Been a little while since we had a taste of the good ol' ultra violence, so let's fix that. It's not as bad as the first Sevii Lab, but do be warned: Violence and Gore ahead.
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In hindsight, while Slowking was invaluable in helping us find the new base in time, we should probably have specified where exactly it was.
Because Mt. Ember was absolutely humongous.
Every glimpse through the dense canopy was dominated by the peak, a column of near-black smoke pouring from the opening at the top. The Cinnabar volcano had been mostly dormant – other than the oh-so-lovely interior – but its big Sevii brother very much wasn't, a pulsing red-orange glow shining like a lighthouse against the setting sun and drawing us like Venomoth to the flame.
If nothing else, logic at least told us to start on the backside of the mountain, as far from the nearby town – 'Knot Town' for some insane reason – as possible.
"So, last time they used an ass-load of Gastly, Haunter, and some sort of Dark-Type, maybe Houndour or Poochyena, to hide themselves behind the Distortion-uh, Ghost and Dark-Type energies," I broke the silence that had settled over us, palm shooting up to catch a branch as it snapped back from Pryce's pushing past it. The Gym Leader's eyes didn't meet my small glare, locked on my hand.
"... that's extremely unhealthy for extended periods of time. I suppose Blaine has finally thrown off even the thin veneer of civility, ha!" It wasn't an amused bark of laughter, more of a derisive acknowledgment of being proven right. "Still, that gives us something to search for. Typical Blaine, overpreparation to the point of detriment, endlessly secure in his monumental arrogance." Reaching down, he tapped one of the PokéBalls at his waist. And I did mean PokéBall, rather than Acorn ball. I'd seen the older and larger row of ten on the front of his belt back in Blaine's office, but in all the excitement, I hadn't noticed the second line of standard red and white capture devices along the small of his back.
15 Pokémon, though one of those was presumably the Jynx that wasn't his, so 14. That Gym Leader privilege at work. Not that I was one to talk, I'd never had to deal with the carry limit myself.
The PokéBall opened and a second Froslass materialized, twirling in the air with a ghostly whisper rattling the leaves around us.
As Pryce's primary Froslass joined the second, swirling around each other playfully, I noticed the differences. Physically, they were damn-near identical in the way only immaterial Ghost-Types could. The one who destroyed a section of the Fairchild forest was almost see-through, like glacial ice rather than the bone of the lesser Ice-Type. Likewise, while they both left a chilly mist in their wake, only the first's froze to snowflakes that drifted to the grass and grew into tiny spires. Around his shoulders, Espeon shivered as the darkness became a little darker, the trees seeming to close in on us, long and crooked limbs reaching down like twisted fingers.
"Find him. We end this today."
I'd been so focused on the Froslass duo that I'd missed the other two Pokémon that Pryce had released, only getting a brief glimpse of a pair of bipedal figures before they moved, leaves ripped from their branches as the trees shook behind them, the Froslass making a game of hitting as many of the falling bits of foliage as possible when they followed them.
That wasn't enough reason to just stand around and gape, though.
"Espeon, can you look for any human minds? Use your new move to give yourself some more 'oomph'." The Eeveelution's eyes and focusing crystal started shining, dimly at first yet quickly building in intensity, a soft pink glow slowly illuminating the bleak jungle-
"Don't!"
Pryce's barked command disrupted Espeon's focus, the buildup energy slipping through her figurative fingers. Annoyed, I found Pryce meeting my glare with one of his own.
"Why not!?"
"'Why not'!? Are you trying to sabotage us or are you just simple in the head!? Any half-competent Psychic or even a decent ghost would notice telepathy, never mind that kind of buildup! You will notice that I only used Ghost- and Dark-Types to avoid detection!"
… okay fair, but still! "You don't need to be a dickhead about it!"
