[Pokémon] The Thinking Man's Guide to Destroying the World

Chapter Fifty-Three: This is Not a Reference. Or a Pipe.

"Puck," I said, for what seemed like the hundredth time, "we need to talk."

Oh joy, he replied glumly. What have I done this time?

I'd woken up about half an hour ago to find it was somewhere close to nine o'clock; I hadn't realised that one morning could tire me out so much. Sid had been nowhere to be found, and since that left me alone and in a position where I could do what I wanted for a while, I had a shower and then settled down to interrogate Puck.

"This is about Felicity."

Ah, he said. You want to know why I never told you there was a Froslass growing inside her?

"Er... yeah."

I waited. The whole procedure had something of the air of a farce that has been played out so many times that not even the newcomers find it funny any more.

"Puck, you can fry my brain, and I can torture you with what I choose to think about. We can't beat each other. Why not work with me?"

Interesting new approach, Puck said. But I'm afraid I'm not human. So, according to the theologian Thomas Aquinas, I don't share in God's rational nature, so reason doesn't work on me.

"What?"

I mean that you won't get a thing out of me. Puck sighed. Look, Kester, I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you everything I know about Felicity and the monster within her, and then you won't ask me any more questions that I say I can't answer. He paused, waiting for my reply, but I gave none just yet. Do we have a deal?

"All right," I said reluctantly. "I don't understand you at all, but... OK."

Far out! cried Puck. Ugh, never let me say that again.

"Tell me about Felicity."

She's not really called Felicity. I don't know her real name. She comes from Tokyo – that's in Japan, Kester—

"I know where Tokyo is!"

Just making sure, my little moron. Wow, it'd be funnier to send you abroad than Karl Pilkington... He trailed off, thinking, then snapped back to the present. Uh, anyway, Felicity fled Japan because she was part of a gang that got caught up in a really, really nasty gang war. Zero picked her up in Lilycove and tricked her into drinking a five-hundred-year-old Froslass – that's the ice Ghost in her – named Skuld.

"Wait. She drank a Froslass?"

Correct. I don't know much about that, but I'm guessing Zero found a way of melting Skuld down. She's made of ice crystals, so she breaks down to pure mountain water. Felicity drinks that, and Zero has a hostage: Froslass aren't like Rotom. They were born of a different zeitgeist; they're the evil Ghosts you get in fairy tales and things.

"Why?"

Why? Ghosts are born from the zeitgeist, the great human collective spirit; we spring from the soul of humanity. Gengar are old, old creatures, formed when people feared the demons in the night; Froslass are much the same. Rotom are the newest class of Ghost – your generation made me. We embody the spirit of the youth of the twenty-first century: immersed in pop trivia, at home around technology, and contemptuous of old people. We are the now generation; we are the generation now.

"Er... that's not really what I meant. I meant, why did Zero take Felicity hostage?"

What Puck said definitely had some ramifications – for one thing, I didn't think anyone had ever worked out where Ghosts came from before – but I didn't want to think about that now; it would be distracting, and a good way for him to slither out of actually answering my questions.

Why he chose her is uncertain. Psychologically, she's pretty unstable: she ran away from home at a young age, and she hasn't enjoyed the same standard of life as you have. She's been through a lot, some of which has messed her up pretty badly. I'm guessing that Zero saw that she'd be able to suppress Skuld, and also that Skuld would be able to suppress her – in short, that there'd be this dynamic switching of personalities. Like you saw in the museum.

"Why would he want that?"

Simple. Skuld kills people, Felicity wakes up and feels even more horrified – so she'll obey Zero in the hope of a cure. Also, you'll feel sorry for her – something that was helped along by Skuld, because Froslass have the ability to attract men at first sight. That's probably why Sapphire doesn't think she's that pretty; she's actually just a few shades above average in terms of looks.

I put one hand to my head; this was all too much. Puck knew everything – but how? Who or what was he?

I'm not going to answer that beyond what I've already said. I'm a professional art thief named Robin Goodfellow, known to all and sundry as Puck.

"Puck... I don't know. Do you know any more about Felicity?"

Let me think... He thought for a few seconds. She's probably very grateful to you, he said eventually. From her Ghost presence in the ball, I can tell she's back in control – Skuld has gone back inside her.

"Oh, crap!" I jumped up, eyes wide. "I've left her in the ball all day!"

Yeah, I realised that, but I wasn't going to tell you. I thought it'd be funnier to see how you reacted.

I went straight for the bedside cabinet, where I'd left Felicity's Ultra Ball, and snatched it up; I threw it onto the floor, stared for a half-second, stammered an apology and hurriedly turned my back on her. Needless to say, Puck laughed. A lot.

That, he said through his laughter, was priceless. Like things in credit card adverts.

"Uh... sorry," I said again. My cheeks were burning; this was probably one of the most embarrassing situations I'd ever been in – and I had been in a great many embarrassing situations. Like that business last year.

"It's all right!" said Felicity fervently. "You saved me. I can't thank you enough."

"Um, if you say so. It still might be less awkward if you were – er – wearing something, though."

"Is there anything—?"

"I think there's a dressing-gown in the bathroom."

I heard footsteps on carpet and then on tiles, then the drag of fabric on skin and, finally, Felicity's voice:

"I suppose you can turn around now."

I did so, and she was indeed now dressed, in a manner of speaking. The synthetic white of the dressing-gown was actually almost the same colour as her skin and hair, which was kind of frightening.

"Puck?" I asked. "How do you—?"

Release something from a ball? Press both halves together really hard and twist them apart.

I did that, and the Ultra Ball that had once held Felicity broke in half.

"There. You're free of this now." I sat down on the bed and motioned that she could sit as well; I didn't know what to say, but she looked so tired that this first step was easy to work out.

"Thank you." Felicity looked at me, and I have to say I didn't recognise the look on her face.

Really? Come on, Kester that's an expression of – of – actually, what is that expression?

"Er... I don't really know what to say to you," I said helplessly.

"Why did you rescue me?"

Wow. Surprisingly direct and independent-minded – I thought she'd be more like Leatherface. You know, with a homicidal criminal mastermind instead of a cannibal homicidal family. Hey, the similarities are endless!

"I – I guess I just didn't want to leave you there." I paused to think some more. Why had I saved her? "I think," I went on, "that I meant to help you. I made a promise, didn't I?"

Oh no, said Puck, aghast, she's leaking.

Felicity was indeed crying, which made things even more awkward. I had a brief flashback to when Sapphire had been crying, wished the situation were the same so I could apply the same technique, and wondered what to do.

I can understand crying for sorrow, Puck said, but what the hell kind of emotion's powering this? Happiness? Relief? He sighed. Guess you'd better comfort her. Go on.

"Um – hey, you don't need to cry," I said, somewhat lamely. I put a hand on her arm, and she grabbed hold of me with her thin arms, dragging me into a surprisingly strong embrace.

Second time today, Puck remarked. This one looks to be more enjoyable, too. I mean, at least Felicity doesn't beat you up before she hugs you.

"What – why exactly are you crying?" I asked.

Through the sobs I got the idea that it was relief, or the fact that no one had actually ever kept their promises to her before, or that no one had tried to help her before, or something of that kind. Half her words were in a foreign language, presumably Japanese, and that didn't help things.

It took me about half an hour to get her calmed down again, and I was just about to ask her if she wanted anything to eat when Sid came in.

Ours was an awkward situation to try and explain, but I did my best. This was the girl who had been the monster in the museum; she was feeling a lot better now, and her name was Felicity. Felicity, this was Sid, a druid; Sid was travelling with us to the Weather Research Institute; we were going there because the druids demanded to know what we were doing.

"Right. Hi, Felicity. I was just visiting Sapphire. She wanted to know if you were hungry again yet, because she gave us this money to go and eat."

"Isn't she coming with us?"

"She's eaten at the Pokémon Centre."

"Can you go back there and ask if she has any spare clothes Felicity could borrow?"

Sid gave me one of those looks.

"Go yourself."

"Oh, come on," I said. "I've had a really bad day."

"So have I," he retorted. "I killed six people today and almost got shot."

"I killed a Golem. Kind of. And I almost got Spiked."

"I got hit in the face."

"I got frozen solid."

Sid had to think about that before answering.

"I can't beat that," he admitted. "But you can go yourself anyway."

"Sorry," I said to Felicity. "I'll be back in a minute." She nodded, and I turned to Sid. "You'll at least wait for me, right?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

So I made sure Felicity was all right – she seemed far more emotionally unstable than the last time we'd met, which was, annoyingly, proof that Puck had been right about her – and set off for the Pokémon Centre. As I walked, I thought it was strange how our little group had suddenly doubled in size with the addition of Sid and Felicity. Hopefully, we'd be able to ditch Sid soon at the Weather Institute; it had been nice of him to worry enough to stay behind at the museum, but something didn't feel right about the whole druidic involvement in this.

Hey, the group's only doubled if you don't count me, Puck put in.

"I don't count you."

Don't be that way. I'm like Elle Driver – the crazy member of the group whom everyone really likes, despite the fact that you think you have good reason to hate me. Of course, the analogy breaks down when you realise that simple logic means that you're probably Vernita Green – you know, as the most pathetic one. Hey, can I call you Copperhead from now on?

I ignored him and crossed a bridge in the hot, sweaty dark of the rainforest night; I hoped I was going the right way. On the first trip, I'd been too much in awe of Fortree's overall epicness to work out how the streets – or rather, bridges – fitted together, and was consequently now quite worried about getting lost.

Can't help you. I refuse to memorise the street layout – there's too much wood around.

"You're like a small child, you know that?"

In what way?

"You're just so ridiculously petty."

Hell yeah! Puck sounded pleased. Petty. That's me all right.

"It isn't a good thing. I'm not complimenting you."

If I take it as a compliment, you can't offend me.

"What – oh, never mind."

After a few more minutes of wandering around, I found the Pokémon Centre, located Sapphire, explained the situation and headed back to the hotel with a bundle of clothes in hand. I got lost twice more, almost fell off a bridge (which made me wonder exactly how safe Fortree was) and finally ended up back in the hotel room, where I found Sid and Felicity sitting far apart, staring warily at each other. When I walked in, the tension hit me like a sledgehammer, and I almost fell over.

Ugh, said Puck. Copperhead, what's going on here? Black Mamba – because Felicity absolutely must be the Bride – and, er, Sidewinder aren't getting on. Mind you, if I'd been buried alive by someone, I wouldn't be getting on with him either.

"Stop doing that reference thing," I muttered under my breath, and then, aloud: "Er – I'm back."

No one responded, which was not a little unnerving.

I guess Sapphire must be Cottonmouth, Puck went on. That seems about right. Which leaves... Oh yes. Zero's Snake Charmer. Bill himself. Wow, it's amazing how similar all these people are to the characters, isn't it? I think there must be a conspiracy.

"I brought some clothes," I said effortfully, and gave them to Felicity. Wordlessly, she got up and went into the bathroom to change. I turned to Sid. "What's going on?" I hissed. "Coming in here's like falling in a chest freezer."

Or like meeting Martin Chuzzlewit, Puck put in. The elder, that is. Man, he was one frigid old man.

"For some reason, she's decided she doesn't like me," said Sid, sounding aggrieved. "All I did was make some small talk."

"About what?"

I had a feeling I knew already, but I had to have it confirmed.

"Druid things. You know. Mistletoe, human sacrifice, that sort of thing."

"All right. I get it." I turned away and sat down on my bed with a sigh.

"What?" said Sid. "It's all I know about."

"Druids," I pronounced, with the air of one who knows, "are very blinkered people."

Sid didn't seem to know what to say to that, and settled for a haughty sort of stare.

Thankfully, Felicity came back in then, which forestalled any argument. She was taller than Sapphire, but the clothes seemed to fit all right; she didn't have any shoes, though, and I made a mental note to stop and buy some on our way to find food that night.

Does it feel like this chapter's dragging? I think this chapter's dragging. A few funny bits, but I want something to happen.

"Shut up."

We dined out in a nondescript and rather revolting restaurant in awkward silence; none of us really knew what we ought to be saying. I had a go at starting up a conversation, but Sid didn't want to talk, and Felicity didn't quite know how to keep the dialogue going, and soon the only sound was the clink of knives and forks on plates.

Once I'd survived that, I was ready to admit defeat and take refuge in sleep, but first I had to try and get a second room for Felicity to sleep in – something that proved far more of a trial than it ought to have been.

"You want another room?" asked the receptionist.

"Yes," I said, "my friend's turned up, and she needs a place to sleep. So can we have another room?"

"I don't know."

She turned towards the computer and poked a key experimentally.

Hey, said Puck, this receptionist looks remarkably familiar... oh my Darkrai, she's off the TV.

"Computer says 'no'," she said dully.

"What?"

