The encampment surrounding Grandeport Castle had nearly cleared entirely. There were still a few lone tents dotting the now matted, grassy fields, and the occasional Pokemon wandering the castle grounds. Andrew had become one of those Pokemon.
The Marshtomp paced the castle's massive perimeter, muttering incessantly to himself. "They think they can kick me out? They suck, they're the worst. I hate them! I'm in danger, I deserve to be let inside. I'm the president. I have a right to my office.
He rounded the castle's right wall, the structure's main entrance straight ahead. He could see two fuzzy dots in the distance, one blue and the other auburn.
Stupid guards, Andrew groaned internally. When have they ever guarded anything? Couldn't stop the Resistance from trying to kill me. Couldn't stop them… that's right…!
A newfound sense of excitement overcame Andrew. He felt more awake and more alive, adrenaline rushing through his veins. With a smile, he strutted across the field and over to the entrance.
Who cares about stupid Eugene? I bet he's too stupid to know if I'm in the building. I'll bet he doesn't even know where my office is. It doesn't matter if he tries to kill me if he doesn't know where I am. What an idiot. He's so dumb.
Once the Marshtimp was about fifty feet away, the Vulpix and the Riolu craned their heads, their eyes locking onto him. They observed with oddly neutral expressions, as though he were just another Pokemon passing by.
Andrew soon approached the entrance, turning to the Vulpix. "I'd like to go inside."
She maintained a stoic expression, her ear flicking in agitation. "No."
"Excuse me?" said Andrew, narrowing his eyes.
The Riolu ran over from the other side of the gate. He skidded to a halt, small patches of dirt flying up from underneath his feet. He puffed out his chest and crossed his arms.
"I'm sorry, Mister Andrew, but we're under very strict orders not to let you in," the canine insisted. As he spoke his voice became lower and gravelly, like an attempted mimicry of Eugene's. "...Under any circumstances, unless you want to face dire consequences."
"It's nothing personal," the Vulpix continued, shaking her head. "But you should go."
Andrew grumbled. "I'd like to go… into the castle."
"You can't go in there," the Riolu huffed.
Andrew balled his fingers into fists. "And who's going to stop me?!"
"Us," the Riolu growled before holding up fists and punching the air several times.
The Vulpix rolled her eyes. "Andrew, even if you somehow beat us in a fight, the door wouldn't open. We have to be conscious to make that happen."
"I know that," Andrew humphed. "But in a hypothetical fight in which both of you were trying to kill me, I'd totally kick your asses."
"Nuh uh," the Riolu shot back.
Andrew pointed a finger in the canine's face. "You wanna fight? Because I'll have you know that I took down an Ampharos all by myself the other day!"
"I bet you I could take a Marshtomp down–"
The Vulpix stomped both of her hind legs on the ground. "Would both of you stop it?!"
"He started it!" the two Pokemon shouted simultaneously, pointing at each other.
The Vulpix forced herself between the two Pokemon. She looked up at Andrew, staring him dead in the eyes. "Go home, Andrew. If you don't leave, I'm going to get the Bisharp guards. They aren't too friendly with trespassers."
"I'm not a trespasser, I work here," the Marshtomp asserted.
"GO!" the Vulpix shouted.
Andrew let out a long, exaggerated groan. He again began to pace the castle wall again, continuing his loop around the building.
The air felt a bit warmer that day. Winter was beginning to wane, struggling to hold its chilling grip around Grandeport. But for the time being, the air was still cold and Andrew felt exposed and freezing without his cloak.
"S-Stupid goddamn castle."
He rounded the left wall, pacing along the back of the castle. Oddly enough, he noticed that there were no windows at ground level. Or at least what appeared as ground level to him. The windows were at least ten feet too high for the Marshtomp to reach.
Andrew stopped when he was halfway down the back wall.
How can I break in?
He grimaced as he wracked his mind, using every ounce of his brain power to come up with some solution to his predicament.
Maybe I could climb up the wall and open the window from the outside. They'd never see that coming.
