Bridge: The Autocrat
September 1, 100 AE
Knife Base 4
Charlotte arrived back, panting. It was a mixed result: they managed to destroy several important documents and kill many important architects, delaying martial law, but they hadn't prevented it.
She pulled off her helmet, and looked around, upset.
"Bevan?" She called out. "Bevan?" She looked around again. She couldn't see him. Her eyes watered. "Bevan? Bevan? Bevan!?"
The only way for her to fall asleep that night was to cry. To cry until the vigorous shakes of sorrow exhausted her.
*
September 2, 100 AE
Augury's lair, Ozoldra City
"Y-you…" Bevan was cold, staring his enemy in the face. He was in a small cell, and had just woken from a deep sleep. The last thing he remembered was Rex.
"Ah, Bevan. I'm afraid to meet under such unfortunate circumstances."
Bevan stood, fearless. In fact, he was devoid of all emotion at this point. "It's not unfortunate. You caused this. What possible reason could you have to capture me? You're not even my father anymore, I hear."
"It's a little more complicated than that, Bevan. I am the combined spirit of your father's ambition and Giratina's fear. In a way, you are still my blood."
"But it's not enough to spare my life?"
Augury chuckled to himself, stepping closer. "No, Bevan. Not even close."
"Why take me prisoner, then? Why not have your goons slaughter me?"
"Your psychic powers, Bevan. Do you have any idea the potential that flows through your blood? Cicero, by a total accident, stumbled upon a technology that rivals
my psychic abilities. Type AB blood, however… across the world, that is incredibly uncommon, but the incidence in Torcra these days is less than one-thousandth of a percent. Something to do with how our ancestors fought microorganisms."
"Huh? What?"
"Bevan, you have to understand something about your psychic powers. They are vast, but untapped. Without knowing it, you picked up on Cicero's lie by reading his mind. You just couldn't access it."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"He drugged you, Bevan. Your psychic powers were not inherited – such an idea is absurd. He experimented a new technology on you."
Bevan considered it. "Figures." He stood still for a minute, as if trying to absorb the anger which should have consumed him. "It all worked out, I suppose."
Augury stepped closer to Bevan, tilting his head in childlike curiosity. "I sense little anger, Bevan. Are you not infuriated that I killed your mother?"
"I've put emotion behind me."
"Most of it, anyway," whispered Augury to himself, enviously. He then spoke up, "So you'll have no problem joining me?"
Bevan scoffed. "You think I'll change allegiances that quickly?"
"Any rational person would, Bevan. Only emotion and sentiment would tie you to the Knife."
That, and the fact that Augury had killed his parents. But he reflected on that. He had not seen his mother in years. He had already released his anger on Manfred for that, and regretted it. If he refused to work with Augury now, it would be irrational to the extreme: he would be killed here and now. As for his father... Bevan never really liked him, anyway. It's difficult to get into Bevan's mindset, for someone who has emotion and sentiment. But this was the ultimate test for Bevan. And he was not going to fail. Not this time.
"Rationality keeps me from working for you. You have a habit of killing people who swear themselves to you."
"While we're employing logic, let's look at why I kill people, shall we? They cease to be useful. So they become a liability. Those powers of yours can never cease to be useful, Bevan: you possess a power, that if tapped, can help take over the world. On the alternate path, you could refuse, in which case you are useless to me now, and I shall execute you."
"Snap my neck, then, you bastard." He was testing Augury. If he really was valuable, then Augury would overlook this defiant command.
"So fearless in the face of death," said Augury, bored. "But not to pain, I'm afraid. You've numbed emotional pain, but you are physically weak, Bevan. Deep inside you're still the upper-class brat that my weaker half pampered and spoiled. Shall I describe to you the creativity of my torture, or can you make an educated guess?"
Bevan looked away. "Fine. What's the position?"
"An agent of mine. Not of the Moonlight Squad, but independent. You answer to me, you help destroy The Knife and implement my reign. It would be superfluous to say that you'd live a life of luxury: power and money will come to you like Combee to a tree smeared with Honey. And, of course, it will be different than the rest of your life: you will have respect. The alternative is death. Only emotion would make you stray from this deal."
"How much do you really need me, Augury?"
"That's all it'll take? For me to admit I need you?"
"No, Augury. It sounds like I'm working in the same capacity as Rex is right now. If you want me, I want Rex dead."
"Excuse me?" Augury's words were polite, but his tone was rising.
"I don't want to be expendable to Rex, nor do I want to work with him. He attacked me in a way that nobody else did. He may expose me to emotion again."