She gave me the sort of look you might give an inexpressibly stupid child.

"Computer says 'no'," she repeated.

"But there are lots of free rooms, I saw them—"

The receptionist sighed with enough force to kill a fly.

"Computer," she said once again, "says 'no'."

"Hey – hey, stop that!"

The other receptionist had just come out of a doorway, and proceeded to shove the first one rudely out of the way.

"Sorry about that," she said apologetically. "She watches a lot of foreign TV. It gives her weird ideas. Right, you wanted another room...?"

That, I think, was the last stupid thing that happened that night, unless you count Puck waking me at four in the morning to tell me that he'd had a dream in which a man with a spinning top was trying to get him to break up his father's energy conglomerate.

---

"Goishi! Do something!"

The Crobat darted forwards and vomited a stream of dark purple ooze towards the Aquas; reflexively, they ducked away, knowing that a Sludge Bomb to the head would cause the sort of facial injury that needed more cosmetic surgeries than they had days left in their life to repair. In the second it took them to recoil and dodge, Fabien and Blake cut and run, Goishi whirring above and in front of them, his wings no more than a blue-pink blur.

They flung themselves into the lift, pounded the button marked 'G' and waited impatiently for the doors to close. About five minutes later, they found themselves on the ground floor, whereupon they fled for the main entrance.

Ten minutes later, they had reached the docks; from here, if Fabien strained his eyes, he could just about see the shadow of the Magma boat retreating into the fog.

"Damn it!" he cried. "We're trapped here!"

"Wha' abou' the cops?" asked Blake anxiously. Fabien smote his forehead with such force as would have done credit to Pharoah's slave-drivers.

"They'll be here soon, won't they?" he said. "God damn it all, this is awful!"

Goishi rolled his eyes behind them. They would remember soon. They couldn't be that stupid, could they?

"We'll need to build a raft," said Fabien decisively. "Blake, help me rip up some of these planks from the jetty."

All right, thought Goishi, they were that stupid.

"E-e-eek," he coughed, indicating himself with a wing. He had a wingspan of almost fourteen feet. Leaving aside the question of how he frequently managed to fly indoors, weren't the implications obvious?

"Of course!" cried Fabien. "Goishi, you can help too."

Blake cleared his throat uncertainly.

"Er, Fabien..."

"Less talk, more demolition!"

Blake tore a couple of planks loose before making a second attempt.

"Fabien—"

"My dear fellow," Fabien said, fixing Blake with an avuncular eye and laying a similar hand on his shoulder. "The police will be here soon. Now, since you lost your gun, we have only Goishi to defend ourselves with. And he won't be able to hold off the army of policemen that will be descending on this place."

Goishi thought he could give it a try. Shooting down a Crobat wasn't easy; his immense speed and incredible clarity of vision meant he could dodge bullets as if they were moving through treacle. It would take a regular Atalanta to hit him in the air – and he was reliably informed that she was dead, or transformed into an animal, or something similar.

"But Fabien, we could fly out on Goishi!"

Fabien froze, and then slowly gave an uneasy smile.

"Heh," he said. "Yes, of course. I, er, thought of that a while ago. Just keeping you on your toes." He turned to Goishi. "Right. Let's get out of here."

The Crobat emitted a noise very similar to a sigh, and, gripping Fabien's shoulders in his blunt-clawed feet, flew off into the fog.

---

The next day saw us leave Fortree, which was a source of supreme relief for Puck. He hadn't enjoyed his time in Hoenn's most nature-friendly city at all. As the train pulled out of the station, he waxed eloquent on the merits of civilisation, and how glad he was that we were to be returning to it.

I wasn't listening; I was occupied with trying to get the broken handcuff off my wrist. Satisfied that it was, for the moment at least, impossible, I laid my hand down with a sigh and looked around.

Sapphire was fiddling with her Pokédex, Sid was staring out of the window, and Felicity had her eyes shut, murmuring silently to herself. The few other passengers were reading, texting and sleeping respectively – except for one, a Kadabra with an impressive moustache. He – or she, I was bad at telling – was staring right at me.

You've attracted someone's attention, observed Puck. It's funny. You don't see Kadabra very much any more, do you? I think lots of them have given up with fitting into human society and gone back to the reservations.

The Kadabra narrowed his – her? – eyes at me, and then looked away, shaking her – his? – head.

Don't think he approves of us, Puck said. Probably thinks I'm some sort of malignant entity impersonating a human for some reason.

Does that happen? I asked.

Not in Hoenn. One of his shivers ran down my spine. But it happens all the time in Europe. There's a nasty sort of Ghost called Doppler that sprung up from the battlefields during the wars, and they keep coming into the cities to feed on people.

On that unsettling note, he fell silent, and said no more for the rest of the journey.

It was a long one, and I was glad the train was air-conditioned: the Akela Jungle in summer was blisteringly hot, and humid with it. When we reached the Plaine Rooke station at three o'clock and stepped off, it was like falling into magma; we were only a few miles south of the jungle, and the heat spread like wildfire. It would probably have killed the crops if it weren't for the frequent rain.

Kester, stop pretending you know anything about geography.

From Plaine Rooke there was no way north except walking, unless we happened to find a car, so once again I had to do the whole Trainer thing again, and start hiking.

The heat and humidity got worse as we neared the jungle, and once we'd entered, it was beyond unbearable. I'd been OK with hiking from Slateport to Mauville, but this journey was a different sort altogether. Within minutes, I was drenched with sweat – and so were Sid and Sapphire. Only Felicity, cooled from within by Skuld, remained unaffected.

The scenery was beautiful – verdant trees, brilliant flowers, and continual flashes of lively colour from birds and butterflies – but the air was so thick with water that I had to spend the energy I would otherwise have spent admiring it fighting for progress.

"Sid, the druids had better be able to help us," I moaned, after the first twenty minutes. "Or I'm going to kill you for putting me through this."

"Stop moaning," snapped Sapphire, but without her usual conviction; she was about as happy with the rainforest climate as I was.

Urgh, Puck said, meat bodies are so revolting. You're leaking all this weird-smelling water.

"Shut up," I murmured. "You're no better. I bet you sweat gamma rays or something."

No! Puck cried, outraged. I don't sweat at all. I do give off forms of ionising radiation if I absorb uranium or heavy water, though. It fries up inside me in a weird little nuclear reaction.

After a couple of hours, I'd reached my limit. I'd been going on for the last hour and a half on reserves of energy I didn't know I had, and at ten past five I realised that it was just impossible to walk any further, at least in this heat. I sat down and leaned back against a tree.

"Kester, get up," said Sapphire, but she sat down too. Sid looked like he was about to argue, then shrugged and sat down as well.

Felicity, ahead of all of us, stopped and turned around.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

We all stared at her, and she stared back uncomprehendingly.

"It's really, really hot," I said at last. "And very humid too."

"Oh," she said. "I – didn't realise. Sorry."

She sat down as well. It was kind of creepy; there wasn't even the ghost of a flush on her pallid skin.

"How much further is it to the Weather Institute?" asked Sapphire.

"The Weather Research Institute," corrected Sid. "And I'm not sure. I've never walked there. We don't leave much, and always by helicopter."

"Can we get there by the end of the day?"

Sid shrugged.

"No idea. We could try."

"Then we need to go right now," Sapphire said, but she didn't get up; no one did, except Felicity, who looked around uncertainly and then sat down again.

"Yeah, right now," I said unenthusiastically.

"Definitely," agreed Sid.

We stared at each other a while longer.

You've all got such perseverance, Puck said scathingly. Dear me, these flesh-and-blood bodies are so useless. Just a little humidity, and wham! – you can't walk any more.

"Right then," I said. "Let's get up."

"Absolutely," Sid said.

"Come on then."

We sat in silence for a while longer. Insects buzzed and chirped around us.

"Um – are we going or not?" asked Felicity after some time had passed.

"Yes," Sid said, and heaved himself up with a colossal effort. "Come on."

I forced myself to my feet, and Sapphire got up after me.

"Come on," repeated Sid. "Let's go."

"It's hot," I said unnecessarily, and we trudged off down the trail, heading north for the Weather Institute.

---

"...and in the red corner, Eli Zebul!"

The boy regarded his opponent with sharp green eyes. The first battle of the day – of the tournament – did not look set to be a challenge. He had a sense for these things, and Eli was not triggering it. No one had for quite some time, as it happened.

The crowd was restless, excited, and the boy smiled just a little. He was going to give them a show they had never dreamed of.

"If you are ready," boomed the announcer through the PA system, "then on the count of three, the battle will begin. One..."

The boy with the jade eyes checked his Poké Balls. There were three – the regulation number for this tournament.

"Two..."

He noted the time on his watch. He thought he might be able to set a new personal best for this match.

"Three!"

Eli's hand flashed to his belt and back again, and a razor-edged star with a jewel at its heart appeared before him: a Starmie.

The boy with the jade eyes smiled. This would be all too easy.

His hand jerked forwards and a Crobat blurred into existence between him and the Starmie.

"Psychic!" cried Eli; however, the Crobat was not only faster but already knew what his master wanted done, and swung his slim body in an intricate series of movements; The sky darkened with a crack like thunder, and rain began to fall.

"You know what to do. U-Turn out," the boy with the jade eyes said, and the Crobat shot towards the Starmie, teeth glowing green; before the sea star had any chance to ready its psionic attack, the two Pokémon had crashed together, and the Crobat had retreated to its Poké Ball. The Starmie fell down, its gem cracked.

Silence fell over the audience; the whole manoeuvre had taken place so quickly that no one was entirely certain what had just happened. Not even the announcer spoke. The boy with the jade eyes dropped the next ball, releasing Machina and tapped his foot.

"Come on," he said. "Next, please."

"How did you – that fast...? In one hit?"

"Next, please," the boy repeated, more forcefully.

Eli dropped the ball, but he fumbled it; the Golem appeared to his left, not in front. It didn't save it; Machina burst forth so fast it disappeared, and knocked it out in a swirl of bubbling water.

Eli couldn't take it; he threw down the last ball without any hope on his face whatsoever. He knew he'd lost, and when Machina cut his Exeggutor down in a single hit he turned and walked out without a word.

The entire stadium was still silent, save for the gentle pattering of the rain. The boy knew that every eye was on him as he checked his watch.

"Three minutes fifteen seconds," he murmured. "Not a record. Might've been if he'd sent out the Pokémon quicker."

"And the winner," the announcer said shakily, "the winner is the challenger in the red corner" – then, as they say, the crowd went wild, and his next words were almost drowned out amongst the cheers – "the challenger in the red corner, Sebastian Emerald!"

Chapter Fifty-Four: Institutional Fossilisation

The first inkling I had that we might not be welcome at the Weather Institute was when a large bolt of yellow lightning sizzled into the ground just ahead of us.

We stopped abruptly, as you tend to in that sort of situation, and looked apprehensively to the Institute; it lay a few hundred feet before us, a glass-and-steel block in the midst of military-grade fortifications, and atop one of the towers that sprung from its high concrete walls was a yellow creature that was smoking gently from a Thunderbolt. From this far away, it was impossible to tell what it was, but the message was clear: no oen was to come near the Institute.

"That's weird," said Sid. "We don't usually fire at people until they actually try to get in..."

He took a step forwards, then hurriedly jumped back as a second Thunderbolt hit the ground where he'd been a moment before, vaporising a peony. I'd never seen a flower being vaporised before, and consequently watched with some interest.

Uh, Kester, you actually ought to be worried, not interested, Puck warned. Someone's shooting at us.

"Guys!" shouted Sid, waving his arms. "It's me, Sid! I got back from Mt. Pyre and I've brought those kids!"

I could just make out a figure popping up on top of the wall. It turned a little, probably conferring with someone out of sight, and then fell abruptly over the parapet.

My first instinct was to rush forwards to help – but then I remembered the trigger-happy Pokémon on the tower, and stopped myself. Next to me, I saw Sapphire and Sid do the same; Felicity just watched, with a blank sort of look on her face. She'd been strangely quiet since her outburst yesterday; something was probably up with her, but I wasn't the kind of person who'd be able to tell what it was.

No, said Puck smugly, that'd be me.

"Sid!"

The faint cry came from a second figure who now appeared atop the wall.

"Hello?"

"Sid, get over here! Quick!"

"But the Raichu—"

Felicity raised a hand and, closing one eye, looked down her arm as if she were aiming a sniper rifle; a half-visible beam of energy shot from her fingertips and the yellow creature fell backwards out of sight.

"Get over here!" the figure cried again, and we ran over to the wall. Halfway there, I had to slow to a walk; running in this heat was like painting without numbers, in that I couldn't do it. Sapphire, naturally, made it all the way in one go.

You can't paint? At all? Come on, even little children can at least do finger painting.

