, and since he was in a state of pure energy and not matter, he simply absorbed the overdrive, thus protecting Mason. The evolution distracted the battlers enough for Hunter to rush to Mason's side and help him steady his wavering gait. Sentinel, on the other hand, was accosted by Fisher and Forager.

Forager's toxel gained four feet in height within a few seconds, and immediately his brilliant white form solidified into purple and yellow. He was amped, as many predicted, and to confirm this himself he looked at his hands after the process.

The newly-evolved toxtricity spoke first. His voice was not extremely deep, but it was much less squeaky than a minute ago. "It bothered Mason greatly that you wanted him to look like me."

"Stop this now," Hunter said, looking at Sentinel.

"Where is my cousin? We're not going to let this slide," Fisher said.

"Gone," Sentinel said. "She left."

"I knew she was going to say that!" Mason hollered, his voice still hoarse.

"Gone where?" Forager probed.

The Premier stood before his sister. She attacked two bandmates and exiled them to boot. "Sentinel, why?"

"Simple," she said. "They aren't helping us."

"Like you ever helped us," Mason snarled.

"I had high hopes that you'd turn out better. I was wrong."

"Oh, because I'm not like my brother?"

The Premier observed the chaos before him, feeling like his sanity and his world were falling apart. Everything was going smoothly as possible until the Director left. "It was going smoothly before she arrived," a voice sounded in his brain, but he thrust that one aside. Had the newest addition to the band aggravated the faulty foundations they already were on? He should have seen this coming. He had been too narrow-minded, focusing on the newcomer and neglecting the rest of the band. It was his fault, wasn't it? Just like last time, and the time before that.

He sighed, and then tore off his arm cuff, brandishing it high into the air. "All right. Seeing I am unfit for this position, who wants it? I don't care if you're yellow, blue, or a toxel."

The arguing bandmates stopped and looked at the Premier.

"Premier, you can't be serious!" Fisher shouted.

"It's mine then," Scavenger said. "I'm next in line."

"Absolutely not! I forbid it!" Hunter shrieked.

"So do I," Mason said.

"I don't approve either," Forager said. "I have no respect for you."

Forager's son said, "You were always a jerk."

"Premier, I've always been behind you, and I will remain so until I meet my grave," Senior Medic said.

"I'm not going through another loss again. I'm leaving, and I will find my mate," the Premier said. "I feel I know where she has gone."

"What? You claimed you didn't know."

"Perhaps not at first. But… the only other thing she wishes to do is take out Hydreigon once and for all, and possibly die in the act."

"She's heading south?" Hunter asked, his son leaning on him.

Junior Medic and Taylor appeared, coming from the commons probably after hearing the scuffle. Jr. Medic held Taylor's older toxel while she held the infant one. Taylor asked, "What's going on? We found the commons deserted and heard battle."

"We're back where we were seven cycles ago," the Premier told his niece. "Call me the Envoy once again."

"Are you mad?" Jr. Medic asked, looking at Taylor. "You're our Premier. I don't understand."

"Hell, Premier, if you're leaving to look for her, I'll go with you," Mason said, fatigued from being attacked as he stopped leaning on his father for support.

"What happened to you, brother?" Taylor asked.

"Mum showed how little she thinks of me," he told her.

Taylor looked at her mother, who was being restrained by Fisher and Forager. Her head spun to the amped toxtricity beside Mason, who felt familiar, but she believed she had never seen him before. "Are you—"

"Yes, I just evolved." He looked at the Premier. "Call me the Mediator. I think after this, we'll need one."

Taylor nodded as she and Jr. Medic made their way to Sentinel. "Mother…"

"My daughter," Sentinel greeted neutrally. "Whose side are you on? Since everyone's picking." The elder low-ender didn't look her daughter in the eye.

"You know. My toxels' well-being is top priority. Love? What do you say? Do we stick with our Premier?" She looked at Jr. Medic.

"Perhaps leaving this convoluted environment is the best," he agreed.

"There you have it," Taylor said.

The Premier's eyes widened at this, as did much of the band's. "Wait? Junior? You're the father of her toxels?"

A smile played on his lips. "Yes."

"Same forms aren't supposed to breed together!" Scavenger cried.

"There just needs to be a suitable male and female pair," Forager said slowly. "Makes sense that the form wouldn't matter." Forager smirked. "I'll give it to you Taylor. I honestly believed you were hitting up an outsider."

Senior Medic started to laugh. "They broke a long-standing taboo among us, and with no ill consequences, as we've seen so far."

The Premier threw up his arms. "You're saying we could have mated, same forms, all this time?"

"Yes," Junior Medic admitted. "Although we are drawn to our complement, it doesn't mean we must pick them as a partner."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Mother," Taylor said, sounding incredibly satisfied.

Sentinel grunted in response. Stuck in Fisher and Forager's grip, the low-ender band leader appeared defeated, but she was otherwise restraining her true emotions so as not to give her enemies the satisfaction of a reaction.

The Premier stared at the arm cuff in his palm. Like he told his mate, he worked so hard for his position. To debase himself after all that happened felt like an insult to his perseverance. He was still alive, still functioning, despite a powerful psychic-type meddling with his mind. His fellows who had experienced similar died or hadn't survived long after. He looked around at his faithful bandmates. Was that what they admired about him so much?