"Bah!" Pryce nearly beaned me with his cane as he dismissed my words. "I do not have time to coddle you. If a few harsh words offend you, you might as well go home now." A muffled ping! rang out from his pocket, making him pull out his PokéNav. "The north-west side is clear."
Fat chance that I'd up and leave just before things got good. "If you think so lowly of me, why'd you accept me coming so quickly? You could've tried to demand that I go home after we met Slowking." That had surprised me. I usually had to work harder for it.
"One, there was no time to argue. Two, you are an above-average Trainer. While you would be of limited use against Blaine himself and are unlikely to match up to my Mahogany Trainers, I expect there to be plenty of fodder that needs dealing with."
"... thanks." Maybe.
We continued searching for a while longer, the only sound being our feet crunching fallen leaves under our boots. It was remarkably quiet, in fact. Eerily so. No Noctowls hooting, no Spinaraks bustling about. I could've been convinced that Pryce and I were the only living beings in the forest.
It was disconcerting, and Slowking's words came back to the forefront of my mind.
The denizens of Knot Island didn't go near Mt. Ember.
So when something rustled a bush gently, the sound of something harsh scraping against bark reaching our ears, we could be blamed for stopping and getting ready to fight.
A flash of light green through the branches of a bush, steel-hard membranes grinding together with a high-pitched screech. An armored, almost reptilian snout above triangular eyes peering out from behind a tree.
A Scyther.
"Yo!" I raised a hand in greeting. I didn't know the species well enough to see if it was the same Scyther I'd met during my first time on the Sevii Islands, but there was no reason to be rude. "Slowking send you?"
The Scyther tilted its head, gaze bouncing between me and Pryce, the Ice-Type Master slowly removing his hand from his belt – though it didn't stray far. Suddenly it jerked back into cover like it got spooked, and vanished from sight again.
But not so far that we couldn't still hear it. Exchanging a look, I shrugged and followed the Bug-Type, Pryce on my heels.
As always, it didn't take long for me to get bored walking in silence.
"Hey, can I ask you a question?"
"You just did."
I glanced at him, caught off guard by the joke, only to see his face hadn't changed from the icy mask. Oh shit, it wasn't a joke.
"You and Blaine really don't like each other, huh?"
"That's not a question."
"Mother-" I rolled my eyes. "Why!? Is it just because you guys were leaders during the Rebellion? Because it sounds more personal than that."
"You would be right." Pryce's face didn't change, but his tone was as cold as that 'Ice Age' technique Froslass had used. "It is very personal."
I waited a beat to see if he'd explain, but no such luck. "Why?"
"None of your business. Now, shut up and keep a lookout." Another ping! of a revived message. "North-east and north-north-east are clear. We're closing in."
Our Scyther guide seemed to agree as the path slowly swung inward, the trees and dense foliage thinning as we reached the treeline. Ahead, the smoldering Mt. Ember towered over us, the ground surrounding it slowly beating back the grass in favor of rocky terrain, the moisture in both land and the very air noticeably less than the rest of the island.
I'd expected us to need to search even when we got to where Scyther was leading us – the door to the last Sevii lab being located inside a fake, hollow tree trunk – but even while still lurking out of view within the jungle, it was impossible to miss the swarm of black dots that swarmed around a spot a fifth up the massive height of the volcano.
"Well, that was easy," I mumbled. Blaine really was freaking out and pulling the plug on everything if he was being that obvious. I turned to thank Scyther for showing us the way, only to blink in surprise when I couldn't see him anywhere.
"Took longer than I would have liked, but it seems we are still in time," Pryce grunted, making a call. From the side, I could see a rough-looking older man with a nasty set of scars across his face and a white ski-suit saluting Pryce. "Brad, we found it. I am sending you coordinates; Teleport in and then be ready to set up a Null-field field."
"Yes, sir! Be advised that we have experienced some Teleportation interference close to the volcano. Permission to arrive 500 feet back and make the rest of the trip on foot?"