I have an irrational fear of finger paints.

Puck considered.

Er... can I ask why?

My cousin ground up chilli seeds and put them in the paints when I was four. My fingers felt like they were dipped in burning oil for about five hours.

Is your cousin female, a Rotom and single?

Close up, we could see the person on the floor was wearing a blue Team Aqua suit, which was worrying; Sapphire checked and declared him unconscious, not dead, which was less worrying. The man above us was a druid, and he had, it seemed, punched this guy off the top in his desperation to talk to us.

"Sid, they've overrun the place!" he hissed loudly. "They came from underground – through tunnels. Must've been planning it for years."

"Is the Orb safe?"

It wasn't the most compassionate of questions to ask, an opinion that the druid above shared, and pointed out in no uncertain terms.

"But is the Orb safe?" Sid persisted.

"I don't know!" the druid cried. "Just rescue us already, would you? You've got that lightning-kid with you, right?" He glanced behind him and swore loudly in Nadsat. "Cal! Someone's coming. Use the secret entrance and get the hell out of sight!"

With that, he retreated swiftly from view.

"Hurry," urged Sid, turning to us. "This way!"

The three of us followed him along the shadow of the wall and around the corner, into a small, dark stand of trees that pressed right up against the Institute. As we rounded the bend, a large, brown monkey with gangly limbs and a long, flaming tail leaped from a bush and bounded away through the trees.

"A Monferno?" asked Sapphire, surprised, but we didn't stop to talk about it; not until we were deep within the tree cover did Sid motion for us to stop.

"It's somewhere around here," he said. "A secret entrance to the Institute. It comes out on the lower level."

Ah, a secret entrance. No fortress would be complete without one, at least by movie-logic.

Sid looked around, but aside from the wall to our right, there was nothing that looked even remotely man-made, let alone like an entrance.

Well duh, Puck said. It's a secret entrance, isn't it? Like Troll 2, it works best if no one ever sees it.

"Do you know what the entrance looks like?" Felicity asked.

Sid shook his head.

"That isn't very helpful," Sapphire said. "All right, everyone start looking! Pull on leaves, or turn some branches – anything that might be a hidden button or lever."

Five minutes later, we had more or less completely destroyed a small section of forest, and found nothing.

Huh. So that's what the ecologists are talking about. Save the rainforest!

"Come on, come on," muttered Sid. "We have to find the entrance! If the Aquas get the Orb...!"

"We're looking," snapped Sapphire. "You're the one who lives here."

Suitably chastened, Sid turned around and kicked a rock; however, it wasn't a switch, and no trapdoors opened.

"Cernunnos damn it!" He thumped a tree and a Parrodise fell out, straightened its feathers, and flew off with an indignant caw. I'd never seen one in real life before.

It's nothing special. In fact, if it weren't for the lack of detail, it'd look exactly like a regular parrot.

"Sid, we're not getting anywhere like this," I said. "We want to stop the Aquas getting the Orb too. No one wants that."

"Least of all me," put in Felicity quietly.

"I should remember this, though," growled Sid, tearing at his hair. "I remember being told about it – there's a password and everything—"

"A password?" Sapphire queried sharply. "Do we need to say the password for it to appear?"

"Might work," I said. "Sid, what's the password?"

He looked defensive.

"Sid..."

Still our druid said nothing.

"Sid, you've forgotten, haven't you?" Sapphire asked.

He nodded silently.

"Well, that put paid to that," she sighed. "OK, keep turning over stones..."

Swordfish.

I paused with my hand on a fern, and murmured:

"What?"

Say it, Puck said. You're going to love this one. Say 'swordfish'.

"Why?"

Just do it. For me.

"That's no motivation, but..." I took a deep breath and shook my head. "Swordfish," I said, loudly and clearly.

A tree to my right vibrated loudly, and a section of its trunk slid upwards; within, I saw a spiral – Helical! I've been through this with you before – staircase descending into the bowels of the earth.

"That was it," said Sid, snapping his fingers and straightening up. "The password is 'swordfish'."

The password is always swordfish, Puck said contentedly.

"How – how did you know?" Sapphire asked.

"It's a joke," I replied. "I think. Puck told me."

"We should go," Felicity said, and I looked over to see that she was halfway into the tree already. "The Blue Orb..."

"Yeah," I said, "you're right. We need to get going."

Do you have a plan?

If I said 'yes', would you believe me?

No.

Then no, I don't.

And with that, we took our first steps into a place where no outsider had ever gone before: into the stronghold of the Gorsedd Hoenn, the famous Weather Research Institute.

---

The tunnel came out in a broom cupboard, its entrance concealed by a false wall. Upon opening the door a crack and peering out, Sid drew in his breath sharply and closed it again.

"OK," he whispered, turning around to face us (with some difficulty, since four was probably too many for the cupboard). "OK, I have a plan."

Oh! He's prepared. Like a Boy Scout, or the Predator. And unlike you, Kester.

"You kids need to go on ahead," Sid told us. "Kester and Felicity, you go first – you've got the most firepower. Sapphire, get out something that won't be stopped by Water-types and follow them. Since I had to throw my gun in the water, I'm going to rely on you three to make sure I don't get killed."

"OK," I said, "but what's the plan?"

"This door leads out to the laboratories on the lower level—"

"Laboratories? What on earth do druids study?" asked Sapphire.

Sid looked at her as if she'd sprouted an extra head.

"The weather, obviously. This is the Weather Research Institute."

"You – you actually study the weather?"

"Yes – look, it doesn't matter right now. This lab seems to have a fair few Aquas in it, that's the important thing. Kester, the first thing you need to do is get to the door and hack the code system so that they all lock. That way, no one's going anywhere – except us, because we've got you and your Rotom powers."

Puck coughed.

You mean you've got me. But never mind. I'm a modest kind of guy.

I suppressed a derisory laugh and nodded.

"Felicity, Sapphire, take care of the Aquas," Sid said. "If there are any who don't look like they'll kill me right away, I'll beat 'em up a bit, see if I can make them talk."

His hand descended to the door handle.

"Everyone ready?" he asked.

"Wait," said Felicity quietly. "I – I can't do more than a few Pokémon moves. If I do, I turn – I'll turn back into the monster."

There was an awkward pause.

"Er... OK," said Sid. "That's fine. Just stop when you reach your limit, and hope you don't get killed."

On that reassuring note, he flung the door open wide, and we burst through to the sound of Sid's Gaelic war-cry. There were six or seven Aquas in the room, looking bored amidst the computers and desks, but I ignored them; to the right was a stainless-steel door with a little numberpad on the wall next to it, and I ran over to that. I should have been thinking about the danger, and what I was going to do – but the only thought in my head was about how utterly fantastic the air-conditioning in here felt.

I put my hand on the panel, and the door locked with a clunk; turning around, I saw Stacey fly headfirst into an Aqua man's chest, and another one falling down, clutching his jaw, as a massive white fist formed of Felicity's hair crashed into his face. Sid was kicking another one, and I almost thought they didn't need me to help – but then a weedy-looking Aqua with glasses popped up in front of me.

At the same moment, my sparking hand and his gun came up. He eyed me nervously.

"Uh – is this what they call a stalemate?"

"I had this conversation with these guys a while ago," I said pleasantly. "It was about which one was faster, bullets or lightning. I seem to remember that I won that particular debate."

He gulped.

"You wouldn't hit a guy with glasses, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't." He looked relieved, and I blasted him in the abdomen, knocking him to the floor. "But I would hit a guy with a gun."

That... wasn't bad, actually, admitted Puck. Now disarm him before he gets up.

That was probably the highest praise Puck was capable of giving me, so I spent a whole millisecond treasuring it before I stole the Aqua man's gun and hit him smartly on the head with it. This didn't knock him out, and he almost wrestled it from my hand again – but repeated effort paid off, and eventually I had him unconscious.

Less than elegant, noted Puck, but it worked.

"You need to work on your technique," Sapphire called from the other end of the room; over there, she, Felicity and Sid had already knocked out their Aquas.

"Shut up," I said, weaving between the desks to get to her. "Where do I put this gun? And do we have a conscious one to question?"

"Give it here," Felicity said; she examined it, pulled out the clip and stuffed it into her pocket. Looking closely, I saw that both her pockets bulged with stolen clips, and that she was carrying another looted gun.

"This guy's name is Timothy," Sid said, hauling a thickset man with a bloody nose and black eye up onto a swivel chair. "He's going to talk to us."

"Stacey," ordered Sapphire. "Make sure he's cooperative."

The Altaria looked up from trying to operate the keyboard like a human and stared at her blankly. Sapphire sighed.

"Stand next to him and be ready to attack!"

This was something she could understand; reluctantly, Stacey abandoned her scientist impersonation and flapped up onto the desk next to Timothy's chair, where he eyed her nervously. At ground level, her huge, downy wings were in the way; at waist height, she was free to arch them threateningly – and she did so, some hint of the Altaria predatory instinct awakening within her. For good measure, Felicity pointed her newly-acquired gun at our captive, and did a very good job of looking like she knew how to use it.

She does, Puck reminded me. She's always had a gun before, remember?

"OK," Sid said. "Where's the Orb?"

"I swear I don' know nothin', man," gabbled Timothy; the words were stumbling over his fast-moving lips in their hurry to get out of his mouth. "I don' know nothin' about no Orb—"

Sapphire motioned with a hand, and Stacey let out one of her quieter screeches. Three computer monitors shattered.

"Oh, that Orb," Timothy said. "The Blue Orb? Right, I know all 'bout that'n. We came to steal it, man, an' we was goin' to this sacred chamber, an'—"

"Of course!" cried Sid. "The Shrine!" He thumped Timothy squarely between the eyes, and he fell unconscious with a quiet eep. "The Shrine is where we keep our standing stones," he explained. "It's the most well-defended part of the Institute."

"The Orb is there?" I asked.

"I guess so," Sid said. "I should probably have confirmed that before I knocked him out, but... well, let's go there anyway."

Wow. When you add yesterday and today, you get a pretty violent couple of days. It's like going on an investigation with Shaft.

I unlocked – No, I did, actually – the door I'd sealed a moment ago, and locked it again behind us as we went. There was no hurry; the Aquas couldn't go anywhere, not with the doors as they were.

We were now in a very bland corridor; the only two words I could think of to describe it with were 'white' and 'long'.

There are also some windows on the left, added Puck helpfully. But they don't let in any light, because we're below ground here.

"This way," said Sid, and we followed him down the corridor to another locked door. I unlocked this and we rushed through to find we were in another laboratory, this time with just one Aqua in, lounging against a desk in the middle of the room. She took one look at us, sighed, and raised her hands.

"I knew this would happen," she said dolefully. "Nothing's ever this easy, is it?"

"No," Sapphire agreed as I locked – Kester, this needs to stop. I'm doing all this locking and unlocking! – the door. "It never is."

Stacey fluttered over to the Aqua woman, wide wings knocking monitors and lamps from the desks, and, somehow twisting in midair, latched onto the ceiling above her with her claws. Her neck was arched downwards, ready to strike out at the woman. For a moment, I was surprised – and then I remembered that Altaria were mountain birds. They could cling to sheer cliff faces – ceilings wouldn't be a problem.

"All right, I've already surrendered!" the Aqua cried, tossing her gun on the floor and placing two Poké Balls carefully next to it, lest the Pokémon within come out with the impact. "Look!"

"Where is the Orb?" Felicity asked.

"In a weird lab," the woman said. She was slightly calmer than the other Aqua, and also better-spoken; she sounded like Sapphire. Maybe she'd been an unpredictably violent upper-middle-class teenager once too.

Do you have any idea how stupid that sentence sounds?

I'm not taking it out.

Huh. Your funeral.

"Can you be more specific?" I asked. "There are lots of weird labs here."

"Are there?" Sid asked. "I thought ours were pretty normal."

"They would be, if the computers didn't have slots for magic herbs to go in," I replied. "But in what way is this lab weird?"

"It was guarded by these weird creatures," the woman said. "Pokémon, I think – but no one had ever seen anything like them before. They were like water, and they kept using these weird misty sort of attacks—"

"The Castform!" breathed Sid. "They – they're not harmed, are they?" He grabbed the woman's chin and twisted her head so she was looking him dead in the eye.

"N-no!" she replied, obviously startled. "We couldn't really do much to them – they just melted into water and reformed... we sort of herded them back into their tanks."

"What's this?" asked Sapphire, her scientific curiosity arising. "A new kind of Pokémon?"

"The ultimate weather-controlling Pokémon," Sid said grimly. "Castform. The biggest breakthrough in meteorology since the discovery of the cloud."

Wow. That's a pretty big breakthrough.

"It can manipu—"

"We can discuss the weather later," interrupted Felicity. "I think we should get the Orb."

