Chapter Twenty-Seven: Mystery, oh Sweet Mystery
"Ah, Liam!"
Liam awoke. He had been drugged by the Knife recruiter – after all, it was just bad business to take people to the base conscious. They could discover its location. Even the recruiter didn't know – he sat in the back as a mechanised truck took him to base.
The room was obviously a bedroom, but a cramped one. Liam was lying on the bed; Dagger was standing on the small amount of floor space next to it.
Liam looked around to make sure he was alone. Sitting up, he tore out the letter which Dagger had given him. "What the hell do you call this?"
On the piece of paper was a few golden lines, interlocking and separating. It was hardly elaborate, but to evoke the kind of reaction it did from Liam, It was obviously significant.
"I think you know, Liam.
The Golden Twirl." As Dagger said it, he flashed a silver card at Liam. Imprinted on the card was the same golden twirl that was on the piece of paper. Twirling the card around, he revealed an elaborate series of dark purple symbols.
"I know the bloody name. It's an expression. What do you think you're doin', wavin' that thing around?"
"Most people don't know what it is. It's hardly risky."
"It's a gamble of long odds to think that He who is Merely a Rumour doesn't have people lookin' for it. You really wanted me that much? That you'd risk sending some oblivious recruiter with the Golden Twirl out in Cronine?"
"We need good trainers, Liam. And you're the best."
"I'm only the best because I'm good at avoiding capture," spat Liam. "And I know the underground."
"Two more excellent qualities for our organisation. You also forgot that you hate the state as much as we do."
Liam scoffed. "You have my loyalty to your cause, if you know about the Twirl. But not your organisation."
"You will follow my orders."
"No," said Liam, bored. "I won't."
"It's a big risk not to."
Liam tilted his head. "The only things of any value you could take for me are Charlotte and my own Pokémon. Neither situations bode too well for you, either. You've got nothing on me."
"Apart from the Twirl."
"Enough to make me fight
with you, Dagger. Not
for you."
*
"Liam?"
Charlotte, now twenty years old, spotted her former trainer friend and rushed towards him, gripping him in embrace. "Really wish you wouldn't do that," he said, sounding a bit winded, clapping his hands on her back.
Liam was sitting in his room. Evidently, Charlotte had heard that he was here.
"My letter really worked? I thought it was a long shot."
"It was," said Liam roughly. "You really thought you could appeal to my sense of worrying about the future?"
Charlotte snorted. "So… it didn't work?"
Liam shook his head. "I'm a trainer, Charlotte. There really is no other life for me. It's how I'll live and how I'll die." He paused. "Although, it's definitely a plus to see you again," he winked, not insincerely.
"Then… why are you here?"
Liam pulled out the piece of paper from his pocket. "This mean anything to you?"
Charlotte gazed at it oddly. "No."
"It's supposed to be a secret, but nobody has any respect for those anymore." He took the piece of paper back. "It's called the Golden Twirl."
"And this made you come? It's that important?"
"If your boss knows about the Twirl, it's enough for me to temporarily suspend my trainer life. It's that important. I'm taking it that you know about He who is Merely a Rumour?"
"We call him Augury."
"Old habits die hard, Charlotte. You don't use that name in the open. I've picked up bits and bobs of info on the outside, but Dagger's filled me in."
"Well? What is the Twirl?"
Liam laughed, and took Charlotte to her room. (Or, more accurately, Charlotte showed him the way.) After they were inside and the door was closed, Liam began to explain. "Three people in the world possess this." Liam pulled out a silver card. Imprinted on it was the same golden twirl that was on the piece of paper. He only briefly showed it to Charlotte – he was very protective of the small card. "HWIMAR'd love to get his hands on this."
"Hwaye-mahr?"
"H-W-I-M-A-R. Street code for, er... Augury."
"Never seen you so nervous," poked Charlotte.
"I didn't have the kind of protection you do," said Liam defensively. "He's some big bad opponent to you. But in the real world – which you've been out of touch with for so long – he's far more real. Far more terrifying. Every corner you turn, every person you talk to... and the worst part is, we couldn't separate fact from fiction. There were rumours of him having psychic powers, which I now know to be true. But there were other weird ones too, like he could control the weather, walk through walls, and even breathe fire. There was one really insane one being passed around two years ago that he was two midgets standing on top of one another, for Arceus's sake!"
"Anyway. The Twirl. What's so special about it?"
"Three people in the region possess that card I showed you. Evidently, your boss is one of them-"
"Not
our boss?"
Liam smiled. "Shall I list all the things I'd rather have than a boss? Say, Samantha Lincoln's wrinkly-"
"-I get the picture, Liam," Charlotte said, making a rather disgusted face.
Liam shrugged. "Anyway, the Twirl. How much do you know of Calvin Shore?"
"Calvin Shore... the name's familiar. Former Hands of the Oligarchy, right? Controls the finances."
"Every Oligarch had their little secrets. Evan Emerit had the biggest one – he was smuggling a megalomaniacal second personality around with him. But Calvin Shore's always had a big one as well."
"Really?"
"Ever heard the story of how Evan Emerit became Augury?"
"Of course."
Liam smiled. "I bet you haven't. Those who think they know... they're told most of it. But they leave out a crucial piece of information. The bit that makes everything fall together."
"And you're coming in here and telling me that you know some secret? The one who calls Augury He who is Merely a Rumour?"