However, upon inspecting the wall, he quickly realized the genius plan would not be possible. Despite wear and tear from centuries of holding the castle together, the stones were largely flat and lacked any crevices large enough for him to grip.
Upon inspecting his flippers, the Marshtomp saw that his wide, flat fingers had no nails or claws to dig into the stone. Their slippery texture would not help either.
"This is a bit of a situation," Andrew sighed.
He continued his journey along the wall, closely watching for anything that might allow him entry. But upon reaching the end of the back wall, he found nothing. Andrew found himself walking to the right side of the castle again.
His heart began to beat faster, and an ache pulsed through his stomach. What are they gonna do if they see me again? Will they try to kill me? Why does everyone try to kill me?! It's not fair! I did nothing wrong… except kill Chloe. But she wanted to die, right? I couldn't not kill her, that would have been rude. What was I thinking about again?
He stared at the wall, diligently taking note of the lack of doors or windows he could exploit.
Oh, right.
There was nothing particularly notable about the castle's right wall, like with the others. The Marshtomp's legs began to quake. His eyelids grew heavy, the sheer boredom he put himself through giving his body no motivation to push forward.
Gotta… get… inside…
His body would not comply. The damp grass beneath him was soft and inviting. It was perfect for an afternoon nap. No amount of willpower he could muster was enough to stop himself from flopping onto the ground and rolling over onto his back. He let out a sigh.
"Goddamnit," he muttered as his eyelids fell shut.
However, sleep would not overtake him. It was still winter, the cold air showing no sign of letting up. And the grass, while soft, still paled in comparison to the comfort of his pillow. He lay in silence for some time. There was a gentle breeze, causing him to shiver, but otherwise no other noise.
That was until he heard footsteps.
They sounded almost… metallic, like a soldier marching in a suit of armor. The sound came at a rhythmic pace without slowing or speeding up. The only difference is that it grew louder and louder.
I should probably open my eyes, shouldn't I?
When he opened them, he was not looking at the bright blue sky into the brilliant sun. Instead, the Marshtomp stared directly into the cold, black eyes of a lone Bisharp.
Goddamnit.
The creature leaned over, his head a couple of feet above him. Before Andrew could get up, the Bisharp disappeared from his line of sight. Shortly thereafter, Andrew felt a hard, cool grip around his waist.
The feeling tightened as Andrew's perspective shifted and twisted against his will. He was rising. He looked down to see the Bisharp's claws wrapped around his waist. Their blades were not drawn not drawn.
"Uh, can you put me down?" asked Andrew.
As per usual, the guard gave him no response.
They began the same metallic, mechanical stride again. The Bisharp marched the perimeter of the wall and quickly reached its end, turning the corner to the front of the castle. Andrew recognized a blue and auburn dot making their way closer to him.
The Riolu and Vulpix stopped when they were a mere ten feet from Andrew and the Bisharp. They both started laughing hysterically.
"Oh my," she wheezed. "Oh my Arceus! O-One of his g-guards" the Vulpix cried out, falling onto the grass as she convulsed with laughter.
Andrew raised a certain finger in response to the two Pokemon laughing, but doing so only made their howls louder.
Not joining in on their reveling, the Bisharp made his way past them and across the field. They approached the forest between civilization and Grandeport Castle, the Bisharp walking without pause onto the dirt path into the woods.
"Alright, we left the castle. You can let me go, now," the Marsthomp said with a worried frown.
The Bisharp did not respond.
"Look, I promise I won't try to go back. Those stupid guards wouldn't let me in if I tried, anyway. This is already embarrassing enough. Just put me down, man. I have legs. I'll walk the rest of the way."
The Bisharp did not respond.
"I'm still the president, you know! I could probably have like… something really bad happened to you. And your family. Especially your family!"Andrew spat, his tone harsh and his face red with fury. Do Bisharps even have families? Where do you guys even come from, I haven't seen a Bisharp who wasn't a guard. Are you guys slaves or something?"
The Bisharp did not respond.
"Ugh, fine," Andrew groaned. "But if you give me even a single cut, I'm going to kill you."
