purple_drake
E/GL obsessed
EVERYBODY PAR-TAY!
YUS! This is an update! I apologise it took so long, but I had a phase of writer's block, writer's procrastination, an interest in other things and some general all-round laziness.
Oh, yeah, Achamo-chan ^.^ in answer to that question I keep forgetting (at least, I think I kept forgetting... now I can't even remember if I answered or not... oh well) - the redheaded Rocket grunt is just a random grunt whom I happened to take a liking to. Originally he was only gonna be in there for one scene, but I liked him, so he got a repeat role. He's an original character, so no, Ash-tachi haven't met him before.
SO! Let's get on with teh show! It's in two posts <_< again. gah, annoying... ANYWAY! There's some swearing and such in here
Enjoy!
~ XIII ~
UNDER THE ROCKETS’ RED GLARE
NIGHT.
Several matte black trucks trundled along the dirt road, the darkness hanging around them like a blanket as they travelled with soft engines towards their destination. The landscape was dull with warm stone which muffled the sound of the vehicles as their wheels skidded and crunched over the loose, dusty track.
The one at the back of the small convoy bucked and juddered, rolling over a large pebble. Inside, Lt. Surge cursed as the crate he was sitting on bucked, threatening the throw him off. Across from him Keegan bounced against a huge wooden crate, tumbling against the hard corrugated floor. With a start she awoke, her skin prickling with goosebumps in the chill of the night air which billowed in through the black tarp fluttering over the rear of the truck. Automatically she raised her hands to brush her hair from her face… only to find them bound securely with thick, wiry rope.
The first thing she saw was Surge, his eyes overshadowed menacingly by a thunderous scowl as the truck righted itself and continued on its path. She blinked at him, dazed, before finally realizing she had no idea where she was and whose company she was in, or why they’d tied her up.
Then she saw the red ‘R’ on his white sweatshirt, peeping through his unzipped army jacket.
And her heart stopped.
For several petrified seconds she stared at that cursed letter, paralysed with pure terror. Then her lungs reminded her it wasn’t good not to breathe for so long and she took in a gasp of air as time started once again.
But that drew Surge’s attention towards her, and she could do nothing but try to swallow through the frightened lump in her throat and tremble in the corner as his scowl lifted and he grinned. “Heh,” he chuckled. “Didn’t expect you to wake up so quick. Doesn’t matter, anyhow.”
WhatdoIdohowdidIgethereWHAT ARE THEY GOING TO DO TO ME?! A whimper forced its way out of Keegan’s lips and her eyes pricked with terrified tears. Her vision blurred and she looked down at the floor.
Then, stop that! You’re making yourself look like a fool! The smug little voice snapped.
Right. She took a deep, shaking breath, blinking away the tears. She couldn’t even remember what had made her so afraid of the Rockets to begin with – only that she was. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let him see that any more than he already has. It’s a game. Don’t let him see…
Her jaw clenched and she raised her chin defiantly, shaking her hair back even as her hands shook with fearful adrenaline and her heart pounded in her chest. She blinked rapidly against the burning in her eyes as Surge chuckled a second time, leaning back against the side of the truck with his head resting comfortably on his arms and his legs stretched out. He didn’t seem interested in talking to her and the last thing Keegan wanted was more attention.
Her eyes flitted about, studying her surroundings as her mind raced. She felt like collapsing with relief when she saw Pichu, half hidden in shadow nearer the rear of the truck and tangled in the strap of her bag. He looked dazed and blood matted the yellow fur on his head as he blinked groggily. Keegan could only guess he’d hit himself when the truck lurched.
Hope he’s okay. She thought, slowly flexing her hands, half hoping she might be able to work out the trembling which still gripped them. Nonetheless, she felt calmer, forcing herself into a surreal viewpoint where the situation was not quite real and easier to accept.
That was when she realized her pokéballs were still clipped to her belt. For a moment she was stunned; wasn’t it the first rule of kidnapping to disarm your victim? Then she didn’t pause to think. Her hands darted to her waist, the rope tightening cruelly about her wrists. She fumbled for Hazel’s pokéball, elbows splayed outward.
“Don’t even think it,” Surge’s lazy voice said, and Keegan froze. She glanced up to find he was gazing at her through half-lidded eyes, a mocking grin still on his lips. He reached for the thick belt at his waist, unclipping and expanding his own pokéball threateningly.
“You’re probably thinking you’re lucky we ‘forgot’ to take your pokémon,” he said with a smirk. “Hah. Team Rocket doesn’t need to deprive its enemies of their pokémon. Besides, it makes it more interesting if we don’t. Makes them think they still have a chance.” Surge’s grin widened as Keegan considered that, her hands twisted painfully in the rope. “Besides,” he went on. “An attack from either of us in a speeding truck could end up with all of us, including you, as roadkill. Now, ya really wanna risk that?”
Keegan hesitated, glancing sidelong at Pichu. The little pokémon was tugging irritably at the strap, ignoring her. If Pichu wasn’t here – but I can’t risk him AND my other pokémon – she slumped and allowed her arms to relax, releasing the strain on her wrists as her stomach twisted with anxious uncertainty. Please don’t let me live to regret this! She prayed to whoever was out there.
Surge chuckled, replacing his own pokéball and getting to his feet. Keegan cringed, looking up at his tall frame as he grinned down at her, practically filling the back of the truck. In one step he was standing over Pichu, and a huge hand came down to lift the suddenly frantic pokémon around the neck.
“Pipipipi!” Pichu squealed, his cheek-sacs sparking, the weight of the bag dragging down at his plump body and paws as Surge held him up teasingly, blocking out the exit with his burly body.
“Worried about this little runt, are you?” Surge demanded with a smirk, dangling the pichu closer to the billowing tarp, where the gravelly road could just be seen rushing beneath the truck’s wheels. And beyond – the inescapable blackness of the night.
Keegan stared, wide-eyed and pale. He wouldn’t dare, he wouldn’t throw Pichu out, he wouldn’t –
He would. “Say goodbye,” Surge grinned, and with a small toss he sent Pichu flying through the tarp and tumbling onto the hard road outside.
Before Keegan had a chance to think, her legs pumped and she was on her feet, leaping to do something – before she realized it was too late, Pichu was gone, and sank back down to her knees as silent tears tracked down her cheeks, her ears ringing with Surge’s deep laughter.
Outside, Orchu’s paws kicked at the restraining length of material bound around his body, throwing it off as he tumbled from atop Keegan’s dirty, damaged bag and onto the pebbly road. His fur was covered in dust, matted with the blood of dozens of grazes and scrapes and his small body heaved, trembling with deep breaths; but he was alive.
Alive, thanks to the heavy weight of the bag which had landed first, undelayed by panicked scrambling.
Alive, and now… alone.
Or so he thought, as huge, pearly tears trickled over his grimy fur. I didn’t like her, Orchu thought forlornly, too tired and hurt to move. But now I’m completely in the unknown. At least then I had someone who knew what they were doing. Sort of. He sighed, slumping back against the bag, and cried. Oh, help me, someone! He begged the stars overhead. Jirachi – Celebi – Moltres – just – SOMEONE – help me!
Then a footstep crackled over the gravel. Orchu jumped, his heart leaping into his throat fearfully. Without thinking he buried his head into the semi-soft folds of the bag, a trembling ball of dirty yellow fur.
A calloused hand came down and stroked him gently. Twitching fearfully, expecting at any moment to be attacked, Orchu peeked up into the thin, shadowed face of an elderly human. He was bald with a white moustache and dark, circular glasses which obscured his eyes, but his lined face was somehow kind. Cautiously Orchu turned around completely, looking up at the human with unintentionally pleading eyes.
“Don’t worry, little one,” the human said reassuringly. “I’ll take you somewhere safe.”
Orchu hesitated. Humans can’t be trusted! Was his first instinct; but he had travelled far from the power plant since the days when he truly believed that. This one seems alright. Relief washed over him. He can take care of me. With a sharp jerk he nodded.
Blaine looked down at the pichu cradled in his right arm, pausing for a moment in the darkened lee of a warm rock. The little pokémon looked sound asleep, nestled comfortably in the white sleeve of Blaine’s lab coat, and the man felt a momentary pang at the sight of all his bruises, the memory of his fear.
Those Rockets, he thought with a sigh, have no compassion.
It was a source of great shame that he’d once been one of them. How he’d ever thought that Team Rocket could further his research… well, they had, but Blaine had sacrificed more than he ever intended for that to come true. He could only pray he could redeem that fateful decision.
