Chapter 1: Laurels and Crowns
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to Pokemon, Pokemon Adventures(manga), or any of the characters depicted in Pokemon-related content throughout the decades. This is a work of derivative fiction. Please enjoy the first chapter of A Crooked Queen.
Hearthome City, Sinnoh (July 5, 1138)
"-this afternoon with a wonderful performance by Hearthome City's very own Madame Fantina Moreau! With a dazzling display of Misdreavus and her signature Shadow Burst combination, it was a splendid finale to mark her thirtieth year as both the city's Gym Leader and Coordinator Premier! Now, before we tune in to her closing remarks, I'd like to take a few moments to speak to a few of the rising stars that have marked their debut right here in Hearthhome. What's your name, miss?"
"My name is Kore Meadows! I'm here with my friend Daisy. It's a big moment for both of us."
"Enchantée, misses Kore and Daisy. For those of you who missed it, we have here our proud finalists of the Beauty Division Beginners Contest. Miss Meadows with her Vulpix and Miss Oak with Clefairy, just blowing away the judges with their incredible combinations and impeccable style. Tell me, have you two been rivals for long?"
"No, actually! We've done a few video calls after meeting online a few months ago. This is our first time doing anything IRL. I'm just super stoked that both of us made it to the finals. Daisy is from Kanto, so she had to take an extra long flight just to get here, and-"
"Well Miss Meadows, I'm afraid that closing ceremonies are just about to begin. Would you like one final statement before we wrap up?"
"Oh, yeah! Of course. Uh… My name is Kore Meadows and I'm going to become the world's greatest coordinator! This is one of the happiest days of my life. It's always been my dream. I promise I'll never give up. Never!"
By the time they got to their cab, Daisy had managed to snag a clip of their brief interview with The Sun Stone Network, texting Kore the link. The audio quality was awful, not that an impromptu recording was ever going to be good in the first place. Yet it was their first ever appearance on television, what would be a monumental occasion for their careers. Two drops of hope in the vast ocean that they believed to be destiny. So that night at the closing ceremony and following reception, the bottles were bottomless, champagne flowing freely into their mouths and onto their brand new dresses.
The rather annoyed driver let them out next to the Bellossom Hotel on 4th and Heartbound Ave, grumbling about drunk kids very loudly under his breath. Daisy paid for the cab while the other Kore grabbed their belongings. Suitcases packed to the brim with props and the costumes they wore during the rounds.
"My ankles are killing me and I'm cold, Kore," Daisy whined. Her light green gown did little to ward off the cool of a Sinnoh autumn evening. Kore's outfit was worse in that regard, fabrics scavenged together from the thrift stores in East Hearthome, only brought to life with a brilliant crimson scarf that had been a gift from her brother Jason.
Speaking of her brother, she had to remember to call him back. Two missed calls from him during the events.
"Oh be quiet, babe. We'll be in our room soon. You can take a nice long bath and use up all our hot water," Kore said with a grin. Her cheeks were flushed, a vibrant pink from the wine and the chilly air. "Yeah but these heels have gotta go."
"You told me you were size six. Your hippowdon ankles are at least a size eight!" Daisy said. Kore gave her a playful slap to the shoulder, provoking a shriek and a scolding. "You must be feeling good about the win, though, huh?"
Kore just smiled, rubbing the sleek ribbon pinned to her chest by none other than Madame Fantina herself. She'd been one of three people to win one, the Beginners Division for Beauty being the lowest class competing that day. Standing next to titans like Fiona Reinard and Casio Velvet should have made her feel small, their Masters and Normal Beauty ribbons easily outshining hers. Yet seeing these giants in the industry only fanned the flames in her heart. The way their Pokemon were able to move. If her heart was a bell, it had rung wild and free on that stage.
"I feel amazing. Better than amazing. I feel fucking inspired, Daze. You see what that Sunflora could do? With the Razor Leaf ocarina? I bet I could do something even cooler with Vulpix. Use a Will-o-Wisp or something to add some flare to it. Spice it up with her Fire Spin."