Their trek through the woods was brief. The Bisharp veered off the dirt path and onto the cobblestone streets. Since the road was at the edge of the city, there were hardly any Pokemon to gawk at Andrew being carried like an infant by the Bisharp.
"If you're going to take me through here, you better not be planning on taking me through the main square."
But as they journeyed deeper into the city, Pokemon became more plentiful. A group comprised of an Eevee, a Charmander, and an oddish stopped in their tracks to stare at Andrew. A Slowking chatting with Mr. Mime stopped their conversation to look at him as well and whisper about him.
Andrew grumbled. "Goddamnit, you're embarrassing me!"
So too did nearly every other Pokemon they passed, stopping whatever they were doing to take a moment to look on in bewilderment at the sight unfolding.
As they got deeper into the city, the shops and streets were lively with shops and bakeries lining the street. Andrew knew where they were.
We're going to the square, aren't we?
The Bisharp turned a corner and the Pokemon occupying the street grew exponentially. The square was directly before them.
"God fucking damnit," Andrew uttered to the Bisharp. "You might as well just put me out of my misery already. It'll be better than having everyone stare at me. They'll probably start a coup and oust me on the spot."
But this time the attention was not on Andrew. In fact, no Pokemon drew their eyes away from something ahead. It was as if everyone had been put into a trance.
The Bisharp marched onward, revealing the square in all its chaotic glory. Occupying either end were two groups of Pokemon. Andrew was unable to make out what each side was saying, recognizing some unintelligible chants. It had all devolved into incoherent yells and screams.
Fire—quite literally—was exchanged between the two sides. The Marshtomp noticed a few dolls of himself suspended on tall, wooden poles held by the protesters on square's the left side. Fireballs from the right flew over and set one of them ablaze.
Do those guys hate me? Or did the guys who set me on fire hate me? Ugh.
Despite the show of discontent and anger toward Andrew, he felt a strange sense of apathy. The Marshtomp couldn't muster a snide comment or even an eye roll at the two groups of Pokemon about to engage in a full-out battle.
"I've lost track of how many times I've seen these protests. Protests, more like riots. Yeah, that's probably a better way to describe them… Anyway, I've lost track of how many of them I've seen. It's just like, what's even the point? What are they even achieving by fighting each other?"
The Bisharp offered no explanation. He walked at the same rhythmic pace, not slowing even as Pokemon desperately scampered by to separate themselves from the soon-to-be riot.
Andrew noticed that the Bisharp had not changed course. It was mechanically, but still very much purposefully walking straight through the center of the square, destined to meet with the fighting Pokemon.
"What are you doing?" Andrew yelled. "Are you crazy? You're gonna get me killed!"
The two crowds were barely separated by a group of police. The rioters pushed further and further, cramming the police into an increasingly small space.
Andrew twisted his head back to look the Bisharp in the eyes. "Dude, I've seen this before! The police won't be able to hold them back and they're going to start fighting! Turn around or let me go!"
The Bisharp kept moving forward.
Andrew began to struggle, wriggling in the Bisharp's iron-clad grasp. While he was able to move the upper part of his torso with relative ease, everything beneath his stomach was held in place.
"Let me go!" he yelled again.
But they only grew closer to the crowd. The Bisharp didn't seem to notice or care what Andrew thought. The Marshtomp continued pleading. He tried to pull the Bisharp's claw off his skin, but it wouldn't budge.
Why? Why?! Why is this idiot so stupid?!"
As if the matter could not get any worse, when they were about twenty feet away from entering the small pass between the crowds, the gap closed. The police were swallowed whole as each crowd rushed forward and merged with the other into an amalgamation of chaos. There were no coherent sounds—not a single sensical voice.
Punches, kicks, fire, water, leaves, mud, purple gas, lightning, ear-piercing screeches, and waves of color unknown to Andrew followed. It was pure madness.
A Pikachu was flung out of the horde from a height well above Andrew's eyeline. They hit the ground with a violent thud, sparks flying from their cheeks as they let out a pained moan. But after merely a second of lying on the street, they hopped back up and scampered back into the fray.