Grimly Blaine hitched the bag up on his shoulder, his hand catching on the hasty knot he’d tied to repair the broken strap. His forearm tingled fitfully in way he hadn’t endured for quite a while… it troubled him as he continued on his way down the dusty path. He couldn’t afford to light the trail properly, not with that fool Harry after him. It was risky enough trying to keep an eye on Surge’s regular shipments, and now that Koga had arrived on the island to help with the search…
Having two of the Triad in the same place as him was not a good feeling. Although, in a way, he supposed it was a compliment.
That was when he heard the sound of distant voices echoing through the night.
Instantly Blaine halted, hiding in the concealing shadow of a line of rugged boulders nearby as his eyes darted about at the blackness beyond. On the threshold of sightlessness he could see figures shifting, but he couldn’t make out any details, nor hear individual words. And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the twinkling glint of piercing red eyes preceding an eerie configuration of bright yellow circles, appearing to hover past and behind unseen obstructions.
An umbreon?! Blaine thought, momentarily astonished as he watched the umbreon creep closer to the two distant silhouettes. It looks like it’s stalking them – do they have something it wants? He shifted his weight, leaning over the warm rocks to watch, his tinted glasses darkening the night further – but as his hand pressed on the soft rock it crumbled, a shower of pebbles hitting the ground with an unnervingly loud tinkle.
“What was that?” One of the figures moved, cutting off the voice of the other. With a reflexive jerk Blaine ducked, praying they hadn’t seen the movement in the darkness and hoping for the umbreon’s sake they hadn’t seen it either.
Because no matter how unlikely the circumstances, the Rockets were ordered to capture or kill any pokémon they saw – just in case. And an umbreon on Cinnibar Island, unless it happened to be in the hands of a trainer, was suspicious enough.
His hopes proved fruitless. “What the –”
A scorching hiss pierced the still air amid the sound of pounding paws, and then a startled cry was echoed by a curse. “Zubat –” a voice snarled, but was cut off by a howl of pain and the sound of bodies colliding. Then, before Blaine could decide to do anything, a living shadow skittered over the rocks up the slope.
The umbreon. It came to a sudden halt upon seeing him, its yellow rings flaring and lips drawn back in a snarl, its scarlet eyes flashing eerily. Blaine froze, eyes on the umbreon’s matted fur and heaving flanks.
Damn those Rockets! He swore inwardly. Nothing and nowhere is safe from them – except –
The sound of footsteps came loud, swelling up from the darkness around them, and the umbreon’s ears twitched.
“It’s just a damn umbreon, what’s the problem?” a frustrated voice grumbled.
“He took a bite outta me, that’s what!” another retorted furiously.
They don’t know where it went. Maybe… Mentally Blaine dimmed the noise, running a hand thoughtfully over his bald pate. “I can take you somewhere safe,” he murmured as quietly as he could to the umbreon.
Brother glared at the human, his heart easing up on its wild drumming on his ribs. His mouth was filled with the taste of blood and his fur prickled with the uncomfortable knowledge that enemies were near. He hated to trust a human, but he had lost Bairn’s trail.
But that pichu… that pichu was with her! If the pichu was there… perhaps he could show Brother the way to Bairn… but the human was unlikely to give him up… and yet, nor did he taste of greed or malice… <<Show me,>> Brother hissed, ducking his head warily, but cocking his ears forward so the human would know he meant no ill intent. Not yet, anyway.
Blaine hesitated, unsure whether the sound had been one of acceptance or challenge. No matter. “This way.” Carefully he eased down the slope, his shoes crunching softly on the hard pebbles and the bag swinging as his shoulder. Like a shadow, the umbreon followed after.
The volcano on Cinnibar was old and dormant, long since abandoned as a tourist attraction except for the hot springs it generated at its base. Which suited Blaine fine; because it meant that only the most zealous of climbers would dare the peak and even then the chance was slim anyone would see it.
A door, set into a darkened crevice. Made of steel, the volcano made it hot enough to burn the unwary. The path that led to it looked deceivingly rocky and impossible to climb, the boulders around it warm with the heat of the mountain, but Blaine had walked that track many times and knew it as well as he knew the back of his hand.
So it was that before the moon had risen into the early night, casting its silver light over the rippled ocean skirting the island, Blaine and the two pokémon were safe in the laboratory concealed within the volcano itself.
The laboratory had a tendency to be warm and stifling, even despite the lead-lined walls and extensive ventilation, but it was an uncomfortability Blaine was well adjusted to. The umbreon didn’t agree; as Blaine punched the plain, circular button to close the thick, electric doors, the black pokémon’s ears twitched irritably, paws silent on the semi-cool tiles.
“The Rockets don’t know about this place,” Blaine reassured the umbreon in his soft, hoarse voice as he moved into the wide room, skirting the equipment-clogged walls, and set his burdens carefully on a nearby desktop. The little pichu snuffled into his tiny paws, black-lined ears twitching, and his button-like eyes opened blearily. His hind paws skated on the desk as he clambered atop the bag, clutching at the material with a wearily blissful sigh.
Blaine ruffled the pichu’s matted yellow fur with a bandaged hand, frowning up at the wire-swathed ceiling as the umbreon paced the length of the room impatiently, heedless of his dirty and matted fur. “What do you seek from the Rockets?” Blaine asked the umbreon cautiously as the pichu leaned delightedly into his hand, seated atop the soft material of the bag. The girl. “Is the girl your trainer?”
If he’d poured gasoline into the volcano, he wouldn’t have gotten a more explosive response. Instantly the umbreon spun about on his paws with a guttural roar, fur bristling into harsh spikes which made him resemble a jolteon, his lips drawn back in a vicious snarl and ears tight against his skull. Wrong thing to suggest. Blaine froze and slowly raised a pacifying hand, long moustache twitching with nervousness. How can such a small, nimble pokémon make itself look so menacing?
Eyeing him with wary impatience, the umbreon flicked his ears and relaxed, allowing Blaine to do the same with a slow breath. Not the girl; but she’s not the only one the Rockets have kidnapped… “A pokémon, then?” the human hesitated, rubbing absently at the aching flesh of his bandaged hand, and uttered his next comment cautiously. “One of hers?” the umbreon snarled a little, ducking his head to glare fitfully at the pichu with his eerie scarlet eyes.
“Pipipi,” the pichu offered nervously, wide ears twitching timidly at the umbreon’s unnerving stare. Blaine settled back against the desk with a frown, tugging at his moustache as he considered the situation.
If the Rockets want to kidnap an innocent girl, they must think she knows something – a chill of grim realization ran through his skin, beginning with the ache of his bandaged arm – or has something –
And once the thought had begun, it wouldn’t be stopped. His distant eyes tracked to the nervy pichu who had always clutched at the soft material of the bag, always made sure he was close to it, but the scientist didn’t see just a weary, dirty pichu. He saw the myriad of electric pokémon who had been under his care –
– under my tyranny –
– who had desired and fought and even killed for the sake of being near it –
– the ESP.
Without thinking Blaine’s hand jerked to the pichu, plucking him off the bag and putting him down unceremoniously on the desk. “Pi?” the pichu rubbed his behind ruefully, eyeing Blaine’s clenched jaw as he flipped open the bag. Mentally the scientist apologised to the unnamed girl as he went through her belongings, tugging things both public and private from within the weatherproof bag and laying them out on the desk. The umbreon ignored him to pace edgily, eager to be away, while the pichu clutched his hind paws and tittered to himself at the sight of this invasion of privacy.
It wasn’t until Blaine reached the bottom of the bag that he found it. He felt it first as a lumpy, cloth-swathed item; but as soon as his bandaged fingers brushed the material, rivulets of pain streaked up his arm and he jerked away with a surprised grunt. She does have it! His chest contracted in sudden fear and he pulled away with a shudder. She does have it! But –
He turned away, massaging his arm, inattentively watching the pichu tug a bra from beneath the stack of clothes and pull it gleefully over his ears like a bonnet. Why did Surge throw it out of the truck – absently he began to shovel the girl’s belongings back into the bag, his bandaged hand clenching convulsively – unless he doesn’t know she has it. And I’d bet she doesn’t know either.