Vulpix, hearing her name mentioned, shook her head and yelped as a layer of purple flames coated her back. Kore rubbed the little fox Pokemon's head as she nuzzled up against her leg.
"Easy there Cory," Daisy laughed. "I might have lost to you this time but I swear the judging was rigged! That old dude in the middle hates my grandpa. Said so himself after the scoring was over. Tried to get me alone with him," she shuddered.
"If he tried anything we'd just show him the Dazed and Confused one-two combo, amiright?"
"Okay, I love you but we are not calling ourselves Dazed and Confused."
"Oh come on. Please?"
An attendant approached the two to take their luggage up for them. He was easily their senior in years, probably nineteen or twenty judging by his features. Since their Pokemon weren't injured, just tired from the performances, the two decided to opt out of the PokeCenter overnight service and instead just head straight up to the room.
Immediately after taking her shoes off, Kore dove straight into her bed, letting her face sink into the soft hotel pillow. A trail of mascara rubbed off onto the white pillowcase, which the girl seemed not to worry about.
"Cory! You have to wash up before laying down."
Kore mumbled something inaudible, digging her face deeper into her pillow. Daisy started tugging at her friend's arm, trying to pry her away from the blissful arms of Grade A Paldean cotton.
"At least take your clothes off. Your brother is coming tomorrow right? To pick us up. I don't think he'll be happy to pay for damages if you muck up the whole bed, you filthy little gremlin."
Kore started grumbling under her breath, but opted to get up and pull off her dress and stockings. They were drenched in sweat, despite only having worn this outfit for the closing ceremonies and not the contest itself. A quick rummage around her bag and she was back in a very oversized sweatshirt and shorts.
"What time does Jason's flight get in? Wasn't he actually supposed to make it to see our Contest?"
"He leaves Fortree at seven in the morning, so probably close to 2 PM? Unless they catch the Latias current, he won't be any later than 3. So about four in the afternoon to get to the hotel," Kore said. "Yeah. He told me he'd try to come watch. But the Conference is in three months so he needs all the time he can get to earn enough badges."
"He's at like six badges on this circuit, right? Only needs to beat Prya and Winston?"
"Prya is retired, man. She got too banged up by a battle last year so a new gal named Winona is stepping in in Fortree. Then there's Kevin in Petalburg, though I've been hearing that he is looking to quit sometime soon. Jason has five badges so far. Three left to go."
"Things are changing up in Indigo too. They want to completely merge the Kanto and Johto gym circuits. So you just need eight badges from either region to qualify."
"That's stupid. Rich kids can fly around, just aim for easy matchups. I don't care about gyms. What about the contest scene, though?"
Daisy shook her head. "Think our circuit is bad? Contests are even worse. We've got the one hall in Vermillion that lost funding about halfway through. Just one guy and a Machoke still doing any work. The rest of the construction team quit after going on strike for months."
Kore cracked open another can of beer. It was technically illegal for anyone under eighteen to drink in the Sinnoh region. She hoped that Jason would sign off on the mini fridge charges, otherwise they were in for quite the nasty check-out in the morning. Kore flicked on the television as Daisy wanted to take a quick shower before their at-home victory party began in earnest.
"We'll have more on the mysterious explosions around New Bark Town in the Johto region later, as the situation develops. We have some breaking news from our neighbouring country of Hoenn. Twenty-seven casualties in a gang-related underground Pokemon battling ring have left the citizens of Sootopolis in shock. Wallace Holmes, the Gym Leader and League Executive of the city, has issued a statement regarding police investigation of the site. We will now cut to his statement to the press."
A blue-haired man approached the podium of his brightly-lit conference room. His normally loose and wild hair was combed back neatly into a ponytail, a sharp white cap affixed upon his head. His left arm was in a sling, evidence of the brawl he had just escaped.
