A.N./ I'm leaving chapter seventeen alone for now.

The Director stood outside her cabin with Mason. Both toxtricity stared at a sunken portion of the roof. Whenever it rained, water leaked in from where the roof sagged. The invading water then trickled toward the eastern wall, and after cycles of neglect, mould which would have sickened all types save steel and poison grew on and imbedded itself in the wall.

The cabin stood near the lake, but not in view of it, and was about a ten-minute walk from the toxtricity camp. It had been used by previous fisher toxtricity, as oftentimes they enjoyed their quiet away from the band. Fisher never dwelled in it, as after multiple raids she always preferred to have the band surrounding her, not to mention Hunter preferred his den in the cliff also.

"I might as well arrange to remove the entire roof and the eastern wall," Mason said. He spoke with a clarity unusual to him when it came to construction. He shook his head and his face fell. "Just that… I've no one to replace that window. I'm not sure if it can be saved."

"How old is this cabin?" the Director asked. "No doubt in my mind toxtricity did not build this. Glass windows are rare, and usually the work of a psychic and fire-type that knows how to create them."

"The cabin's pretty much patchwork at this point. It's been here way before your grandfather. A long time ago our kind didn't live here, but some of the fighting types up north a bit might have. They might be the builders."

"If you can't save the window—it already has two cracks— then shutters will be just fine."

"You're fine with this, Miss Director?" Mason asked with curious interest. "You really don't mind living in this… deteriorating shack?"

"The Premier asked me similar," she said with a smile. "When Dragapult fostered me, I slept in a wooden building like this one. Plus, as a low-ender, I don't want company all the time."

"Understandable," Mason said with a ghost of a smile on his face.

"May I ask you a question, Mason?"

A brief flicker of unease crossed his face. "What, exactly?"

"Out of all the band members, I've seen you the least. Where are you most of the time? Hell, sometimes you don't play with the band for nights in a row. What are you occupied with?"

Mason didn't answer the question right away, for he seemed to have taken a sudden interest in the surrounding foliage. To the Director, it seemed like he was stalling to make up his mind about something. She remained quiet as she waited for his reply.

He lightly grabbed her wrist. "Can I tell you inside? I don't want to risk others hearing."

She nodded, and the two headed to the northern side of the building where the entrance was. The door seemed to be the newest improvement to the shelter as compared to the rest of the cabin. It was more akin to a seal, as the door had to be physically shoved aside and put back into place. Unlike an exposed den, it offered the resident a few moments' notice to an intruder trying to get in. Mason picked the warped wooden door up and set it aside. The Director entered her dwelling and the younger toxtricity replaced the door once inside.

Mason turned toward her and immediately noticed what served as her cot. Her bed was a flat hunk of stone topped with a beige blanket, which seemed to be new and probably received from Taylor. "That's all you sleep on?" he asked with wide eyes.

"Beggars can't be choosers," she replied.

"You're my uncle's mate. You deserve better," he mumbled incredulously. "Well, almost. Very soon you'll be."

The Director laughed nervously. "Another reason why I didn't want a den is I don't want your mother to smother me in my sleep or something." She waved her hand as if to clear the air. "Now what did you want to tell me?"

"Ah… yes. That," he began shakily. "You see, I know some basic construction skills because I travel to a colony up north a bit. I mentioned it earlier… there are fighting types there. They didn't like me much at first, but now they think I'm harmless. Helps that they assume I'm dumb… I don't understand all that my master says."

"You're an apprentice for them?" It was the Director's turn to be shocked. "You go up there by yourself without the band objecting?"

"Why would they object?" Mason asked, his tone cold. "I already dropped hints that I might leave, like some of my brothers and sisters before me. Yet, I need to be smart about it, especially after listening to how you were treated. I figured I might as well start mingling with other pokémon and be useful."

He hadn't hesitated or stuttered once, and for that the Director said, "You're serious."

"Yes I am. My only friend here is Forager's toxel… we grew up in the nursery together… we're not that far apart in age. My sister's too busy breeding, and…" he trailed off and his face became distant again. He collected his thoughts and then said innocently, "I think there's something you should know." He tapped his fingertips together and avoided her eyes.

"About what?" she asked, hardly moving her mouth.

He cocked his head a bit, looked around, and then whispered, "It's about my mother."

"I don't think you need to tell me that she doesn't like me," Director said, rolling her eyes.

Mason gave a rare laugh. "Of course, Ma'am, I know that. I'm young but not entirely stupid. Sometimes I'm a bit slow… but whatever."

