Sorry for the delay; I've been distracted recently by a spate of illustration work - and commissions, unlike these chapters, have deadlines.
Chapter Fifty-Five: The Men Who Stare at Clouds
Darren Goodwin. Last seen fleeing from the druids in the midst of the confused battle in the halls of the Mt. Pyre Memorial Museum.
Where was he now?
He was sitting in Devon's secondary office tower, in Lilycove, waiting to see a supervisor.
Why was he there?
This was something he wasn't entirely sure about. Soon after he had left the museum, he had passed by a telephone booth in which the phone was ringing; knowing that such a melodramatic call must either be from a sniper across the street, a gang lord or Devon, he'd answered it. It had turned out to be a summons to the nearest Devon HQ – hence his being here.
How had he escaped the museum before the police arrived?
The short answer is that he hadn't. The long answer is that he'd waited in the graveyard until all the policemen were deep in the museum, and then crept down to the docks to board one of their boats. Tipping the lone guard calmly into the sea, he had commandeered it and motored north up to the docks.
From there, he had taken the train to Lilycove, and there he was now, sitting in the waiting room and wondering if he was going to be seen any time today.
"Mr. Goodwin?"
Darren looked up, and saw a blonde secretary leaning through the doorway.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Tanyan and Mr. Zuckerman will see you now."
Mr. Zuckerman? That definitely wasn't a Hoennian name. Darren frowned. Devon was a multinational, yes – but generally, it only employed people from within the four nations that made up the Grand Pacific Cluster, Kanto, Sinnoh, Johto and Hoenn. In fact, it didn't operate far outside the boundaries of those countries, either – in America and Europe, rival companies already controlled what would have been its market, and the powerful Rounding Grey Corporation maintained a strict monopoly over most of Asia.
He shrugged. It wasn't anything to worry about, surely. Mr. Tanyan was there, and Darren knew him of old – he was a well-respected senior researcher, responsible for the supervision and ordering of ordinary Devon researchers like Darren.
"OK."
The Goodwin got to his feet, went through the secretary's office and knocked once on Tanyan's door. From within, a voice called, "Come in!" and he did so.
Mr. Tanyan was tall and warm and slim; he stood ramrod-straight with one foot upon his chair, like Captain Morgan on his barrel of rum. He had always done this, and would probably do it until his retirement. He wore a neat grey suit and a flowing red-and-gold coat, for no real reason.
Mr. Zuckerman on the other hand was broad and solid; he reminded Darren of a clumsily-carved ice statue, in that his demeanour was cold and his body blocky and ugly. He had a face like a Granbull, and judging from the size of his arms, an attack like one too. He wore a black suit and sunglasses, which wasn't unusual – and a little lapel pin with an enamel flag on it, which was.
"Darren! Good to see you, good to see you," Tanyan said warmly, shaking his hand with great enthusiasm. "This is Mr. Zuckerman."
"So I gather," replied Darren. Then, extending his hand to Zuckerman: "Pleased to meet you."
Zuckerman regarded the proffered hand as if it might conceal a bomb, and did not deign to shake it. After an awkward pause, Darren withdrew it.
"What exactly is it you wanted me here for, sir?" he asked of Tanyan.
Tanyan considered.
"Well, it seems America is interested in this case." He glanced at Zuckerman. "Perhaps you'd better explain this one, Mr. Zuckerman."
Zuckerman stepped forwards. The whole effect was like a small house moving forwards by a foot; Darren was almost surprised that he didn't rumble when he walked.
"We believe that a very dangerous criminal is hiding in your country," he said without preamble; his voice was thick with accent, but Darren had to admire him for actually learning Hoennian. It wasn't an easy language for English-speakers, or so he'd heard. "I'm here to ask you to assist—"
"Sorry," interrupted Darren, "but who are you, exactly?"
Zuckerman gave him the evil eye, and Tanyan made some ineffectual placatory comment. Darren didn't care; he didn't particularly enjoy being treated as worthless by jumped-up foreigners, even if they were American.
"I'm Agent Zuckerman of America's Central Intelligence Banana," he said coldly. "Does that—"
Darren didn't hear the rest, because he wasn't able to keep from laughing.
"Agency," he said, smothering the laugh. "Agency, not banana. Únka, not uinká."
"Ahem," said Tanyan, "I'm sure it was an honest mistake. We're aware our language is not the easiest, Mr. Zuckerman."
"Look," said Darren, "what are you doing here? You should be talking to the government and the police, not Devon. We're not mercenaries; I'm entirely the wrong person to speak to."