He scanned the room full of reporters, brows furrowing in concentration. "I'd like to take this opportunity to address your concerns immediately. Before the League shares any further details, we must state that as of twenty minutes ago, all remaining cells of the Waterfall Pirates have been eradicated. As many of you may know, the Waterfalls have been a thorn in our side since their attempted invasion of Sootopolis six years ago. Long-time residents will remember my mentor, Juan, the previous Gym Leader who was one of the victims in that raid. As his student, it has been my responsibility to root out the remnants of those treacherous leeches. And I am proud to say that in this, our team has succeeded."
Wallace took a formal bow as several dozen cameras flashed pictures, some reporters trying to sneak in a question or two in this moment of silence. Faces flashed on the screen, two boys and a girl that looked to be around Courtney's age. Judging from what was said next, Kore was glad she didn't recognise any of them.
"That is not to say, however, that the raid was without its losses. Of the twenty-seven casualties, three trainers perished in the fighting. We are in the process of contacting any immediate family members before releasing names. As the protector of this city, I recognise my failures and would like to offer my sincerest apologies-"
Daisy turned off the television, citing that it was making her nervous. Indigo had its own issues with gang violence that was still ongoing, mostly around the major cities of Saffron and Goldenrod.
"Are you okay? Anybody you know that lives in Sootopolis?" Daisy asked.
"Nah. My only family is Jason. He's probably on his way to Fortree tonight, which isn't anywhere close. He should be good."
"What if he was in the city trying to get Wallace's badge?"
"Already has it," Kore laughed. She showed her friend a photo that Jason had sent her of him holding up the Rain Badge, dark brown hair all slicked back from fighting in the rain. He was smiling, front tooth chipped from when he had accidentally tripped over Abomasnow's trunklike legs while camping. "He told me he always gets Sootopolis and Mossdeep out of the way first, so he has more time on the mainland. More opponents to battle against, you know?"
"Still, you should call him. Check if he's doing okay."
"Jason is a tough guy. Plus, his Abomasnow, Barak, is always there to drag him out of trouble. One time had to literally drag him out of a casino. I still have the CCTV footage saved somewhere," she said, downing another can and tossing it into the wastebin. It clattered against the side and fell to the ground with a little crinkle.
"I'm serious, Conny. I still have to call my gramps whenever I hear that the Rockets rob another Pokemon Center. He's getting old, so when times get bad I try to at least call him once a day."
"Dude. Your grandpa is Samuel freaking Oak. I'm pretty sure that any wannabe gangster boy would get his ass handed to him if it comes to a battle. Jason is fine, I'm telling you. We're good."
"If you say so…" Daisy ran a towel through her wet hair, clearly not willing to drop the matter. Her piercing green eyes finally prompted Kore to action.
"Fine. Fine! I'll leave him a text, in case he's sleeping. Hoenn is like two hours ahead of us, you know? Take it easy on the foreigner here."
"There you go, babes!" Daisy cheered in an upbeat if slightly condescending manner. She started pouring herself another drink as Kore fished around for her phone.
"Oh shit. I think I left it in the cab or something. Can't find the damn thing. Can you use yours to call mine?" Kore asked. Daisy nodded, doing as she was asked with the plastic cup held with just her lips. "Fuck. I don't hear it. Think that we can find out who-"
"Someone picked up," Daisy said, handing her phone over. Kore took it, wiping her mouth and clearing her throat. "Hello?"
"Hello. Is this the owner of the phone?" the voice on the other side said. It was deep, a man's voice, but definitely not the taxi driver's.
"This is her. Where'd you find it?"
"Hearthome Concert Hall. I'm Terry, the night custodian. Listen, you should probably come get it right now. I've got two missed calls and a voice mail from someone saved as Dumbass?" the caller politely laughed.
"Oh shoot, yeah. That's my brother. I'll be there in like, ten minutes?" she said, looking at her friend with an eyebrow raised.
"Fifteen," Daisy said, sighing as she started getting dressed again. "I'll be at the front desk. Getting us a cab. You'll be paying for it, of course," She tied the towel to a bun on her head as she left. "Dumbass," she whispered as the door closed.