He frowned behind his darkened glasses, his body tensing as he realized the track down which his thoughts were leading him. Which means I have to get her out of there before they find out – and I have to get it off Cinnibar. I can’t keep it here; I don’t have enough faith that my lab will remain undiscovered – and my presence alone… he shuddered again, gritting his teeth against a sharp twinge in his arm. And it’s presence around me – no. It should go to Erika, and she’ll figure out what to do with it – perhaps Bill could figure out how the damned thing works –
“I need to go to the Pokémon Mansion,” Blaine said aloud with a grimace as he plucked the bra from the pichu’s possessive grasp and stuffed it back into the bag. How I’m going to manage that, with both Surge and Koga there –
The pichu’s eyes went wide, his ears standing up in shock as he immediately forgot the loss of his new toy, but the umbreon growled approvingly, paws dancing with skittish impatience on the shiny floor. “Pi!” the pichu turned away, studiously ignoring Blaine as the scientist grimly picked up the two pokéballs which had been lying in a shiny rack nearby.
Blaine felt a pang, realizing the pichu would not help rescue the girl – and realizing why. He follows her because of it. He can’t leave, he’s chained to her – he hates her. Is that how all those pokémon felt about me? He wondered, watching the pichu tug forlornly at an ear, frozen in an instant of remorseful, painful memory. At least, the ones who eventually gained their right minds – the ones who were driven to the threshold of insanity, only to wake up and find they could no longer survive without the influence of the ESP – the clones.
A snarl shook him out of his reverie and he turned to find the umbreon waiting by the door, looking back at him with an irritated glare. It doesn’t matter now, Blaine told himself forcefully, his footsteps echoing in the room as he walked away from the pichu and the reminder of his crimes. The clones escaped to live like normal pokémon – the Rockets lost the ESP and the knowledge of how to use it – and that’s something, at least. He slapped the button on the wall, letting the artificial light to blare over the warm rocks outside as he exited the safety of the laboratory. Now all I can do is keep it that way.
“Nothing,” Harry reported reluctantly to Koga, kneeling on the shiny, cool tiles of the Pokémon Mansion’s control room with his blonde, pigtailed head bowed in penitence and his cap shading his eyes. Koga scowled at the equipment-stacked wall beyond, arms folded across his chest.
Where could that old man have got to? The ninja thought irritably, grinding his teeth in frustration. Aloud he said, “Continue surveillance. He must be on Cinnibar somewhere.” And Sabrina’s smug superiority is getting on my nerves. The sooner we find Blaine, the sooner she can focus on her own tasks.
“Yes, Master Koga,” Harry ducked his head respectfully and stood, leaving the room in a series of quick footsteps and a swirl of his long red scarf. Several of the uniformed grunts and scientists who were overseeing the Mansion’s central controls sneaked cautious peeks at the executive, who apparently didn’t notice them; he was too deep in thought, staring at a flashing console nearby, his thin face expressionless and his eyes dark. The door slid open with the hiss of hydraulics and the room snapped back to attention as Lt. Surge strode in with a jaunty step.
“Blaine still being a nuisance?” Koga could hear the smirk in Surge’s rough voice without even turning around. The thin, black-haired man scowled and didn’t answer. “Well, I’ve got something to show, at least.”
“Oh?” Koga answered noncommittally, raising a preoccupied eyebrow towards the burly soldier as he came to Koga’s side with a sniff.
“Yeah. Ken captured two Magma grunts at the Sevii – I brought ‘em here for security.”
The only words to filter through into Koga’s distant thoughts were ‘captured two Magma grunts’, and it was only through decades of training that Koga managed to keep his face from registering his shock. Magmas in the Sevii – Magmas in Rocket territory – what is Maxie thinking?!
If Surge noticed Koga’s abrupt tenseness, his muscles suddenly wound up like a coiled spring, he didn’t say anything. “And there’s a girl, too,” Surge was adding absently, stroking his square chin. “The Magmas were after her for some reason – thought she might know why they were here, but so far the stubborn little fox hasn’t said anything.” Surge chuckled, unaware of Koga’s involuntary twitch.
“Little fox?” Koga repeated with a snort, his skin tingling with apprehensive anticipation. Don’t tell me, don’t – “Is that her name, or did you coin the phrase yourself?”
Surge grunted, scratching his blonde head as Koga waited impatiently for his answer. “That’s what the Magmas called her, according to Ken – appropriate, if you ask me.”
Damn. Koga swore inwardly, his body freezing and his chest tightening with anxiety. Outwardly he maintained a bland expression. “Show me the cell bays,” he snapped to a nearby technician. The violet-haired woman jumped, startled, and hastily worked the blinking console to obey. “And active the anti-pokémon field,” Koga added belatedly, wishing he could’ve avoided saying it – but if I hadn’t, Surge would have –
Two of the screens flickered, prickling with snowy static as they showed twin bare, grey rooms, smooth-walled and inescapable. One was already occupied with the two Magma grunts, one of whom was sliding a hand around the walls, presumably searching for cracks. Koga’s stomach tightened and he gritted his teeth, recognising both of them. Larry and Brody – two of Maxie’s most dedicated. They would have recognised Keegan instantly – they must have recognised her instantly –
And in the other room… he turned his attention to the other monitor as a familiar, blond-haired young woman wearing blue board shorts and a bikini was shoved unceremoniously into the cell. Damn. Koga cursed, his jaw clenching edgily. What Maxie would think if he saw this… Keegan looked battered and scratched, as much the worse for wear as she had been when Koga first met her. Her eyes were red, rimmed with dark circles, and she looked tired; but that didn’t stop her from grimly expanding one of her pokéballs and touching the release button with her thumb.
Which was when the anti-pokémon field came into play. The pokéball fizzled but didn’t open, casting a slight electric shock over its red-and-white surface that made Keegan jerk away with a curse, dropping the pokéball to the uniform grey floor. It bounced, rolling to the wall, and Keegan stared after it, her eyes huge in her pale face. She retrieved the ball and tried again, with the same result; but not the same reaction. With a vehement curse that made her voice crack with a restrained sob she hurled the pokéball at the door angrily. It just rebounded off, rolling to her bare feet as she sank to her knees, her shoulder shaking as she struggled to contain the tears which tracked down her grubby cheeks nonetheless.
Surge chuckled at the sight, but Koga didn’t join in. He was too busy finding it far too easy to imagine determined, eager Janine in Keegan’s place. His lips drew to a thin line, slanted eyes mercifully hard even as he seethed with apprehensive frustration inside. Leaving her there is unthinkable – but how could I get her out?
That was when another of the screens flickered demandingly and the slightly nervous voice of the technician broke into Koga’s thoughts. “Incoming call, sirs. Screen four.” She gestured at the monitor and made herself as inconspicuous as possible as Sabrina’s pale face fizzed into view. The last person I need to speak to right now, was Koga’s first irritable thought upon seeing her.
“I see you’ve arrived on time,” Sabrina said coldly to Surge, her voice coming through a little staticy over the speakers and her black-sleeved arms folded over her stomach. “I got your message. What was it you wanted to speak about?”
“The Justice,” Surge answered promptly. “Ken said there was a young man he pursued in the Sevii, who ran across them on their mission. Ken had to let him escape in order to capture some Magmas. He might be Justice, which means he could be heading back to Celadon to report to Erika.” Quickly the burly sailor described the trainer in question, but Koga hardly listened. His thoughts were no longer on Blaine as they should have been, but on Keegan.
“And the girl? Your message said she was in Goldenrod as well as Sevii. It’s likely that she’s Justice as well.” Sabrina noted with a slow blink. Koga twitched, but said nothing. For all he knew, Keegan was Justice…
Surge shrugged. “Possible. One of your psychics would be able to find out quick enough.”
I have to prevent that. The thought flashed through Koga’s mind, with no answer as to how he was supposed to accomplish it. Nor did it occur to him that he was now plotting the betrayal Sabrina had accused him of.
“So far Erika has made no move on the game corner,” Sabrina was saying as he tuned back in to the conversation. “But I’ll instruct Ryu to keep an eye out for that boy of yours.” She smiled then, an expression reminiscent of a cat with a mouse beneath its paws. “I see you have been silent, Koga. Perhaps Blaine is too much of a challenge for you.”
For just a fleeting second Koga’s hard-learned restraint broke beneath his frustration. His dark eyes flared angrily, his arms clenching to fists on his arms before he managed to reinsert his control. “I know my task, Sabrina,” he said icily in a voice which promised her all the pain his skills could provide should she retort. “Now why don’t you focus on yours?” With that he spun about on his heels and swept out of the control with a menacing swirl of his scarf.
