"Um… what?" Thomas questioned. His head moved back slightly as his posture stiffened. "Did I hear you correctly?"
"I am the messiah," Andrew repeated plainly.
The Servine now looked very concerned, biting his lip and holding up his hands as if an attacker was trying to punch at his torso. "And uh, why do you think that is, Andrew?"
"It's quite simple, really," Andrew said, still looking stiff and serious. "I've been having these dreams. Basically, Arceus shows up and starts speaking gibberish to me, and I usually brush it off. It's the logical thing to do."
Thomas nodded. "Yes, it is. You shouldn't take anything in your dreams too seriously."
"But just now, he started speaking English. I mean—there was still a little bit of nonsense, but I could understand ninety percent of what he said," he explained with a shrug.
Thomas continued nodding along. His concerned expression had softened slightly, with a skeptical curiosity beginning to shine through.
"It's a little fuzzy, but I remember Arceus told me that I had to fix Grandeport…" he trailed off before taking a moment to stare out past Thomas. He focused on a wall. He momentarily stopped thinking about his experience—or anything at all.
Thomas tilted his head and waved to get his attention. "Andrew?"
The Marshtomp blinked as he was brought back to his senses. "Oh, sorry. Anyway, it's my job to fix Grandeport, which is pretty fitting. I'm the messiah. I was sent by God to make this place a democracy."
"...Are you feeling okay? Why did you come home early?" Thomas interrogated, the curiosity in his eye replaced with a glint of concern. "Did you hit your head?"
Andrew bit his lip, his gaze narrowing. "You don't believe me."
"I believe you've had these dreams, Andrew. I've had my fair share of strange dreams… but they don't mean anything! Dreams are nonsense. If Arceus wants to talk to you, he can come down from the heavens and talk to you while you're awake," Thomas dismissed with a humph.
"But—"
Thomas stuck his snout up. "No buts! Andrew, I don't want to upset you, but you sound crazy when you claim Arceus is talking to you in your dreams."
The Marshtomp began to pout. His lip protruded, and he let out a quiet grunt. "Arceus talked to me. He brought me to the Pokemon world to fix it. You have to trust me."
The Servine sighed. "Look, I don't doubt that." He reached out a vine to curl around Andrew's flipper. "However, that doesn't mean he's talking to you in your dreams. Even if it is—it's best you don't say that."
"Why?"
"Because it makes you sound crazy," Thomas deadpanned. His face was stern, his eyes cold and powerful. The whole room seemed to grow frigid. Andrew felt a chill run down his back just looking at the Servine.
He's cute when he's mean. But it's probably not the time to think about that.
"You aren't going to go around saying you're the messiah, " Thomas ordered, his tone as icy as the room
Andrew relented and put his flippers up. "Fine, I won't."
"Promise?"
" Andrew's crossed his flippers. "I promise. But if he comes down and says I'm the messiah while I'm awake, then I get to."
Thomas smiled before letting out a chuckle. "Of course."
The theater was packed with Pokemon. Every single red, velvet seat that lined the building had been occupied. However, the layout was different from what Andrew had experienced as a human. There was stadium-style seating, with sections reaching higher and higher elevations the further back they were in the chamber.
But as the seats rose higher, they also grew in size. The seats in the front row were tiny, big enough only for Joltiks, Cutieflies, and other Pokemon that made Andrew's small body look giant. The seats in the back of the theater were massive. Even a Kangaskhan would feel small sitting in them.
Maybe they're for Gyarados? Can those guys even walk?
Andrew had the privilege of not having to sit with the 'peasants,' as Charlie had called them, down below. Instead, he and the Raichu sat on a balcony which gave them a bird's eye view of the theater. Andrew held a glass full of some liquid—he wasn't quite sure what it was. It tasted sweet and sugary, with a hint of apple flavor. He was hardly paying attention to what was happening on stage; he took each moment to savor the magnificent drops of the drink as they connected with his tongue through a straw. The liquid flowed into his mouth with a satisfying slurp.
Of course, the rest of the room's attention was turned to the stage, and Charlie was no exception. The Raichu was laser-focused, eyes squinted and a clear look of aggravation on his face.
He turned to Andrew, whispering. "Stop slurping!"
Andrew groaned before placing the glass down.