"What is it?"

"Ma'am, I've been wanting to tell you… with how you're affecting the band and all… and with how my mother holds grudges, she's… going to come after you."

"What will she do?" the Director asked curiously.

"Remove you."

"With a fight?" the Director asked, looking out of the broken glass pane window and then at the frail, black wood surrounding it. She returned to Mason and looked him in the eyes. "Like… simply out of the band or out of life?"

Mason scratched his arm. "If you don't end up leaving, I feel she will go further than her usual skullduggery. Forager's toxel… we were playmates like I said, and he's overheard some things about you. My sister has too, but she's more concerned about her own toxel."

The Director's mind flashed with images of her battle with Hydreigon and how she'd been pretty much left for dead. Sentinel was much stronger and more experienced than she was, but to risk a battle with another toxtricity was asking for witnesses with how loud their attacks were. "Even if she'd try to fight me when I'm alone in here, no doubt someone will hear."

"There are ways to silence toxtricity, Ma'am. And if you refrain from overdrive and boomburst, we still have discharge, thunderbolts, and poison attacks we can use. Also some fighting attacks and dark-type ones too, provided you've learned them."

The Director shook her head. "I understand that… but if I'm fainted and all after a fight, what would Sentinel do then? Break my neck and drag me to a grave? Drown me in the lake and leave me as food for the fishes? Give me to a corviknight for dinner?" She couldn't help but laugh.

Mason still stood in front of her, hardly fazed at all. "Ma'am, please. She contemplated killing you. I don't think this is a joke."

"Try and discuss your own death Mason," she told him, her face still flushed from her cackling. "The method, the place… I can't believe I'm entertaining this. I'm just seven."

"She'll want my neck for telling you this. She just thinks right now that I'm fixing up your place, though. Not that she thinks about me much besides."

She shook her head, her face strewn with disgust. "Unbelievable! She's your damn mother!" she yelled louder than she wished.

"I…" Masons face hardened. The usually awkward and quirky low-ender looked much more threatening now than the Director had ever recalled him being. "My sister and I…" His eyes burned and he grimaced. She appeared to the Director at that moment like his mother… but the anger wasn't directed at the newcomer. "We're all for trying to remain civil for the survival of our species, but I honestly hate my mother."

The Director wondered where he was going with this. He and his sister both had the low-ender trait of being roundabout in their speech when emotional. "I've noticed how your sister acts and talks around her too. I got that feeling, and I don't blame you. You'd think your mother will turn on her heel just like that?"

"She would, no doubt about it," Mason said, his voice wavering with anger. "There's nothing for her to gain where I'm concerned. My sister and I ended up as low-enders, and so we disappointed her. At least my sister can produce toxel, but me, she couldn't care less. If my brother passes early or whatnot, there's no failsafe since I'm not yellow." He said these words in a flurry and then took a deep breath. "She knew from early on that I'd be a low-ender. Toxel usually start babbling at half a cycle, but I took until almost a full one. I barely remember back that far, but I never recalled my mother caring for me. It was Dad, Fisher, or Forager instead, and once she evolved, my sister for a bit."

"The Premier never interacted with you?" she asked.

Mason looked contemplative as he sighed. "He only did when he caught me outside the den. Even then, it was a smile or a pat on the head that he gave me. Until I evolved, he didn't get too close to me. He's even like that with my sister's two babes."

The Director nodded and understood why this was. Would the Premier behave like this toward the children she might have herself? She shook herself and dispersed the thought, resolving not to worry about that yet. "Why tell me your feelings about this?"

"I don't know how Dad will take it. Some part of him still likes mum, but he pretty much loves Fisher, and this gets so complicated. Uncle really holds this band together; without him we'll fall apart. If something happens to him, I'm gone for sure. Which is why I want to say… if my mother tries something against you… I'm on your side."

"I see, Mason," she said. "What's this of Hunter and Fisher?"

"Dad never rejected us. If I say, fight my own mother, I don't know if he'll be disgusted with me or proud. Fisher will want her gone, and that's why I say that. But I don't know what Dad thinks. I don't quite know if he likes you yet."

"You're saying…" she absorbed his words and turned them over in her brain for a minute as she unscrambled his incoherence and found the point he was trying to make. "You're saying that you hope your father likes Fisher and me more than your mother so if something goes south, he will still love you, despite what you do?"