"Tsk!" Pryce clicked his tongue at the news, but didn't linger on it. "Granted. Stay alert. We might be reading into an ambush."
"Understood. See you in a minute, General. Brad, over and out." As 'Brad' vanished from the screen, Pryce turned to me.
"Ready yourself. We go in as soon as they arrive."
He didn't have to tell me twice.
—------------------
It didn't take long for the Mahogany Trainers to make their way to us, even with having to Teleport further in as Pryce and I retraced our steps to meet them halfway. Like specters, 28 white-clad men and women emerged from the darkening forest to take up position in front of Pryce in five rows of five, with the last three standing further in front. Most of the Trainers had unzipped their suits and let the top hang loose around their waists, dark patches of sweat visible on their undershirts.
The leading figure hadn't done so, however. The mountain of a man, standing a head taller than the second biggest and nearly as wide as Bruno – though with a healthy amount of body fat instead of Bruno's insane definition – stepped forwards with his back straight and hands clasped behind him. Scars littered the bald head and cut lines through the bushy beard, the two nastiest of which crossed beneath an eyepatch that hid his left eye and curved down to bisect his upper lip, giving him a permanent, teeth-flashing snarl.
Despite his appearance, his tone was professional and restrained, one remaining blue eye staring straight ahead as he reported in.
"All present and accounted for, General-Gym Leader, apologies." Brad saluted.
"Good." Pryce didn't acknowledge Brad's slip of the tongue. "Then let me inform you of the plan." He turned back around to Mt. Ember, though we couldn't see the base from where we were. "Our primary objective is, as you know, the capture or elimination of Blaine Heatmoore, Clan Head of Clan Heatmoore, Gym Leader of Cinnabar, General of Indigo. Our secondary goal is any and all information regarding the unidentified Pokémon that attacked Mahogany." There was a stir at that, teeth and hands clenching in anger. "Tertiary, Blaine is in league with the criminal organization known as Team Rocket. Any and all evidence to that extent, as well as anything regarding other associates, will also be collected. Make no mistake," there was a bloodlust in Pryce's eyes, a crack in his icy facade, "this ends today. Everything Blaine Heatmoore has done and built, we will bring crashing down around his ears." The Mahogany Trainers were too well trained to cheer, but there was a feeling of rising excitement.
"Blaine's an fucker, but he ain't stupid," Brad rumbled, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "While I'm sure he'd prefer if we didn't find him, we should assume that he's up to his ol' tricks. Seismic sensors, Null-field, the lot. He's got the high ground, so we should probably be ready for a Mt. Silver special. They can't go too crazy without burying their own base in lava, but the field favors them."
Pryce nodded seriously at that, while I was left scratching my head in confusion. What was an Mt. Silver special?
"Jenny, take 10 and secure us the terrain. We cannot allow them to bombard us from above."
One of the other two leaders beside Brad saluted: a severe-faced woman who was missing the tip of one ear, the edges discolored from frostbite. "Yes, Gym Leader!" She turned around and started pointing towards various people who broke ranks and formed up in front of her instead.
"Regarding the Null-field, it would appear that it is already up," Pryce continued with a frown, "though it is…"
"It's fuckin' weird," Brad completed, frowning at the volcano. "It ain't Ghost or Dark, but something's screwing with the Psychic's."
Something was nagging me; something about Slowking's ominous warning about the peak of Mt. Ember refused to leave me, but I just couldn't focus. I was on the fucking Sevii Islands, again, about to raid a Team Rocket base. Again. I sucked in a stuttery breath, wiping my sweaty palms.
"Something to be mindful of. We still don't know the location of the Psychic," Pryce concluded before tapping the earth firmly with his cane. "Enough talking. Weaviles out, illusions up, Jenny's team at the ready. Expect a trap. Now, move."
