"Where am I?" Fabian thought, head still spinning so fast that he could hardly take in his surroundings. "Whatever, at least it's not another damned jail cell."

"So…" came Duff's voice. The Nidorino, who was pawing at the ground awkwardly, made Fabian jump when he spoke up. "That was… uh… Well, it was a lot. Are you okay?"

"Is Scrub dead?" Fabian asked, his voice full of concern. "Please tell me he's not, I don't know if I could handle it."

Duff stared at the ground as soon as Fabian mentioned Scrub's name. "No idea," Duff answered, his voice all too monotone. "That bastard was still out cold from that skull bashing, last time I saw him." He cleared his throat. "Can I… Could I ask what that was at the end? You were so scary that I was starting to think you were a different person. All of us were kinda freaking out. D-Don't get me wrong, it was cool, I swear! J-Just, a little bit scary, y'know? Please don't eat me."

Fabian smiled sheepishly. "I won't," he promised. "My ability went off during that fight. It's called Torrent. I think your Chesnaught friend should have Overgrow, right? They're basically the same thing."

Duff gave him a sheepish look of his own. "And… uh, what if I don't remember what Overgrow does?"

Fabian chuckled lightly, which caused a sharp pain in his chest region. "Basically, if I'm having a near-death experience, my body starts pumping out adrenaline like crazy. Everyone's body does that to some extent, but mine's, like, crazy excessive. I can't really think straight or feel anything when I'm like that, but all of my Water-type moves get way more powerful."

"That sounds really cool!" Duff said. "So, it's like a trump card you use? That's gotta be really useful!"

"Eh, I kinda hate it, to be honest," Fabian responded. "Sometimes, the extra power to close out a fight is nice, but I basically turn into a bloodthirsty feral whenever it happens, and I hate killing people. Maybe I'd like it more if I could just turn it off? 'Cause, one time, when I was a kid, I accidentally fell off top of the Mankey bars during recess, and because of my ability, I ended up trying to kill one of my classmates."

Duff gulped. "Were we in any danger?" he asked.

Fabian shrugged. "Maybe if you guys started yelling my name loud enough or something, but to be honest, I didn't even know you guys were there. Again, I'm basically not thinking at all whenever it happens. Though, that reminds me, I definitely should warn my team about this. Knowing how these things tend to pan out, I'm gonna have to rely on Torrent again, sometime down the road."

"R-Right, your team," Duff said, grimacing. "Do you… uh, remember what Nero did?"

Every single memory of what happened during that battle was perfectly vivid in Fabian's mind. Apparently, some people with Torrent or similar abilities weren't able to recall a single thing that happened during their episodes, but to Fabian, the memories were all crystal clear, for better or for worse. He nodded. "Yeah, something about swearing allegiance to Scotcher, right?"

It was a little funny, how Duff's eyes went so wide. "H-How are you so casual about that? You were betrayed twice in one day!"

"Nero's not actually siding with Scotcher," Fabian said. "There's no universe where Nero genuinely thinks he can trust that guy. Or anyone in the world, for that matter."

"Does that mean you think he's gonna be a double agent for us?" Duff asked.

"I dunno about 'for us,' but he's definitely double-crossing Scotcher at some point," Fabian said. "We just so happen to be on the opposite side of the guy he wants to take advantage of, that's all."

"How come you two are even working together, then?" Duff asked. "Sounds to me like you don't like him at all."

Fabian exhaled. His headache had eased up to the point where he could fully observe his surroundings. The sunset painted the canyon walls a beautiful orange, and the purplish hue the sky took on might've taken Fabian's breath away if the lung injuries hadn't beaten it to the punch. The rest of the rebels were nowhere to be seen, but Zach was curled up in a ball in the shadow of an overhang. That reminded him, he had to talk to Zach about everything soon.

"You okay?" Duff asked, poking at Fabian lightly.

Fabian nodded quickly. "Y-Yeah, sorry, just lost in thought. You asked about me and Nero, yeah? Well, the thing about him is, I can't really ditch him. For one thing, I promised to work with him, and I don't go back on promises no matter how much I want to. But also, the world kinda might end if his powers get in the wrong hands, so I've gotta protect him, even if I hate it."

"Should… Should you be telling me that?" Duff asked.

"Unless you secretly wanna destroy the world, I don't see the issue." With all the effort he could muster, Fabian pulled himself up off the ground. The arm he maimed wasn't responsive at all, but the rest of his body could move, which meant the poison had passed through his system. "Where is everyone?" Fabian asked.