No play was happening on the stage, nor entertainment of any kind. There were no actors. No comedy, no tragedy, though there was more than enough drama. Upon the stage sat a Cinderace. He rested his paws on an ordinary wooden table.
Crowds of journalists had gathered where the floor dropped several feet, creating a small cavern within the theater where the pit orchestra would usually be set up. Their bodies were mostly obscured, though the occasional head of a Milotic Exeggutor would pop up for the crowd to see.
Though Andrew wasn't paying attention to what the Cinderace was saying, he could hear that his voice was gruff, but also had an air of familiarity to it. It was as though Andrew had heard it a long, long time ago—or at least something similar. It echoed throughout the theater for all to hear. "You, the Raticate, you may ask a question."
"What do you think of the new government's position on Mirage?" asked a squeaky but distinctly male voice.
"Well…" the Cinderace muttered before pausing. "I feel like they've been pretending my father never existed. It's a bit funny you ask that/ For once they're pretending that he doesn't exist instead of me!"
He paused again to let the idea sink in. The crowd softly laughed as the Cinderace gave a content grin.
"That smug fraud! I'll show him!" Charlie said as he made a fist with his paw.
"...But to answer your question, I'm not a fan of it," the Cinderace continued "I think everyone had their fair share of grievances with Mirage, I certainly did. I'm ashamed to say it, but a part of me was happy when I heard of his death. But the fact that this new government—led by Andrew Marshtomp—is sweeping my father's legacy under the rug is disgusting. Mirage kept this city in one piece for six hundred years. That's got to count for something."
Clapping erupted from the audience, some even whistling in support. This only caused Charlie's scowl to grow so large Andrew could see all of his teeth.
The Raichu growled. "Is this guy serious? My Arceus, the nerve! Does this bastard have any idea what he's saying?!"
"Seems a bit hypocritical from the bastard sitting next to me," Andrew commented with a sly grin.
The Raichu grabbed his flipper. "Shut up! This Cinderace going around undermining us affects you too, Andrew. And this is personal for me, because… you know."
"You guys have a club or something?" laughed Andrew.
Charlie gave no response, opting to face the Cinderace again.
"Do you believe that you're the rightful heir to the throne of Grandeport?" another voice from the pit asked.
"I'm the oldest child of the late King Mirage, to my knowledge. Now, I know that I'm only sixty-two, which feels pretty young for a world leader when the last guy was over ten times as old."
The audience broke out in another bout of light laughter, albeit softer.
"It has been our tradition for over a thousand years that the king's oldest child inherits the throne. I believe I am the legitimate leader of this country. The current government leaders are nothing more than usurpers and conspirators who care far more about shutting down guilds than any issues citizens of this nation care about. Let's not forget that tragedy that was the siege upon Western Grandeport happened on the Marshtomp's watch."
"Did he say what I think he just said?" Andrew growled, his stomach sinking and knotting in anger.
Charlie's ears twitched. "Now you understand why I hate this bastard."
"This asshole thinks he can pin a bunch of terrorists trying to murder me… on me?! How dare he!" Andrew spat, his voice getting increasingly louder. "I'm going to kill him, Charlie. I want him to suffer. I want him thrown in jail, I want to give him the Leo treatment!" His flippers began to shake.
The Raichu pushed his flippers down. "Quiet! We're trying to keep a low profile."
Andrew focused on the Cinderace, noticing details he hadn't before. The creature had a rather bulky stature. He had large muscles, looking fairly athletic for his age. His face was wrinkled, and his fur appeared a bit grayer than the average Cinderonce.
"How many other children did Mirage have that the public doesn't know about?" asked a feminine voice.
"Well, uh, I have… I believe that… uh…" he stammered. He scratched his ears before clearing his throat. "I have no reason to believe that Mirage had any other children aside from the heiress to the throne. He was a family man, and was deeply committed to his wife."
The crowd laughed, and Andrew and Charlie joined them.
The Cinderace looked flustered. His ears drooped as his mouth curled into a frown. He stood up from his seat.
"I will not accept this slander of my father! Good men can make mistakes and my father was nothing short of a good man. He was committed to his wife and daughter and mourned the queen's death with the same passion anybody in this room would for their loved ones. It was a tragedy. He loved her, and it's disgusting that you would attempt to question such a thing. Good men make mistakes."
The Cinderace huffed, then sat down.