In a series of red flashes – and one nearly invisible blur returning to Pryce – 18 bipedal, cat-esque, gray Pokémon emerged with sinister grins full of sharp teeth. Red feathers crowned its head and collar, two larger ones poking out from each ear. With a snikt! sound, long, razor-sharp claws sprang from their paws, rubbing against each other as dark Denial energy started leaking from them. The Dark-Type energy spread and rose, coming up to form a viscous bubble around us. Gym Trainers zipped up their suits again, poor bastards, and redonned their goggles.
As soon as the edges of the large illusion joined up above – leaving everything slightly hazy and distorted, like wearing funhouse sunglasses – everyone moved in synchronicity, low to the ground as they rushed forwards, damn near leaving me behind.
Jenny's ten flanked us, five on each side as we ran; the whole line of us ghost-quiet. It felt like time crawled as we traversed the barren ground towards Mt. Ember, my heart hammering and fingers itching towards my PokéBalls, but I refrained.
Not yet.
Halfway there, we were forced to slow, our boots kicking up dust that threatened to drift out of our illusion and give us away. The reduced pace at least had an effect on the Trainers around me, their hands clenching and heads twitching more and more. It felt like it took hours.
Yet, in a heartbeat, we reached the foot of the mountain, Mt. Ember rising endlessly before us. The sun had all but set; still, the flickering fire above let us see our surroundings. Including the people still rushing around what turned out to be a cave, the entrance hidden from sight behind an upward-jutting cliff.
Pryce held up his hand before flicking it left and then right. In response, Brad and the other sub-commander – a terribly non-descript guy whose only adjective was 'brown' – slowly split off. Some of the Weavile went with them, their feline faces scrunched up in concentration as part of the illusion bubble went with them, leaving the rest of us to cram in closer together as what we were left with shrunk.
Minutes passed without incident, and I'd just started to relax into the idea that maybe, possibly, this once, the recon might actually happen before anyone tried to kill us.
I don't know why I bothered.
"CONTACT!" The brown guy's voice cracked out from above, sharp and immediate, and the Weavile's illusion sheared apart around me like wet paper as the ground ahead suddenly moved.
Black- and red-clothed people poured out of hidden alcoves, popped out of the ground like human moles, and threw off rock-painted blankets that they'd been hiding under, a cacophony of 'AHA!'s surrounding us on all sides. Red R's stood out prominently on the smirking Rocket Grunts' chests, but that wasn't the only red amongst them, nor were the flashing PokéBalls. No, Cinnabar Gym Trainers grinned at us alongside the terrorists as Graveler, Rhyhorn, Magmar, and a small camel Pokémon, tan with green spots, formed all around them.
Time slowed as rocky and flaming appendages rose, a tangible feeling of energy building.
"INCOMING!" Brad yelled, Jenny and her team stepping forward and unleashing their own Pokémon as the ones above made their move.
Graveler slammed rocky fists into stone in perfect unison overhead, the ground splintering and cracking as Rhyhorn reared up on the back legs and fell back down with deep roars. The earth heaved like water, a bulge traveling through it and down toward us as it ripped apart, the whole side of the volcano being pried from the whole and crumbling down toward us. If that wasn't bad enough, the Magmar and Numel were right behind them, smashing the ground with their own attacks.
For a second, there was nothing – other than the small mountain-worth of stone crashing towards us. Then, the vibration that I'd dismissed as the earthquake-landslide intensified.
rrrrrRRRRRRRR-CR-CRRRUUUUUMMM!
Magma exploded from the ground like a popped pimple, molten rock gushing outwards as the earth cracked in half, a long line dividing the ground just over the landslide. The lava bubbled out with force, pulled from deep within by the Lava Plum, and fell down the mountain to mix and melt the landslide. In seconds, a surge of melted and melting rock was rushing down the mountain like a tidal wave, rising so high it blotted out the volcano.
Knowing it was coming and having anything useful to do about several tons of falling magma turned out to be two very different problems.
"JENNY!" And then the ground in front of us simply detonated outward.