Kore hung up the phone, after sharing her name and letting Terry know whenabouts they would arrive. Swearing like there was no tomorrow, the brunette stretched out on her bed and flailed about like a Magikarp in annoyance for good measure before getting dressed as well.
Hearthome is a vibrant and thrilling city during the daytime, full of wonderful distractions lined up along every street. The nights weren't scary at all, having some of the largest police presences throughout the entire region of Sinnoh. Kore had enjoyed her trip to the city, the week and a half spent preparing for and ultimately winning the seasonal Hearthome Contest.
"No luck for a cab. Closest time we'll get is in like half an hour anyways. Wanna start walking there? Let Terry know we'll be later," Daisy said, leaving the reception hall.
"Sure," Kore sighed. She used Daisy's phone to text the patient caretaker before handing it back over to her. "I'm gonna let Vulpy out, just in case."
"Sure thing."
Kore tapped the button on Vulpix's Pokeball, letting out her furry little partner. Vulpix stretched, fur still immaculately groomed from the pre-performance prep session. She looked confused at her surroundings, Kore quickly explaining that they were just going for a little walk.
It seemed like they weren't the only Contest goers still out and about. Several staggering coordinators were red faced and laughing down the street. None of them were faces that either girl recognised, possibly because they took part in a higher category. Aside from Fantina and a handful of others, there weren't that many big names that competed that day.
"It'd be cool if Vulpix could light up the way for us," Kore said. "It'd be good practice, controlling her flames like that. Keep a low, constant heat that is mostly for the shiny light show. Think you can do it, Vulpy?" Vulpix sneezed, a single spark shooting out of her snout like a bullet.
"It's illegal to use moves without due cause in city limits," Daisy chided. "You don't want to have Jason bail you out of jail, right? I mean, I'm definitely not gonna do it."
"Pretty sure jail would be cheaper than the Bellossom," Kore grumbled. "I'm lucky I can probably pay my brother back for the trip, with the winnings I got from earning the ribbon."
"Lucky… I've got to work my butt off for the next three months for my grandpa. That's not even counting the two months I've already spent on the ranch. Do you know how many times you need to polish a Tauros's horns? They get cranky if they're not perfect, then they'll immediately dig up the ground, vain little pricks."
"This is probably the part where somebody reminds you how lucky you are that the Great and Powerful Samuel Oak is your grandfather?"
"I hope your pillow is too warm for your head."
"I deserved that."
"On both sides."
"Okay, now that's a bit uncalled for," Kore giggled.
They turned the corner to the main fashion district. None of the shops were open, except for an udon place that was still taking orders. There was a handsome line in front of it, flashy outfits indicating that these too were coordinators or socialites still hard at work. Or hardly working, if the annoyed glances shot their way by the old folks meant anything.
Vulpix was now in Daisy's arms, refusing to walk any further than she had. Kore was a bit put off by the blatant favouritism her starter showed, yet softened at the adorable way she was dozing off. "I wish I had my phone, so I could take a picture of you two."
"See it and weep. I know we are the cutest," Daisy smirked.
Hearthome Contest Hall, or the Hearthome Dome, was quickly approaching. Lights were still on throughout the vast structure, windows with faint silhouettes dotted throughout the whole exterior. Kore, still using Daisy's phone, let Terry know they were almost at the West Entrance.
"I'm gonna take the best bath ever," Kore said, once they were through the doors. "Fill it with persim berry bubbles, really just relax and detox after everything we've been through today."
"Does persim help with detoxing? I've heard about it, but I thought it was just had general antidote properties?"
"You gotta use dried persim berries, not fresh ones. Cut them up and make a gel out of it with some pomeg extract. Takes to water really well, and you can mix it with your favourite bubbly soap."
"You gotta share your recipe!" Daisy said, nearly dropping Vulpix with her excitement. Vulpix, a bit peeved at this blatant disrespect, held her head up in mock hurt while returning to her trainer's side.