"Wish I could tell ya," Duff said. He ran up as close to Fabian as he could get, as if he would be capable of keeping Fabian from falling over. "They should've fallen somewhere nearby, but I've got no idea where. I wanted to let you recover before we go looking."

After taking several deep breaths to accustom himself with the sensation of experiencing pain with every inhale, he began to walk down the canyon and toward the lake they landed in initially. "Sounds good to me! Let's get moving!"

"But, you haven't recovered yet!" Duff said. "Your arm's still broken!"

Fabian attempted to shrug, though only one arm lifted. "Yeah, but that'll take days to heal. By then, Nero will have already killed Scotcher."

"Is that… a bad thing?" Duff asked.

"Of course it is," Fabian said. "If he does it before us, he's gonna be annoying about it for the rest of my life. C'mon, let's go find all the others! In a fair fight with all of us, there's no way he'd win!"

Duff smiled. "You're sure?"

"Sure I am!" Fabian waved his arm forward. "C'mon, let's go looking! You search around the lake, and I'll search under!"

With Duff's spirits lifted, the two began their search. It probably wasn't the best idea to go swimming with all the open wounds he had, but he'd rather have a couple infected cuts over letting people potentially drown to death.

It wasn't a massive lake, all things considered, but it was pretty deep, so it took him a few minutes to canvas its circumference completely because he only had the one arm to work with. He was just about to surface, when he noticed an unusually smooth boulder on the seafloor. Feeling curious, he dove towards it.

The surface was a dark blue, with a glowing yellow crack in the center which was shoddily covered by an adhesive bandage. Fabian poked at it a couple times. The texture was pretty similar to that of a clay pot, but it definitely wasn't hollow.

The entire object shifted upward slightly, causing Fabian to jolt backwards. "Hello?" rang a muffled, unfamiliar voice.

"Who said that?" Fabian asked, whipping his head around. He swam closer to the origin of the voice, which was just a meter ahead of the smooth object.

"I'm Chip," it replied. The voice was booming and deep to the point where it could easily travel underwater, but there was a quality of softness to it. "I've been buried, it seems."

"Buried?" Fabian asked. "Oh no! Here, let me dig you out!"

It was far from easy, and Fabian ended up pushing himself backwards while trying to dig the buried Pokémon with his one hand multiple times, but eventually, he dug deep enough to see some glowing light filtering through the clay, the same color as the crack in that big thing he found.

After just a few more handfuls of wet clay were out of the way, the Pokémon's two glowing eyes, one a rectangle and one in the shape of an L, were finally visible. "Oh, are you a Golett?" Fabian asked. "Wait, no, a Golett's left eye would be mirrored. You're a Golurk, right?"

The Golurk stared at him, expression entirely unreadable. "Are you Fabian Vanadis?" they quietly asked, their eyes flashing brighter while they spoke.

Fabian rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "Aw man, you already know who I am? Don't worry, I promise I'm not gonna try to hurt you or anything like–"

"You're the one who shot that cannonball at me."

Fabian blinked once or twice. "A cannonball? I don't…" As he trailed off, the memories came rushing back. "W-Wait, sweet Arceus, I completely forgot about all that! That was you? Wait, wait, hold on, are you with the Syndicate?"

"I am Officer Chip, of Branch 22," the Golurk replied.

"I'm Fabian Vanadis!" Fabian replied.

Chip nodded. "I'm aware."

They looked at each other in a miserable silence for a few seconds, before Fabian cleared his throat. "Sorry about blasting you into a canyon and accidentally almost burying you undersea for the rest of your life."

"Sorry about throwing several boulders and trees at your bus in an effort to assassinate Prince Zacharias, inadvertently sending you hurtling into this canyon as well," Chip responded.

"Phew, glad that's all settled, then!" Fabian said, now feeling completely comfortable to continue excavating Chip. "But, how come you wanted to kill Zach so bad? You know your boss died protecting him, right?"

"I didn't join up out of loyalty to the Captain, I joined because I loathe the monarchy," Chip replied. "I think the whole family should be eradicated."

As he managed to free up one of Chip's massive arms completely, Fabian furrowed his brow. "But, Zach hasn't done anything wrong. Plus, this weird Royal Guard creep is planning to take over after Zach dies, so you're gonna get someone who's way worse if you off him."