"Yes. I've known the full story of how Augury came to be for years. A lot of his actions beyond that I didn't know of, but his true origin... it's in the Golden Twirl."
"And Calvin Shore?"
"His role was paramount."
Suddenly, the door creaked open. It was Dagger. "If you're not going to obey my orders, then obey your own common sense," he said, rather annoyed.
"Ah, our eavesdropper extraordinaire!" Liam outstretched his arms in mock appreciation.
"No conversation is private here," said Dagger coldly. "You don't go spreading information like that."
"You don't trust Charlotte?"
"With information like that? If she were to be tortured..."
"Oh please," scoffed Liam.
"And I can hold my own under torture," said Charlotte, rising.
Dagger turned to her. "Three years ago, you jeopardised a mission because of Penalty F. If real danger were to hit you..."
"Real danger?" Charlotte was exasperated, stepping forward. Liam watched in bewildered amusement at these two. "Just because you're a cold-hearted bastard doesn't mean everyone else doesn't care about their family being killed." As she said the last word, she poked Dagger roughly in the sternum and stormed passed him.
Liam patted him on the shoulder mockingly. "Good job, mate." He walked past and said casually, "By the way, I'm still going to tell her."
Dagger sighed. He hadn't met someone this infuriating since Manfred von Stauffenberg.
*
Sectra City. The newest skyscraper was at its grand opening. The second tallest in all of Torcra. It was an incredible sight, to see such bustling activity. A true feat of industry.
Bevan strolled through the corridors as a Cloak. He had sensed danger, as had Lord Augury. This was it. The first Knife attack in the Democratic Republic of Torcra. But this had a certain sense of horror attached to it. It was no surprise: this was the Knife's grand debut of Cicero's horrific inventions to the public.
For the first time in a year, Bevan felt an inkling of emotion: fear. He knew what Cicero was capable of. By accident, he had given him these psychic powers. Imagine what he could do with intent. With purpose.
It was three o'clock when Bevan felt it. He knew something unfriendly had been brought into the building. He sent a warning message telepathically to the ground floor. When he rushed down there, the building had been sealed off, as had the floor. Several people were on their knees with their hands on their heads.
"Tyranitar," said Bevan, throwing his Pokéball down on the floor. He pointed towards a man with a briefcase by his side. Tyranitar was not like his old self. He was fiercely loyal to Bevan, and in being so, he had become just like him. His Pokémon all obeyed him with varying degrees of enthusiasm, but it was Tyranitar who emulated Bevan, albeit with limited success.
Tyranitar threw the man roughly on his back, and Bevan asked a simple question. "What's in the briefcase?"
The weedy man smiled. "You're Bevan Emerit, right? Terror of Torcra. None of us have heard from you."
Bevan looked at the man with contempt. "The briefcase."
"No idea."
Bevan flicked through the man's mind. He wasn't lying. It seemed to be the usual strategy of the Knife now, to send a clueless man. Telepathy was becoming less and less useful because of this.
Bevan ordered monotonously, "Tyranitar, Crunch."
The man screamed, as Tyranitar knelt down, ferociously ripping the man to pieces with his bare teeth. Skin, bones, and blood struck the floor. Bevan simply watched, bored with the sight of death. He was so distant.
He was truly pitiable. Despite wielding all this power, he felt nothing. He could not enjoy it. He could not even feel sorrow because of this fact. He was empty. All by his own doing. And it was eating him up inside. It was a strange thought, but he longed for emotion again. When he had it, it seemed irrational and debilitating. But without it, it was as if he was watching his own life. And he saw a monster.
He turned to the Cloaks. "Evacuate the building. And fast. This probably has a timer attached-"
As he said that, the briefcase swung open. It was filled with a tank with about ten small vents. A green gas poured out.
Calmly, Bevan returned Tyranitar and walked out. "Come on," he said.
Nobody shared his lack of emotion. Even the Cloaks, elite and ruthless, were panicking. It was unclear what this emerald gas was about to do, but they certainly couldn't stride out like Bevan did. The way Bevan saw it, Cicero had already won, and further panic would make him win more.
Fear is power.
Some screamed. Some ran. But it was when the effects of the gas became apparent that the panic hit a new level.
"It's a beautiful concoction of hallucinogenics, poisons, and a modified Pokémon virus," Cicero had explained to Dagger after perfecting it. "As people get it, they become primal. Animalistic. And above all, aggressive. What's more, their pores open up as their body excretes the gas. They just attack others.
Infect others. Or kill them first."
And what a sight it was. As the gas seeped in, people started to twitch. They started to fidget. Only Bevan and four others had managed to escape the building. After twitching, they started to howl. After the howling came the biting. The vicious attacks. These previously civilised people began to rip into each other. All they knew now was anger. Screams could be heard from the top floor. Some jumped out of buildings to escape the gas. Some were pushed by the aggravated victims. Either way, the death caused by falling was far kinder. Far more human.
Cicero had his show. This was the most horrific terrorist attack since the Cronine bombings three years ago. "Perhaps their side is just as cruel," muttered Bevan to himself, as he watched the people inside devour one another.
*
"How about a bedtime story?" Liam walked into Charlotte's bedroom. It was several hours since Dagger had interrupted Liam's earlier story.
"Only if tonight's nursery rhyme is about the accountant and the schizo," she joked uncharacteristically.
Liam smiled, and sat down beside her bed, ready to tell her everything.