Like a shadow Koga ranged the ridge broodingly, looking over the line of warm boulders which marked the edge of the small basin in which lay the Pokémon Mansion. Beyond the scrubby, rocky environment on the Mansion’s left, the nearest stretch of ocean to the Mansion glittered in the faint light of the semi-obscured stars overhead. To the right, laid out against the sea as a port and almost concealed by a hill of volcanic rocks, were the lights of the only city on Cinnibar.
Behind him was the shadow of the island, in which was hidden his quarry – the traitor Blaine.
Yet his mind was turned not to the concealing darkness, but to a young woman who was held within the stark, guarded corridors of the Pokémon Mansion.
Things would be much easier, he thought irritably as he prowled the edge of night, his dark clothes fading him into the gloom, if I could order her shipped to the mainland and stage an escape on the way. But he couldn’t, and he knew it. Ken had caught the girl and Surge was Ken’s Executive; any and all decisions with regard to the prisoners were made by him and him alone. For Koga to take control would be stepping on Surge’s toes – a thing which none of the Triad wanted the others to do. It would draw far too much unwanted attention to himself. It was a stretch of his abilities just to free Keegan; to free Larry and Brody as well was an impossibility. He’d have to leave them and hope Maxie’s skills as a diplomat hadn’t waned with his good sense…
I must somehow arrange for her escape without revealing it was I who planned it, or there would be a heavy price to pay. He considered carefully, ignoring the bright glow to his left which was the Pokémon Mansion’s outside lights. What he worried about most was that Surge might commandeer one of Sabrina’s psychics. True, mind-reading wasn’t nearly as simple as was commonly held, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a threat. Koga had been around Sabrina long enough to know that reading another’s mind was much like reading their actions and body language. The mind lied, it concealed, it twisted the truth even from its owner – and then the owner would twist it further.
And that was just the average person, who didn’t know a thing about concealing their thoughts. For those that did, all that a skilled psychic could glimpse were impressions, if that. To complicate matters further, those that were adept at hiding their intentions physically could hide them mentally too – they had to, to trick the body into acting otherwise. Which was why she found him to be such a frustration. And why he wasn’t worried about Larry and Brody.
It was also why he was worried about Keegan. After his first and only encounter with her, he knew that she’d never be able to put up more than a minimal resistance. Of course, she could surprise me… Maxie has done that more than once and she is certainly his child… but that was a risk he didn’t want to take. Whatever secrets she had, they were best kept that way – at least from Team Rocket. Yes, I know what I must do… but how to do it…
He was broken out of his thoughts by the sound of soft footsteps, crunching on the pebbled dust not far ahead. Instantly he faded into the shadows, slanted eyes flickering expertly around the darkness from whence the noise welled, one hand resting cautiously on a pokéstar.
And treading cautiously out of the darkness, following the line of boulders which obscured him from the view of the Pokémon Mansion, came the lab-coated answer to his riddle.
Blaine ground his teeth in frustration, running a cautious, bandaged hand over his bald head as he regarded the scrubby, illuminated grounds of the Pokémon Mansion. Black-clad Rocket grunts patrolled the area like constant wraiths and occasionally he could see the twinkle of a security camera lens amongst the lights. Beside him the umbreon growled softly with a similar emotion, ears flickering irritably and paws pattered impatiently on the dusty ground.
There are too many of them for us to sneak in, Blaine thought with a mental sigh. It’s only a miracle we managed to get this far without being caught…
A second later he was forced to eat his words. “Ironic, is it not? I devote all my time and effort to finding you, and you come right to my doorstep.”
Koga! Instantly Blaine spun around, his wrinkled hand diving towards the pokéballs on his belt as his lab-coat flapped around his legs. But he was neither as fast nor as night-sighted as the umbreon, who spun about on his paws and leapt instantly towards a shadowed figure which Blaine could hardly see.
All he saw of what happened next was the swirl of a darkened red scarf as Koga dodged the umbreon’s mindless charge. Blaine expanded a pokéball, about to throw it, when Koga’s voice hissed from the darkness. “Don’t be a fool! The sound of a release will be enough to bring the patrols down upon you!”
What? Startled by Koga’s sudden warning Blaine snatched the pokéball back a microsecond before it left his hand, even as the yellow circles of the umbreon crouched on a rock nearby, warily watching Koga’s silhouette with scarlet eyes. Blaine’s fingers twitched over the smooth surface of the pokéball, uncomfortably aware of the fact Koga just had to yell to have him captured.
So why didn’t he? Aside from the fact it’s not the ninja way to call all their allies down upon them. But then, why did he warn me he was there – why didn’t he strike when he had the chance? Blaine knew Koga – knew that despite his sense of honour he never failed to take advantage of a situation. Then why…?
Carefully, moving with deliberate calm, Koga stepped into the faint light which was cast over the rocks, his slanted eyes considering the umbreon as cautiously as the pokémon regarded him. He held out his hands, empty of pokéstars, before folding his arms casually across his chest. He’s showing he’s not a threat – though any one of his pokémon could be hidden in the darkness –
“If I am to hazard a guess,” The ninja began smoothly as Blaine struggled to decipher his intentions. “I would say that you’re here to save the girl Surge recently captured.” Koga threw the scientist a knowing smirk, half of his thin face cast into eerie shadow. “Hmm?”
What’s he playing at? Blaine wondered nervously, his body tense with twitchy uncertainty. It’s not like him. Surge plays with his foes and Sabrina taunts them – but not Koga. Not unless he has something to say.
Koga must have read it in Blaine’s expression, because he chuckled softly. The umbreon’s claws scratched the surface of the warm rock, crimson eyes narrowing, but Koga ignored him. “I am here because I wish to help.” The ninja said simply, his face bland.
For long seconds Blaine was too shocked to speak, staring at the dark, utterly fathomless eyes of his enemy. Why would he care about a nameless girl? Unless to him she’s not so nameless – the umbreon’s disbelieving hiss brought him back to himself, and his scratchy voice sounded out with quiet suspicion. “Why?”
Koga shrugged. “That, you don’t need to know.”
I don’t like that answer. Was Blaine’s immediate thought, his pokéball half raised in preparation for attack. “I can’t trust you,” he pointed out quietly, itching to be free of the danger illuminated on his right side.
“That is not my concern,” Koga said flatly. “You want to save the girl. So do I. Whether you believe me or not is your choice.” Without waiting for an answer Koga pointed to the farthest visible corner of the Pokémon Mansion, facing the night-blanketed ocean. The scrub of the grounds bordered a narrow gravel path leading into the darkness.
“That path leads down to the Mansion’s old dock – which you should know, seeing as how you destroyed it.” Blaine tensed at the reference, his fingers clutching the hard plastic of the pokéball, but Koga’s tone was distantly mocking, not accusing. “As you no doubt also know, it has not been rebuilt, for fear it would attract unwanted attention. Nowadays supplies are transported overland from Cinnibar, so the doors on that side of the building are rarely used. They lead directly to the cell block and storage bays.” Koga flashed him a trademark sardonic smirk, but Blaine wasn’t fooled for an instant. Koga tended to hide his true intentions under dry wit and contemptuous haughtiness.
Still, the scientist could see where this was leading… but I can’t trust him. What’s his game?
Koga’s eyes flickered to the single shadow which stood by the peeling wooden post of the veranda nearby the doors in question. “It will be easy enough for me to sabotage the security system in that corner without revealing myself. The lights will go off to signal it is done and the agent will leave to investigate, leaving the area open for penetration. Once inside you will need a cardkey to unlock the cell doors. Beyond that, there is little I can do to help.”
A chill crawled unnervingly down Blaine’s back and he resisted a shiver in the semi-warm air. He mentioned little on escape. “Why?” he repeated his question, absently flexing his bandaged hand to loosen the ache which has set into his tense muscles. “Who is this girl, Koga? Why are you so willing to betray Team Rocket for her?”
For an instant a strange, almost uncertain shadow passed over Koga’s face. Then his jaw tightened and he turned about silently on sandaled feet, vanishing into the night.
Blaine sank to a seat beside the line of rocks, releasing a tense breath with a quiet sigh while the umbreon shifted restlessly on his rock. The scientist turned to examine the grounds, judging distance and time between the constant patrols before giving up in frustration. The only way I’ll get inside is with Koga’s help. Still he wavered. Why was Koga helping him? He had a position of such power with Team Rocket, why would he risk that? Who was this girl who commanded such control over him? I shouldn’t trust him. I should turn around and walk away, wait for another chance…
When the lights flickered off several minutes later, Blaine didn’t hesitate.