"Wrong, Mr. Goodwin," replied Zuckerman frostily. His face was red and he was quivering with anger, but Darren knew he could take him if he turned hostile. He was a Goodwin, after all; highly-trained, lethal and utterly inescapable. Unless your name was Kester Ruby or Sapphire Birch. "You've met this person, which puts you in the position of being able to inform us much better than the government or the police."
"I've met him, have I?" asked Darren, raising an eyebrow. "Who exactly is this person, then?"
"His name is Robin J. Goodfellow," replied Zuckerman, "and he's a Rotom."
---
A shiver ran down my spine.
Mine again, Puck said. Sorry. Goose walked over my grave.
I'd never heard that phrase before, and would, had I had time to think about it, have put it down to English idiom – but I was a little preoccupied. I was trying not to be shot.
This room looked like most of the other druid laboratories, only there was a series of glass tanks running around the walls. Within these were strange little creatures, white and blobby like malformed clouds, and with little smiley faces. I got the feeling their expressions didn't change, which was creepy.
Of more concern than the blobby Pokémon, however, were the numerous Team Aqua members arrayed about the room, each with a gun pointed at us, and several with Carvanha somehow hovering by their sides. I recognised the big one who had been Felicity's partner amongst them, looking somewhat bruised. Their leader seemed to be a tall woman with curly red hair, who held a machine pistol in one hand and the hand of a little girl in the other. This gave me pause for thought: how many gangsters took their kids to work?
The red-haired woman stepped forwards, and the girl did too, though she stayed half-hidden behind her.
"Hello," she said brightly. "Who are you?"
"This is Sid," I said, indicating Sid. "He's a druid. That's Sapphire there – she's a Trainer – and I'm Kester. I think you probably know Felicity."
"Why are you telling them—?" Sapphire asked, but I cut her off with a wave of my hand. The reason I was telling them everything was because I preferred to remain unpunctured, and I had a feeling that hiding information was not the best way to earn my safe passage out of here.
The woman's eyes flicked to Felicity in surprise.
"You? But you worked for us..."
"I don't work for anyone," Felicity said shortly. "I was a slave. Now I'm rebelling."
She's Spartacus, Puck remarked. No, wait, I'm Spartacus!
"Drop your gun at least," the woman said. "Please? We'll have to shoot you otherwise."
Felicity held it up for a moment longer, then dropped it and lowered her arms.
"Who are you?" I asked. I thought I was being pretty cool in the face of all these gun-barrels, but I'd been a little close to death quite a lot recently, and it might have just been me getting over my fears a bit.
"My name is Shelly," the woman said. "I'm a Team Aqua Administrator. This is my daughter, Scarlett." She pushed the girl forwards a bit. "Say hello, Scarlett."
This is utterly surreal, Puck said. What the hell's a kid doing here?
I'm a kid. What am I doing here?
You're not a kid. You're a teenager, which is whinier and less worthwhile.
Scarlett seemed a little shy, or perhaps scared; either way, it took half a minute of coaxing to make her speak, during which both the Aquas and we felt rather awkward, like characters who'd suddenly turned up in the wrong movie.
"Hello," Scarlett said at length, and then went back behind her mother. Shelly smiled.
"Sorry," she said, "she's a little shy. Now, where were we?"
"We'd just finished the introductions," Sid said. "I think the first topic is probably 'where's the Orb?'"
"Oh yes!" cried Shelly. "That's what I was going to ask. Where's the Orb?"
"What?" Sid looked about as confused as I felt. Didn't the Aquas have the Orb? Hadn't that woman said it was in this room?
Huh. Seems she was lying. Must've been a regular Iago to put up that act and convince us like that.
"You won't get the Orb," Sapphire said, taking over the conversation. "We've already moved it to a secure location."
"We have?" asked Sid. "I mean, yes! We have." He did his best to look triumphant.
"Where is it?" asked Shelly. "I'll have you shot if you don't tell me."
Somehow, Shelly was almost as scary as Maxie or Courtney; she didn't have the rampaging fury of the Magma boss or the calculating nastiness of the Admin, but her motherly nature was so incongruous here that it... well, it freaked me out, for want of a better word.
I glanced at Sapphire and hoped she could keep up the quick-fire lies.
"We don't know," Sapphire said smugly. "We just passed it on."
"To who?" Shelly asked. "Sorry – to whom?"
"Some druid," Sapphire replied. "He was leaving as we got here."
This couldn't be going anywhere good. I had a Very Bad Feeling about this – so bad, in fact, that it required its own set of capital letters.
Shelly thought for a moment. Behind her, the Aquas looked like they were getting tired of standing there.