"Yes." Sid nodded. "OK then. The Castform lab is... this way. I think."

He turned towards a door I hadn't seen before, obscured as it was by some potted trees that were almost entirely engulfed in mistletoe.

Your mistletoe is no match for my TOW missile! Puck cried, then laughed. Hah, that was a good episode.

"Should we take her along as a hostage?" Sapphire asked. Sid shook his head.

"I don't think the Aquas will care if she gets killed," he said. "So it'd be useless."

The woman's eyes widened and her mouth fell open a little bit; she looked like someone had told her that her parents had secretly been baby-eaters.

"Sorry," said Sid, patting her on the arm. "It's true, though. Take my advice, get out of this line of business while you're still young. Otherwise you're probably going to suffer an untimely death."

Ever wondered why there are no old members of Team Aqua? I'll give you a hint: it's not because they have a good pension scheme.

Rather than knock her out, we tied the Aqua to a chair with a length of electrical cord and left her there. It seemed the kindest thing to do; she was clearly on the verge of tears.

This whole situation is mad, Puck sighed, as we left the lab for the Castform chamber. This is madness. It's also Sparta, but that's another matter entirely.

A series of stairs led us deeper underground, and came out in a small room with a locked door at one end, which a couple of Aquas were hammering on in a futile sort of way. They turned around expectantly at the sound of our footsteps, then blinked in surprise and pulled out guns. Stacey, who had been watching, snatched Felicity's gun from her in her beak, and, performing a swift juggling act, managed to catch it in one talon and aim it at them.

Doubtless, these hardened criminals could have taken an Altaria; doubtless, they could have stared without fear down the barrel of a gun – but an Altaria with a gun was something else altogether, and they allowed Sid to knock their heads together without complaint. As they crumpled to the floor, Sapphire and Felicity wrestled with Stacey, trying to pull the gun from her grip; for her part, Stacey seemed to be under the impression that, since many of the humans she had seen had guns, she needed one too, and refused to let go. It was only when Felicity managed to point the barrel upwards and then pull the trigger that Stacey let go, frightened by the bang.

There goes an almost literal dumb chick, said Puck. Ah well, at least she isn't as psychopathic as other Altaria.

I unlocked the door to reveal a corridor beyond, inhabited by three Aquas who were sitting on the floor and smoking. Evidently they had already ascertained that escape was impossible, and thought that they might as well spend their captivity in leisure. At our approach, they looked up, and one almost got his hand on his gun before Felicity shot three bullets into the wall, each one exactly an inch above an Aqua's head.

"I'm a very good shot," she said softly, though I had seen her unnaturally thin arms had struggled to cope with the gun's recoil. "I wouldn't move."

Sid and I disarmed them while Sapphire tried to calm the hysterical Stacey; the big bird was trying to hide her entire body underneath her leg, which wasn't working.

She really doesn't like explosions, does she? Puck mused. I guess this is why you're meant to keep your pets indoors when you have fireworks. Though last Bonfire Night, I actually let off my fireworks indoors, too. That wasn't strictly part of the celebrations, though; I was trying to blow a safe and I was out of gelignite.

Sid did the obligatory head-bashing of the Aquas and, when they were unconscious, showed us which of the many doors on this corridor we needed to take.

For those of you interested in breaking into the Weather Institute, it was the third on the left. That's the third on the left, people. Also, I can see what looks like a safe through the window in the fifth door on the right – you might want to try that for valuables.

"Stop telling people how to burgle our hosts," I told him under my breath, but he was, as ever, unrepentant. I shook my head and pressed my hand against the numberpad, and the door slid open with a click and a whirr. The four of us filed in, weapons ready—

—to the sound of about twenty guns doing that click thing they do in films when the gunman's ready to shoot.

I stared at the Aquas, arrayed around the room, and at the Carvanha floating around between them, and at their guns.

"She was right," Sid said dryly, raising his hands. "Nothing ever is that easy."

Note: The chapter title is a pretty obscure reference. Does anyone get it?

Ah, Sid: don't you know that the only easy day is yesterday? Pity, pity...

Well, I caught one grammatical error in the second-to-last chapter.

It didn't save it; Machina burst forwards so fast it disappeared

Click to expand...

I believe that the bolded word isn't supposed to have an "s" at the end. It sounds rather awkward, to tell you the truth.

Stacey holding a gun and Felicity fighting her for it was hilarious. I also loved the 300 reference (that was probably the only good quote in that entire movie).

Overall, it was a nice chapter. Not as exciting or funny as some of your others, but it proved to be a good compliment; not every chapter in a story can be pulse-pounding or drop-dead hysterical.

There are so many jokes and references I don't even try to get them all. (This is a good thing.) There is something for everyone.

I suppose I'll list some references I remember, off the top of my head:
Sherlock Holmes
James Bond
Star Wars
Jackie Chan
Portal
Inception

Well, I caught one grammatical error in the second-to-last chapter.

Click to expand...

Oh yeah? Well I caught one more! ♪Gotta catch 'em all~♪

"then on the count of three, the battle will begin. One..."

The boy with the jade eyes checked his Poké Balls. There were three – the regulation number for this tournament.

"Two..."

He noted the time on his watch. He thought he might be able to set a new personal best for this match.

"One!"

Click to expand...

Is the announcer counting up or down?

Fixed the errors you pointed out. Thank you very much for your continued reading.

Oh, and Silent Memento, I think things might get a little more exciting now that the fight isn't so one-sided.

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..."

Oh my gosh, is that a Phonebooth reference?! ...I loved that movie so much. Too bad it's only good for a one-time view, being a suspense movie and all.

Anyway, I liked the description of Ominous Wind. I'm wondering what Puck did to be wanted by the CIA. And this chapter had all sorts of humor in it (the reactions of the Aqua members after the Ominous Wind was priceless).

This was nice.

Lol. Literally. For some reason this chapter made me laugh (for real, not the exaggerated txt expression often used even for the slightest amusement) more than any previous one.

teamVASIMR said:

Lol. Literally. For some reason this chapter made me laugh (for real, not the exaggerated txt expression often used even for the slightest amusement) more than any previous one.

Click to expand...

Silent Memento said:

Oh my gosh, is that a Phonebooth reference?! ...I loved that movie so much. Too bad it's only good for a one-time view, being a suspense movie and all.

Anyway, I liked the description of Ominous Wind. I'm wondering what Puck did to be wanted by the CIA. And this chapter had all sorts of humor in it (the reactions of the Aqua members after the Ominous Wind was priceless).

This was nice.

Click to expand...

Thank you for your feedback. Sorry for the long delay - my dear laptop Ophelia has been having some issues - but updates will resume shortly. I'm glad you enjoyed this chapter, and will do my best to keep things going funnily and generally entertainingly.

I really must stop using such clumsy adverbs.

Wow, your story is amazing! It's taken me a while to read all the chapters, but here I am. I really love how Puck makes all these references, although I can only catch about a fourth of them. Btw, is 'we're not out of the woods yet' a reference to Into the Woods? Can't be sure. Anyways, I hope for another chapter soon (no pressure).
I literally did I a double take when I found out Zero was in here. So, I'm happy that you included my favorite Pokemon character :D Are you going to mention the whole Reverse World incident, or just pretend that never happened?

mew_nani said:

Wow, I had no idea you named your laptop 'Ophelia'. Pretty name. :)

Looks like they finally found Puck. Only... how the crap do they expect to arrest him? He'll just go through the walls of his cell and be free once more. :D

...And... so that's how Ominous Wind works... ... ...note to self: stay the heck out of the way of Ghost-types.... :\

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Yes. Ghosts are dangerous. If you must go near them, bring Agatha or Morty with you, or Fantina if you really must. Just not Shauntal, because she's a terrible writer, and that irritates me.

Uh, what I meant was - thanks for reading, and I hope you continue to enjoy it.

olih said:

Wow, your story is amazing! It's taken me a while to read all the chapters, but here I am. I really love how Puck makes all these references, although I can only catch about a fourth of them. Btw, is 'we're not out of the woods yet' a reference to Into the Woods? Can't be sure. Anyways, I hope for another chapter soon (no pressure).
I literally did I a double take when I found out Zero was in here. So, I'm happy that you included my favorite Pokemon character :D Are you going to mention the whole Reverse World incident, or just pretend that never happened?
No offense, but Zero isn't that hard to draw... once you start drawing him obsessively...

Click to expand...

Not an Into the Woods reference, just an idiom. And who exactly do you mean by Zero? The Zero in this story is a reference, but he's a reference to someone who isn't part of the Pokémon universe. I've no idea who you think he is, but I can guarantee he isn't them. I've never even heard of anyone in the Pokémon world called Zero. Sorry if I raised any hopes unfairly.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you keep reading and enjoying.

So sorry for the recent lack of updates. I've been procrastinating like crazy.

Chapter Fifty-Six: Winded

"Let me get this straight," the druid said, scratching her head. "You've been possessed by a Rotom, and gained all of its powers?"

I pointed to my right eye, the one whose colour Puck's presence had changed.

"Yep," I said cheerfully. "That's about it. Actually, I was wondering if you had a security camera system. Then I could look through the building and see where the other druids were, and just unlock the doors around them, without releasing any Aquas."

"Um... yes, we do, but..." The pretty druid – whose name, I now knew, was Kasandra (a non-standard spelling, but with my name, I couldn't really judge her for it) – waved a hand towards all the Aquas and to my friends. "What about all of them? What happened to them?"

"I'm not sure, but I think I hit them all with a wave of negative emotions," I said, surveying the scene. Groans broke free from the mass of bodies like bubbles in lava, and every so often, someone would make a feeble attempt to rise before settling back down. "It seems to have given them all depression."

Correction – it's given them all melodramatic depression, Puck said. Ominous Wind is a crazy-great move. The higher the cognitive functions of the creature it hits – and these are humans, so, despite what I'd like to say about them, they have pretty high cognitive functions – the more marked its effect is. If you hit a Sandshrew with it, it would be hurt, but nothing much would happen; hit humans, and it causes a random over-dramatised negative emotion; hit an Alakazam, and they get an aneurysm. Now that's satisfying.

"How long are they going to be like that?" Kasandra asked me. I conferred silently with Puck, and answered:

"They should stay this way for another half an hour or so."

"Right." She chewed her lip for a moment. "We'll need to contact Archie before then and negotiate something with him; if we kill them all he'll probably start a full-scale war with us, which we won't be able to win."

"Can I use your security system or not...?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, sure."

Kasandra led me over to one of the desks, pushed an Aqua off it and turned on the computer; a few minutes and several clicks of the mouse later, I was looking at a screen cycling between the views from each camera.

Puck, I thought, do your thing.

Puck, do your thing, he mimicked savagely. What did your last slave die of?

Puck!

Oh, fine, he sighed huffily, and the computer screen started to flicker as a steady stream of sparks passed into the mouse from my hand.

Would you mind putting your hand on the actual computer instead of the mouse? Puck asked. Trying to do this through a mouse is like trying to play basketball through a keyhole.

Obligingly, I moved my hand, and the sparks continued apace; a few seconds later, Puck said he was done.

"There," I said, removing my hand and turning to Kasandra, "the doors are open."

Kasandra had been speaking to the other druids, getting them to drag the Aquas away and to get my friends up onto chairs; now, she turned and thanked me.

"OK, Kester," she said, "can you just wait here for a while, please? I need to get hold of our leader. He'll want to talk to you."

"Can't we just... leave?" I asked hopefully. "To be honest, I never wanted to come here in the first place."

Kasandra shook her head.

"Sid wanted to bring you here, then you turn up and destroy a roomful of Aquas that were threatening us over the Orb. You're not going anywhere until you've been properly questioned and then thanked. And possibly had your memory erased."

"What did you just say?"

"I said you weren't going anywhere until you'd been properly questioned and then thanked."

"Really? 'Cause I thought I heard something else on the end there..."

"No." Kasandra turned back to the other druids and issued a few more instructions; either she was someone of importance, or was simply a very forceful sort of person, because she'd assumed control pretty quickly. I watched her for a few moments longer than was strictly necessary, and then switched my attention over to Sid, Sapphire and Felicity. They were conscious, but barely sensible; Sid was whispering silent protests at the ceiling, Sapphire was half-heartedly trying to strangle herself with an envelope, and Felicity was staring blankly ahead, trembling slightly.

Oh, that looks ominous, Puck said. Get it? Ominous – Ominous Wind? Ah, I'm wasted on you, like English teachers on their students.

I went over to Felicity and prodded her experimentally.

Like that's going to help, snorted Puck.

"Felicity?" I asked, ignoring him. "You OK?"

KILL

I jumped back and stumbled over my own feet, half-falling onto a computer desk; the voice in my head had been harsh and strong – and definitely not Puck.