A man in a Contest Hall custodian uniform, a stylised grey and black one-piece jumpsuit, waved at them from behind a desk. He pointed at a phone in his hand, Kore's phone in fact, which meant that this was their guy.
"Hi! You're Terry, right?" Daisy asked while Kore returned Vulpix to her Pokeball.
"Yes I am. Are you Kore Meadows?" Terry said. He looked to be about thirty, dirty blond hair combed back neatly with a polished stubble coating his jaw.
"No, I am. Thank you for finding my phone and holding onto it for me," Kore said, taking it from the man. "I don't know how to thank you."
He shook his head. "I'm just glad that you were able to find it," he said. "Although, you must be a pretty popular girl, huh? I got another seven or so phone calls after we hung up. I didn't take them, since I knew that you were coming. You should call them back though."
"I will, thank you so much!" She bowed. They said their farewells to the kind man, turning around and leaving the Contest Hall. Without all the crowds and the festive atmosphere, it was actually a rather depressing building, all things considered. She hoped to be able to return to it someday, maybe take part in the Masters Division.
Kore turned on her phone and noticed that there were about fifteen missed calls and around six messages left unread. She considered herself fairly active online, though this was unusual. What kind of teenager actually calls these days?
First things first, she shot Jason a text asking if he was alright and whether he'd made it to Fortree and checked in at a hotel. To her surprise, he read the text immediately. Yet there wasn't a response, just a read notification. So, she tried calling him.
Once. Twice. The ringtone kept playing his crappy Roxie and the Toxics song that was so '36. He didn't pick up.
"Okay, Jason isn't picking up. Must be asleep and left his phone on or something," Kore muttered. Daisy looked over in mild concern, fiddling with her own phone as they kept walking. Vulpix's fur started glowing in places, flickering like dying embers. She was anxious too. Kore scratched her starter's head, trying to hold a smile. "He's probably just sleeping. I'm sure Fela misses you too, baby."
Vulpix snorted, throwing her head back. Fela, Jason's Ninetales, was her mother. While the entire evolution line was known to be prideful and rather standoffish at times, Kore knew that Vulpix often missed spending time with her mom. A feeling that Kore, not having grown up with her own, could sympathise with.
"Hold on. I've got that voice mail that Jason sent me. Let me listen to it," Kore said.
Daisy nodded, prodding playfully at Vulpix's side to get her to follow along and give her friend some privacy. Kore hooked up her earphones and pressed play on the recording.
"Hey there Cory. How's my little dress-up artist doing…? I just want you to know that I might not make it there in time. It's a funny story, really…"
Sootopolis City, Hoenn (July 5, 1138)
The trainer leaned against the makeshift barricade, drinking in each breath with titanic strain to his chest and lungs. His arms were scorched, a nasty encounter with one of the Waterfall Houndooms. He checked his watch. Thirteen minutes since the last wave of League Enforcers had arrived. Thirteen minutes since the sorry heap of rags he called a life was ripped apart.
"Barak, you still with me?" he asked, voice weak from inhaling all the toxic fumes. His Abomasnow growled, slapping his chest like a cage fighter from up north. They'd fumbled through six different life-or-death battles so far, on a scale that the Gyms could not have possibly prepared him for. Chaos manifested in a battlefield that was entirely too small to withstand it. And they played no small part in making it happen.
"BLIZZARD!" Jason screamed, jumping away from his feeble cover. Abomasnow roared in tandem, sending a flurry of slush and ice streaming towards the Pirates on the other side. A Ludicolo was caught directly in the blast, limbs snapping shut as the water in his body froze through. Barak wasted no time, sending a spear of ice soaring forward and impaling the grass type. Another death by their hands, far from the first that day. Jason touched the balls still hooked around his belt, his partners that had been recalled for a moment's respite from the ongoing carnage. There was no more time to rest, he sent out Gilmesh his Quagsire and ordered him to start pelting the field with Mud Bombs.