"All right," she said eventually. "You – Sapphire, did you say your name was? – come with me. You'll show me where the druid went. You three" – here, she indicated Sid, Felicity and I – "stay here and be held hostage for me, would you?"
She came over and grabbed Sapphire's wrist; Stacey snapped at her, but Sapphire recalled her before things could get violent.
"You three. Get in the room properly."
We shuffled forwards slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements – They're gunmen, not snakes, Kester – and took seats at a nearby desk. Meanwhile, Shelly and Sapphire left the room.
There followed a long and very tense silence. We were surrounded by gun-toting Aquas, without any means of resistance should they choose to shoot us; the moment one of them pulled the trigger, my life would be snuffed out like a candle-flame, and that would be it. I had faced death before, true, but I'd never had enough time to really think about how terrifying it was – and now that I had, I was all but wetting myself in terror.
Charming imagery, said Puck disdainfully. There's another limitation of a fleshy body. All those... excretions. Nastier than sauerkraut mixed with fudge.
It felt like hours had passed by the time Sapphire and Shelly returned, but it couldn't have been more than a minute.
"The doors are all locked," Shelly said, sounding rather put out. "How did they manage that?"
No one said anything, but after a few seconds the giant Aqua raised one meaty hand.
"Yes, Barry?"
"Him," he said, pointing a thick finger at me. "He's the Rotom-kid."
Instantly, every single gun was pointed at me, rather than at our group in general; I swallowed what would have been a very effeminate shriek and remained silent.
Oh. I think you might be about to die. Puck sounded as if he were thinking something over. Hey Copperhead, do you think Skuld would mind if I moved into Felicity's head with her?
"Is this true?" Shelly demanded.
I didn't know what to say, and thankfully Sapphire took the decision out of my hands.
"Yes, it is," she said scornfully, "and he could kill you all without even moving."
"In that case, don't sit so still," Shelly told me derisively.
Let's show her. Come on, you're ready. Think evil thoughts.
What? What do you mean, I'm ready? And what's this about evil thoughts?
Just do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Haha, I'm David Starsky. No, but in all seriousness, do it.
Puck's advice, if cryptic, had been good recently, so I tried; unfortunately, Shelly seemed to want to talk to me.
"You locked all these doors, did you?"
"Uh... yeah."
Evil thoughts... evil thoughts... psychotic ventriloquist's dummies... men in hockey masks... Michael Myers...
Ordinarily, I'd object to you stealing my thoughts – but you need all the evil you can get right now. Keep going!
"Then unlock them."
When I didn't respond – I was thinking of creepy psychic children with glowing eyes – Shelly tapped Scarlett on the shoulder, and the little girl came over and poked me slowly and deliberately in the eye.
"Aah!"
I leaped up, losing my concentration instantly, and only just restrained myself from lashing out at the girl.
"Now I have your attention," Shelly said, "come and unlock the doors. You, sit down." Sapphire took my seat, and, with her, Sid and Felicity as hostages, Shelly and Scarlett brought me out into the corridor.
"I'm really not so dangerous," I said nervously, as soon as we were out of earshot. "In fact, I'm not even a member of Team Magma."
"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to lie?" asked Shelly.
"Er... sort of."
True to form, she'd taught me that I shouldn't really lie, but that there were situations in life where I really would have to, and that I shouldn't be afraid to when they came. In fact, I remember her telling me to 'lie like crazy and tell her you like her' when I was wondering what to do the first time someone I loathed asked me out; I believe her reasoning was that I could use the experience of feeling awful and then being subjected to a tearful tirade as useful preparation for later life.
Your mother's a terrible person, Puck observed. Almost as terrible as a horse. But think evil thoughts now, Kester. Evil thoughts will save you!
Evil things... scary dolls... man-eating aliens that look like clowns... man-eating aliens with acid blood... man-eating aliens made of jelly that engulf diners... man-eating aliens in general...
"I said, we're here!"
"Ow!"
She's a vicious little kid, isn't she? More effective than an attack dog, because no one wants to hit a little girl. Come on, evil thoughts! I can feel them coming – you've almost got it!
I put my hand on the numberpad next to the door and made a few sparks crackle around my fingers, but Puck didn't hack it. Shelly's eyes widened slightly, though.
"It'll take a few minutes," I lied – thank you, Mum – and closed my eyes, focusing on evil thoughts.
The wind's picking up. Keep it up...
I could feel it now, a light breeze around my ankles. I didn't question where it came from, despite the fact that we were both indoors and underground. I just thought of evil things.
The man who mustn't be named... the man who hunts the blue hedgehog... the man who wanted all the Triforces...