"What – what was that?" I stammered, which earned me an odd look from Kasandra. "Er – just... thought I heard something," I explained lamely.

That was Skuld, Puck told me. I'm guessing she's in a lot of pain right now because of the Ominous Wind – Ghost is super-effective against Ghost – and that means she's angry. Hence the whole 'KILL' thing. Though, in retrospect, she might just have been saying 'KILL' anyway; she doesn't usually seem to need a reason.

She's not going to get out, is she? I asked apprehensively.

No. Though Felicity's distracted, Skuld is probably wary of whatever just hurt her. If I were her, I'd retreat deeper into Felicity and wait until I had a better idea of the situation. Then again, I'm an intelligent being, and she's a rapacious man-eating monster, so there might be some discrepancy there.

As we'd been speaking, the first of the batches of druids had started to arrive; amongst their number was a short, round man who immediately went over to Kasandra and demanded to know what was going on. From the ensuing dialogue, I divined that he was the leader of the Gorsedd Hoenn, and that he was more than a little put out at his enforced captivity. Kasandra explained what had taken place as best she could, and then referred him to me. He swivelled on the spot, as if mounted on a turntable, fixed his beady eyes on me and advanced like a robe-swaddled Terminator.

How do you know – actually, it's not worth asking. It never is.

"You're the boy with Rotom powers?" the druid asked. He looked older close up – at least fifty – and there was a piece of what looked like dried spaghetti stuck to his chin. For a brief moment, I wondered whether I ought to point this out, but decided that it would be more tactful just to carry on.

"Yes," I replied. "That's me." I attempted a friendly smile, but since the old druid wasn't very friendly, it did no more than flicker briefly before dying on my lips.

"I must question you," he said brusquely. "Come with me to the... Room of Questioning."

"Why did you pause before you said that?" I asked, somewhat alarmed. "And why did you say it in that low, ominous voice?"

Hey, you're making Ominous Wind jokes too! Oh wait, you're not. You really are worried.

"Because it is the Room of Questioning," the druid said darkly. "It is there that we question people."

"This questioning won't involve anything more than words, right?" I asked nervously.

"I cannot say," the old druid began, but Kasandra cut across him:

"Ignore him, he's being melodramatic. Go, you'll be fine. I'll make sure your friends are all right, too."

So, half-worried and half-relieved, I followed the leader of the druids out of the laboratory and down the corridors to the so-called Room of Questioning.

---

"You see, it goes like this," said Zuckerman. "Goodfellow is a world-class art thief, very widely-known in the underworld – and in intelligence circles."

"Wait," said Darren, holding up a hand. "Are you telling me that Kester Ruby, the boy I'm tracking – that he's this Robin Goodfellow?"

Zuckerman nodded.

"We received information that Goodfellow was in Hoenn, hiding out. A brief look at your news gave away his location: aside from this ongoing Sableye business, all the major news items of the last two weeks involve a boy who can shoot lightning from his hands."

"The door locks," the Goodwin murmured, recalling the museum. "He can manipulate machinery at a touch..."

"Then it must be him," Tanyan said. "Nothing else can control machines the way a Rotom can."

"The Phelps-Laurence Occipital Tampering Device," Darren said, snapping his fingers. "The boy complained that a Rotom had been inside the brain scanner when it was switched on, and that it had been forced into his head..."

"It was no accident," said Zuckerman decisively. "Goodfellow must have done this intentionally, to hide. He doesn't do things by accident."

"Then why is he making such a spectacle of himself?" wondered Tanyan, and then answered his own question: "Because the rest of the world never sees the Hoennian news..."

"Exactly," Zuckerman said, nodding. "And so he's free to do here what he couldn't do anywhere else."

"Which is what, exactly?" asked Darren. "I suppose this is why you want information from me?"

"Yes." Zuckerman cleared his throat. "We have reason to believe that Goodfellow is attempting to destroy the world."

Darren stared at him for a moment, decided that he was, in fact, being serious and replied.

"How do you mean, 'destroy the world'?" he asked, choosing his words carefully.

"End it. Blow up the planet, or something." Zuckerman seemed to sense that Darren had moved past the stage of mocking him now, and became more earnest. "We don't know how, but he's going to end all life on Earth."

"Can I ask the obvious question?" Darren inquired.

"Go on," said Mr. Tanyan, who was doubtless feeling like something of a third wheel by this time.

"Why would anyone want to destroy the world?"

Zuckerman looked sheepish – or as sheepish as he could allow himself to look without undermining his authority.

"We're following some leads," he said cagily. "Looking into a few—"

"You don't know," clarified Darren. "Right. What makes you think he's going to destroy the world?"

"We were informed by a reliable source—"

"You don't know. Is there anything worthwhile you have to bring to this meeting, or should I be out there trying to catch this Rotom?"

Zuckerman's face went red again, and Tanyan took his foot off his chair and then put it back in a spasm of uncertain agitation.

"Now," he said ineffectually, "let's not get all worked up about this—"

"Mr. Tanyan, sir, with all due respect – shut up." Darren Goodwin delivered these final words quietly, but with tremendous force; someone in the know might well have decided that he would have been suited to voice acting, but there was no such person present, and so they didn't. "I've been hunting this Goodfellow guy as if he were a seventeen-year-old kid for the last two weeks. Now you tell me he's actually a hardened criminal hell-bent on world destruction. Not only was the difficulty of this mission seriously understated, but it seems we weren't even in possession of all the facts when it was given to me!" He was angry now, all the frustration that had built up over the last couple of weeks forcing its way out of him through his mouth. "That's against Devon policy, and—"

"Mr. Goodwin, please be quiet!" said Tanyan, a surprising note of command in his voice; whether out of surprise or habit, Darren obeyed, and fell to glaring silently and mutinously at the two men before him. "Thank you." Tanyan drew a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his brow. "Darren, all we want you to do is tell Mr. Zuckerman everything that you know about Ruby – or Goodfellow, whatever you want to call him – and then let one of his agents come with you to gather more information and hopefully apprehend him."

"That's it?" Darren couldn't quite keep the incredulity from his voice. "That's all you want? Then what the hell was the point of all this?"

"I thought you two might get on somewhat better than you did," Tanyan said gloomily. "I suppose Mr. Zuckerman just rubs up against you the wrong way."

"I am still here, you know," Zuckerman said. Tanyan glanced at him.

"Oh yes. So you are. Well, anyway – your agent, Mr. Zuckerman?"

"She's highly-skilled – maybe the best in the world," Zuckerman said. "And, er, also not here."

"What?" This was something of a surprise to both the Goodwin and Mr. Tanyan.

"She's taking the next flight," Zuckerman explained.

"Why on earth didn't she come with you?" asked Darren. This travel plan seemed to him to make very little sense, much like a cursory reading of Naked Lunch.

"She didn't really want to come," Zuckerman said defensively. "And she's not really a member of the banana—"

"Agency—"

"—a member of the agency, so there isn't much we can do to force her to do things she doesn't want to." Zuckerman had gone red again, partly out of embarrassment and partly because of the resurgence of the banana/agency confusion. "She's not even really an American citizen."

"Bravo," said Darren sarcastically. "Behold the great and mighty power of the American intelligence banana."

"That's enough, Darren." As ever, Tanyan's efforts to smooth things over between the Goodwin and the CIA man were so ineffectual as to warrant comparison with an ant trying to compete in the shot put.

"She'll arrive in Lilycove this evening," persisted Zuckerman gamely. "Meet her at the airport."

Him? Why should he meet her? In fact, why was there any obligation at all for him to cooperate with these damnably arrogant Americans?

"Why? Aren't you going to meet your own people yourself?" asked Darren.
Zuckerman coughed.

"Er, well, there's been some unpleasantness between us." He busied himself in the removal and adjustment of the time on his watch.

Darren raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He turned to Tanyan.

"Sir," he said, in the tones of one who knows they have just agreed to martyr themselves, "may I go now?"

"Yes, maybe you should," Tanyan agreed, with just enough eagerness to seem mildly offensive. "I'm not sure this meeting can go any further."

That, thought Darren as he turned to go, was the biggest understatement he'd heard all year.

---

"...remains just one problem," Maxie concluded. "Namely, how the hell do we activate that grazhny Orb?"

The Magma Admins and the other high-ranking Magmas who were attending the meeting stared back blankly.

"Any ideas?" asked Maxie, casting his eye around with the vain hope of a Dead Sea fisherman. "Come on, anyone at all?"

"Um..." A short, stick-thin woman at the other end of the boardroom raised her hand uncertainly. Maxie pounced upon the opportunity as swiftly as Lady Macbeth had hers, and pointed sharply at her.

"Yes?" he inquired. "What is it?"

"Have you tried... burning it?"

Maxie sighed, turned his back to the table and took a few steps away. Then, all at once, he spun around and shot her in the head.

"You know," he remarked thoughtfully, leaning on the table and scratching his chin, "I think that was the first thing we tried."

The tension in the room had been high before. Now it was almost tangible; moving in there would have been like moving through skeins of cobwebs.
"So," said Maxie, "anyone else have any bright ideas?"

There was a very long pause this time. Everyone's eyes were on Maxie, except for a few seconds of each minute, where they flicked around the faces of the people sitting at the table, wondering if they would say anything. They also left Maxie to glance in the direction of the corpse when it fell off its chair, but that was a momentary lapse caused by the sudden noise.

"Come on." Maxie stood up and stretched his arms out. "Someone must have an idea."

"Have – have we called the Benefactor?" asked Tabitha timidly.

"The Benefactor!" cried Maxie. "Ah, our glorious Benefactor, who has so kindly guided us from strength to strength and then callously abandoned us at the final hurdle." He paused. "As you might well gather, he's been a bit silent of late. In fact, there's no clue as to where he's got to whatsoever."

"Should we – should we get people looking for him? They might be able to find something that could help—"

"They might," agreed Maxie savagely. "They might. Which is why the order has already been given to all Magmas to detain Zero on sight."

Tabitha withered and retreated into his capacious hood; it was clear that his input was not valued here.

"Does anyone else have an idea of what we might need to do?" asked Maxie. His voice was so cold now that it seemed the temperature in the room dropped five degrees when he spoke – a not entirely disagreeable change, considering they were inside a volcano.

"Break it open—?"

Whoever had suggested that was cut off almost before they began:
"It's unbreakable!" Maxie roared, raising his voice for the first time and making everyone jump. "You're asking me to do the impossible, break the unbreakable – who the hell do you think I am?"

If anyone had been less terrified, they might have made a referential rejoinder, but, being keenly aware of the literal smoking gun in Maxie's hand, they didn't.

"Are there any other bright ideas?" asked Maxie, with a certain cruel sarcasm that might have befitted some sort of unusually intelligent wolf. "And please, think very carefully before you answer. I don't want to waste any more bullets."

Silence fell once again over the boardroom, and after a few more minutes Maxie sighed.

"Fine," he growled. "Get out, all of you. We'll resume this tomorrow. Again."
The Magma high-ups vacated their seats and left on the crest of a palpable wave of relief. It seemed they'd live to confer another day.

For his part, Maxie slumped into his throne-like chair – he hadn't been able to resist the temptation to have it custom-made from Salamence skeletons, with lots of little added fiery bits – and brooded. At least, that was what he called it; if it had been anyone else, it would have been called sulking.

"We won't find a solution," he muttered darkly to himself. "Not unless we find him." He glared angrily at the ceiling, as if it could be coerced into giving up the secrets he desired. "Where the hell are you, Zero?"

---

"That wasn't so bad," I remarked, scratching my head. "I thought it would be worse in there."

Yeah. That old guy made it sound like it was some sort of Spanish Inquisition-style dungeon. Although, in all fairness, it was unexpected, so there is kind of a resemblance.

It had taken forty minutes of questioning before the old druid – who still hadn't told me his name – had been satisfied with me, and let me go. It had been a further ten minutes before I got back to the Castform lab, since I got very, very lost on the way back; however, I did have quite a warm reception.

"You beat them!" cried Sapphire, giving me the second ever high-five I'd received from her. "That was Ominous Wind, right?"

"Um... yeah," I confirmed, slightly confused by her friendliness. The only other time I'd seen her like this was after her day at the Gym in Mauville. "It was. Can I ask why you're being so nice?"

"If you can use Ominous Wind, you must have caught up with my Pokémon in level," Sapphire replied. "You're getting strong. That's good, right?"

Who does she think she's fooling? Puck paused, then sighed. Oh right. She's fooling you, Kester.

There was a remark that warranted further investigation if any ever did, but I left it for later; there was too much going on right now.

"Thank you," said Felicity, quiet as ever. I wondered again why she'd been so silent recently, and reminded myself to talk to her about it at some point.

"No problem," I replied, suppressing the sudden urge to rant about how beautiful she was.