Augury stepped back, and probed through Bevan's mind, looking for deceit. There was none. Bevan had the full intention of filling Rex's shoes, even more capably with his newfound personality and powers. In the long run, it was an investment. Ultimately, both needed training, and Bevan's would be quicker with his talents. And they would take him further.
Moreover, Bevan had the capability to carry on Augury's legacy, while Rex seemed to be lacking the initiative and creativity to do this. Augury had never admitted this to anyone, but Rex was becoming a disappointment. On each individual mission, he could carry out orders with success. Great success, like his last one. But he never knew how to push back. He never knew when to flex his capable abilities beyond the boundaries, like Bevan was now. The idea seemed more and more appealing.
"Well?"
Augury realised he'd been thinking for well over a minute, leaving his prisoner in silence.
"Clever, cunning, and risky. You could have set me over the edge."
"Just the way you like it, Augury."
"Allow me to make it very clear, Bevan. If I am to do this, you must obey me at every turn. I will give you wide discretion, which I intend for you to use creatively and cunningly, but if you cannot obey me…"
"Your fears are unfounded. I obeyed the Knife. I know about accepting order."
Augury chuckled. "And should you get captured by the other side?"
"Then with my current position, I'll be slaughtered."
"And if you want to overthrow me?"
"If it becomes possible at that point, you don't deserve to rule. I'll make the death quick, if you deserve it."
Perfect. Augury knew that he was looking at a budding Machiavellian mastermind. It was risky, but Augury was never one to avoid talent for the sake of risk management. He thought himself invincible, something that the absence of Evan Emerit intensified. He didn't think that there would ever become a time where he could be overthrown. Three years ago, when he recruited Rex, Augury had thought that Rex would develop initiative and political cunning. He had been sorely disappointed. In a way, he had begun to almost resent his second.
"Very well, Bevan. Rex shall die."
"And I will watch."
*
Later that night…
"Lord Augury." Rex bowed his head. Bevan stood next to Augury, hooded and cloaked. His eyes were cold, enough to make even Rex slightly nervous.
"Do you have any last words, Rex? A final legacy?"
"M-my Lord… what…?"
"It is my wish that you die, Rex."
Rex closed his eyes, reluctant, but compelled to obey. Even in death, he could not separated himself from his obsession with hierarchy and social order. "By my hand or yours?"
Bevan spoke up. "Your legacy is obedience? Is that how you wish your life to end?"
Rex ignored it, and repeated the question. "By my hand or yours?"
"Mine," interjected Bevan, crushing the bones in Rex's neck. He collapsed pathetically, like a ragdoll.
Bevan went to the body, and nudged it a little with his foot, as if in disbelief. As if Augury had somehow tricked him. When he realised that his former torturer was dead, he smirked to himself. How pathetic.
How pathetic Rex seemed now. It was quick. But it wasn't dehumanising, for there was no soul to take away. He was simply a cog in the machine. Simply a pawn, albeit a powerful one, to Augury's brilliant mind.
I will not allow myself to become like him.
*
January 2, 101 AE
District 3, Cronine City
It was a regular day for the people of Cronine. Before going to work, they had risen early to collect the muck they served in the Food Hall. But something was different. The pounding of feet could be heard throughout the slums. People in camouflage were storming the streets, armed with guns and Pokéballs.
The megaphones on the poles sounded. "By order of The Nose, District 3 is undergoing a state of emergency for acts of terrorism. Remain in your homes."
One boy in rags emerged from his home. He couldn't have been older than six. He came with a small ball, not understanding the commotion of the adult world. He was in a family of seven children, so his parents were busy rounding up the older ones.
Be provocative, was the order of the soldiers.
Evoke a response, their superior had said.
Draw the Knife out. In reality, these orders came from the very top. Augury wanted a riot.
The small boy saw the soldiers and screamed. One man, only obeying orders, signaled his Houndoom to rush forward. The black canine headed easily for the small boy, who dropped his ball and tried to scamper away. It took no effort for Houndoom to tear him apart like a squeaky toy, his blood staining the cracked streets of District 3.
The people, cowering in their makeshift homes witnessed this. Some of the braver ones emerged, and were gunned down. It was a vicious cycle: people went out, and were gunned down. These blatant acts of violence made people angry, which made them brave. So they came out. And the cycle began again.
And how vicious the cycle was: within an hour, the impoverished people of District 3 were throwing whatever they could find at these approaching troops. They had no Pokémon, they had no weapons. But, for once in their lives, they had hope. Hope that was torn apart by brutal Pokémon attacks and bullets.