League Enforcer or Waterfall Pirate. Neither group would be lenient to the criminal that had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Though their quarrel was with each other, Jason had been fending off attacks from either side for the better part of the past ten minutes. And he was really just a thorn, irrelevant except for the powerful moves that Barak and Fela could unleash sporadically. One of the stray Mud Bombs managed to catch a Nidoking off guard, knocking him out of commission as further water attacks from elsewhere finished him off.
He was only there to earn a bit of money, then leave. Just a few fights for the Pirates then it would be off to catch the flight to Sinnoh. And see his sister.
Kore. Just thinking of her brought a new wave of vigour to his movements. He wiped his mouth against the side of his gloved hand, surprised to notice the red against the grey cloth. He'd been bleeding. For a while now, judging from how it was mostly dry. No. That wasn't important. His baby sister was waiting for him, out there, in a faraway region across the ocean. Jason had been through shit times before. This was no different.
"Ice Beam. Strike that, throw a Wood Hammer for good measure," he ordered.
Frigid vines on the tip of Barak's armlike appendages twisted together, gaining more and more mass as other parts of his body shrivelled. The Abomasnow grunted as the strain of the attack sapped at his reserves, not to mention the weight of the hammer itself. Like a track athlete, he twisted his body in several rotations before thrusting the attack in the direction of the remaining Pirates. There was a collision, pathetic cries of agony that pierced even the chaos of the arena. Yet with that move, Barak was spent. He'd need to recover for hours before being in even a weakened state. Jason recalled him, whispering his gratitude into the Pokeball. Gilmesh was battered, but otherwise in fighting shape. Jason motioned for the water type to follow his lead, sneaking behind multiple pillars in an erratic pattern.
He just needed a breather. Get out of the main pavilion and downstairs, to the loading bay. He could try and find his Waterfall liaison, hoping that the man was oblivious to the chaos that was going on upstairs. If not, take over the small boat and figure out how to drive it out of there. Once he was a safe distance away, he could get Tropius to fly him out of Sootopolis and to freedom.
A few League trainers, thankfully not Enforcers, passed by him without so much as a second glance. He didn't wear the Pirate uniform, the idiots painting very large targets on themselves with the navy blue colour scheme. As a precaution, he smoothed back his hair and tried to at least look like an ally. He jumped over a fallen beam, wincing as he landed on his bad ankle.
A flight of stairs. Cold grey stone bricks stacked haphazardly with no regard to convenience. He ran down them three at a time, trusting that Quagsire was right on his tail. The amphibian was slow when out of the water, yet he was using a continuous stream of water to glide along just fine. Another trainer tried to get him to stop, which Gilmesh took care of with a steaming jet of Scald. The man howled, clawing at his clothes to fan at his now reddened body.
Jason couldn't hesitate for even a moment's respite. He kept on running, ignoring the pain that flared up in his chest. Nursing himself back to health could come later. Later, always later. Now was for the present, more pressing issues.
It took about six minutes of running to get to the dock. Roughly twenty minutes since the first explosion, when League Enforcers came pouring in through the shattered windows. He considered himself extremely lucky that Wallace Holmes was busy catching the real criminals, elsewise there was a chance that he'd be recognised. Jason Meadows was by no means a top trainer, yet he was getting there. His was a face that people might remember.
Butch, the burly Pirate that had brought him there, was nowhere to be found. This made things easier, all the more since his tiny waterboat was still afloat and all set for departure. It took a single Ice Beam from Quagsire to sever the fraying rope that tied the craft to the dock. Jason hopped onto the deck, staring blankly at the levers and buttons that he'd only given a cursory glance when boarding. He cursed under his breath, praying that this wouldn't blow up in his face.
"Okay, Gilmesh. I'm gonna need you to be my… what do they call it… first mate. Make sure I don't accidentally kill all of us trying to get us outta here. Sounds good?" It, in fact, sounded like a terrible idea. Yet it was the best option and Jason knew it. With the intuition of a trainer, he managed to get the boat to start up with a groan of the engines, bubbles forming near the hull. "Should be all set. If I pull this, I should be setting the thing in reverse."