YUS! This is an update! I apologise it took so long, but I had a phase of writer's block, writer's procrastination, an interest in other things and some general all-round laziness.
Oh, yeah, Achamo-chan ^.^ in answer to that question I keep forgetting (at least, I think I kept forgetting... now I can't even remember if I answered or not... oh well) - the redheaded Rocket grunt is just a random grunt whom I happened to take a liking to. Originally he was only gonna be in there for one scene, but I liked him, so he got a repeat role. He's an original character, so no, Ash-tachi haven't met him before.
SO! Let's get on with teh show! It's in two posts <_< again. gah, annoying... ANYWAY! There's some swearing and such in here
Enjoy!~ XIII ~
UNDER THE ROCKETS’ RED GLARE
NIGHT.
Several matte black trucks trundled along the dirt road, the darkness hanging around them like a blanket as they travelled with soft engines towards their destination. The landscape was dull with warm stone which muffled the sound of the vehicles as their wheels skidded and crunched over the loose, dusty track.
The one at the back of the small convoy bucked and juddered, rolling over a large pebble. Inside, Lt. Surge cursed as the crate he was sitting on bucked, threatening the throw him off. Across from him Keegan bounced against a huge wooden crate, tumbling against the hard corrugated floor. With a start she awoke, her skin prickling with goosebumps in the chill of the night air which billowed in through the black tarp fluttering over the rear of the truck. Automatically she raised her hands to brush her hair from her face… only to find them bound securely with thick, wiry rope.
The first thing she saw was Surge, his eyes overshadowed menacingly by a thunderous scowl as the truck righted itself and continued on its path. She blinked at him, dazed, before finally realizing she had no idea where she was and whose company she was in, or why they’d tied her up.
Then she saw the red ‘R’ on his white sweatshirt, peeping through his unzipped army jacket.
And her heart stopped.
For several petrified seconds she stared at that cursed letter, paralysed with pure terror. Then her lungs reminded her it wasn’t good not to breathe for so long and she took in a gasp of air as time started once again.
But that drew Surge’s attention towards her, and she could do nothing but try to swallow through the frightened lump in her throat and tremble in the corner as his scowl lifted and he grinned. “Heh,” he chuckled. “Didn’t expect you to wake up so quick. Doesn’t matter, anyhow.”
WhatdoIdohowdidIgethereWHAT ARE THEY GOING TO DO TO ME?! A whimper forced its way out of Keegan’s lips and her eyes pricked with terrified tears. Her vision blurred and she looked down at the floor.
Then, stop that! You’re making yourself look like a fool! The smug little voice snapped.
Right. She took a deep, shaking breath, blinking away the tears. She couldn’t even remember what had made her so afraid of the Rockets to begin with – only that she was. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let him see that any more than he already has. It’s a game. Don’t let him see…
Her jaw clenched and she raised her chin defiantly, shaking her hair back even as her hands shook with fearful adrenaline and her heart pounded in her chest. She blinked rapidly against the burning in her eyes as Surge chuckled a second time, leaning back against the side of the truck with his head resting comfortably on his arms and his legs stretched out. He didn’t seem interested in talking to her and the last thing Keegan wanted was more attention.
Her eyes flitted about, studying her surroundings as her mind raced. She felt like collapsing with relief when she saw Pichu, half hidden in shadow nearer the rear of the truck and tangled in the strap of her bag. He looked dazed and blood matted the yellow fur on his head as he blinked groggily. Keegan could only guess he’d hit himself when the truck lurched.
Hope he’s okay. She thought, slowly flexing her hands, half hoping she might be able to work out the trembling which still gripped them. Nonetheless, she felt calmer, forcing herself into a surreal viewpoint where the situation was not quite real and easier to accept.
That was when she realized her pokéballs were still clipped to her belt. For a moment she was stunned; wasn’t it the first rule of kidnapping to disarm your victim? Then she didn’t pause to think. Her hands darted to her waist, the rope tightening cruelly about her wrists. She fumbled for Hazel’s pokéball, elbows splayed outward.
“Don’t even think it,” Surge’s lazy voice said, and Keegan froze. She glanced up to find he was gazing at her through half-lidded eyes, a mocking grin still on his lips. He reached for the thick belt at his waist, unclipping and expanding his own pokéball threateningly.
“You’re probably thinking you’re lucky we ‘forgot’ to take your pokémon,” he said with a smirk. “Hah. Team Rocket doesn’t need to deprive its enemies of their pokémon. Besides, it makes it more interesting if we don’t. Makes them think they still have a chance.” Surge’s grin widened as Keegan considered that, her hands twisted painfully in the rope. “Besides,” he went on. “An attack from either of us in a speeding truck could end up with all of us, including you, as roadkill. Now, ya really wanna risk that?”
Keegan hesitated, glancing sidelong at Pichu. The little pokémon was tugging irritably at the strap, ignoring her. If Pichu wasn’t here – but I can’t risk him AND my other pokémon – she slumped and allowed her arms to relax, releasing the strain on her wrists as her stomach twisted with anxious uncertainty. Please don’t let me live to regret this! She prayed to whoever was out there.
Surge chuckled, replacing his own pokéball and getting to his feet. Keegan cringed, looking up at his tall frame as he grinned down at her, practically filling the back of the truck. In one step he was standing over Pichu, and a huge hand came down to lift the suddenly frantic pokémon around the neck.
“Pipipipi!” Pichu squealed, his cheek-sacs sparking, the weight of the bag dragging down at his plump body and paws as Surge held him up teasingly, blocking out the exit with his burly body.
“Worried about this little runt, are you?” Surge demanded with a smirk, dangling the pichu closer to the billowing tarp, where the gravelly road could just be seen rushing beneath the truck’s wheels. And beyond – the inescapable blackness of the night.
Keegan stared, wide-eyed and pale. He wouldn’t dare, he wouldn’t throw Pichu out, he wouldn’t –
He would. “Say goodbye,” Surge grinned, and with a small toss he sent Pichu flying through the tarp and tumbling onto the hard road outside.
Before Keegan had a chance to think, her legs pumped and she was on her feet, leaping to do something – before she realized it was too late, Pichu was gone, and sank back down to her knees as silent tears tracked down her cheeks, her ears ringing with Surge’s deep laughter.
Outside, Orchu’s paws kicked at the restraining length of material bound around his body, throwing it off as he tumbled from atop Keegan’s dirty, damaged bag and onto the pebbly road. His fur was covered in dust, matted with the blood of dozens of grazes and scrapes and his small body heaved, trembling with deep breaths; but he was alive.
Alive, thanks to the heavy weight of the bag which had landed first, undelayed by panicked scrambling.
Alive, and now… alone.
Or so he thought, as huge, pearly tears trickled over his grimy fur. I didn’t like her, Orchu thought forlornly, too tired and hurt to move. But now I’m completely in the unknown. At least then I had someone who knew what they were doing. Sort of. He sighed, slumping back against the bag, and cried. Oh, help me, someone! He begged the stars overhead. Jirachi – Celebi – Moltres – just – SOMEONE – help me!
Then a footstep crackled over the gravel. Orchu jumped, his heart leaping into his throat fearfully. Without thinking he buried his head into the semi-soft folds of the bag, a trembling ball of dirty yellow fur.
A calloused hand came down and stroked him gently. Twitching fearfully, expecting at any moment to be attacked, Orchu peeked up into the thin, shadowed face of an elderly human. He was bald with a white moustache and dark, circular glasses which obscured his eyes, but his lined face was somehow kind. Cautiously Orchu turned around completely, looking up at the human with unintentionally pleading eyes.
“Don’t worry, little one,” the human said reassuringly. “I’ll take you somewhere safe.”
Orchu hesitated. Humans can’t be trusted! Was his first instinct; but he had travelled far from the power plant since the days when he truly believed that. This one seems alright. Relief washed over him. He can take care of me. With a sharp jerk he nodded.
Blaine looked down at the pichu cradled in his right arm, pausing for a moment in the darkened lee of a warm rock. The little pokémon looked sound asleep, nestled comfortably in the white sleeve of Blaine’s lab coat, and the man felt a momentary pang at the sight of all his bruises, the memory of his fear.
Those Rockets, he thought with a sigh, have no compassion.
It was a source of great shame that he’d once been one of them. How he’d ever thought that Team Rocket could further his research… well, they had, but Blaine had sacrificed more than he ever intended for that to come true. He could only pray he could redeem that fateful decision.