Andrew put a flipper over his mouth, doing his best not to burst out laughing. Not because he cared about the Cinderace's feelings, but because the theater had fallen into a state of dead silence. The only audible noises were the occasional sneeze or cough from below.
"How do you know Mirage mourned his wife?" asked a strikingly familiar voice from the pit, a voice that was as familiar to Andrew as his own to flippers had become. Just hearing the sound of it soothed him as his body became less tense.
"In your own words, you claimed you hadn't seen Mirage in fifteen years," Thomas pressed further.
Some "oohs" and "aahs" erupted from the audience. Charlie elbowed Andrew playfully. "There's our guy! Never thought I'd say this, but thank Arceus for your boyfriend, Andrew. He's literally the only guy here asking the hard questions."
"He's not my—"
"Don't give me that," interrupted Charlie. "I've seen how you look at him. Plus, how long have you two been living together? It's impossible to live with another Pokemon for that long if you don't love them. Trust me, I know the alternative."
Andrew humphed, crossing his flippers. "Fine. You're right. But keep your goddamn mouth shut."
While the two were bickering, the Cinderace on stage had begun to fume. He shot his paw out at where Thomas presumably was, as the Servine was nowhere near tall enough to be seen outside of the pit.
"How dare you question me about such a thing! Perhaps my father and I had not spoken as much as we could have. You, boy, are somebody's son. As the child of a Pokemon like myself and everyone else in this room—I think we all know that there is a connection harbored with them that doesn't exist between two random Pokemon. I may not have been there to see my father mourn… but…"
The Cinderace stopped, his ears drooping and head falling.
Andrew scowled. "Stupid faker, he doesn't care at all—I bet he's a theater kid. I hate theater kids!"
"...But it does not matter! I knew my father, and I could feel his sadness in my very bones. I can say with full confidence that if my father, the late King Mirage of Grandeport, had not mourned the death of his beloved queen, we could not trust in anything. We would not be able to say for sure that the sky is blue!"
The faint sound of thunder booming echoed outside the theater.
Every Pokemon below got up from their seats and began clapping like they had just witnessed the greatest show in Grandeport's history. The noise was deafening. It seemed everyone capable of making any sound at all, whether it be clapping, banging, or hollering, was doing it all in harmony.
…Everyone but Andrew, Charlie, and Thomas.
Charlie stood up from his seat and began to murmur. "I can't take this anymore. This man… My half-brother is insufferable. I'm leaving."
There was a flash of neon blue light, and a faint scent of smoke. The Raichu disappeared in barely a second.
"Yeah, I'm also gonna go. I think we've gotten all the useful information we're going to get out of this guy," Andrew said.
He got up, letting out a sigh. "But sure, don't wait for me!"
The Marshtomp trudged his way out from the balcony, tuning out the ramblings of the Cinderace and the cheers and laughs that succeeded them.
A deck of cards lay on Andrew's office desk, next to a delicately stacked house of cards. The structure was three layers tall. He could feel its subtle, steady vibrations with his head fin, the shifting just enough to make him anxious, but not enough to bring the structure down.
It's been a productive morning, he mused. Probably about time to get some lunch. Maybe I can finally get them to make pizza. Surely there's one of those giant ovens in this place somewhere.
Andrew slowly pushed his swivel chair away from his desk, then climbed down with precision and care more than he had displayed at any other point in his life. His toes touched the ground with barely a tap.
"Phew."
His stomach light growled. The Marshtomp rolled his eyes at the sound as he slowly made his way to his office door. "I really miss pizza."
Suddenly, vibrations assaulted his head fin. The sensation overwhelmed and fought him like a rabid animal pouncing. His flippers shot up to clutch it in a desperate attempt to quell the unforeseen pain.
And as quickly as it came, it ceased.
Andrew brushed his fin before letting his flippers fall back to his sides. Without a second thought, he grabbed the door handle. But as he lay his fingers on it…
…Rumbling.
It was very minimal, barely enough to be considered a tremor. Andrew's heart skipped a beat. He whipped his gaze toward his desk just in time to see his house of cards fall into a messy pile.
His flippers shot up to his gills as he let out a loud, dramatic, "Noooooooooooooooooo!"
As if the day couldn't get any worse, the door then burst open behind Andrew. The Marshtomp was still standing up against it. The metal handle not only connected with his chest but slammed and dug into it full force.