You realise you only think she's pretty because she's inhabited by a Ghost made of ice that eats the flesh of foolhardy men, right?

I prefer the illusion of love to despair.

Ooh. Look who's getting snide.

Sid, too, thanked me, and then I asked Kasandra if we could leave yet.
"Stay the night," she offered. "It's getting late." She glanced at Sid, and frowned. "Why are you still here? You need to see the boss. He's pretty pissed-off with you for staying on the museum roof."

"What!" Sid cried indignantly. "Oh, come on! If I hadn't stayed, you'd all have been killed by Aquas!"

"Also, you're out of uniform," Kasandra pointed out. "I'd change before you go and see him, or he's going to kill you twice."

"I was travelling incognito," protested Sid disconsolately, but he left without any further fight.

"You three," Kasandra said, pointing at Sapphire, Felicity and I, "come with me. We'll get you something to eat, and you can leave in the morning."

We hadn't actually accepted her offer to stay the night yet, but she seemed to take it as a given that we would, and so forceful was her personality that we actually did. The evening ended up being a blur of pleasantries, and the only thing I can really remember about it now was that Puck kept singing all the way through, a soothing song that by ten o'clock was starting to put me to sleep.

How many jokes must a Rotom make
Before Kester gets just one?
How many references can one Ghost make
Before one's recognised?
Yes, how many times can I be underrated
Before you see I'm a genius?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

---

"Fabien?"

"Urrrggh?"

"'Ow're you doin' with the thinkin' things over thing?"

"Urrggh."

"A'righ'. I'll speak t'you later."

"Urrggh."

It was now some time since the drunken debauchery of the day before, and Fabien was considering regretting it.

He did not yet regret it entirely. He had, after all, had a very pleasant time, and that was an incontrovertible fact. However, drinking almost continuously throughout the afternoon and long into the night had left his head feeling as if it had been soft-boiled and then lovingly tenderised. How Blake had escaped this feeling was unknown, but he had, and was going about his business without a care in the world. In fact, Fabien had an inkling he might be going to see the turkey who lives on the hill, which was something he had always wanted to do and never had.

In stark contrast to Blake, Fabien had yet to even rise from his bed. He did not relish the prospect of doing so; somewhere in the middle of the tenderising process, he was sure, his head had begun to leak some sort of meaty juice that had glued it firmly to the pillow. Pulling the two asunder was very likely to result in the loss of an ear, or some other such horrific injury, and so Fabien remained where he was, head on pillow, eyes shut and back to the door.

He wasn't up to thinking. Thinking required the use of the head, and his head had borne enough abuse to be beyond use at the present juncture. However, there was nothing else to be done at the moment; Fabien was no monk, and couldn't just blank out his mind and meditate on nothingness. No, he was firmly rooted in the realm of worldly things, and amongst those worldly things were hangovers.

So, since there was nothing left for him to do but think things over, Fabien thought things over. He bore the pain as staunchly as only a main character could and thought about what the Magmas might be doing. He thought about what he and Blake ought to do next. He thought about what ingredients might be necessary to create a hangover cure as powerful as Jeeves'.

And then Fabien thought that now was the time, that it definitely couldn't be put off any longer, and he tensed under the bedclothes. Then, in one swift motion to minimise any tearing-related injury, he wrenched his head from the pillow.

The sudden movement caused a great spasm of pain somewhere in the centre of his brain, and he had to stay very still for a good few minutes before it subsided, but overall it seemed his plan had worked – feeling the side of his head and looking at the pillow, Fabien could see no sign that he had ripped any ears off, or indeed come to any harm at all.

This cheered him up a good deal, and he felt brave enough to try his feet now. They weren't as treacherous as he had feared, and, heartened, Fabien set off in search of coffee.

It was a full hour later before he could be said to be somewhere back on the way to all right. He was sitting at a little table with a parasol in front of the pub, with an abnormally large mug of strong black coffee before him. Goishi was perched – somewhat awkwardly – in the opposite seat, and regarding him with jaundiced eyes that would, had Fabien been a more perceptive man, have let him know that the Crobat's current view of him was somewhere between extreme disdain and vitriolic hatred.

"You know," he said, looking off down the quiet road. "I think I might leave the Team."

Goishi's eyes widened. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that.

"You see," Fabien went on, "we never seem to get anywhere, do we?"

Goishi was forced to admit that this was true, and nodded.

"So, we should go back to being free operators," Fabien said. "Confidence trickery, bank heists... oh, those were the days." He sighed deeply, like an old man remembering his long-faded past; the effect was only slightly ruined by the fact that he was but twenty-nine. "Yes, Goishi, that'll be the thing," he said. "You weren't there, of course, but it was great. None of this being pushed around, no man to call your master... yes, that was a good time. Right, I'm decided. We'll quit – what's that?"

His phone had begun to ring, and so Fabien answered it.

"Hello?" he said. "Oh, hello sir. Yes of course. Right away. No sir. Yes sir. All right. Thanks, sir."

There was a click and Fabien put down the phone.

"That was Supervisor Antonio," he said to Goishi. "Come on, we've got work to do."

The Crobat stared at him for a long moment, performed a protracted eye-roll and got up to follow him away down the street.

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Goodwin and Delilah

"Thank God that's over," I sighed. "I hate the jungle."

It's not so bad. You just need to find the bare necessities – that's how a bear can rest at ease.

You hate it for the trees, I reminded Puck silently.

We were sitting in the cool shadows beneath the roof of Plain Rooke's train station, and at long last it seemed that the complications of the druids – and more importantly, the horrifically humid Akela Jungle – were behind us. Sid was back where he belonged, Archie was apparently flying west to the Weather Institute to negotiate the release of the Aqua hostages with the druids, and I was sitting on a bench with Felicity next to me. The world was as far back to all right as it could be under the circumstances, and I felt more content than I had for what seemed like forever. I wondered if this was what Skitty felt like when they were stroked to purring point.

"It's nice to get back out," agreed Sapphire. "It is really hot there this time of year."

Felicity said nothing, just studied the ground between her feet intently. I got the feeling that she didn't like this talk about how hot the jungle was; it scared her, I suppose, since she couldn't feel it.

It reminds her of her lack of humanity, Puck stated baldly. She isn't human any more. She and Skuld aren't like you and I; they're much closer, much more interlinked. If it's possible to get Skuld out of her... well, I'm not sure she'll ever really return to normal.

I gave Felicity a sideways glance. I couldn't imagine her as a normal person; her skin was just too bloodless, her hair too unnatural, her limbs too thin.

Way to cheer me up, Puck.

The Rotom was unrepentant.

It's what I do best, he replied happily. I'm just a bundle of fun. You know, being made of awesome and all.

There was a clattering from further down the track, and a few seconds later the train rushed into the station; it was as if it hadn't realised it needed to stop here, because it seemed almost to panic, and slammed on the brakes at the last moment. Only the rear half of it was actually still in the station when it finally managed to come to a halt, and when the doors opened, I sat there for a moment or two, just looking at it and wondering if I'd ever have witnessed something that stupid if I hadn't met Puck and Sapphire.

"Come on," Sapphire called, from the doorway. "The train will leave without you!"

Hah! Puck exclaimed. No train can leave without me, not if I want to be on board.

I got on, we found a compartment – it was one of the old-fashioned trains, which were just on the way out in Hoenn – and sat down. We talked for a while, then, as the fields of Plain Rooke faded into the distance, lapsed into silence.

You may be wondering why we were on a train, and where we were going. After all, we had no leads regarding what Zero's next move might be, and no idea about what we should be doing.

The answer is that we were on our way back to a place we hadn't been for a long time. Sapphire had put forth the idea over breakfast, and I'd agreed that it was as good as any we could come up with. Felicity wasn't particularly pleased at taking any detours from the road to destroying Zero, but she didn't seem to want to argue, and conceded that since we didn't have a plan right now, it would be all right to spend a day or two doing other things.

Kester, you haven't said where we're going yet.

I'm getting to it! God damn it, Puck, you have no sense of how to build something up.

Why were we going to this place? It was to do with a gift we – well, me, but Sapphire had appropriated it – had received from the druids, as thanks for saving them. Never mind that it was me who'd done all the work; I wasn't a Trainer, and so Sapphire had taken possession of what I still saw as my Castform.

He looked like a cross between a cloud and a baby, with a touch of teddy bear about the face. Floating around at head-height, his face was fixed in a perpetual giddy smile, and his eyes were, as far as I could make out, never focused on anything.

He's also a she, remarked Puck sourly. Not that she appears to have any external genitalia, but she is wearing eyeliner.

That, I realised, made my chosen name of Cassius – the name of our deceased Skitty, as chosen by my long-dead father – somewhat inapt. Hastily, I revised this to Cassie.

The point was, Cassie was to be delivered to Professor Birch in Littleroot, for she was a species completely unknown to science; apparently the druids had actually created her and her fellow Castform from whole cloth. I had agreed to donate her to Birch on the grounds that I didn't want Sapphire having her, and I was never going to use her myself – I was no Trainer, remember, and I didn't intend to be. As soon as I'd fulfilled my promise to Felicity and got Puck out of my head, I was going straight back home and staying there.

The journey was a long one. We reached Mauville quite quickly, but the long ride down Route 103 towards Oldale took most of the afternoon, and it wasn't until seven o'clock that night that the train finally pulled into Littleroot Central Station.

"It feels like forever since I've been here," Sapphire said, gazing around at the sunny street. "Wow. I didn't know how..." She trailed off and shook her head. "Never mind."

"How what?" I asked, as we started to walk.

"Nothing," she replied.

"You did not know how homesick you were," Felicity said suddenly. Sapphire gave her a look.

"How did you know that?"

"I'm homesick too," she admitted, then returned her gaze to the pavement. "But I can't go home."

"Yeah," I murmured, thinking of my mum and Devon. "I think I understand that."

Much as it pains me to admit it... so do I. Puck spoke in a tone that sounded like it was normally used when he had teeth pulled.

We were silent and still for a moment; somehow, without noticing, we'd stopped walking. I guess the others were thinking of home – I know I was. I was wondering what my mum was thinking, what was happening at school, what my friends had made of my sudden absence...

"Let's go," said Sapphire abruptly.

"Yeah," I agreed, and we went.

---

"It's the lab we want to go to," Sapphire said. "Dad won't be home yet, and we can drop Cassius off there."

"Cassie," I told her. "It's a girl. So Cassie."

"How do you know it's a girl?"

"I'm very observant."

"She's been in her Poké Ball since we left the Weather Institute."

"I'm very observant."

"Puck told you, right?"

"Damn it!" I punched a wall and regretted it. "Every time, Sapphire, every damn time..."

She snickered, and the ghost of a smile passed over Felicity's lips.

"Can't you believe me just once?" I asked beseechingly. "I'm only trying to claw back some of the dignity that you and the grazzy Rotom have stolen from me." I sighed. "You know, I used to be cool."

Liar, said Puck simply and immediately.

Sapphire laughed incredulously and ducked out of the way of an old lady.

"That's not true," she snorted. "You? Cool? You're not even lukewarm. You're so uncool you're hot."

"That's also a compliment," I said triumphantly, and Sapphire made a rude gesture at me. "Did they teach you that at your posh private school?"

"Piss off," she said, surprisingly coarsely, and Felicity actually laughed, which surprised Puck, Sapphire and I so much that we stopped to look at her, at which she blushed grey, which was not only creepy but vaguely revolting.

"Sorry," she said timidly.

"No, it's not a bad thing," I told her. "Laugh if you want. Life isn't always serious."

"I know. It has been serious for a very long time, though." Felicity's eyes weren't looking at me; I thought that they might be seeing the past. "It was very serious."

That killed our amusing little conversation stone dead, and we walked the rest of the way to the lab in silence, wondering exactly what had happened to Felicity that had been so bad.

"It's been a long time since I was last here," Felicity said, staring at the blocky building.

"Me too," I said.

"We were all last here at the same time," Sapphire pointed out sharply. "That was a stupid thing to say, Kester."

"Felicity started it!"

"You're blaming it on her? How old are you, six?"

Puck said almost exactly the same thing at exactly the same time, and there was no defence against the twin assault but to shut up and look sulky, which only caused both of them to abuse me further.

"You're so pathetic."

Couldn't agree more. I've seen toddlers with more backbone than you. And I've seen elderly spinsters with more manly spirit.

Sapphire waved at the vacuous-looking guard – who didn't seem to have left the security booth, or even moved, since I'd seen him last – and he let us in. Then, once again, we were in that strange hybrid of junkyard and zoo that was Professor Birch's workspace. Computers, files, CDs, caged Pokémon – a thousand things could have changed, and I'd never have noticed amongst all the confusion. The only things I was certain were the same from last time were the scientists, who were still standing at random points around the lab, smiling foolishly.