"That can't be right," Chip said. "The Royal Guard cooperated with us under the understanding that we'd be establishing an anarchist state."

"That's not the story Scotcher's been telling."

As Fabian freed up the other arm, Chip lurched forward to sit up, a motion that produced a horrible rusty scraping noise from his joints. "Scotcher," he repeated, his voice at its most bitter. "You said 'Scotcher,' right?"

Fabian nodded as he got to work on freeing Chip's legs. "Yeah. He's a really weird and annoying Meowscarada guy. You know him?"

The Golurk stared at his massive hands, big enough for Fabian to fit in their palms. "New question. Have you met a Golett called Dale?"

Fabian stroked his chin, drifting away slowly. "I met a Golett down here, but I don't really remember his name. Uh… He's gay for this Chesnaught guy! Does that help?"

"Dale's alive," Chip said, with a slight amount of wistfulness in his voice.

"Awesome!" Fabian said, grinning widely. "But, actually, we all just almost got killed by Scotcher 'cause we were trying to assassinate him. I came down here to look for him, actually, so I'm–"

"Fabian. If you allow me to help you all kill Scotcher, I will cover for you. I'll tell Commander Moreno that you and his son never even came near this place."

"That'd be great, thanks!" Fabian said. "Honestly, I was gonna ask you to help anyway, but it's really nice of you to say all that!"

"Yay." Chip placed his hands down against the lakebed and pushed against it, causing his legs to slowly rise up from beneath the sediment. By the time he was fully freed, he could stand on the lakebed without his head being submerged.

Fabian swam over to Chip's shoulder and sat down on it, gleefully laughing to himself in amazement as Chip marched forward, rising higher and higher until he was out of the lake and Fabian was over three meters in the air. "Wow, this is so cool! Let's go find all the others and kick Scotcher's ass!"

"I can't believe this!" Scotcher shouted, slamming a fist into a cliff face. "I don't understand! How did that Croconaw blow up a Blast Seed?! He was paralyzed!"

"Fabian's genius is unparalleled," Nero lamented, using every single ounce of willpower he had to avoid cracking a smirk. "I believe that, due to his gift of foresight, he knew that he was going to be paralyzed, and so he kept a Blast Seed suspended in the back of his throat. Once he was paralyzed, he would no longer be able to prevent it from sliding down his throat, and the reaction with his stomach acid created the explosion. It's a dead man's switch. Or rather, a paralyzed man's switch."

Scotcher folded his arms and glared at the spot where there used to be a natural bridge. "That kid looked like the stupidest man I've ever met in my life. He genuinely came up with all that?"

"It's foolish to judge a book by its cover," Nero said. "His buffoonish voice and gorgeous eyes are nothing but a mask to conceal his true intellectual might."

"I'd struggle to believe it if I couldn't see it myself," Scotcher said. "Whelp! I'm hungry. I'll be returning to the embassy, if you'd like to follow me."

Nero furrowed his brow. "How do you intend to do that when the bridge has been destroyed?"

"Magic!" Scotcher clapped his paws together and a wriggling mass of vines sprouted out from the edge of the cliff, connecting the opposing cliffs.

Nero nodded politely. "That tracks, I suppose. Your vines really are quite fascinating to me. Unlike my former traveling companion, I'm no expert in biology, but I wasn't aware that Meowscaradas were capable of such a feat. Your mastery of vine manipulation could put Tangelas to shame." Of course, if the Tangela he knew was any indication, it wasn't hard to do that in general.

"It's a pretty ingenious tactic," Scotcher said, striking a pose. "What I use is a specialized application of Grass Knot, you see. I use that move several times in a row, without releasing any one of them. Taxing, sure, but nobody has to know that."

"You'd make for a brilliant stage magician," Nero noted, following after Scotcher as they walked down the bridge. "And a stupid one. What's that one saying? 'A magician never reveals his secrets?'"

It was an immense struggle to walk across the bridge for Nero. His Zigzagoon instincts compelled him to travel in a zigzagging pattern, but the vine bridge was far too thin to allow for that, and Scotcher was already panting heavily, so this was likely the extent of what he could do. Moving in this unnatural pattern for so long was making him nauseous, to the point where he needed to stop for a few breaks.

"Are you alright?" Scotcher asked.

Nero nodded weakly. "Of course. We Zigzagoons aren't well suited for tightrope walking, as it were. Ironically enough, walking straight makes it hard for me to think straight."

"Wow, there really isn't a single thing about you that's straight."