OK, some of these are more petty than evil. But keep trying!
"What's taking so long?" Shelly asked, and then the moaning began.
All three of us turned, equally surprised, and at the other end of the corridor I saw the air darkening and thickening, as if slowly caramelising.
"What... What is this?" Shelly turned to me, eyes wide. "What – are you doing this?"
Now! Release the wind!
I wasn't sure how, but somehow I reached out without moving, and the dark air rushed towards us, a rolling wave of bleak, dark thoughts and emotions. I couldn't feel it properly, but I saw its effect on Shelly and Scarlett; the little girl crumpled to the floor, unconscious, and the Admin sank to her knees, clutching at her head. She looked utterly destroyed and desolate, as if she would never be happy again, or as if her soul had been scooped out in one fell blow.
The dark wind pulsed silently through the open door we'd come from, and I heard a shot being loosed; no one cried out, and distantly, I hoped no one had been hit. My mind was somewhere else – it was riding the wind, directing its flow, fuelling its malign surge—
And that's quite enough of that, said Puck, and abruptly the wind faded away. Shelly flopped down onto the floor next to me, groaning softly, and my mind caught up with reality.
"What..." My breath caught. "Puck... what did you just make me do?"
You're a Ghost, he said. Most of your attacks are powered by negative emotion. This was no exception – a perfect Ominous Wind.
"Don't get off the point! What's happened to everyone?"
They're depressed. If it helps, think of yourself as a Dementor, only you screw over multiple people at once. Wait. That's not a helpful suggestion. Never mind. The point is, they're suffering from depression and apathy right now, and they'll come round in a few minutes. Now, let's go get the rest of the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad, shall we?
"Who–? You mean the others? Are they all right?"
I broke into a run, heading back to the Castform laboratory.
I hope so, said Puck, or we'll have a hell of a time getting them out of here.
I got back and found the Aquas slumped all around the room, heaving great sighs and occasionally wondering what the point of it all was.
Dear me, remarked Puck. It's like when Marvin got the Point of View gun.
Sid, Felicity and Sapphire had all fallen from their chairs, and lay limply across the floor in uncomfortable positions that they were too apathetic to move from.
"Why am I even still alive?" said Sid despairingly. "Wouldn't it be better if I were dead?"
A murmur of assent went up from the surrounding Aquas; someone said, "Hear hear!" and another one said, "I think we should all be dead." That one almost got a rousing cheer, but in the end no one could be bothered to raise their voice beyond a low muttering.
"My God," I breathed, staring around at them all. "What have I done?"
---
"Dear God," sighed Fabien, easing himself down into his chair, "I really needed that."
"I'm knackered," agreed Blake, falling into his with a soft thump.
They had been walking for some time now – ever since they had assembled on the southern shore of the lake, in fact. As has been mentioned before, Fabien and Blake were both enormously unimportant in the grander scheme of things, and thus the Team had chosen to skedaddle, to borrow the vernacular, without waiting for them.
Because of this, they had had to do the aforementioned walking. They had walked up the hills and down them again, past the rocky crags and, once, through a narrow ravine inhabited solely by a highly territorial Linoone. That last had been a wrong turn, and they had beaten a hasty retreat pursued by the linear-moving mustelid, but at length – and after a rather cold night on the hills – they had found themselves back in Plain Rooke's green and pleasant land, far away from any dark satanic mills.
Heartened by the fields around them, the two Magmas (Goishi had been recalled after the flight, to give him a chance to recover his strength after the three lengthy flights he'd made carrying them) had doubled their pace, and stumbled on blistered feet into the tavern in which they had stayed briefly on the way to Mt. Pyre. Now, comfortably seated and with the drink flowing freely, they turned their attention to the next order of business, which was feeding themselves.
A brief argument ensued over which parts of the all-day breakfast most deserved their attention, but this was soon solved by the simple expedient of ordering everything. To whit, eggs, bacon, mushrooms, sausages, tomato halves, pomegranates, toast and a plateful of spiced lard. The last was not strictly a breakfast meal, but it was a local specialty, and Fabien was a strong believer in giving local specialties an audition with his stomach, to see if they were worth pursuing in future.
The conversation ceased as the food arrived, and the two men settle ddown to the serious business of tackling it. For about forty minutes no words passed between them, only jam and butter; it was one of those meals that not only curbs hunger but satisfies the soul, full of the silence of deep companionship.
At length, the only dish left was the spiced lard. This was sampled, found to be a substance inimical to the sensibilities of civilised men, and promptly shrouded in a napkin so that they wouldn't have to look upon its unclean face again.