"Damnit!" Andrew cried out as he stumbled back. One of his feet failed to connect with the floor, then the other, causing him to fall to the ground with a dull thump.
Charlie approached him, a look of surprise on his face, before holding out a paw. "Sorry, Andrew. Are you alright?"
He lay still for a moment before reaching for and grabbing Charlie's paw. As the Raichu helped pull him up, Andrew gave him an annoyed—but uncharacteristically sympathetic, look.
"What was that about?" the Marshtomp asked.
"We have a bit of a situation… again."
Andrew furrowed his brow. "What do you mean by again?"
"Remember that Cinderace from the theater? Think he's called James or something," Charlie whispered, a low, electric cackling beginning to come from him.
"How could I forget?" Andrew uttered, putting a flipper on his forehead. "Let me guess. He's standing right behind me, isn't he?"
Charlie took a step back. "What? No—how would that even be possible?"
"It just seemed like that was what you were trying to set up—"
"He's outside, Andrew, with a whole bunch of weirdos. It's the Leo situation all over again," Charlie interrupted. The Raichu grabbed Andrew's torso before he could react. "Here, let me show you."
The world blurred around him. The colors around him shifted and changed in rapid succession—red, green, yellow, light gray. They were going upstairs, or so he thought. It was hard to tell. His insides flipped upside down and back again, his entire world spinning like the wheel of a runaway wagon.
Charlie finally stopped and released him. Andrew stumbled for a moment, before catching himself against a wall and stabilizing. "I'm scared to look."
They found themselves in a familiar room. It was the same front-facing one from which they had viewed the Resistance's raid on the castle before they broke in. Andrew gulped as his heart began to beat twice as fast as usual. He could barely breathe.
Below was a crowd of Pokemon amassed near the entrance. It wasn't nearly as large as the one Leo and the Resistance commanded, composed of a modest one or two hundred Pokemon. Also in stark contrast to the Resistance, all the Pokemon appeared to be adults, no middle or first-stage evolution Pokemon to be found. In fact, most of the Pokemon looked much older than the usual protestor, their features worn with age.
"Jeez, he must have got all his buddies from the retirement home to be here," Charlie commented, eliciting a slight chuckle from Andrew.
The Marshtomp scratched the back of his head. "Are they going to…"
"No idea. They haven't attacked the guards, and we have the foyer packed with police if they do try anything funny. But these guys are a bit old to be attacking freshly hired officers."
The two of them continued looking down at the gathering t. James Cinderace stood in the center of the crowd, talking with a Steelix who towered well above all of the other Pokemon.
There was little movement, with the Pokemon primarily seeming to mingle with each other, much like James. Andrew scratched the back of his head again, underwhelmed.
"So are they gonna try to break in or something?"
Charlie shrugged. "I hope not. I'm not complaining if this group turns out to be more docile than the last."
"Should we like… send someone out there to figure out what they want?" he asked, fiddling with his gill.
"Yeah, probably…" Charlie said. His ears twitched before he let out a low gasp. He moved his view toward the window, pressing his face up against it. "Crap! We aren't having a repeat of last time, let's go down there and shoo them away."
Charlie grabbed onto Andrew. He felt his insides dance yet again as he was dragged away, colors flashing and the world spinning, sensations he found himself less and less affected by with each jump into lightning-fast speeds.
He could feel that they were descending. The brown of the castle's oversized stairs filled his vision as well as the blurriness of a foyer packed with officers. Charlie skidded to a halt at the bottom of the stairs.
The room was packed, as though every police officer in the city had suddenly materialized. Andrew hoped that wasn't the case.
Upon releasing the Marshtomp, Charlie cupped his paws and pressed them against his snout.
"Let us out!" he yelled with a tone lacking any courtesy or patience.
The sea of Pokemon began to part. Officers of every shape, size, and stage of evolution—only unified by their shared bearing of green bandanas—quickly formed a narrow path for Andrew and Charlie to escape the densely packed chamber.
It was hardly elegant, with the occasional officer sticking out a bit too far, or even remaining in the middle of the path. Such was the case with an Aggron. The Pokemon remained in the center, much to Andrew's bafflement, a look of exasperation on his face. Upon approaching, Charlie let out a loud, exaggerated cough.