Within the day, the riot had been suppressed. Twelve-hundred were dead. None who were wounded were left alive. Many that were alive were transported to the new prison in Ruraya Town to undergo "testing", and many more were sent to Catriz City to be imprisoned. No house was left unraided.
In the surrounding areas, who heard this violence, rebellion was brewing.
*
November 12, 101 AE
Annual Carnival, Estable City
Perhaps the single most important tourist event in Torcra was the Annual Carnival in Estable City. People travelled from across the region to experience a night of enjoyment. The Cronine riots had caused some unrest in the region, but the smooth tongue of the new Voice had settled it down. But the wheels were starting to take motion: people were getting angry.
Thousands upon thousands of people had gathered to see the event. Many had saved up five years of pay in order to travel: inter-city travel was heavily taxed in Torcra, and it had gone up when martial law came into effect a year ago.
The people were a little uneasy with the military there at this supposedly happy event, and even more upset by the Cloaks there. However, they were determined to enjoy a night of candy floss, amusement rides, and stage shows.
At midnight, a scheduled fireworks show was cancelled, and the exit gates were locked. The military raised their guns and released their Pokémon. The people, remembering the Cronine riots at the beginning of the year, eagerly obeyed when they were told to kneel and put their hands on their heads.
Cloaks moved through the crowds and called out lists of names. All of innocent people. These people ranged from children to the elderly. Anyone whose name was called was ordered to stand. So was anyone who looked even vaguely suspicious.
The Cloaks slit the throats, publicly, of about a third of these people. Another third were taken away to be experimented on in Ruraya Town. The prison, of course, was still secret. And the remaining third had far more gruesome punishments, ranging from being set alight to having their limbs ripped off by hungry Houndoom. It was gruesome. It was ugly.
But most frustratingly, there was no reaction, apart from tears. The parents of a murdered child did not even stand up to the Cloaks that executed this poor girl. They were too scared for their own lives.
The commanding Cloak separated himself from the crowd, and pulled out a cell phone. "Madam Eyes, they are not responding. We're not drawing anyone out."
"Kill them all except one." Even for Susan Adams, a fundamentally cruel woman, this was an order given reluctantly. But she, herself, was under the orders of Lord Augury, a man whom she couldn't disobey.
"I don't understand."
He heard a sigh on the other end of the line. "Let one person leave freely so he can tell the story. Then set the carnival alight. Don't let anyone else live."
"Madam Eyes, I don't mean to question…"
"Then don't, commander, or you can be executed as well," Susan snapped. "We are trying to draw a reaction from the Knife. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."
*
July 4, 102 AE
Head Office of the Voice, Ozoldra City
"This is madness. You can't have this article published," said the Voice.
"I know it goes against everything in your blood," chuckled Bevan, "but you will print this."
"An article criticising the government like this goes against everything we know. You're young and naïve –"
"And on Augury's orders," said Bevan in a monotone voice. "Is
he naïve?"
"The people will riot! Augury won't get his peaceful revolution!"
"Don't be an idiot. This is the sort of thing that makes people angry, but since it doesn't directly affect them, they won't riot. People are selfish, greedy, and myopic. Perhaps you shouldn't be in your position if you don't understand that?" Bevan had always had a touch of cynicism in him, but his position as Augury's second had increased this exponentially. "And, in case you haven't noticed,
Oligarch, you don't have a choice. Print it."
*
July 5, 102 AE
Front page article of the Central Torcran Newspaper
NEW RURAYAN PRISON DISCOVERED
Ruraya Town is a small, quiet town in South Torcra. The South of the South, in fact, so isolated from anywhere that nobody would ever think of looking there for a prison. But that's exactly what our reporters have just been tipped off on.
A secret prison, operated by the scientific arm of the Oligarchy, is being used for the worst of the worst prisoners, most notably the Cronine and Estable rioters. However, we're left to ask: is this really the kind of "justice" we want?
These people were imprisoned without conviction, and are forced to undergo all manner of painful experiments. One patient, Vladimir Andropov, had his ribs crushed and electrocuted for a weapon that we're not even allowed to know about.
People of Torcra, we're living in turbulent times, but The Knife has been awfully silent, lately. And we're still under martial law. it was bad enough living at the whim of the military and Cloaks. But for innocent people to be subject to biological and chemical experiments, many of which are painful beyond belief? That is entirely… (story continues page 3)
*
December 20, 102 AE
Zetport City
Zetport City. The only port of trade in the entire region of Torcra. Even under peaceful conditions, the military maintained a strong presence here: there was an airport and a large harbor that made escape possible. And now, under martial law, they were effectively in a military quarantine. It was only a matter of time until the events of Cronine and Estable repeated themselves. And Zetport was the most likely place.