The antique machinery roared to life as the boat started moving backwards. Jason had to hold on tightly to the railing not to go toppling off at the awkward motions. Whenever they appeared to be leaning into one direction more than he was comfortable with, Gilmesh controlled the water to stabilise them. Gradually, the small island off the coast of Sootopolis, too small for a name, was beginning to grow even smaller. He allowed himself a deep breath, steadying his shaking legs.
A helicopter could be seen off in the distance, likely capturing the scene of the raid. Jason leaned back against a leather seat, now able to properly assess the damages he'd taken for the first time. The priority, however, was in evaluating his team. Barak the Abomasnow, his first companion and a steadfast leader of his group, exhausted from the strain of battling dozens of enemy combatants with a constant flurry of snow and ice. His injuries were minor, nothing that a good rest at a Center couldn't patch up.
Fela, his Ninetales, had taken a few nasty Crunch attacks from oncoming Sharpedos. He wouldn't be able to properly assess the wounds until they were on the mainland. He'd been lucky. Hydro Pumps had been freely blasted without a second thought earlier. It was just as likely that she would've been hit by one and taken out of commission. Possibly forever.
Gilmesh and Serin, his Tropius, had seen very little of the fighting. Mostly due to not having the firepower that his two main brawlers could boast, Tropius being his primary means of transportation and so not really a fighter anyways. Jason contemplated releasing him then and there, yet he knew in his gut that the timing wasn't quite right.
"How are we looking, Gilmesh. Think we'll be set to fly soon?" he asked.
Quagsire hummed, a worried frown masking his face as he stared out into deeper waters. He was concerned. They weren't out of the woods quite yet, since something was coming up. Jason brushed off his knees and tightened the makeshift bandages he'd wrapped around his left hand. Fela's Pokeball was already in his palm, in case she'd be needed at a moment's notice. His eyes darted around the open sea, searching for whatever it was that had Gilmesh so worried.
"None of that now. Best if you just cooperate," a voice whispered into his mind. It was the sound of dust fluttering through the skies and surging through his ears. He could not stop it, this irritating sensation of a psychic speaking directly to him and his brain. Somebody was communicating with him, somebody that knew where he was.
"Who are you?" Jason shouted, voice drowning in the waves.
"A friend. Your last hope, I might add," the voice spoke again. At first there was nothing, just the sound of the ocean and of fighting in the distance. Then where there was nothing, a man emerged from the void. Short, pale blue hair chopped off in parts with no discernible pattern. Grey eyes that saw into Jason's own, a well-tailored black suit that looked to cost more money than Jason had ever earned in his life. Two Pokeballs clasped to his wrists, to bronze bracelets that drew in one's attention. The most famous man in Hoenn, Steven Stone.
Champion Steven Stone.
A cornered beast will turn to two primary instincts in the face of a threat. The urge to fight tooth and nail for survival, to use everything at their disposal to bruise and bloody their way to salvation. Or the need to flee, to escape with their tail between their legs, desperate to make it out of there intact.
Jason felt neither of these things. His body knew what his mind was struggling to catch up with. There was no hope, merely submission. Surrendering to the great and immutable power that was the Stone Champion.
Steven produced a small rectangular tin box from his suit jacket, clicking it open to reveal a thin silver rod. "You don't mind, do you? This is not your vessel, after all," he said, using a match to light up his cigarette. A few seconds of greedily drinking in the smoke, each second further straining Jason's nerves. Finally, the Champion exhaled with a sigh. "Thank you. I don't get many moments just to myself. Too many eyes on me. Too many responsibilities."
"Can't imagine what that's like," Jason replied truthfully. Here in front of his eyes was the most powerful man in the country. Whose ironclad will dug its talons into every single matter of state, from which nobody and nothing could claim to be exempt. This man was the embodiment of primordial strength, a living legend in his own right. And by the looks of it, this man would be the sole judge of Jason's fate.