The Aggron quickly realized his mistake. He ran straight into the packed space of officers beside him, trampling a Pikachu and Pignite in the process.
"Truly our finest," Andrew whispered to Charlie as they passed.
The Raichu gave him a light bump on the shoulder. "They're only here to protect your sorry ass in case the geriatric brigade breaks in. Whatever happened to last week's care for the people of Western Grandeport' Andrew?"
"Shut up," he mouthed before rolling his eyes.
The ginormous doors in front of them slowly began to creak open. They made the Aggron look small in comparison, naturally, the officers were quick to get out of its way and avoid getting thwacked in the face.
Andrew and Charlie exited the building, the Marshtomp feeling the dirt beneath his small feet. He took a deep breath in… and out, and one more for good measure. A small wave of calm washed over him.
"Damn, these guys really are old," Andrew said in what he thought was a quiet voice to Charlie, but the disapproving scowls and grunts of the Pokemon in front of him told him otherwise.
"It appears you've arrived! Sorry to bother you on such a fine winter's day!" called out the voice of James Cinderace. The Pokemon then squeezed through the crowd, the tips of his ears darting between Pokemon. Finally, an Azumarill moved to reveal Mirage's other son in all his tall-eared glory.
Andrew yawned. "Who are you and why are you at my office?"
"You haven't heard about me in the papers?" he asked, brandishing a smirk.
For some reason—maybe it was the tone, maybe it was the Cinderace's smug face, or maybe it was some other unknowable force, but this statement struck quite the nerve with Andrew. He put on an all-too-wide smile. It was an expression that if examined closely, was mockingly insincere.
"What papers?"
The Cinderace laughed. "Quite the jokester, young Marshtomp. But I do believe you have some idea of who I am, judging by the fact that you're spending your precious time speaking with me."
Charlie stepped forward, getting in between James and Andrew. "Andrew doesn't know anything. You have no right to be here."
"That's not true," Andrew began. "I know some—" The Cinderace stood tall, glaring down at Charlie. "No right? It is my ancestral duty to lead this country in this very castle! Grandeport Castle—they say King Stormus built it with his bare paws! And to think the Marshtomp standing behind you sees it as nothing more than an office! Despicable!"
"Oh, my god," Andrew groaned. "Who let this Sondheim reject in my sight?" He whipped around, facing the Bisharp guards and police officers who spectated the interaction. "Aren't you guys supposed to keep these idiots from forming mobs?"
"We are not a mob!" bellowed James. "We are a gathering of citizens concerned about the wellbeing of our country."
Charlie threw his paws over his face. "Oh my Arceus…"
Andrew turned back to James, making sure to kick up as much dirt and dust as he could. "Go away! Mirage kicked the bucket months ago! Maybe if he actually wanted you he would've kept you around…"
"What did you just say to me, child?" James growled as he lurched forward. He bent his knees and lowered his head so he was almost down to Andrew's level. He was close, uncomfortably so. Andrew could feel the Cinderace's sharp breaths as a fire lit within his gaze.
Andrew rolled his eyes. "Mirage made me chief of police. I probably interacted with him more than you in the couple of months I was around him. I knew him better than you ever did in your ten-thousand-year life."
"...And he appointed me to the council. The old man must have really not liked you, Jamesy," taunted Charlie.
James' face turned a deep red which burned like fire under his snow-white fur. His calm and smug demeanor had faded to reveal a seething man with shaking fists and plumes of smoke rising from his nose.
"I'll show you!" he shouted, before turning and throwing his arm forward, attempting a punch at Charlie.
His fist ignited as it flew toward the Raichu. Unfortunately for James, he dodged effortlessly, only needing to take a few steps back for James' punch to strike only the air.
Before the Cinderace even realized what was happening, several Bisharp guards dashed toward him. Four one-hundred-and-fifty-pound Bisharps jumped in unison, tackling James to the ground.
The Cinderace kicked his legs with all his might and yelled at the top of his lungs. "Unhand me! Unhand me! I am the true heir! You're supposed to serve me!"
The Bisharps did not listen or respond, managing to pin James' arms behind his back and drag him to his feet. Andrew raised his flipper and moved his fingers in such a way so as to create a rather obscene gesture. James averted his gaze before he could confirm the message the Marshtomp was sending.