An absolutely humongous creature rose, shaggy brown fur so thick and puffy it looked nearly round, twin curved tusks of pure ice longer than a man was tall lowered like a battering ram – and it drove straight into the leading wall of molten rock without slowing even a fraction. Stone rose and twisted with every step, a wedge growing in front of the Mamoswine that extended back over our heads, and everywhere its feet came down, the ground simply stopped being molten, ice crawling out fast enough to freeze the leading edge of the flow solid before it finished falling.
Jenny's Piloswine came in beside it a half-second later, and while smaller than Mamoswine – much smaller – the fury pile was still an absolute unit, especially when backed up by another 10 equally massive mammoths that slammed into the wave of magma in Mamoswine's wake and shattered it, the ground curling behind them to make a path.
"MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!" I was shoved from behind as we started sprinting, a tunnel of stone forming around us to hold back the lava. The ground in front was frozen from Mamoswine's steps, yet the longer we ran, the warmer it got and soon, the ground turned to mud. It wasn't that bad towards the front, but I heard more than one curse behind me as someone slipped. The reshaped stone around began to glow with heat, slowly turning a cherry color as the air started wavering. Pryce's Weavile jumped onto his shoulders, looking ridiculous as it held onto what little hair its Trainer had left while blowing huge plumes of ice around the tunnel. The rock exploded from the temperature shift, cracks forming to allow lava to leak through and start melting through the ice instantly, yet, much like Froslass', it seemed resistant.
But not immune. It shrank and shrank as we forged blindly forwards, following behind the bellowing Mamoswine, sweat dripping from our brows and evaporating on contact with the ground, cracks growing wider as the temperature shifts became greater-
And then we were through, Mamoswine swinging its massive head and shattering our rocky shield into splinters that ripped through a foursome of Rockets and a Cinnabar Trainer who got caught with their pants down as we spilled out of the opening, the last of the tunnel melting into slag behind us. They weren't ready for us, or the Rockets weren't, at least, most of them gaping at us even as hundreds of pounds of charging mammoth smacked into them and trampled them underfoot. Blaine's personal Trainers were performing better, fights breaking out as we forced them away from the entrance.
"FASTER, FASTER!" Jenny's voice, closer now, Piloswine already wheeling to meet the grunts pouring down after us. "I've got the exterior – get inside before they regroup!"
We went through the opening, me in between Brad and the brown guy, and poured into the base after Pryce.
The smell hit me instantly – antiseptic, ozone, and something sterile in the way that had nothing to do with cleanliness. It had my head swimming, and as I stepped inside properly, seeing the bare walls, the lab coats, the carnage that was already spreading. Pryce had hit the gathered defenders like a wrecking ball, human and Pokémon strewn about…
-A dozen corpses lay sprawled out over the hard packed earth of the hideout. Throats were ripped out, the bodies laying facedown in a growing puddle of their own blood-
The floor tilted.
Not really. Some distant, still-functioning part of my brain knew that, the same part that knew this wasn't the other lab, wasn't the ship, wasn't Proton's voice in the dark, wasn't the sound Sharon had made – just a half-second flash of white tile and something small and feathered with too many wings stitched on wrong, gone as fast as it arrived, before Espeon's weight pressed hard and deliberate against my shoulder, her mental prescense against my mind.
"I'm good," I said, mostly to convince myself. "I'm good." Mostly true.
Better than the ship, anyway. I'd take better.
Trainers spread out behind us as I followed the leaders, securing the rooms as we passed them. The passages weren't super wide, enough for five of us to walk shoulder to shoulder, so I didn't bring out the whole team quite yet. That being said, Espeon, Zorua, Hercules, Honedge, Siren, and even Aurora were all fanning out in front of me or staying close.