"Do you partake?" Steven asked, offering him the box. Jason started to refuse, but figured that there was no harm in doing it just once. Not when the hope of escape had been so instantly snuffed out by the Champion's presence. He took a single cigarette, carefully lodging the yellowish stick between his shivering lips. "Thanks," he muttered, as Steven lit it up for him. "Shit, this is bad," Jason retched.
"The worst. I can't live without it. Not anymore. Hard to kick a habit, you know?" They stood in silence for a few moments, breathing in and breathing out. In the distance, the quiet was disturbed by the sounds of shouting and the destruction of the Waterfall base. Steven sighed as the last of the tobacco leaves burnt away and the sickly sweet fumes dissipated with the sea breeze. "So I guess it's time."
"Jail? I deserve it, I guess," Jason scratched the back of his head. A few locks of charred hair fell away at his touch. "I just want to call someone first. Before you take me in, please? I'm pretty sure that's how the law works. You get a phone call. I want my phone call," he laughed. He sounded shaky, the nerves showing through.
But Steven just shook his head. While his eyes remained blank, Jason caught just the barest hint of sadness hiding behind the grey irises. 'No. No jail for you. Not anymore." A Pokeball was unclipped from his belt, revolving around his palm. He sighed, pressing the silver button.
Gilmesh sprang forward to meet the Armaldo's scythes head on. The fossil Pokemon's first strike went wide, causing him to stumble clumsily forward into the Quagsire's Hydro Pump. Yet the most powerful water move in Gilmesh's arsenal barely caused Armaldo to flinch. Hissing, he rose up to his full height, a staggering eight feet tall.
"No pain, my friend. Please."
Armaldo grunted, coating his scythes in some lime green energy, lunging forward once more. The curve of the blades sank through Quagsire's tough hide, a sickening squelch and Gilmesh's cry of pain. He made a futile attempt at recovering, drawing on the ocean around them to replenish himself. But it took six more slices, each Fury Cutter more powerful than the last, to take him down. For good.
"Gil…" Jason muttered, falling to his knees next to his Pokemon. "I'm so sorry, Gilly."
Then Armaldo's scythe made one final arc. And the man was dead.
Steven remained still for a moment, eyes closed and head tilted forward as though in prayer. When they opened once more, they were misty with the guilt only a man of his position could bear. Armaldo was recalled, his bloodlust sated for the time being. It was just him and Claydol, hovering unseen beside the hull of the floating craft.
"We could have let him go? Nonsense," Steven said out loud.
"It is no small feat to bury the memories of the Map. Yet it can be done, with enough time I could have managed it." Claydol's voice rumbled in his head. Two trails of blood merged into one by the Hoenn Champion's feet, prevented from flowing any closer by a small barrier of telekinetic energy. The map in question was levitated from the fallen trainer's pocket, spread open and its contents shown to Steven.
"No. Not with something this dangerous. Better that…" Steven coughed, clutching his chest. Sweat had begun trailing down the side of his face. "Better that this ends here. Today. We have no quarter for the Waterfalls and their little project. Not anymore. Heavens, I thought this affair would die with Captain Boris."
"It's only a matter of time before we catch his lieutenant. Their organization is finished, though. You've successfully destroyed the last major cell today."
"No. Wallace did most of it. He knows I can't handle much more now. I need to rest." Steven grabbed the antique leaflet of paper, stashing it in his coat pocket. His father would have a heart attack if he'd known how the Champion was handling such a delicate and ancient relic. Frankly, he could care less about its historical value. A man had died today, died for the sin of stumbling upon a matter that had nothing to do with him. For picking up the other half of the Old Map of Atlantica, an object whose importance not even the Waterfall Pirates had fully appreciated.
Jason Meadows. Steven couldn't remember ever seeing the name at the Ever Grande Conference. If he'd never gotten that far, he doubted that he'd be missed terribly. Yet Steven would remember now. Every life he'd ever taken, Steven Stone remembered.
For heavy lies the head that bears the crown.
A/N: And let the pieces fall where they may. A testament to the toils we bear willingly.