He looked away and rubbed his shoulder. "Err… I sound like a total wuss when you put it like that." He looked at her and then said, "I'm his only son, and I just don't want to end up as a disappointment in his eyes. I don't much enjoy the thought of both my parents hating me, whether I stay or not."

She nodded. "That's a natural thing… with how our kind is demeaned, you don't want everyone against you. Yet Mason, there's something I've been wanting to ask my grandfather, but I just can't find a way to bring it up organically. Why can't your father lead the band if his mate is effectively a band leader?"

Mason said, "Well, the Premier's still around… or do you mean can he take over instead of my brother?"

"Yes," she affirmed. "Can he?"

"You see…" the young low-ender scratched his chest lightly, producing some garbage notes as he considered what to say. "Dad's older than the Premier, but not by much. It's likely that when the Premier's gone that he might be too."

"If not…" the Director started.

Mason held up a hand and smiled. "I knew you'd ask that. He could… but he'd need to challenge my brother then. That sort of thing might be disastrous to the band. Dad's liked by everyone, but I don't think he'd risk splitting the band again… or get himself killed. Scavenger fights dirty, and unlike the Premier, he'll not just exile you." He suddenly finished and then cleared his throat. "I'd like to ask you a personal question, if you're willing, Ma'am."

"Go ahead."

"Did you name yourself?" he asked pointedly.

"Yes I did."

"I see it with how you interact with the Premier, and with the others. I'm surprised you can still stand how the others treat you. Did you choose 'Director' since you can guide us, and not just literally?"

She blinked at him. She hadn't thought of it that way. She had been raised to be considerate, and having been so close to Reuniclus, she took many pointers when it came to understanding other pokémon and their behavior. "I didn't. But it sounded a bit more forceful than 'Navigator', which I considered too."

"That's why mother won't say your name, you know. Director… she thinks with that name, that you insulted her."

"No," she said, her temper flaring a bit. "Why's it always come back to her personally? I choose 'Director' because I can guide those who are lost."

"You realize how many things that can apply to? Think of the Premier, think of the band, think… you sound like you're in charge of the band… which is why my mother is out for you. She's felt spited ever since, not to mention you insulted her on day one. I honestly felt some satisfaction when you did that." He laughed. "Once you finalize everything with Uncle, she's doomed, and she knows it. Same for Scavenger. If he knows what's good for him, he'll leave, since he's got nothing to look forward to."

"My intention was never to lead the band. That's the Premier's job. I only agreed to help him." She approached the other low-ender and put a hand on his shoulder and gripped it firmly. "Mason," the Director warned. "You're sounding vindictive. Like…" she trailed off and snapped her mouth shut.

His eye twitched and he said, "It can't be helped, can it? When toxtricity fight each other, we give our opponents a taste of their own medicine."

"That will never rectify your feelings for your mother. You're acting like her— an unconscious way to connect with her on some level."

He brushed her hand off and looked away. "You were indeed raised by a psychic," he stated.

"And two dragons, but both were far older than me and observed these behaviors that showed up often."

"Yet you are still a toxtricity… and it shows when you're upset. You're just as resentful toward all those pokémon who never accepted you either."

She sighed and glowered at him.

"Your advice might be best applied to yourself, you know," Mason said, his eyes lingering on her longer than usual. He turned and made his way toward the door. "See you around, future auntie," he declared, half-joking and half-mocking. He exited the dwelling and then replaced the door. She watched him through the decrepit window as he headed back toward the commons. He didn't look back or stall. She brought her palm to her forehead in exasperation.

Later toward the evening, the Director and Premier approached the remaining pile of caught fish and he took two small magikarp. In an ostentatious display, he passed one of them to the Director and she took it gratefully. She looked around camp, noticing that most of the bandmates were there now, and many noticed what the Premier had done.

Having eaten quickly, the Director licked the corners of her mouth. She held the saliva-covered spine from the fish and then she walked toward the forest. The Premier asked, "Where are you going?"

She held up what she was holding. "You should know by now," she chided. "In my old community, we're supposed to return the bones of what you've eaten to its native water. It's a maxim, if one does this, you'll never run out of food."

"Really?" He looked doubtful. "Does it really work?"

"We never had famine," she said. "On my travels here, I never starved either."

"That lake will never run out of fish," he reasoned. He followed her, although the bones of the fish he ate he had already scraped.

She shook her head. "You cannot assume these things will exist forever." She walked to the lake with the Premier tailing her. She stood at the water's edge, hesitated, and then put the bones into the water, and turned back with him.

"You did this every time you ate, no matter where?" he asked with disbelief.