The soldiers marched in from the West and the South, ordering everyone to stay in their homes. Of the three major crackdowns, this was the most meaningful to Augury. Many of his personal spies were involved in this great charade. This was where he would make his stand.
Augury emerged from a house, wearing a suit and his mask. It was only now that one could examine the terrifying nature of his mask: it gleamed silver against the sun, and curved perfectly around his entire head. It was entirely featureless, except for two narrow slits where his eyes were that allowed light and sound to come in.
Two soldiers pointed their machine guns at him, but Augury casually threw them aside psychically. He walked through the city, knocking soldiers unconscious with his own psychic powers and Pokémon. The people stopped to look in awe at this incredible masked man, crushing the riot.
One brave student stood before an approaching tank, blocking its path. Augury moved his hand, knocking unconscious the soldier that drove the vehicle. Then, in an incredible statement of defiance, he climbed up onto tank. The soldiers were too scared to shoot. The people were too scared to protest. One question was on their minds:
Who is this incredible person?
"People of Zetport City! Troops and civilians alike, do you know who I am?"
The crowd was silent, and a few managed to mumble a "No". At this sign, he unclipped the mask from the back, and allowed the crowd a glimpse at his face. It was twitching and convulsing painfully, his eyes bulging. But everyone knew who it was. When the message had sunk in, he placed his mask back on.
"I am Evan Emerit, the former Voice of the Oligarchy. You may have heard that I was dead. You were lied to, my countrymen! The martial law that was declared is a sham! I was going to vote against it, because I knew that it was an attack on your freedom! But your Oligarchs, those who are supposed to protect you, did not care!
"At night, I was arrested, and taken to the secret prison in Ruraya Town. They used me as a live experiment. As you can see, it went horribly wrong. My face now convulses horribly, and I must mask myself. My voice is strangled. But they gave me a gift: the ability to use psychic powers, like an Alakazam! So I escaped. Previously, my friends, I had told you to fight for the Oligarchy! But it has become corrupted and evil. Together, we must take it down."
He outstretched his arms. "People of the military! In stopping your actions, I killed none of your fellows. I only knocked them unconscious, and incapable of doing harm. Do not allow yourselves to blindly follow the orders of the Eyes and the Nose! Join us, the people of Torcra, in the fight for what is right! Join us, or the Oligarchy will begin purges in the military, and you
will perish.
"Let the power hungry succeed no more! Let justice finally prevail! Let martial law fall! I am on the side of justice, and the side of what is right. Only a coward wouldn't join me. Am I speaking to cowards!?"
The crowd cheered enthusiastically, and then a chant rose. "Not cowards, not cowards, not cowards!" The military took longer, but eventually they realised he was right. Besides which, the officers, hand-picked by Augury, began to cheer as well, ordering the soldiers to follow. Martial law like this could only result in purges. They'd happened before, and they could easily happen again. Slowly, but surely, the military and civilians alike had been won over by the razzle-dazzle of rhetoric and power.
*
March 4, 103 AE
Ozoldra City
"People of Torcra! We have fought a just fight thus far!" Augury stood on the State balcony, speaking to the masses below. "The military have stormed the castle, so to speak. All six Oligarchs have signed over power. No blood has been shed in this change of power. No more violence, my friends. We shall be free from the shackles of the Oligarchy!"
Time for the big risk. Everything led up to this next question. In a few short months, Augury, or "Evan Emerit", as the people knew him, had become Torcra's #1. He was a hero, who had bravely escaped from Ruraya and stopped a bloody massacre in Zetport City. And now, he had lead a bloodless coup against the government.
He was the ultimate chessmaster, playing the part perfectly, and forcing others to play theirs. He had spies everywhere, and people placed across the civil service, military, and criminal underworld. His only regret was that he hadn't discovered the Knife. They were quiet. He knew they would be – they couldn't attack him while he was seizing power, for that would cause chaos. And, over the past few years, they'd kept quiet. He knew that they were biding their time, using Cicero's knowledge to develop all manner of deadly and vile weapons that the Ruraya Prison, had, for the most part, failed to do. The honeymoon period with that group was about to end.
"Do you accept me as your President, people of Torcra? Will you allow me to help guide you? Would you forgive an old cripple who was too foolish to see the Oligarchy for what it was, until it was too late? Do you trust me?" Sympathy, guilt, and passion, all wrapped into one.
The crowd cheered in the affirmative. President Emerit reigned supreme: unquestioned rule and unimaginable power. The autocrat.