"Dad?" Sapphire took a few steps forwards, looking around. "Where are you?"

"What—?" Birch's head popped around a bookcase, and interrupted itself with a cry of surprise and joy. "Sapphy?"

He rushed over to hug her, and Sapphire sidestepped neatly; I could tell that she almost tripped him up as well, purely out of reflex, but she managed to restrain herself.

"It's nice to see you, too," she said. "No hugs."

"Ah," sighed Birch wistfully. "You used to like being hugged." He shook his head. "No, but – you're back! This is fantastic!" He looked over at me. "And so is Kester! And – waagh!"

Faster than you might have thought a man of his size could move, Birch leaped backwards and somehow climbed atop a precarious stack of empty cages.

"S-Sapphy!" he cried hoarsely, pointing a trembling finger at Felicity. "It's – it's her!"

"Dad, come down. You're embarrassing me. More than usual."

"But Sapphy—"

"She's a friend," snapped Sapphire. "Now get down here!"

"Yes, dear."

Birch jumped down, surprisingly nimbly, and regarded Felicity with a wary eye.

"My name is... you can call me Felicity," she said. Birch pointed at his eyes with two fingers, then at her with one; I think he was indicating he was watching her.

She's not in the circle of trust, Puck said knowingly.

"Dad, you're staring." Sapphire grabbed Birch's chin and yanked his face away from Felicity. "Sorry, Felicity. He's a coward."

Birch looked as though he were about to argue, then seemed to agree with her, and shrugged.

"It is all right," Felicity replied. "There are lots of people who don't like me."

"Is that a gun?" Birch asked.

"Yes."

"All right."

Birch drew Sapphire aside, and spoke to her in a low whisper; if I strained my ears, I could just make out a few words:

"...a gun! This..."

"...so stupid..."

"Oh, come on...situation is getting ridiculous..."

Then Sapphire muttered something in a very quiet voice that I couldn't hear, and her father suddenly stood up straight and swallowed.

"Yes, well, there's no need to bring that up," he said stiffly. He turned back to Felicity. "I apologise for my behaviour," he said with exaggerated formality. "Apparently, I've been unduly suspicious, and have misjudged you horribly. It's been very firmly impressed upon me that I will understand everything and think I've been terribly unfair as soon as things have been explained to me."

Sapphire is brilliant, Puck sighed. So perfectly able to control people... if she were a Rotom, I'd probably consider marrying her, you know.

I shuddered at the thought of how abusive the progeny of Sapphire and Puck might be.

"That's all right," Felicity said. "Kester will explain things. He's good at it."

I sighed.

"After we left," I began, "we took a boat to Dewford..."

---

"Oh God!" cried Birch, leaping up from his seat and striking at his forehead with the heel of his palm. "I've misjudged you horribly, Felicity! I understand everything now!"

Felicity stared at him for a moment, nonplussed, then said:

"Um... thank you, Professor. I have not taken any offence."

It was a long story, and I was thankful that Birch had already seen and accepted my preternatural powers, or it might have taken even longer to explain than it did. I'd hoped to try and set a new record for the time taken to tell it – beating the one I'd set when talking to the druids would have been a start – but the story was so damn complicated that I got lost halfway through.

"Well, I'm sorry anyway. I was terribly unfair."

Does he really not get how ridiculous his choice of words is, given what he said a few paragraphs ago?

"It's fine," Felicity assured him.

"Dad," said Sapphire, trying to lead him away from the topic, "why don't you take a look at the Castform the druids gave me?"

"Gave me," I said sulkily. "She's mine."

"You haven't even touched her."

"Because you snatched her off me—"

"Semantics," said Sapphire, waving me aside, and let Cassie out of her ball. I took the opportunity to take a good look at her, and was forced to agree with Puck: she was wearing eyeliner, though how she'd applied it was anyone's guess.

"Fascinating," said Birch, peering myopically at her. This didn't go down well; Cassie made a noise that might have been a growl at him, and, looking around for familiar faces and finding that the only one that even remotely qualified was mine, zoomed over to float above my head.

"Hey," I said, looking up. "Cassie, you have to stay here."

She looked blankly down at me.

Kester, she isn't a person, Puck said. Think of her as a lobotomised monkey – she doesn't understand anything you say and never will. Also she finds One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest really, really relevant.

I'm sure she's not that stupid.

It's called hyperbole, I use it for comedic effec – you know what? Shut up.

"Go. Over there." I pointed at Cassie, and then at Birch. There was still no response, so I took her ball off Sapphire and recalled her. Then, handing the ball to Birch, I said brightly: "Looks like you'll get on just fine."

"Oh, definitely," Birch agreed, nodding. "Pokémon and I always get on. Right, guys?"

He turned to a series of wire cages containing a Poochyena, a Taillow and a little cub-like creature with a blue face; as one, their heads whipped around to face him, and they barked, screeched and growled at him in a way that seemed a pretty firm contradiction of Birch's last statement.

"Yeah," Birch said happily, turnig back to us. "They love me."

Is it me, or is he stupider than last time we met?

Nah, about the same.

"Anyway," he said, "it just so happens that my wife has gone to Petalburg to visit her sister for a few days. So, you can come stay at our house, Kester." He turned to Felicity. "And you too, Felicity." He glanced at a window, through which the sunset poured as if it were liquid. "Come on, it's late."

And so it was that, after all that time on the road, in Pokémon Centres, in mountains and museums and forests, I finally got back to what might be called civilisation. It wasn't my home, true, but it was someone's home – and that made it infinitely more pleasant than a hotel. In the hallway there was a framed handprint labelled 'Sapphire, age 4'; on the sideboard in the living-room were photographs of the Birches, apparently on holiday somewhere snowy. You could tell someone lived here, and that they liked it, and that was wonderful.

"Right," said Birch, ushering us all into the living-room. "Have you eaten?"
We hadn't, and said so.

"Then I shall get you all something to eat," he said, in tones that suggested he was accepting a sacred challenge, and marched off to the kitchen. All three of us listened intently, sure that some sort of slapstick crash was to follow, but there was none; instead, Birch came back a minute later, looking sheepish, and asked: "Sapphy, how do you turn on the oven?"

"You're not allowed to do that, remember?" Sapphire reminded him. "Mum doesn't let you. Not since last time."

"What your mother doesn't know," pronounced Birch, "will most definitely not hurt her."

"No, but you might hurt her kitchen," Sapphire countered. "Seriously Dad, don't try and use the oven." She stood up with a sigh. "Sit down. I'll do it."

"And I will help," offered Felicity, and together they walked off to the kitchen.

Birch and I were left looking at each other, in what probably counted as a shared manly moment.

"Women," sighed Birch. "I don't understand them, Kester."

"If you did," I suggested, a witty rejoinder coming to my mind, "you probably wouldn't have married, and you definitely wouldn't have had a child."

You call that witty? I've seen funnier things in Tess of the d'Urbervilles, and there ain't nothin' less funny than Tess of the d'Urbervilles.

"I mean, so what if I set the kitchen on fire once? I'm not going to do it again. I've learned."

"That's probably not a 'woman' thing," I pointed out, as tactfully as possible. "Not letting you use the kitchen if you've set it on fire before is probably just a 'sensible person' thing."

Birch waved one hand in a curious gesture that was almost, but not quite, entirely meaningless.

"Gah," he said, apparently unable to think of anything more articulate, and stomped out.

Which left me alone, and so it was that I managed to enter into a spectacularly trivial and enormously overblown argument with Puck, and lose horribly.

---

Darren Goodwin lay on Thursday morning, and thought about the person in the next room. He had met her last night, at Arrivals in Lilycove International Airport, and got a taxi to take her to the hotel he was staying in. She had been fairly unmistakable: she'd been the one dancing and lip-syncing to some song in English.

Tall and slim, she was in her early twenties, and her complexion and long, dark hair marked her out as Hispanic. She wore a yellow shirt that exposed her midriff and tight blue jeans; a man less devoted to his wife might have been tempted to say she was glamorous. Darren, however, did not. A depth of love that few would have expected of him rendered him nigh-immune to the charms of other women.

"You are the agent of Zuckerman?" he asked her. He had been told she was Mexican, so it wasn't an entirely groundless suspicion; however, he did not speak Spanish, so he was trying English.

"Yeah," she said, turning and smiling broadly. "Hi! Who are you? Did Zuckerman send you to meet me? That's nice of him! I hate him though," she added, without drawing breath. "My name's Dahlia, what's yours?"

"My name is Darren Goodwin—"

"That's a nice name. Are we going now? Where are we going?"

Darren resisted the urge to slap her and concentrated instead on working out what she was saying; she spoke very fast indeed, and his English was far from perfect.

"Zuckerman tells me to get you a hotel room," he said. "We will talk in the morning."

And then they had got in a taxi, and Dahlia had not stopped talking for the entire journey back to the hotel. So annoyed had the Goodwin become that as soon as they vacated the taxi, he had drawn a knife to her throat and threatened to kill her – only to find that she was already holding a knife to his. For a long moment, the two of them looked right into each other's eyes, two killers who each held the other's life in their hands, and then, at the same time, both put away their weapons and smiled thinly.

Now, at eight o'clock on Thursday morning, Darren was wondering precisely who Dahlia was. She was clearly far more than just a chatterbox Mexican woman; he could tell that she was at least his equal in the deadly arts they practised, and possibly his better. This was fine: there would always be someone better than you, and Darren could accept that. After all, he was a Goodwin, and that meant he was third-class.

But still, there was something extraordinary about this woman...

Darren shook his head and got up. He dressed quickly and, on a whim, climbed from the balcony of his room onto that of Dahlia's, drawing a knife as he went. He wanted to make sure...

The doors to the room were unlocked; he stepped in quietly, saw Dahlia asleep in bed – jet lag, no doubt, he thought to himself – and crept towards her...

Almost immediately, Darren ducked and rolled as a knife whistled past overhead; he leaped back up and swung the knife down towards her breast – but Dahlia rolled aside, two more knives appearing in her hands from nowhere. They faced each other across the bed, eyes locked on each other's weapons, and then Dahlia laughed.

"This is weird," she said in a sing-song voice. "Is this a test? I think I passed, you know. I'm pretty good."

"Yes," replied Darren, straightening up. "You pass." He walked over to the door, then paused. "Get ready. We have much to discuss, and we need to leave soon."

With that, he left, but there was a shadow lying across his brow. He didn't know what this woman was, but he definitely didn't want her coming with him. Something about her was deeply wrong, and he had a feeling it could only mean that things were changing for the worse.

---

Zero let out a long breath. It had been a close-run thing, but he had done it. Directing the CIA towards Hoenn had got Dahlia involved, and with her in the game the irregularities in his calculations had been ironed out.

He leaned back and tilted his head left and then right; with each movement his stiff neck cracked.

"Most gratifying," he murmured. "I'm glad that's done with."

With that, he got up and readied himself to fly out. If he wasn't very much mistaken, Maxie wanted to see him – and after that, he had to get Felicity back. There was no time to rest on his laurels now; the world's eventual nonexistence was only inevitable as things stood now, and there was no guarantee they wouldn't change.

Zero sighed and quit his lair.

"It truly would seem," he murmured to himself with a smile, "that there is no peace for the wicked..."

Thank you for reading everything, olih; I know there's a lot of it. Sorry to disappoint you with Zero.

In other news, I appear to have been stricken with some strange sort of apathy, which has limited both the regularity and the quality of my chapters. I think it's something to do with having finished my exams, but still being stuck at school. To test this hypothesis, I'm going to wait until Friday to post the next chapter; maybe my brain will recover by then.

To tide you crazy folk who like this story over, take this shiny new chapter.

Chapter Fifty-Eight: Skull Splitting Revelation

The night was the first of the unpleasantly warm, sticky ones that Hoenn is so prone to in summer; the tropical air lay thick and stagnant over every room, choking us all through the air conditioning and weighing heavily down on me, as if I were being smothered with leaden blankets.

In short, I couldn't sleep.

This has always annoyed me. I mean, I was born here in Hoenn. This was the seventeenth of its sweltering summers that I'd lived through. And yet I still wasn't used to the hot, humid nights.

But uh-oh those su-umer nights, sang Puck. It could be worse. You could be in Equatorial Guinea.

"What's wrong with Equatorial Guinea?" I asked, barely able to raise my voice above a whisper.

Nothing. I just don't think you'd like it there. Puck paused. You've got a question, haven't you?

I sighed, blinked slowly and pushed the duvet completely off the bed. It hadn't even been touching me, but its presence was irritating.

"Yeah. It's about what you said earlier."

About the ruinous state of the monarchy in Mushroom Kingdom? That princess just isn't suitable to rule, I tell you!

"Er... no. It's about when you said that Sapphire was only fooling me."

Ah. That.

There was a long pause, and the crickets screamed outside.