"You stupid child! You'll have your comeuppance, do you understand?"
Andrew simply laughed. He even thought he could see one of the Bisharp's faces contort into the faintest of smiles. A single cloud rolled in overhead—though maybe it was all in his head.
"They let Cinderace out of jail. Didn't even give him a trial."
"What?!" Andrew snapped, his mouth agape. "How is that even possible?"
Charlie grumbled, his ears twitching. "Not sure how exactly. Obviously, he has some connections somewhere, probably some covert monarchists within the police."
Are they going to try to kill me? …Is Charlie one of them?! he thought as his heartbeat grew faster. I mean, it makes sense James would, being Mirage's other illegal kid. Or maybe he's using me, but then why hasn't he killed me? Am I already dead?
The two Pokemon were walking down an unfamiliar part of Grandeport. It was night. The air was cold and frigid, a cloud of breath leaving Andrew's mouth whenever he opened it. The moon hung high in a crescent form, illuminating the otherwise dim streets of Grandeport.
They approached a short, wooden building. Light beamed out its large windows as the silhouettes of Pokemon crept across them. A door stood between two of the windows with a sign overhead with small, red text reading: 'The Flying Tepig.'
Laughter from inside seeped out. Charlie narrowed his eyes, scanning the Marshtomp over.
"Are you old enough to go inside of a bar?"
He scowled. "Why are we going inside of a bar?"
"Answer my question."
Andrew stomped a foot as though punishing the ground. "I'm the president! I can go where I want, goddamnit!"
"Eh, fine. But I'm only letting you go in to keep me company," Charlie relented before pushing the door open. He stepped through the door with Andrew close behind.
Andrew hardly had time to take in the sights of the bar as Charlie pulled him along. Tables and chairs were scattered across the room, occupied by Pokemon happily drinking and laughing, mugs and shot glasses in hand, paw, or wing. The lighting was warm, but not too bright so as to blind customers.
Each seat along the bar counter was occupied. Toward the center sat a tall, purple Pokemon. Her back was toward Andrew, with the only notable feature the Marshtomp could see being a wispy blue flame arising from her head, resembling a ponytail. Charlie strolled up to her.
Andrew stood back, finding himself frozen in place. Charlie by contrast walked up and tapped the Pokemon's shoulder. "Cecilia? Cecilia Ceruledge?"
The Pokemon turned to face Charlie, revealing her armored, smoldering, almost vaporous form. Andrew immediately noticed her sword-like arms. Behind her was a drink, half empty. How does she drink from a glass with arms like that?
"Hi there! Yep, that's me, do ya need something?" she asked with a cheery demeanor.
"I was wondering if I could get a commission?" Charlie whispered, looking side to side as he uttered the words.
"Of course!" she enthused, raising her voice even louder with no attempt at subtlety. "Who would you like me to kill? Arch rival? Mortal enemy? Government official? Ex-lover…?"
"None of that. James Cinderace, ever heard of him?"
Cecilia placed a blade on her cheek. "Hmm… That does sound familiar! Yeah, I think I went to one of his shows. You want me to douse his flame?" She then laughed.
"Something like that," Charlie said before tossing a large, brown pouch onto the countertop.
Cecilia inspected the bag, picking it up, tossing it, and even brushing the material against her skin. "I think this will do for one hit. Consider a deal, Mister—"
"We were never here," he interrupted, a serious look in his eye.
"We?" the Ceruledge questioned. She looked over to see Andrew, who gave her an awkward wave. She reciprocated, barely missing the head of a nearby Venusaur while doing so.
A sinking feeling overtook Andrew. He could feel his legs beginning to become one with the rough wooden floor below. "K-Killing? For real? Please not again…"
AN: Andrew feeling some sense of remorse? After wanting to kill someone? Odd, isn't it? Regardless, I hope this chapter was a fun one.
Now, I've been updating DIM once every two weeks for almost a year and a half. I enjoy writing it, and I do intend to keep this schedule, but I've been feeling burnout beginning to creep up on me as of late. To prevent myself from having a full burnout where I am incapable of writing for an extended period of time, I'm going to take a two week break after this chapter is uploaded. That should give me enough time to recharge and come back excited to write.
With that out of the way, thank you to Zee102, DaGamestar, Sonic Ramon, and DoomHuntley. Feedback is always appreciated!
See you in September!