"Now that was a bit of all right," said Fabien, leaning back and settling down. If he'd been a fat old man, he would probably have hooked his thumbs under his braces and lit his pipe, such was his mood, but he wasn't, and so didn't.
"That's true an' no mistake," Blake agreed, leaning back and pulling lazily at his beer. (They had imbibed quite a lot of the golden nectar – to go, as Fabien put it, with their breakfastly ambrosia – and showed no signs of letting up now.)
"The question is, what to do next," Fabien went on. "We're all fuelled up and – let's be honest here – not a little drunk."
"You migh' say tha'." Blake gave a pleasant nod.
"So," Fabien continued, in a brisk and business-like manner, "let's keep drinking for a while, take a room here and have a good long sleep, then think things through later on. How does that sound?" he asked, with the smile of the natural-born winner.
"Tha' sounds like a plan," Blake said. "I'll drink to it."
And he did, and then Fabien drank to it, and then they both drank to it.
And the barman was chosen by democratic election to be their bestest friend.
And everything after that was a little bit blurry, but Fabien was fairly certain that they'd had a fine time, and that most of the pub's clientele became close friends of theirs.
And then their day faded into a black, sleepy night, giving no warning whatsoever.
---
"All right," I said, jabbing Shelly with my foot, "tell me everything that happened here. Especially the stuff about the Orb."
I had dragged her and Scarlett into the lab, disarmed all the Aquas and locked their guns outside the door. Even if they came around from their apathy before I was done, I now had the advantage.
It had been Puck's idea to question them about what had happened, but I was beginning to think that I'd have got more sense out of the Castform – which, interestingly, didn't seem to have been affected by the Ominous Wind.
"What's the point?" groaned Shelly. "We're all going to die in the end..."
"God damn it!" I shook her a little, like the bad cop does in the movies, and made some fist-thumpings on the table. Her melancholy didn't shift at all: the Ominous Wind had been too strong. "Tell me what happened?"
"We came in here," Shelly said, "through a disused mine shaft... oh, why am I bothering?"
"There's no reason not to tell me," I said in a flash of inspiration, "because you're going to die anyway, right?"
Good thinking, Batman, Puck said. That should do it.
"Well, OK sweetheart," Shelly replied, sighing deeply.
'Sweetheart'? Who does she think we are? Who do you think we are?!
"We were going to come in anyway, but when we found the druids had stolen the Orb, we put all our efforts into getting in," Shelly said, almost in one breath. "My life is dreary..."
Now she's doing her Mariana impression, Puck said, unimpressed. Kick her a little.
This was something that I did with pleasure, because by this point I was frustrated enough to have a burning desire to cause pain to something – anything at all. It seemed to focus Shelly's mind a little, and she carried on.
"We came to get the Orb, but it wasn't where the druids said it was," she sighed. "We locked a few of them up in the back room, beyond this lab..."
"The druids!" I snapped my fingers and dropped Shelly, who slumped to the floor without speaking. "Puck, they won't have been affected by the Ominous Wind, will they?"
No. It can't go through solid objects. Unless the Ghost itself is halfway through a wall – then you can conduct it through the walls and fill a whole building. It's really cool, like motorbikes and the concept behind General Grievous.
"In that case, can you see a door anywhere?"
I can only see what you can see, Puck explained patiently. Come on, it's probably over there.
I went over to the other end of the lab, stepping carefully over mild-eyed melancholy Aquas, and found a little door there. Through the wire-reinforced glass, I could see a group of druids; when they saw me, they started waving and frantically motioning for me to let them out, which I did.
"What on earth happened in here?" one asked me, surveying the scene. She was young and pretty, and since I had passed the previous moment in staring at her face unobtrusively, I fumbled for a moment before giving the reply.
"Oh. Er, I'll tell you if you tell me what's happened to the Orb."
"That's easy." The pretty druid sat down on a desk; the other four left the room without a word. "As soon as we found out the Aquas were in the compound, we sent someone away with it, to a safe location."
"Where are your friends going?"
"To set the other druids free."
"Er – that's not going to happen just yet, I'm afraid," I said apologetically. "I hacked your door system. All the doors are locked and only I can open them."
As if on cue, the other druids came back in, and complained that the doors were sealed.
"This guy locked them all," the pretty druid told them, then turned back to me. "OK, I've told you what happened to the Orb. Now you uphold your end of the deal: who are you and what on earth happened in here?"
"My name's Kester Ruby," I said with a sigh; the introduction was beginning to grow stale, and I wondered if I could find a way to jazz it up a bit. "My name's Kester Ruby, and I have magic powers..."