Grimly Blaine hitched the bag up on his shoulder, his hand catching on the hasty knot he’d tied to repair the broken strap. His forearm tingled fitfully in way he hadn’t endured for quite a while… it troubled him as he continued on his way down the dusty path. He couldn’t afford to light the trail properly, not with that fool Harry after him. It was risky enough trying to keep an eye on Surge’s regular shipments, and now that Koga had arrived on the island to help with the search…
Having two of the Triad in the same place as him was not a good feeling. Although, in a way, he supposed it was a compliment.
That was when he heard the sound of distant voices echoing through the night.
Instantly Blaine halted, hiding in the concealing shadow of a line of rugged boulders nearby as his eyes darted about at the blackness beyond. On the threshold of sightlessness he could see figures shifting, but he couldn’t make out any details, nor hear individual words. And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the twinkling glint of piercing red eyes preceding an eerie configuration of bright yellow circles, appearing to hover past and behind unseen obstructions.
An umbreon?! Blaine thought, momentarily astonished as he watched the umbreon creep closer to the two distant silhouettes. It looks like it’s stalking them – do they have something it wants? He shifted his weight, leaning over the warm rocks to watch, his tinted glasses darkening the night further – but as his hand pressed on the soft rock it crumbled, a shower of pebbles hitting the ground with an unnervingly loud tinkle.
“What was that?” One of the figures moved, cutting off the voice of the other. With a reflexive jerk Blaine ducked, praying they hadn’t seen the movement in the darkness and hoping for the umbreon’s sake they hadn’t seen it either.
Because no matter how unlikely the circumstances, the Rockets were ordered to capture or kill any pokémon they saw – just in case. And an umbreon on Cinnibar Island, unless it happened to be in the hands of a trainer, was suspicious enough.
His hopes proved fruitless. “What the –”
A scorching hiss pierced the still air amid the sound of pounding paws, and then a startled cry was echoed by a curse. “Zubat –” a voice snarled, but was cut off by a howl of pain and the sound of bodies colliding. Then, before Blaine could decide to do anything, a living shadow skittered over the rocks up the slope.
The umbreon. It came to a sudden halt upon seeing him, its yellow rings flaring and lips drawn back in a snarl, its scarlet eyes flashing eerily. Blaine froze, eyes on the umbreon’s matted fur and heaving flanks.
Damn those Rockets! He swore inwardly. Nothing and nowhere is safe from them – except –
The sound of footsteps came loud, swelling up from the darkness around them, and the umbreon’s ears twitched.
“It’s just a damn umbreon, what’s the problem?” a frustrated voice grumbled.
“He took a bite outta me, that’s what!” another retorted furiously.
They don’t know where it went. Maybe… Mentally Blaine dimmed the noise, running a hand thoughtfully over his bald pate. “I can take you somewhere safe,” he murmured as quietly as he could to the umbreon.
Brother glared at the human, his heart easing up on its wild drumming on his ribs. His mouth was filled with the taste of blood and his fur prickled with the uncomfortable knowledge that enemies were near. He hated to trust a human, but he had lost Bairn’s trail.
But that pichu… that pichu was with her! If the pichu was there… perhaps he could show Brother the way to Bairn… but the human was unlikely to give him up… and yet, nor did he taste of greed or malice… <<Show me,>> Brother hissed, ducking his head warily, but cocking his ears forward so the human would know he meant no ill intent. Not yet, anyway.
Blaine hesitated, unsure whether the sound had been one of acceptance or challenge. No matter. “This way.” Carefully he eased down the slope, his shoes crunching softly on the hard pebbles and the bag swinging as his shoulder. Like a shadow, the umbreon followed after.
The volcano on Cinnibar was old and dormant, long since abandoned as a tourist attraction except for the hot springs it generated at its base. Which suited Blaine fine; because it meant that only the most zealous of climbers would dare the peak and even then the chance was slim anyone would see it.
A door, set into a darkened crevice. Made of steel, the volcano made it hot enough to burn the unwary. The path that led to it looked deceivingly rocky and impossible to climb, the boulders around it warm with the heat of the mountain, but Blaine had walked that track many times and knew it as well as he knew the back of his hand.
So it was that before the moon had risen into the early night, casting its silver light over the rippled ocean skirting the island, Blaine and the two pokémon were safe in the laboratory concealed within the volcano itself.
The laboratory had a tendency to be warm and stifling, even despite the lead-lined walls and extensive ventilation, but it was an uncomfortability Blaine was well adjusted to. The umbreon didn’t agree; as Blaine punched the plain, circular button to close the thick, electric doors, the black pokémon’s ears twitched irritably, paws silent on the semi-cool tiles.
“The Rockets don’t know about this place,” Blaine reassured the umbreon in his soft, hoarse voice as he moved into the wide room, skirting the equipment-clogged walls, and set his burdens carefully on a nearby desktop. The little pichu snuffled into his tiny paws, black-lined ears twitching, and his button-like eyes opened blearily. His hind paws skated on the desk as he clambered atop the bag, clutching at the material with a wearily blissful sigh.
Blaine ruffled the pichu’s matted yellow fur with a bandaged hand, frowning up at the wire-swathed ceiling as the umbreon paced the length of the room impatiently, heedless of his dirty and matted fur. “What do you seek from the Rockets?” Blaine asked the umbreon cautiously as the pichu leaned delightedly into his hand, seated atop the soft material of the bag. The girl. “Is the girl your trainer?”
If he’d poured gasoline into the volcano, he wouldn’t have gotten a more explosive response. Instantly the umbreon spun about on his paws with a guttural roar, fur bristling into harsh spikes which made him resemble a jolteon, his lips drawn back in a vicious snarl and ears tight against his skull. Wrong thing to suggest. Blaine froze and slowly raised a pacifying hand, long moustache twitching with nervousness. How can such a small, nimble pokémon make itself look so menacing?
Eyeing him with wary impatience, the umbreon flicked his ears and relaxed, allowing Blaine to do the same with a slow breath. Not the girl; but she’s not the only one the Rockets have kidnapped… “A pokémon, then?” the human hesitated, rubbing absently at the aching flesh of his bandaged hand, and uttered his next comment cautiously. “One of hers?” the umbreon snarled a little, ducking his head to glare fitfully at the pichu with his eerie scarlet eyes.
“Pipipi,” the pichu offered nervously, wide ears twitching timidly at the umbreon’s unnerving stare. Blaine settled back against the desk with a frown, tugging at his moustache as he considered the situation.
If the Rockets want to kidnap an innocent girl, they must think she knows something – a chill of grim realization ran through his skin, beginning with the ache of his bandaged arm – or has something –
And once the thought had begun, it wouldn’t be stopped. His distant eyes tracked to the nervy pichu who had always clutched at the soft material of the bag, always made sure he was close to it, but the scientist didn’t see just a weary, dirty pichu. He saw the myriad of electric pokémon who had been under his care –
– under my tyranny –
– who had desired and fought and even killed for the sake of being near it –
– the ESP.
Without thinking Blaine’s hand jerked to the pichu, plucking him off the bag and putting him down unceremoniously on the desk. “Pi?” the pichu rubbed his behind ruefully, eyeing Blaine’s clenched jaw as he flipped open the bag. Mentally the scientist apologised to the unnamed girl as he went through her belongings, tugging things both public and private from within the weatherproof bag and laying them out on the desk. The umbreon ignored him to pace edgily, eager to be away, while the pichu clutched his hind paws and tittered to himself at the sight of this invasion of privacy.
It wasn’t until Blaine reached the bottom of the bag that he found it. He felt it first as a lumpy, cloth-swathed item; but as soon as his bandaged fingers brushed the material, rivulets of pain streaked up his arm and he jerked away with a surprised grunt. She does have it! His chest contracted in sudden fear and he pulled away with a shudder. She does have it! But –
He turned away, massaging his arm, inattentively watching the pichu tug a bra from beneath the stack of clothes and pull it gleefully over his ears like a bonnet. Why did Surge throw it out of the truck – absently he began to shovel the girl’s belongings back into the bag, his bandaged hand clenching convulsively – unless he doesn’t know she has it. And I’d bet she doesn’t know either.