"Yes," she said, a bit more forcefully this time. They reentered camp, and what they had just done confused the band members greatly. As soon as they walked upon the dusty commons, Scavenger commented, "You two just entered camp, ate, left, and then returned?"

The Director looked at him with an amused expression. "And it begins, Premier. Everyone will know our business."

"You didn't just—" Scavenger exclaimed, but the Premier cut him off.

"No, miss Director has her own customs she follows. No need for jumping to conclusions."

"Hardly a beneficial one," Taylor said as she approached them with her infant toxel. Strangely enough, the toxel cast out his arms, trying to reach the Director. She stepped toward Taylor and extended her hand. The infant wrapped his little hands around her long fingers, and then he attempted to bring them to his mouth.

The Director watched this behavior in awe, and even Taylor appeared confounded. "Sorry sweetie, those aren't yours," she told the toxel as she took her hand away. The baby looked visibly upset and was on the verge of crying. "I had a fish in that hand," the Director said. "Is he hungry?"

"I'm his mother and I'd know," Taylor replied curtly.

The Director sighed. "It was a simple question. Why are you so defensive?"

The Premier blinked at his niece and said, "C'mon now, don't argue. At least he likes her," he said, referring to the toxel.

Taylor was still prickly, and she grumbled, "Who doesn't?"

The Director couldn't discern if that was a blow at the Premier and her brother or if Taylor was being sarcastic. These flippant, thinly veiled insults were going to drive the Director mad in time.

"C'mon," Director said, waving her arm to clear the air. "My training is done, and our ritual begins soon."


The moon was a thin crescent above the common grounds tonight. It offered little light to the toxtricity. However, they didn't need it. They produced their own light and as they struck their chests, electricity wafted and jumped off them in thin bolts of blue and yellow. Occasionally they collided and white light flashed in the air. Their bodies glistened with sweat as they heated up from their actions. Their perspiration spattered the earth below them: a toxic solution which prevented any plant life from sprouting underfoot. The pokémon were performing their usual evening charging, and bonding with their bandmates as they played.

Joining them this night was the Director, who finally completed her training and could play with the other toxtricity. However, since she already had selected her mate, she complemented the Premier's performance with a low, punchy rhythm as he played a fast, twangy melody.

The band usually followed the leader and his sister's lead before others got their turn to offer their unique notes. However, tonight, for the first time in three cycles, Sentinel had been booted from this privilege, and the Director took up the mantle. They had approved of her so far, even if her playing was not novel or spectacular, but it was passable given she was a low-ender and they didn't run the show when it came to playing.

All the bandmates followed the playing of their respective form. They achieved a semblance of harmony to start, but it then became a cacophony as the volume increased. Their species was the only one to bond, and communicate, in this way. Despite whether they liked each other or not, this deafening performance was executed every evening and they never strayed from doing this important act. It was paramount to their culture and their survival. They usually selected mates this way, and at a more primal level the toxtricity needed a daily charge to execute their bodily functions.

The racket they made could be heard several miles away, especially from the rumbling low notes of the low-enders who dominated the band. Any other pokémon in the vicinity either remained underground, dwelled in insulated cave or den, or was nocturnal. No diurnal local would be able to sleep until the toxtricity stopped.

Their notes conveyed words and feelings only toxtricity and toxel understood, and the notes carried in the air tonight were hopeful ones. The band knew why the Director and Premier conveyed this spirit in their playing. With the Director having finished training, the couple would move to the next phase of their agreement, and since the band knew they were close already, they knew it was only a matter of time before an egg was to appear in the nursery. They needed all the numbers they could get in their band. Toxtricity had become rare within the last twenty cycles, and any new threat could wipe them off Galar completely.

The Premier and Director finished their song. "Like it?" she asked her bandmates eagerly.

"Definitely uplifting," her grandfather commented.

"You set the tone for the night pretty well," Hunter told the two. "I think I can continue that… Fisher, are you willing?"

"Yes dearest," Fisher said.

The Director locked eyes with Mason. He smiled and nodded his head. Fisher had supplemented his mother for sure. Hunter started playing, and then Fisher. Once the band caught on to their melody or rhythm, they followed along. The Director admittedly had some trouble mimicking Fisher, as she liked to slap, but playing was just so… fun she continued along without worry.

Director risked a glance at Sentinel. The Premier's sister played, looking blank, but she nonetheless was relaxed. When she finished the song, however, she glared at Fisher and Hunter, obviously not liking that she had been excluded from being selected.