We didn't get three corridors deep before the first real resistance hit – a squad of grunts backed by a swarm of Golbat and a pair of hulking Magmar, and it went about as well for them as it usually did. Herc took one of the Golbat with a Thundershock, even as Brad's Pokémon – a grinning clam of a Pokémon, as big as a human and covered in spikes that protruded from its shell – slammed its protective casing closed against the Flamethrower that washed over it, Brad pulling me down behind the Cloyster with him. The second the stream of fire ended, he thumped his Pokémon hard on the back.
"Spike Cannon!"
The Cloyster cackled as it obeyed, the protrusion across its shell glowing with energy before it shot forward with a muffled boom!
Meanwhile, I managed to get Zorua's attention, the Dark-Type halfway between terrified by all the fighting and excited by the unaware targets.
"Distract them!" I told her, making her vanish beneath an illusion as she crept off. It didn't take more than a second before a horrified scream rang out and Brad and I stepped out of cover.
"Aqua Cutter!"
"Ice and Water, wide! Herc, light them up!"
I ran forward even as Aurora and Siren breathed out a drizzle of ice and water, respectively, something Hercules followed up with a Shockwave that raced through and electrified the water. Some of the Golbat managed to avoid it on account of being too high up, and one of the Magmar only got clipped, but the rest seized up as their muscles spasmed.
Something Brad's Cloyster took advantage of, spitting out a hair-thin stream of water, twisting its head around to cover the whole width of the corridor. For a moment, nothing happened other than a deep line cutting across the walls.
Then, the tops tumbled to the ground, followed by the bottom halves, intestines and organs squelching as they plopped into the quickly spreading pool of blood.
-the two Pokémon pulled away from each other and I barely managed to close my eyes before a series of snaps and pops were barely heard over all the screaming, followed by a tearing noise and wet splats as something I preferred not thinking about hit the floor-
"-ad! Hey!" Something hit me on the cheek, snapping me out of it. Reflexively, I lashed out and nearly clocked Brad in the face. "Whoa, hey!"
"I'm good!!" I snapped even though he didn't ask. I was breathing hard, eyes flickering towards the bisected corpses as Cloyster snipped the last Golbat from the air.
Brad did not look like he believed me, but we were also in the middle of something, so he couldn't dwell on it.
"KEEP MOVING!" He called down the hall instead, and I made myself do exactly that, stepping over half a body and maneuvering around the other half.
It was way deeper than the first lab. I kept thinking it, the thought unwilling to leave my head. We were already deeper into Mt. Ember than the first Sevii base had been and it just kept going. How deep-
I accidentally glanced into a room as we passed it and felt like Bruno's Machamp had punched me in the chest. Along the far wall, barely visible between the three Mahogany Trainers who stepped inside to battle it out with the five Grunts and a single Cinnabar Trainer leading them, were cages. A Rattata paced its cell in perfect, practiced circles on six legs arranged in a spider's gait, joints that had healed clean around whatever they'd grafted on. A Pidgey-
-mindlessly bashed its head against the bars of its cage, two wings beating furiously. The other pair of wings laid limply at its side, fresh stitches visible where they were attached below the natural ones-
Herc shoulder-checked me to the side, an almost painfully bright stream of fire flying between us. I could feel the heat sear the peach fuzz from my cheeks despite the distance. My already twisted stomach lurched as the Elactabuzz caught a Vulpix in his large palm and I turned away instead to deal with the opportunistic Cinnabar Trainer trying to sink a knife between my ribs. He screamed when Honedge flashed past in his chase of Golbat that wouldn't leave me alone and severed the hand at the wrist; thick spurts of crimson landed all over the front of my shirt even as my knuckles crashed into his face.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
Even as we went down to the floor, I kept it up.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Fist raised to smash his nose all the way into his brain, I barely caught the way his eye looked past me to something behind, in time to throw myself sideways. The Cinnabar Trainer only had a second to try and scream again before a trio of sharp rocks pierced his chest with a series of thud! thud! thud! The Graveler lowered its hands, absolutely dumbfounded at its mistake, right until it was hosed down by furious Siren.