The Bisharp finally stopped.
They were only ten feet away, mere steps from being swallowed by the beast. The guard stared at the fighting, his claws constricting Andrew ever so slightly more.
"Are we going to turn around?" Andrew asked hopefully.
After a few moments of observation, the Bisharp began moving forward once more.
The Marshtomp began to holler in desperation. "What are you doing?! I don't deserve to die, you're an idiot! Why the hell did they even enslave you if you were just going to kill me?! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"
His cries would fall on deaf ears, or rather bouncing off the guard's metal head … the crowd was mere feet away.
Then mere inches.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, Andrew could no longer hear his own insults, even though he could feel the sounds leaving his larynx. Everything was a blur. The only solid color he could make out was the shining white of the Bisharp's claws. Everything else appeared to be an ever-moving rainbow, a quilt of colors jumbling and dancing, shrinking and spinning, thrashing and hacking.
The noise was even worse. It was so loud and muffled that it might as well have been silent. There was no difference. Andrew couldn't tell if he was being assaulted by sound or if the square was in dead silence.
He shut his eyes, his mind erratic as he tried to think during the chaos.
Goddamnit goddamnit goddamnit!
He kept his eyes closed until everything stopped. He opened his eyes to find himself—or rather the Bisharp—exiting Grandeport Square and walking onto a crowded street. The Marshtomp let out a deep sigh, falling almost limp with exasperation in the humanoid's grasp.
The rest of the walk was uneventful. The Bisharp continued his slow, steady march down the street. The chaos of the square gave way to the familiar, less dense neighborhoodsEventually they were in Andrew's neighborhood, the Marshtomp relieved to see the large, multistory houses occupying spacious green plots.
"How do you even know where I live?" Andrew asked. "Are you stalking me?"
There was, of course, no response.
The Bisharp approached Andrew's house, thumping up the steps and onto the front porch. Carefully, he placed the Marshtomp on the ground. Upon touching down, the sensation of meeting land felt almost new and alien to him, needing a moment to move around to make sure his legs still worked.
The Bisharp raised his claw, balled it into a metallic fist, and gave two, sturdy knocks on the door.
"Coming!" came a familiar voice from inside.
The Bisharp turned around. He didn't so much as make eye contact with Andrew as he walked away and back down the street.
Goddamn weirdo.
The door opened.
"Hello, Andrew!" said Thomas cheerily. "You're back early."
Andrew looked back at the Bisharp, who was already halfway down the road. "I wasn't supposed to be."
"You weren't?"
Andrew shook his head before letting out a sigh. "I'll explain inside."
Thomas nodded, moving out of the doorway to allow Andrew into the house.
The kitchen table was a mess, a far cry from what Andrew was used to seeing. Papers were strewn across the table, blanketing it in white. Near Thomas' chair was a quill resting in a small jar of black ink. Beside it was a written-on piece of paper, its ink yet to dry.
"Oh, sorry about the mess," Thomas apologized, his cheeks reddening slightly as they approached the clutter.
Andrew studied the table and shrugged. "No need to apologize, I'm usually not around this time of day. At least you're actually doing your job."
"To be fair, my bosses aren't currently keeping me from doing my job."
The Marshtomp snorted. "I wish I could say the same."
"So… what were you saying earlier?" questioned Thomas.
"Right. I know Eugene told me I shouldn't go back to the castle or he'd kill me or something. I forget what he said exactly, but he's a big coward so I didn't believe him."
Thomas nodded attentively. He sat down in his chair before picking the quill up and beginning to write on a fresh sheet of paper.
"So, I went to the castle gate," Andrew continued. "Do you remember those two guards there?"
"Vaguely."
Andrew frowned. "As soon as I got to the gate, they started lying to me. They claimed that they weren't allowed to let me inside. Then they said those banned from the castle would be murdered. It was madness! The Riolu had a goddamn cheese grater he threatened to skin me alive with if I didn't leave."
Thomas looked up from his paper. "That is… rather strange."