The complementary forms continued to play, and then some of the band went into solo acts. Usually, the amped ones jumped on this opportunity. It was their primary way to hook a mate, provided a low-ender liked it and if he or she did, the low-ender joined and played along.

Scavenger tried first, but he got nothing out of it, despite his performance being pretty interesting. To the Director it sounded just a bit too desperate and was designed to impress. It failed to reflect Scavenger's personality, which clashed with its player's pompous behavior. It showed, like in numerous instances, that a strong pokémon's own character spoiled any lure for him.

"Miss Director," the Premier said, "Can you try out alone?"

Her face suffused with blush. "Me? But why?"

"I like those few times in training where you had those… melodious and smooth baselines going. You were at your most relaxed. Can you do that again? I enjoyed listening to that, but I think the amped forms would spoil it."

The Director huffed but a small smile formed on her lips. The song was a toxtricity translation to a tune Dragapult used to hum to her when she was a little over a four-season old. She took the center of the circle they formed to listen to the bandmate who wanted to play solo, and she breathed out steadily to calm her mild stage fright. The band regarded her with a polite interest. She swallowed and then started to pluck at her chest. She stared at the ground a few paces in front of her as she concentrated on the song she recalled. It filled her with feelings of warmth. She forgot about the spectators as she became entrenched in the groove.

"That's… pretty good," Taylor admitted.

Sentinel straightened up, but she said nothing and continued to listen.

She finished her performance in another minute. Following it, the Premier clasped her on her back and said, "I enjoyed that. I had to keep my nephew and Hunter from playing along. I'm not the only one rooting for you."

"Did you teach her that?" Sentinel asked as she approached them. She was icily calm.

"No," the Premier declared. "She'd play pieces of it during our sessions, and I always liked it."

Sentinel walked away, and for the first time that the Director could identify, the low-ender band leader didn't denounce or insult her playing. The Director quit thinking about Sentinel as the Premier put his hands on her waist as Forager decided to play some riffs. Forager had no interest for a mate within the band. She was one of the few toxtricity who preferred other pokémon, not to mention she was the eldest bandmate behind Senior Medic.

Already hot and slick with sweat from their exertions, the Director's heart lurched as she realized what the Premier wanted next. She finished training, she finally played with the band, selected her, and now had her in his arms…that meant he was going to want to mate. Their playing hadn't helped matters, and she realized she should have considered this predicament earlier. The Premier thankfully held on to some modesty as he hadn't dragged her off yet. She said, "Premier, I feel that I'm done for the night."

"Understandably. You've never played like this before." He then laughed. "Just like..." He smiled at her and licked his lips. She wanted to kick herself. She wanted to talk to him while he was lucid, but not now.

"No. I don't imply that at all," she hollered over Forager and Junior Medic, who were playing at the moment.

"What?" he bellowed.

She grabbed his arm and led him out of the band's sight into the quieter, darker forest. Their emanating electricity gave them enough light to navigate without tripping over low foliage. "We've every evening after this one to do… well, that. I need to make some things clear first but not now. You're already burning up."

His mood deflated somewhat. "I see… the introvert needs to recharge alone then."

She thanked him inwardly for not pressing her. "Yes."

"Very well," he compromised. "But this cannot be put off forever."

"I know that," she said, her voice hard. "But you made a bargain with me, and it wasn't just about an egg."

"Hydreigon," he groaned the name like it were a curse.

"And that's why we need to talk when we're not philandering," she explained, crossing her arms.

Back on the communal grounds, none of the remaining toxtricity wanted to play any longer. Sentinel then walked into the center. She brushed away some sweat from her forehead that threatened to roll into her eyes. "Where is he?" she looked around wildly. "And she?"

Some of the toxtricity exchanged sultry glances at each other. Fisher said, "C'mon, Sentinel, you know."

Sentinel looked as if she wanted to vomit.

"There'll be an egg in the nursery soon," Forager teased. A soft chuckling, some of it playful and some of it nervous, sounded from the band.

"Then we're… done for the night," Sentinel said steadily, but she looked lost and distant. "See you all tomorrow and goodnight."

The bandmates dispersed and headed to their respective dens for a good night's rest. Sentinel, on the other hand, stood in the same spot, watching her fellows listlessly.

"Sorry about that," she heard a familiar voice behind her. She spun around and glared at her brother as he approached. "I would've closed the evening with you…"

He was unable to finish his explanation because his sister cut him off. "But the outsider was more important."