His gaze fell on Senior Medic, the oldest toxtricity he'd probably ever know. By all accounts, he should be dead by now. He shouldn't be able to walk or let alone stand, but there he was, doing both, and retaining a sound mind. He wondered, and not for the first time, what kept him going for so long. Perhaps deep down, he had been waiting for his youngest granddaughter to return, and he vowed to see her lead. The Premier decided. He slipped the cuff back on his arm, his bandmates watching with relief.

"Sister," the Premier started as he approached the other band leader. He moved behind her and then untied the scarf around her neck. "I can no longer allow you to lead with me, after what you've done… and—" He looked her in the eye. "I prohibit you from mingling with us any longer."

A silence lingered over the bandmates. The Premier relied on his sister for so much, and it was unthought of for him to remove her authoritative status and oust her. Only the Director and her grandfather heard of this plan, and for the past moon he wasn't sure how he was going to effect it. However, Sentinel's behavior pushed that moment to the present.

"You've not only attacked two bandmates without agreeing to a duel, but you removed both without my consent or the band's vote. So, I will ask everyone." He faced his teammates. "Does anyone disagree with my decision?

The bandmates exchanged glances, contemplating what to make of the Premier's verdict. Fisher, Taylor, and Mason wanted her gone and had no objections. Hunter and Scavenger seemed both apprehensive to speak, and Jr. Medic looked at Sentinel with concern, as did his master. Forager shook her head at Sentinel, looking angry with her, but without hatred unlike Fisher and Sentinel's low-ender son and daughter.

Forager broke the silence first. "I agree she should no longer be a band leader. Director should rule with you now, anyway. But without protection from the band, she might die out here, Premier. I recall you don't wish to kill our own, but I feel you are doing so if you leave her to fend for herself. She's not the Director and isn't used to that life."

"She's got about six or seven prime cycles left," Senior Medic said. "She's through with children, as we've seen. But… for the sake of your conscience, Premier, I don't think you can leave her behind."

The Premier threw his hands up. "So if, no, when we find the Director, my lady will just allow it and all will be okay?" He ran a hand down his frill. "The Director… she'd say that Sentinel intended to kill her, and shit, Miss Director doesn't forgive."

Fisher proclaimed, "It's one or the other. Even if my cousin tolerates her, Sentinel might try attacking her again if she gets the chance."

Mason called, "At that point, mother may think it best to remove you, Uncle."

The Premier sighed. He felt the moral dilemma on his shoulders. He felt damned if he did, and damned if he didn't.

Mediator said, "What if another band or some clan in the south takes her in?"

"She's too proud for that," Hunter admitted quickly.

"She's falling from grace. She can't have her fish and eat it too."

"Few will take her in at her age. If we learned anything from the Director, other pokémon don't like us, even if we're toxels!"

"Then it's about time we changed that," the Premier said, his hands on his hips, the words feeling foreign as they left his mouth. However, they were words he wanted to express to his kind for cycles.

"We might as well tie nooses around our necks…" Scavenger said. The band seemed to have forgotten he was there, and all eyes turned to him.

"Perhaps we will. Yet, it's time we exposed our kind to the world—"

"No one will get close to us," Scavenger said, cutting him off. "It's pointless."

"We must try!" the Premier exclaimed, slamming his fist into his other hand. "Director told us how much of the fear and disgust stems from ignorance and even jealousy. We're a strong species. We've survived many tribulations so far. If we help against this Hydreigon bloke, others might soften up toward us."

"Other 'mons will know something's wrong if the punks show up," the Mediator said.

Scavenger continued to shake his head. "I can't imagine it."

The band leader sighed and said, "Scavenger… what will you do? I don't need to make you successor if Sentinel is excommunicated. I won't make you stay."

"I'll…" he stalled and looked at his bandmates. "I think what you plan is suicide, Uncle. I will miss those that follow you, though. Truly. Yet… my mother. I'll keep her safe."

"Please do," the Premier said with relief. He turned to the bandmates that still committed themselves to him. "You're right—I don't want her alone. I won't wish that fate upon anyone, including the Director." He nodded to himself. "Let's prepare then. We're heading south."

A.N./ I hit 100,000 words. Only took almost three years.

The Director didn't even physically show in this chapter. From here on out it will be Sylveon's group in the spotlight for some time. I'm trying to get though the story and not linger, so things might be feeling a little rushed.

I had a rough second half of June. Some baseball-sized hail came through here in Texas which damaged my car and house, and since then I've been overwhelmed dealing with the insurance company and contractors (I'm completely covered though, thank goodness).

This fic was delayed too because I bought and played though most of PLA. Yes, I'm late, but I had other monetary priorities. I avoided as many spoilers as possible, but I already limited my 'net time, so it mostly worked. I find it strange that I referred to Hydreigon as not only a lord but also a warden in this story. I beat Volo (I have a new respect for Clefable), but I haven't caught Arceus yet. So, I have been reading fics on AO3 for it crazily. Mostly since I can't believe how upset I was that they separated the subway bosses.

I planned on buying Scarlet for my birthday, but after all that happened… maybe August. Eventually.