"I know, weird times we're in. Anyways, I'm not a stupid idiot coward like Eugene, so I didn't back down. I told them I would fight every Pokemon in the castle in a battle if it meant getting back to my office. They really didn't like that. I guess they underestimated me because I could tell they were afraid after I said that. I threatened to beat them up if they didn't let me in, which caused them to run away crying like babies," said Andrew confidently and with a smile, balling his flipper into a fist.
The Servine had gone back to writing, carefully scribbling more words. "They aren't very effective guards if they run at the first sign of a challenge… even if that challenge is you…"
"Unfortunately, I had no way of opening the gate because I don't breathe fire. At least—I don't think I do," Andrew explained as he rubbed his chin, or rather the spot where his chin would be, in contemplation.
Thomas put his quill down. "Andrew, water types don't breathe fire."
"Goddamnit," he murmured. "Doesn't matter, though. I've always been more of a water guy. But it meant I couldn't get that door open, so I stood around trying to figure out how to get inside. And you won't believe what happened next. Those two cowards came with at least twenty Bisharps. If I didn't leave, they'd have the Bisharps skin me alive. And the Riolu would join in with the cheese grater!"
Thomas' eyes widened. "Twenty Bisharp guards? I've only ever seen that many… Well, I can't remember the last time I saw more than four of them. Are you really that big of a threat?" The Servine chuckled skeptically.
Andrew's brow narrowed, a deathly serious look on his face. "Yes. I am a threat. To them, anyone who fights for freedom and democracy is a threat."
"Fair enough. What did you do next?"
Andrew bore a sheepish grin. "I'm not a coward like those guards. But, I'm smart enough to know fighting twenty Bisharps probably wasn't a good idea. Don't get me wrong, I'd kill at least a few of them, though not enough to make it worth my effort."
"So you ran away," Thomas said with a smirk.
I did run away… Exactly!
"Running away might be downplaying it. I ran, but not all the way back here. But I ran long enough to lose most of them in the epic chase, dodging blades and fireballs and cheese graters," the Marshtomp explained, crossing his flippers.
Thomas got up from his seat and began to corral the papers on the table into a neat stack. His vine stretched and grabbed onto one of them, sliding it below his small leafy hands and adding it to the pile.
"Right… I believe that all happened. But what I'm most concerned about is that they're enforcing your ban from the castle."
Andrew scratched his head fin. "That's one way of looking at it. But I know the council, and they're all cowards. I doubt they'll actually fire me from being president over a small hiccup like the Chloe incident."
"Small hiccup?" Thomas asked with a hint of shock in his voice, shooting a disapproving look at Andrew.
He held up his flippers. "Alright, maybe it was a little worse than that, but we all have our low moments. I'll have everything sorted out in a few weeks with Charlie, and he'll talk Felicia into letting me back in the castle. We'll sweep this under the rug like nothing ever happened. Chloe killed herself! Chloe never existed! What is there to charge me with, what crime? What day? There's nothing, nothing!" Andrew yelled with a psychotic twinge to his words.
Thomas reeled back at the sight of Andrew. His fingers were wrapped around his gills and his face had contorted into a synthetic, unnaturally wide grin.
"Andrew," Thomas spoke softly as he reached a vine out. "I'm really worried about you. I can tell that his whole incident with Chloe has been… stressful for you."
"What? Stressful? I'm fiiiine!" Andrew tried to reassure, although unconvincingly.
Thomas' vine snaked its way onto Andrew's shoulder, resting on it. "I know you enjoy your job as president. I like my job too, but I don't believe that you are fine after seeing your colleague die. That's traumatic and you didn't deserve to go through it."
"Thomas, I'll survive," Andrew muttered, his grin fading.
His vine gently caressed Andrew's shoulder. "I don't just want you to survive, I want you to be happy!"
The Marshtomp exhaled as Thomas' touch provided some comfort, suppressing the unhinged feelings deep in his stomach. "Who says I'm not happy?"