He frowned behind his darkened glasses, his body tensing as he realized the track down which his thoughts were leading him. Which means I have to get her out of there before they find out – and I have to get it off Cinnibar. I can’t keep it here; I don’t have enough faith that my lab will remain undiscovered – and my presence alone… he shuddered again, gritting his teeth against a sharp twinge in his arm. And it’s presence around me – no. It should go to Erika, and she’ll figure out what to do with it – perhaps Bill could figure out how the damned thing works –
“I need to go to the Pokémon Mansion,” Blaine said aloud with a grimace as he plucked the bra from the pichu’s possessive grasp and stuffed it back into the bag. How I’m going to manage that, with both Surge and Koga there –
The pichu’s eyes went wide, his ears standing up in shock as he immediately forgot the loss of his new toy, but the umbreon growled approvingly, paws dancing with skittish impatience on the shiny floor. “Pi!” the pichu turned away, studiously ignoring Blaine as the scientist grimly picked up the two pokéballs which had been lying in a shiny rack nearby.
Blaine felt a pang, realizing the pichu would not help rescue the girl – and realizing why. He follows her because of it. He can’t leave, he’s chained to her – he hates her. Is that how all those pokémon felt about me? He wondered, watching the pichu tug forlornly at an ear, frozen in an instant of remorseful, painful memory. At least, the ones who eventually gained their right minds – the ones who were driven to the threshold of insanity, only to wake up and find they could no longer survive without the influence of the ESP – the clones.
A snarl shook him out of his reverie and he turned to find the umbreon waiting by the door, looking back at him with an irritated glare. It doesn’t matter now, Blaine told himself forcefully, his footsteps echoing in the room as he walked away from the pichu and the reminder of his crimes. The clones escaped to live like normal pokémon – the Rockets lost the ESP and the knowledge of how to use it – and that’s something, at least. He slapped the button on the wall, letting the artificial light to blare over the warm rocks outside as he exited the safety of the laboratory. Now all I can do is keep it that way.
* * *
“Nothing,” Harry reported reluctantly to Koga, kneeling on the shiny, cool tiles of the Pokémon Mansion’s control room with his blonde, pigtailed head bowed in penitence and his cap shading his eyes. Koga scowled at the equipment-stacked wall beyond, arms folded across his chest.
Where could that old man have got to? The ninja thought irritably, grinding his teeth in frustration. Aloud he said, “Continue surveillance. He must be on Cinnibar somewhere.” And Sabrina’s smug superiority is getting on my nerves. The sooner we find Blaine, the sooner she can focus on her own tasks.
“Yes, Master Koga,” Harry ducked his head respectfully and stood, leaving the room in a series of quick footsteps and a swirl of his long red scarf. Several of the uniformed grunts and scientists who were overseeing the Mansion’s central controls sneaked cautious peeks at the executive, who apparently didn’t notice them; he was too deep in thought, staring at a flashing console nearby, his thin face expressionless and his eyes dark. The door slid open with the hiss of hydraulics and the room snapped back to attention as Lt. Surge strode in with a jaunty step.
“Blaine still being a nuisance?” Koga could hear the smirk in Surge’s rough voice without even turning around. The thin, black-haired man scowled and didn’t answer. “Well, I’ve got something to show, at least.”
“Oh?” Koga answered noncommittally, raising a preoccupied eyebrow towards the burly soldier as he came to Koga’s side with a sniff.
“Yeah. Ken captured two Magma grunts at the Sevii – I brought ‘em here for security.”
The only words to filter through into Koga’s distant thoughts were ‘captured two Magma grunts’, and it was only through decades of training that Koga managed to keep his face from registering his shock. Magmas in the Sevii – Magmas in Rocket territory – what is Maxie thinking?!
If Surge noticed Koga’s abrupt tenseness, his muscles suddenly wound up like a coiled spring, he didn’t say anything. “And there’s a girl, too,” Surge was adding absently, stroking his square chin. “The Magmas were after her for some reason – thought she might know why they were here, but so far the stubborn little fox hasn’t said anything.” Surge chuckled, unaware of Koga’s involuntary twitch.
“Little fox?” Koga repeated with a snort, his skin tingling with apprehensive anticipation. Don’t tell me, don’t – “Is that her name, or did you coin the phrase yourself?”
Surge grunted, scratching his blonde head as Koga waited impatiently for his answer. “That’s what the Magmas called her, according to Ken – appropriate, if you ask me.”
Damn. Koga swore inwardly, his body freezing and his chest tightening with anxiety. Outwardly he maintained a bland expression. “Show me the cell bays,” he snapped to a nearby technician. The violet-haired woman jumped, startled, and hastily worked the blinking console to obey. “And active the anti-pokémon field,” Koga added belatedly, wishing he could’ve avoided saying it – but if I hadn’t, Surge would have –
Two of the screens flickered, prickling with snowy static as they showed twin bare, grey rooms, smooth-walled and inescapable. One was already occupied with the two Magma grunts, one of whom was sliding a hand around the walls, presumably searching for cracks. Koga’s stomach tightened and he gritted his teeth, recognising both of them. Larry and Brody – two of Maxie’s most dedicated. They would have recognised Keegan instantly – they must have recognised her instantly –
And in the other room… he turned his attention to the other monitor as a familiar, blond-haired young woman wearing blue board shorts and a bikini was shoved unceremoniously into the cell. Damn. Koga cursed, his jaw clenching edgily. What Maxie would think if he saw this… Keegan looked battered and scratched, as much the worse for wear as she had been when Koga first met her. Her eyes were red, rimmed with dark circles, and she looked tired; but that didn’t stop her from grimly expanding one of her pokéballs and touching the release button with her thumb.
Which was when the anti-pokémon field came into play. The pokéball fizzled but didn’t open, casting a slight electric shock over its red-and-white surface that made Keegan jerk away with a curse, dropping the pokéball to the uniform grey floor. It bounced, rolling to the wall, and Keegan stared after it, her eyes huge in her pale face. She retrieved the ball and tried again, with the same result; but not the same reaction. With a vehement curse that made her voice crack with a restrained sob she hurled the pokéball at the door angrily. It just rebounded off, rolling to her bare feet as she sank to her knees, her shoulder shaking as she struggled to contain the tears which tracked down her grubby cheeks nonetheless.
Surge chuckled at the sight, but Koga didn’t join in. He was too busy finding it far too easy to imagine determined, eager Janine in Keegan’s place. His lips drew to a thin line, slanted eyes mercifully hard even as he seethed with apprehensive frustration inside. Leaving her there is unthinkable – but how could I get her out?
That was when another of the screens flickered demandingly and the slightly nervous voice of the technician broke into Koga’s thoughts. “Incoming call, sirs. Screen four.” She gestured at the monitor and made herself as inconspicuous as possible as Sabrina’s pale face fizzed into view. The last person I need to speak to right now, was Koga’s first irritable thought upon seeing her.
“I see you’ve arrived on time,” Sabrina said coldly to Surge, her voice coming through a little staticy over the speakers and her black-sleeved arms folded over her stomach. “I got your message. What was it you wanted to speak about?”
“The Justice,” Surge answered promptly. “Ken said there was a young man he pursued in the Sevii, who ran across them on their mission. Ken had to let him escape in order to capture some Magmas. He might be Justice, which means he could be heading back to Celadon to report to Erika.” Quickly the burly sailor described the trainer in question, but Koga hardly listened. His thoughts were no longer on Blaine as they should have been, but on Keegan.
“And the girl? Your message said she was in Goldenrod as well as Sevii. It’s likely that she’s Justice as well.” Sabrina noted with a slow blink. Koga twitched, but said nothing. For all he knew, Keegan was Justice…
Surge shrugged. “Possible. One of your psychics would be able to find out quick enough.”
I have to prevent that. The thought flashed through Koga’s mind, with no answer as to how he was supposed to accomplish it. Nor did it occur to him that he was now plotting the betrayal Sabrina had accused him of.
“So far Erika has made no move on the game corner,” Sabrina was saying as he tuned back in to the conversation. “But I’ll instruct Ryu to keep an eye out for that boy of yours.” She smiled then, an expression reminiscent of a cat with a mouse beneath its paws. “I see you have been silent, Koga. Perhaps Blaine is too much of a challenge for you.”
For just a fleeting second Koga’s hard-learned restraint broke beneath his frustration. His dark eyes flared angrily, his arms clenching to fists on his arms before he managed to reinsert his control. “I know my task, Sabrina,” he said icily in a voice which promised her all the pain his skills could provide should she retort. “Now why don’t you focus on yours?” With that he spun about on his heels and swept out of the control with a menacing swirl of his scarf.