We hit real resistance again two junctions later – enough Grunts and Cinnabar red that Brad actually called a halt to reposition, and it was an ugly slugging fest of people who had decided dying is on the table. One of the Mahogany trainers went down under a Machoke's fist, ribs giving out all at once with a series of cracks, and didn't get back up ashis own Sneasel tore into the Machoke's throat, uncaring that the Fighting-Type managed to get its hands around it and crush its chest as long as it got the kill.
I caught the claw howling for Brad's back with Honedge on pure reflex, a half-second before conscious thought caught up, and shoved him sideways hard enough that the strike that would've opened his spine instead scored a long, shallow line across his shoulder blade that soaked through his suit in seconds. Honedge met the attacker, fainted around its arm and drove through, coming out the other side in a burst of viscera, while I stomped on the Trainer's knee and forced his head into the wall with force, ignoring the way his skull seemed to give way and the size of the bloodpool that spread when he hit the floor.
"You're bleeding," I said to Brad instead, stupidly, because it was the only thing my brain offered up.
"Had worse." Brad didn't even slow, pressing a hand flat against his shoulder, blood running dark between his fingers. "Owe you one, though."
"I think we're square," I dismissed, getting a quick slap on the shoulder as we rushed to try and catch up.
Pryce didn't wait for anyone, though. He pushed on alone through the next junction, ice trailing off his cane, boots, the hem of his coat, everything, like the cold had simply decided it lived inside him permanently now and had stopped asking permission. Bodies were left in his wake, crumpled piles of crushed ice as even the more enthusiastic Cinnabar Trainers waited for the Gym Leader to pass before emerging to confront the rest of us.
"General, HOLD-!" Brad's voice cracked with genuine frustration, clocking a sneaky guy hiding behind one of his buddies. The blow swung the man left, right into my own fist, which sent him into Brad's boot, which put him on the floor. Brad's Weavil made sure he stayed there, the Ice/Dark-Type smiling up at me, strands of flesh stuck between its teeth before it vanished again.
By the time we'd cleared out the small group barring our way, Pryce was long gone.
"PRYYYYCE!" Brad roared after him to be heard over the commotion behind us. But it wasn't Pryce who answered.
"Having a bit of trouble?"
From up ahead, a pair of knee-high, white boots with a heel stepped out of one of the rooms, uncaring that they landed in a bit of blood that we'd sprayed that way. A long skirt, white with black trim, swooshed down to mid-shin, but had a slit on either side that went up to mid-thigh. A belt held the long-sleeved, single-piece uniform together, a hand with orange-painted nails planted there as their owner cocked their wide hips to the side. Orange hair in an almost anchor-shape, with a wicked widow's peak, stayed remarkably still as the woman tossed her head, long, golden earrings flashing in the different lights from behind us.
But most noteworthy was the black patch over her heart, with a blood-red R.
"You'd be one of them there Executives, eh?" Brad mused, tensing as the woman stopped in the middle of the hallway, spinning a PokéBall on her finger casually.
"I would indeed be 'one of them there Executives'," she smirked, flicking the PokéBall upwards before snatching it back when it was right in front of her face. Cringe. "Executive Ariana, to be exact. I do so hate to be a poor host, but how about we let the daddies talk, hmm?" Her eyes slid to me. "Besides, its been so long since we've seen each other. Don't you want to catch up?"
Brad glanced at me, and I shrugged. "Never seen her before, no clue."
Ariana's smirk grew thin, and her eye twitched. Someone didn't like being disrespected, which meant having to deal with me was going to be a rough time for her. "I was on the S.S. Anne."
Right, the one Archie beat the shit out of with one Pokémon. I heard about that. "I feel like I would remember that. You don't have to lie; it's okay to have missed some stuff. Sucks, but it happens. Kinda sad to pretend otherwise, though."
The smirk was completely gone. "I see why Proton doesn't like you."