"Everything's falling apart and you're pretending it isn't! Andrew, it's over. Charlie wants nothing to do with you and the rest of the council hates your guts. The public thinks you're a murderer who pushed an innocent girl out of a window. I know you know this. Somewhere inside of you, you know that you aren't getting out of this one. This is too much. You can't kill Pokemon!" Thomas yelled, withdrawing his vine off Andrew's shoulder.
Andrew stared at the floor. The comfort his partner's touch had brought disappeared, replaced with a bubbling feeling of dread and guilt.
"Maybe I can't get out of this one…"
"You can't."
He slowly raised his head to meet Thomas' gaze. "But I should at least try."
"Andrew, I love you, but enough Pokemon have gotten hurt. Please, stop," Thomas pleaded, his eyes becoming glossy.
The Marshtomp shook his head violently. "H-How can I stop now?! What do I have to lose? Charlie's gone, Chloe's dead, Jason's god-knows-where!"
"Yes but–"
"My reputation's in the gutter," Andrew interrupted, clasping the sides of his head. "And I lost my humanity a long time ago. What do I even have left to lose?"
Thomas looked him in the eye, his mouth agape with shock. He offered no immediate response, but a look of pain in his eyes betrayed one at the edge of his mind. The Servine looked down, his expression turning bleak.
"...Me."
Oh...
…
Goddamnit.
Andrew was at a loss for words. He opened his mouth, trying to force out some sort of vocalization to fix the situation, but quickly found himself unable to do so.
Thomas burst into tears. The Servine slinked off the chair and stumbled toward Andrew, extending his vines and wailing in despair. He wrapped them several times around the Marshtomp, constricting him in a tight hug.
Thomas buried his snout in Andrew's shoulder as rivers flowed down his face. Andrew tried to raise his flippers to hug Thomas back, but they would not budge under the tight grasp of the vines. Instead, he opted to slump his head against Thomas'.
"I… I don't want to lose you!" Thomas sobbed, his crying not letting up.
You stupid idiot, said a harsh voice in the back of Andrew's mind. You made the only person in the world who cares about you cry. Great job, you piece of garbage. You should be crying, not him. You're horrible. I despise you.
Even with Thomas' heartbreaking display of misery, Andrew couldn't bring himself to give a similar demonstration. He tried to make a tear appear in his eye but to no avail.
Thomas eventually let go. He stepped back, sniffling, before straightening his posture and regaining his composure. However, his eyes were left bloodshot and weary.
"...I'm sorry," Andrew murmured.
Thomas nervously twirled his foot on the ground. "I'm sorry for getting so emotional. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. You're under enough stress already."
"I was being stupid. What was I even thinking, listing off everyone who's left my life but somehow forgetting the person who stuck by me? I'm a horrible person, Thomas. And an even worse Pokemon," Andrew conceded with a sigh.
Thomas held up his hands. "No, don't say that. I'll admit, you're not perfect, maybe even a little less perfect than I thought you were when we first met. But you're still my partner, Andrew. I'll always love you."
"I'm a murderer. I killed Chloe—even though I didn't mean to. I didn't think she would die when I pushed her. But it doesn't matter if I planned the whole thing out or if I did it on a whim. She's still dead. How can you love someone who did that?" questioned Andrew, his stomach churning, boiling with remorse.
The Servine sighed. "We've all had our low moments. What matters is that we learn from our mistakes instead of repeating them."
"I promise not to kill anyone else."
Thomas smirked. "Good."
Andrew took a deep breath. There was a more stable, sincere look on his face, one far more lucid than usual. "Thank you, Thomas, for being there for me. I know I'm a lot sometimes, but I can be better. And you know what? I'm done being president! If these people all hate me just because I'm different from them–"
"I don't think that's why they hate you," his partner interjected.
"...It doesn't matter why. To hell with them!"
Thomas brought his vines together, clapping through them. "That's the spirit!"
Andrew nodded. "Thanks. Now, as glad as I am that you're here… I think I need some time to myself "
Thomas gave a nod and a warm smile in response.
Andrew slowly exited the kitchen. He walked down the hall, his weight causing the floorboards to creak slightly until he reached his room. The Marshtomp opened the door and shuffled inside, eyeing his messy bed sheets which had yet to be remade from the prior night's rest.