Like a shadow Koga ranged the ridge broodingly, looking over the line of warm boulders which marked the edge of the small basin in which lay the Pokémon Mansion. Beyond the scrubby, rocky environment on the Mansion’s left, the nearest stretch of ocean to the Mansion glittered in the faint light of the semi-obscured stars overhead. To the right, laid out against the sea as a port and almost concealed by a hill of volcanic rocks, were the lights of the only city on Cinnibar.
Behind him was the shadow of the island, in which was hidden his quarry – the traitor Blaine.
Yet his mind was turned not to the concealing darkness, but to a young woman who was held within the stark, guarded corridors of the Pokémon Mansion.
Things would be much easier, he thought irritably as he prowled the edge of night, his dark clothes fading him into the gloom, if I could order her shipped to the mainland and stage an escape on the way. But he couldn’t, and he knew it. Ken had caught the girl and Surge was Ken’s Executive; any and all decisions with regard to the prisoners were made by him and him alone. For Koga to take control would be stepping on Surge’s toes – a thing which none of the Triad wanted the others to do. It would draw far too much unwanted attention to himself. It was a stretch of his abilities just to free Keegan; to free Larry and Brody as well was an impossibility. He’d have to leave them and hope Maxie’s skills as a diplomat hadn’t waned with his good sense…
I must somehow arrange for her escape without revealing it was I who planned it, or there would be a heavy price to pay. He considered carefully, ignoring the bright glow to his left which was the Pokémon Mansion’s outside lights. What he worried about most was that Surge might commandeer one of Sabrina’s psychics. True, mind-reading wasn’t nearly as simple as was commonly held, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a threat. Koga had been around Sabrina long enough to know that reading another’s mind was much like reading their actions and body language. The mind lied, it concealed, it twisted the truth even from its owner – and then the owner would twist it further.
And that was just the average person, who didn’t know a thing about concealing their thoughts. For those that did, all that a skilled psychic could glimpse were impressions, if that. To complicate matters further, those that were adept at hiding their intentions physically could hide them mentally too – they had to, to trick the body into acting otherwise. Which was why she found him to be such a frustration. And why he wasn’t worried about Larry and Brody.
It was also why he was worried about Keegan. After his first and only encounter with her, he knew that she’d never be able to put up more than a minimal resistance. Of course, she could surprise me… Maxie has done that more than once and she is certainly his child… but that was a risk he didn’t want to take. Whatever secrets she had, they were best kept that way – at least from Team Rocket. Yes, I know what I must do… but how to do it…
He was broken out of his thoughts by the sound of soft footsteps, crunching on the pebbled dust not far ahead. Instantly he faded into the shadows, slanted eyes flickering expertly around the darkness from whence the noise welled, one hand resting cautiously on a pokéstar.
And treading cautiously out of the darkness, following the line of boulders which obscured him from the view of the Pokémon Mansion, came the lab-coated answer to his riddle.
Blaine ground his teeth in frustration, running a cautious, bandaged hand over his bald head as he regarded the scrubby, illuminated grounds of the Pokémon Mansion. Black-clad Rocket grunts patrolled the area like constant wraiths and occasionally he could see the twinkle of a security camera lens amongst the lights. Beside him the umbreon growled softly with a similar emotion, ears flickering irritably and paws pattered impatiently on the dusty ground.
There are too many of them for us to sneak in, Blaine thought with a mental sigh. It’s only a miracle we managed to get this far without being caught…
A second later he was forced to eat his words. “Ironic, is it not? I devote all my time and effort to finding you, and you come right to my doorstep.”
Koga! Instantly Blaine spun around, his wrinkled hand diving towards the pokéballs on his belt as his lab-coat flapped around his legs. But he was neither as fast nor as night-sighted as the umbreon, who spun about on his paws and leapt instantly towards a shadowed figure which Blaine could hardly see.
All he saw of what happened next was the swirl of a darkened red scarf as Koga dodged the umbreon’s mindless charge. Blaine expanded a pokéball, about to throw it, when Koga’s voice hissed from the darkness. “Don’t be a fool! The sound of a release will be enough to bring the patrols down upon you!”
What? Startled by Koga’s sudden warning Blaine snatched the pokéball back a microsecond before it left his hand, even as the yellow circles of the umbreon crouched on a rock nearby, warily watching Koga’s silhouette with scarlet eyes. Blaine’s fingers twitched over the smooth surface of the pokéball, uncomfortably aware of the fact Koga just had to yell to have him captured.
So why didn’t he? Aside from the fact it’s not the ninja way to call all their allies down upon them. But then, why did he warn me he was there – why didn’t he strike when he had the chance? Blaine knew Koga – knew that despite his sense of honour he never failed to take advantage of a situation. Then why…?
Carefully, moving with deliberate calm, Koga stepped into the faint light which was cast over the rocks, his slanted eyes considering the umbreon as cautiously as the pokémon regarded him. He held out his hands, empty of pokéstars, before folding his arms casually across his chest. He’s showing he’s not a threat – though any one of his pokémon could be hidden in the darkness –
“If I am to hazard a guess,” The ninja began smoothly as Blaine struggled to decipher his intentions. “I would say that you’re here to save the girl Surge recently captured.” Koga threw the scientist a knowing smirk, half of his thin face cast into eerie shadow. “Hmm?”
What’s he playing at? Blaine wondered nervously, his body tense with twitchy uncertainty. It’s not like him. Surge plays with his foes and Sabrina taunts them – but not Koga. Not unless he has something to say.
Koga must have read it in Blaine’s expression, because he chuckled softly. The umbreon’s claws scratched the surface of the warm rock, crimson eyes narrowing, but Koga ignored him. “I am here because I wish to help.” The ninja said simply, his face bland.
For long seconds Blaine was too shocked to speak, staring at the dark, utterly fathomless eyes of his enemy. Why would he care about a nameless girl? Unless to him she’s not so nameless – the umbreon’s disbelieving hiss brought him back to himself, and his scratchy voice sounded out with quiet suspicion. “Why?”
Koga shrugged. “That, you don’t need to know.”
I don’t like that answer. Was Blaine’s immediate thought, his pokéball half raised in preparation for attack. “I can’t trust you,” he pointed out quietly, itching to be free of the danger illuminated on his right side.
“That is not my concern,” Koga said flatly. “You want to save the girl. So do I. Whether you believe me or not is your choice.” Without waiting for an answer Koga pointed to the farthest visible corner of the Pokémon Mansion, facing the night-blanketed ocean. The scrub of the grounds bordered a narrow gravel path leading into the darkness.
“That path leads down to the Mansion’s old dock – which you should know, seeing as how you destroyed it.” Blaine tensed at the reference, his fingers clutching the hard plastic of the pokéball, but Koga’s tone was distantly mocking, not accusing. “As you no doubt also know, it has not been rebuilt, for fear it would attract unwanted attention. Nowadays supplies are transported overland from Cinnibar, so the doors on that side of the building are rarely used. They lead directly to the cell block and storage bays.” Koga flashed him a trademark sardonic smirk, but Blaine wasn’t fooled for an instant. Koga tended to hide his true intentions under dry wit and contemptuous haughtiness.
Still, the scientist could see where this was leading… but I can’t trust him. What’s his game?
Koga’s eyes flickered to the single shadow which stood by the peeling wooden post of the veranda nearby the doors in question. “It will be easy enough for me to sabotage the security system in that corner without revealing myself. The lights will go off to signal it is done and the agent will leave to investigate, leaving the area open for penetration. Once inside you will need a cardkey to unlock the cell doors. Beyond that, there is little I can do to help.”
A chill crawled unnervingly down Blaine’s back and he resisted a shiver in the semi-warm air. He mentioned little on escape. “Why?” he repeated his question, absently flexing his bandaged hand to loosen the ache which has set into his tense muscles. “Who is this girl, Koga? Why are you so willing to betray Team Rocket for her?”
For an instant a strange, almost uncertain shadow passed over Koga’s face. Then his jaw tightened and he turned about silently on sandaled feet, vanishing into the night.
Blaine sank to a seat beside the line of rocks, releasing a tense breath with a quiet sigh while the umbreon shifted restlessly on his rock. The scientist turned to examine the grounds, judging distance and time between the constant patrols before giving up in frustration. The only way I’ll get inside is with Koga’s help. Still he wavered. Why was Koga helping him? He had a position of such power with Team Rocket, why would he risk that? Who was this girl who commanded such control over him? I shouldn’t trust him. I should turn around and walk away, wait for another chance…
When the lights flickered off several minutes later, Blaine didn’t hesitate.
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