"WHERE IS HE!?" I tried to jump towards her, but Brad managed to hold me back, though he was obviously surprised that he had to put his back into it. In the face of my sudden rage, Ariana looked genuinely startled, taking a small step back. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"
"Hold, kid!" It took a few breaths and curses, but he put me down without me flying off. "You go on ahead."
"What!?" I asked him incredulously. How did that make sense!?
"You can't beat her, no, stop!" I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off. "You can't! So you go on ahead and help the General while I clean this up."
"If I can't fight her, I definitely can't fight Blane!"
"You don't need to. You just need to keep the ol' man alive long enough for me to get there." He looked at me as serious as I'd ever seen him. I hadn't known him for more than an hour, if that, but it had been an intense hour. "Listen, Pryce is a great man and even better Trainer, but when it comes to Blaine, he's dumb as shit. He'll walk straight into a trap as long as Blaine is there. Play interference, run that big mouth of yours, just stall! GO!" He pushed me ahead, pulling out another pair of PokéBalls as his Cloyster and Weavile stepped in front of him.
"Oh?" Ariana's smirk returned along with another flip of her helmet-hair. "You think I'll just let him go?"
Brad snorted, unzipping his ski-suit, but keeping it on. I'd seen the thick clothing shrug of a decent Ember, so I finally understood why everyone was wearing them inside the volcano. "If you think you can take your eyes off me, be my guest. I'll step over your corpse and get the ol' man myself."
"Hmmmm," Ariana hummed, but then, inexplicably, she stepped to the side. "Brad Bradly, Menace of the Ice Path. Usually, I'd go for it anyway, but with you… you deserve my undivided attention."
Looking between them, I hesitated for a moment before swallowing my reluctance and moving to the opposite side of where Ariana was. Slowly, I crept along the wall, eyes on Ariana despite the two higher-level Trainers never breaking their staring contest. Once I was past her, I briefly contemplated trying to attack her from behind, the good old pincer maneuver. Then her shadow shifted damn-near unnoticeably, and I abandoned the idea, instead getting Brad's eye and mouthing 'ghost' to him while pointing at her shadow. He didn't acknowledge me, but that was fine. I would just have to… trust that Brad had it.
I stepped away from the wall as I moved, picking up the pace to try and get to Pryce.
Good thing, too.
BOOOOOOOOOM!
The left wall exploded outwards, compacted dirt and stone smashed into dust and grit as a Hitmonchan came through it already swinging, catching a Sneasel across the jaw with a jab that didn't just knock it out – it caved half the poor thing's face in, bone giving under the impact with a sound that turned my stomach.
"Hi-Yah!"
I didn't get a full second to process it before the wall behind the Hitmonchan tore open the exact same way, a larger and bulkier bipedal figure slamming another into the opposite wall with a loud yell of exertion.
A person, punched hard enough to shatter the stone on impact and keep sliding, one arm bent at an angle arms weren't supposed to bend, blood running down the wall dark and fast from the back of his head to stain the white ski-suit the Mahogany Trainer was wearing. Miraculously, the Trainer started stirring.
"Hi-Yah!"
Until a foot hit his face so hard it caved in the wall behind him, teeth splintering and nose shattering as the skull broke under the force.
Above the dead Trainer, a fairly tall man retracted his bare foot, uncaring of the vermillion that stained the pant leg of the white karate gi. Muscle bulged visibly through the sleeveless top, thick, scarred hands clasped together with a loud smack! A head with short hair bowed to his deceased opponent in a gesture of respect.
"You fought well. Simply not well enough."
Straightening up, the man sighed and turned in our direction before seeing me, dark eyes widening while the thick, caterpillar-esque eyebrows shot so far up they nearly vanished under his red bandana.
In return, my own eyes were wually wide, my voice barely a whisper.
"... Koichi?"
—---------------------------------------
Le gasp! Betrayal on the high seas!