"No comment."

Eventually, the two finally made it past the vine bridge, and they took a moment to rest from the arduous journey. The embassy was in sight, and not too far in the distance.

As they got back on their feet, Nero began to brainstorm ideas on how to assassinate Scotcher, and eventually, Zach. The latter would be easy– after single handedly taking Scotcher down, it would be easy to regain the goodwill he burned through by pulling this stunt and be able to slip something into the Turtwig's food– but finding a way to kill the former was going to be a challenge.

"I imagine he has staff members who prepare his meals for him," Nero reasoned. "Therefore, sneaking a poison into his food would be too risky. I'd like to take my time with this, but if I take too long, Fabian will find a way to kill Scotcher before me, and I'll look like a fool."

"What kind of food do you like?" Scotcher asked Nero.

"I'm not picky," Nero replied. Considering how much of his childhood he spent eating his former guardian Cato's cooking, he couldn't afford to be. "I've always had quite the soft spot for Tullabarian cuisine, so I don't see myself turning my nose up at any of your offerings."

"Wonderful!" Scotcher declared. "By now, a feast should already be prepared! It was intended to be a victory meal for our triumph against those nasty rebel children, but to be honest, I just wanted an excuse for a feast! I love feasts, you see, but I hate paying my employees, and Xerneas knows I'm not letting those icky, sticky kids run around in my kitchen."

Nero shook his head. "Those chefs truly are too arrogant for their own good. It takes a special kind of selfish to demand payment from an esteemed member of the Royal Court." Thankfully, Nero had over a decade of experience with practicing his poker face, so he had no trouble uttering this gag-inducing sentence.

"You and I are going to get along swimmingly, I just know it!" Scotcher said, jumping up with glee.

"I suppose I understand why he's so excited. I can't imagine anyone in the world has ever willingly chosen to spend time with him before."

By cracking this joke to himself, Nero was able to maintain a smile and conceal the complete and utter contempt he held.

The rest of the walk to the embassy was filled with more banal small talk. Of course, this was far from the first annoying person Nero had ever needed to be polite to, but the urge he felt to shout obscenities at him was stronger than it had ever been. "Damn. Either I'm out of practice, or Fabian really is rubbing off on me. I don't know which prospect I hate more."

After they finally arrived, Scotcher, gentleman that he was, walked through the door without holding it open for his guest. Nero took it in stride, stepping down on the door's foot pedal to swing it open himself, and as soon as he did, his eyes were assaulted by the most garish room he had ever seen in his entire life. The floor tiles, a mix of a ghastly bright green and ashen gray, and the wallpaper, an ornate floral pattern colored a dull red, clashed with each other so ferociously that Nero could've sworn he stepped into a warzone. The rows upon rows of emerald chandeliers were so aggressively bright and shiny that Nero's first instinct was to pray that one would fall, land on him, and crush his skull.

Scotcher scurried over to the center of the room and performed a grand flourish. "Welcome to my home away from home!" he shouted. "What do you think? I decorated it myself."

"I had a feeling," Nero said, looking around as much as possible so that his eyes couldn't fixate on any individual design choice. "Your interior design skills are without equal."

Scotcher clapped his paws together. "You mean it?"

On accident, Nero glanced at a lamp with a pink Miltank-print lampshade with a green light bulb inside it, creating a dreadful brown glow. "Oh, I mean it," Nero said, unintentionally through gritted teeth. He took a deep breath. "Keep it together, Nero. Once he's dead, you can personally destroy every single item of furniture in this place."

"Ah, I see you've noticed our lamp!" Scotcher said with glee. "I have a mind-numbing amount of free time, seeing as I employ unpaid children to do my job for me, so I crafted the lampshade myself! Do you like it?"

Nero managed to muster the strength of will to nod along and not ask him why on earth the brightest room in the universe needed a lamp in the first place. "It's avant-garde. Trendsetting, even." He gave it yet another nod, really hoping that he looked impressed by this affront to all that was beautiful. "If this actually becomes a popular design trend, I'll kill myself."

Thankfully, Scotcher was an idiot, so he flashed a winning smile. "I knew you'd love it just as much as my servants all do! But, we shouldn't dally. We could spend all day taking notes on my design decisions, after all."

"You could say that again," Nero replied. He couldn't even close his eyes to block it out, thanks to his Successor sixth sense. "It just wouldn't do to allow our meal to grow cold."