He lumbered over and slumped onto his bed. I can't tell if I just made the best or worst decision of my life.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
A loud, repeating banging made Andrew jump up from his bed. His heart began to race, his body flew into a full-fledged panic. He quickly shook his head, regaining his senses.
It's probably not a murderer, a predator wanting to eat you, or the sound of a horrific explosion, a voice told him. Probably.
He wiped a spot of excess moisture off his forehead, left his bed, and exited the room.
Thomas was walking down the hallway to answer the door. Andrew joined him, keeping his eyes open to assess the situation. The Marshtomp approached the divider before the Servine and twisted its cool, metal handle. He slowly opened it, blocking out images of axe murderers and monsters trying to surface in his mind.
Standing there was a tall, yellow figure. Every inch of his body shone a magnificent gold, even his eyes and mouth. A dark green bandana was draped loosely around his neck.
Behind the figure were two indistinct Bisharps. The guards stood exactly a foot away from the figure in either direction, mirroring each other's stiff stance with eerie precision. Their dead, unblinking pierced Andrew's very being.
"Everett?" muttered Andrew, looking up at the Gholdengo.
Everett stepped forward, closing the gap between the doorframe and the outside.
"Marshtomp," the police chief said plainly.
Thomas stepped forward, pushing Andrew to the side and crossing his vines together. "Is there something we can help you with?"
"I'm under orders from the council to detain Andrew Marshtomp. Please step aside, Mister Servine," Everett commanded.
Thomas hissed. "I'll have you know that my father is the chief executive of Grandeport Shipping Company! If you do so much as lay a finger on Andrew then I'll make your life more bleak and miserable than the Distortion World."
"Quite the threat," Everett scoffed, rolling his eyes. "But the Distortion World wouldn't be nearly as scary as facing Felicia without having arrested Andrew, so…"
The Marshtomp had shrunken and hid behind Thomas. He lowered himself onto the ground so he could not see the Bisharps' cold black eyes, but every time he dared look at them again, he found that they were still glaring daggers at him.
"Please don't make this harder than it has to be," Everett said with a smirk. "Or maybe do. I've been waiting a long time to lock up our country's most illegitimate police chief, or president now, I suppose. Regardless, justice is going to be served."
Andrew let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "Alright, fine. There's no reason for anyone to get hurt. I'll go peacefully."
"What?! Andrew what are you–?!" Thomas began to ask, panicked.
The Marshtomp raised his flippers and stepped in front of Thomas. "Trust me, this is for the best. I've done some bad things and it's time that I–"
Suddenly, Andrew bolted mid-sentence. His legs carried him as fast as they could past Everett. He barely dodged the blades of the Bisharp guards, who leaned down and grasped at him in perfect unison.
Run run run run run! Don't die don't die don't fucking die!
Unfortunately, his legs could not carry him very fast.
After about thirty seconds of running, he had barely created fifty feet between himself and the Bisharps. They were gaining surprisingly fast. He kept running, though slower and slower. His throat burned and his chest heaved. His heart pounded against his ribcage and his head spun. Another few seconds was all it took for the cold clasp of the Bisharp to wrap itself around Andrew's chest.
Not again!
The Bisharp lifted Andrew and held him firmly in place like the guard from earlier. Andrew kicked and struggled as he was suspended several feet above the ground. The guard marched back toward Everett, who had not bothered to leave the yard.
"Pretty stupid, I gotta say," the Gholdengo laughed as the Bisharp approached, a wide smile on his face as he looked down on Andrew.
The Marshtomp gritted his teeth.
"...God. Damnit."
AN: Three chapters left. Three. Man, I know that I go on about how crazy it is how far we've come every other chapter at this point, but I'm still shocked how close we really are to the finish. And on that note, right about now is the two year anniversary of DIM!
Two years…
I'll save my gushing for the final chapter. I suppose we'll see if I can stick the landing with this monster of a project. But until then…
Thank you DaGamestar, Sonic Ramon, DoomHuntley, and Zee102.
And of course, to readers like you, thank you!