Any hope in Nero's heart that the dining hall wouldn't be as offensive were dashed before he even set foot inside. He could see from outside that the green lighting was even brighter in the hall, and upon entering, it wasn't hard to see why. The tables, chairs, silverware, flooring, walls, and ceiling were all made completely out of polished emerald, all reflecting the chandelier light. To look at any surface in the room from any angle was to risk getting flashbanged.

"I'm a lover of emeralds," Scotcher noted, apparently fearing this wasn't obvious.

Nero nodded. "It's a beautiful gem." He used to feel that way genuinely, but by this point, he was confident that the sight of one would be enough to make him vomit. He crawled up to a seat that was somewhat near the head of the long table, but not so close that he'd have to listen to Scotcher chew.

All at the same time, dozens of men in green Tullabarian military berets of all shapes and sizes marched into the hall in a single file line, each taking a seat at nearly the same time. "Welcome, welcome!" Scotcher said.

"Who are all these people?" Nero asked, maintaining a casual tone of voice.

"My personal army," Scotcher said. "They were supposed to ambush all those rebels on the off-chance they made it past me and Scrub, but thanks to your former friend, all that went out the window." Scotcher slammed a fist into the table, causing a few glasses (tinted green, because of course they were) to shake around. "He must've planned for that, too! The clever bastard!"

"I was thinking exactly the same thing," Nero said.

Everyone at the table began to dig in. Naturally, there was no chance that Nero was going to eat this food– he had no way of being sure that it wasn't poisoned, after all– but by pouring himself a bowl of soup and pretending to lap at it, he gave off a convincing enough appearance that he was eating any of it.

Not a single word was uttered for the entire duration of their meal. Nero generally preferred quietness, especially when he was eating, but with over two dozen people in the room, the cacophonous chewing noises were deafening, all-encompassing, and gag-inducing to him, and he wanted to be anywhere else in the world.

Eventually, the feast had been conquered, and Nero subtly poured his bowl of soup down an air vent in the floor whilst nobody was looking. "Delicious," he said.

This false compliment was hardly necessary, since Scotcher passed out at the very moment the rib supply was depleted. Two burly Rillabooms each hoisted an arm of his up and marched in unison toward the way he and Nero came in. The idea of being carried around by an army of muscular men was the most enticing component of this arrangement yet, but thanks to Nero's ironclad resolve, he didn't waver in his commitment to killing Scotcher.

Thankfully, since there wasn't all that much movement going on in the area, he was able to expand his perception range quite far, allowing him to observe where Scotcher's unconscious body was being taken and mentally map a route.

He decided against asking for any directions, as being lost was a perfect excuse to be in places he wasn't meant to go. Instead, he slipped under the table and followed after the direction Scotcher would've headed.

The red wallpaper of the main lobby was a sight for sore eyes by this point, if only because it was the first non-green thing he had seen in an hour.

Nero's memory was excellent, so he had no trouble navigating the maze-like corridors of the embassy interior. There were plenty of vases (green) strewn about with no consideration for spacing or symmetry, so Nero never had any want for hiding spots on the rare occasion that a soldier happened to be passing by.

At last, he arrived at a door made of solid emerald, guarded by the two Rillabooms who carried him inside. Nero didn't need to use his senses to tell that Scotcher was sleeping behind that door, but he did anyway, and his intuition was correct.

Unfortunately, Nero had no idea how he was going to get those guards out of the way. "Perhaps they'll go to sleep at some point? No, they must be on the night shift, they look like they just rolled out of bed. I didn't have time to resupply on items. Perhaps I could try making some sort of noise to cause a distraction? That would be risky, since I'd have to pick a completely unfamiliar lock in a very short time frame. Maybe it might be best to—"

"What are you doing here?" one of the Rillabooms asked.

"Looks like I got too lost in my own head. Unfortunate." Nero cleared his throat. "I was searching for my quarters, you see," he explained. "I must've taken a wrong turn or two."

The leftmost Rillaboom nodded towards the right, who immediately hoisted Nero up. "I'll take you," he said.

Nero decided not to resist as the Rillaboom carried him like a baby and walked down the hall, to avoid stirring trouble and for no other reason at all. After all, the sun hadn't even fully set yet, so he had plenty of time in the day to make another attempt. No need to get on their bad side, he thought.

And so, after being dropped off at a vacant apartment, Nero stepped inside and began to brainstorm. He probably wasn't going to get such a pleasant escort next time, so he needed a concrete plan to get inside.