"Are you going to talk to me about it?"

You already know all the answers, Kester. You just need to join the dots.

"Puck."

Come on, Kester. It's a rule of this world we live in. We're imprisoned by tropes here. Which makes Sapphire's role easy to predict.

"You're not making any sense."

Do you know what doesn't make any sense? Your face, that's what.

"That made no sense."

Yeah. You see? That was, like, a triple bluff or something.

"No, it was just stupid."

It was that too, admitted Puck. It was all that and much, much more. Full story pages 9-12.

"You're being very silly tonight, which means you're avoiding the question."

Join the dots, Kester. Give it a minute's thought, and then tell me that you need me to spell things out for you.

I thought about it, and then sat up fast enough to make my head spin.

"Please tell me I worked that out wrong," I said desperately. "Please, Puck. Say it ain't so."

What did you think?

"Sapphire doesn't... like me, does she?"

Good heavens, no! Puck cried.

"Oh, thank God."

She just thinks she might be in love with you.

"What?"

Keep it down, other people are trying to sleep. Though if they're anything like you, 'trying' might be pushing it.

"What do you mean, Puck?" I said in a low, urgent voice. "This is not the sort of thing you need to keep from me!"

He sighed.

It's quite simple, he began. Sapphire has never had many friends, because they all leave to find someone less dislikeable. You, however, didn't leave. So you two became friends. Now Sapphire – who, for all her expertise in the Pokémon department, is really bad at dealing with people – has mistaken this for more than it is. However, since she likes the idea of loving you about as much as you like it, she is pretending she doesn't feel that way. Which is ironic, because she actually doesn't.

By this point, my head was going round and round faster than Colonel Dedshott's.

"Puck, that's really confusing," I groaned. "Can you put it more simply?"

No. And he proceeded to repeat himself.

"That's so annoying," I said. "How can any one person be so stupidly conflicted?"

Simple. By being a teenager. You're all as bad as each other, honestly.

"Aren't you a teenager? You talk like one."

No. I'm really old, I'm twenty-one.

"That's not old."

It is for a Rotom. Puck sighed. Look, I've answered your questions. Won't you leave me alone and go to sleep now?

"Sapphire," I muttered, sinking back onto the sweat-soaked bed. "Of all the people..."

It took me another hour to finally fall asleep, and by then the first light of dawn was peeking through the gap in the curtains.

---

"Hello?"

Sapphire's father was in the hallway, answering the phone; it was twelve noon on a lazy Friday, and she, Felicity and Kester were watching TV in the living-room. Felicity was restless, not wanting to be cooped up here while she could be fighting Zero – but there was nothing else to be done, and neither Sapphire nor Kester really wanted to do anything today. Not after the events of the last few days.

Actually, Kester had been a little weird today, and Sapphire wasn't sure why. He had been avoiding her eye all morning, and had given her a few odd looks over breakfast.

On the plus side, her burned arm was feeling better. That Blissey lotion was working wonders – the burns hadn't really gone down much yet, but the stiffness and pain was all but gone.

"Oh!" Sapphire heard her father's voice from the hall, the one exclamation rising above the general half-audible murmur. There was a short pause, and then she heard his footsteps coming towards the door. "Sapphy," he said, holding out the phone, "it's for you."

Somewhat puzzled – she had no idea who this could be – Sapphire took the handset and held it to her ear.

"Hello?" she said.

"Sapphire!" said the unknown caller, in tones borrowed from one of the more refined and musical gods. "It's me, Steven."

Sapphire didn't need to be told; she'd recognised his voice immediately. It wasn't the sort of thing you forgot.

"Steven?" she said, sitting up straighter by reflex, even though he couldn't see her; to her left, Felicity and Kester started, and turned to look intently at her. "This is a – a surprise!"

"Sorry. I haven't caught you at a bad time, have I—?"

"No, no! Not at all. What is it?"

"I've got some good news, but I'm terribly sorry to say that I've also got some bad news. Which would you like first?"

"The bad news."

"Ah, so you're that sort of person! Right, well, I'm afraid I can't get through to the League."

"What?"

"I know, it's extraordinary! But they... well, I just can't get in contact with them. I keep getting fobbed off by undersecretaries and switchboard operators. It's very annoying."

"So there isn't going to be any League help?"

At this, Kester's eyes widened, and he whispered something to Felicity – probably informing her that they'd been hoping for League intervention.

"Not at this rate," Steven said grimly. "If I can't get through to them, no one can."

"Damn. That really is bad news." Sapphire sighed. "OK, so what's the good news?"

"Oh – I'm not done with the bad news yet. Do you have a television nearby?"
"Yes...?"

"Turn it to channel six. Do you get channel six?"

"Yes."

"Turn it to channel six."

Sapphire put her hand over the mouthpiece and hissed:

"Kester! Channel six!"

He fumbled for the remote, found it and thumbed the button; on the screen, the face of Gabby van Horne appeared.

"...first time the Institute has been breached like this," she said. "It seems that not even the Gorsedd were safe from the plague of Sableye." Stripe's picture flashed up on the screen. "Police are urging anyone who has any information on the whereabouts of this Sableye to please come forward, and anyone who encounters it to stay away, as it is extremely dangerous."

Kester went pale.

"Cal," he swore. "What have we done?"

"Though there have been no injuries, it is reported that during the attack, Team Aqua agents were seen around the Weather Institute," Gabby said. "What their interest in the Institute might be is unknown. We'll keep you posted.

"In other news, the famed Don Pedro will shortly be arriving at Messina, there to stay with the governor Leonato. His companion, Benedick, is said to feel 'sarcastic' about the affair. We'll bring you more as it comes..."

There was a long pause.

"I'm going to assume from the silence that you saw what happened," Steven said. "But it gets still worse, I'm afraid. Have you noticed there's been a sudden decrease in Sableye attacks recently?"

"Er... yes?"

"How perceptive of you. Well, it was because they reached Lilycove, where Archie had them captured to prevent them from interfering with his Team. But he saw an opportunity in the Weather Institute, and had them released through the underground tunnels while he and his Aquas came in aboveground, ostensibly to conduct hostage negotiations. Hence, he was able to hold the entire Institute hostage – and now he knows the location of the Blue Orb."

"Cal!" Sapphire started violently. "Sorry," she apologised hastily, calming down. "It's just... that's really bad. Really, really bad."

"I know," said Steven. "Would you like the good news now?"

"I think I might need it. If only to stop me giving up and slitting my wrists. Or maybe Kester's wrists."

At this, Kester looked outraged, but Sapphire ignored him.

"If you can get over to Lilycove by six o'clock this evening, I can get us into the Team Aqua headquarters. From there, we can find out more and see if we can figure out a way to stop them."

"Right. Wait. It's midday – the train will take too long..."

"Blast it!" Steven exclaimed. "No, there has to be – of course! I believe my father gave me a private jet for my birthday a few years ago. I haven't used it, but if I can find it, I'll send it down to Littleroot to pick you up."

"For your birthday...?" That sort of wealth was alien even to Sapphire, who knew quite a lot of rich people from school.

"Yes, for my birthday." Steven sounded like he was dialling on another telephone in the background. "One moment," he said. "Manuel! Yes, it's me. You wouldn't happen to know where my aeroplane is, would you? What do you mean, which aeroplane? I only have one! ...Oh, is that so? Apparently I have three," he confided to Sapphire. "Right, well, get hold of one of them, Manuel, and send it down to Littleroot, there's a good chap. Right. Right. Oh, excellent. Goodbye. Right," he said to Sapphire, "you two need to be at the airport in an hour. I'll have my people ready for you. If you have any fancy clothes, bring them along – it'll make things much easier. Oh, and I hope you like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain. See you later!"

With that, Stephen hung up, and Sapphire lowered the phone slowly, trying to make sense of what she'd just heard.

"What did he say?" Kester asked.

"We need to leave," she replied.

---

"I didn't know you know Steven Stone," Professor Birch said, shaking his head in amazement. "You surprise me so much, Sapphy."

"I didn't know you knew him," she replied, buckling her seatbelt.

"Oh yeah," he said absently, bringing the car out of the drive. "I know him quite well – you know, from events and things. We're both fairly big people in the Pokémon business."

"How come I'd never heard of him?" Sapphire asked.

"He doesn't make a spectacle of himself," Birch replied. "He went to Europe to look for Steel-types – he likes them a lot. Trained a Metagross, which is no mean feat."

"I know. I saw it."

"Beautiful, wasn't it?"

"Kind of. More terrifying, really."

"But it's impressive, right?"

"Yes. Definitely. In a really scary sort of way. I don't think they have souls."

"You don't think we have souls. You're an atheist."

"And what's wrong with that, Dad?"

"Nothing."

"Hmph. Let's talk about the Metagross some more."

"Agreed," said Birch eagerly. I guessed he was always ready to talk about Metagross.

I listened to the back-and-forth of Pokémon banter for a while before my interest waned and I looked out of the window instead. We were driving through what were to me the unfamiliar streets of Littleroot, winding through a network of one-way roads to nowhere. Birch was obviously a veteran of the system: he was negotiating them smoothly, avoiding the tailbacks and expertly driving in the opposite direction to which he wanted to go. He'd told me earlier that that was the only way to get anywhere in Littleroot.

It had taken us twenty minutes to get ready to leave, mostly spent puzzling over what Steven had meant by 'fancy clothes'; in the end, we decided that since Felicity and I definitely didn't have any with us, it wouldn't matter if we just forgot about that part of the message. Sapphire hadn't unpacked her bag yet, but Professor Birch had, in a rare fit of conscientious parenting, removed the now-slightly-mouldy remnants of the food we'd eaten on our hiking trip from Slateport to Mauville. Sapphire had also found and brought along the mobile phone she'd had before she got the one Puck had destroyed, as a stop-gap measure until she got a new one.

The car journey itself was swift, since time was of the essence; several times, Birch did things on the road that were of questionable legality, but since this was Littleroot and no one was quite sure what was legal on the roads, no one stopped us and we got to the airport with five minutes to spare.

As soon as we got out of the car, a Spanish-looking man in a peaked hat and neatly-pressed uniform came over to meet us.

"You are Miss Birch and Mister Ruby?" he asked us. His accent was strong, and possibly fake.

"That's us," I answered brightly. "And our friend, Miss... er, what's your surname?"

Felicity considered.

"Right now," she told me, "it's Kusagari."

Now that's oblique, Puck remarked.

"Right. Miss Kusagari. She's coming too."

"My name is Manuel," the Spaniard said, giving a little bow. "Please come to the aeroplane now."

"Bye, Sapphy— ow!"

"No hugs, Dad."

"All right," Birch said ruefully. "I'll see you soon. Be careful, OK?"

Sapphire's gaze softened.

"I'm not going to die," she said. "OK?"

"OK."

"Come, please!" Manuel said, and we went without further ceremony. I glanced back when we were a few steps away from the airport doors. Birch looked kind of lost there, alone in the car park; it was kind of sad. The image was shattered a moment later, however, when he almost got run over by a red Volvo and leaped backwards, yelling obscenities at the driver.

Manuel whisked us through the airport faster than I'd ever been through one before. It seemed barely a moment after we'd stepped in that we were walking onto the tarmac of the runways.

Ahead of us was a slim, predatory-looking craft, with a sharply-pointed nose and swept-back wings. This was a plane that looked like it was in the habit of swooping down to kill cars on the roads, like some strange mechanical roc.

Pretty, breathed Puck. Wants it... wants the precious... my precious...

"Whoa," I gasped. "That's an awesome plane."

Sapphire glanced at me and sniffed.

"Boys," she remarked, with a look at Felicity; some sort of beam of female solidarity passed between them then, and left me feeling like I was eleven and socially inadequate.

As we approached the plane, I had a question for Manuel:

"What's Steven's plan to get us into the Aqua HQ?"

He shrugged and spread his arms wide in a curious gesture.

"I know nothing," he said, and Puck burst out laughing.

"What?" Sapphire asked.

"I know nothing," Manuel repeated. "I come from Barcelona," he added by way of explanation.

Sapphire and I exchanged glances; Felicity just looked at her feet.

"There will be refreshments on board," Manuel went on, leading us to the steps. A few drops of rain spattered against the tarmac; I glanced up and saw the sky had bruised with thunderheads.

"Maybe that's what Steven meant about piña coladas," Sapphire muttered as she climbed the steps up into the jet.

And getting caught in the rain, observed Puck, as the rain thickened. We rushed up into the plane, asked Manuel if we'd be able to fly in this weather, received the answer that we would, turned to look at the jet's interior, and took a simultaneous sharp inward breath of wonder.

Because it really was, even if you thought that liking vehicles was a 'boy' thing, a pretty damn sweet aeroplane.

It had chairs, yes, like ordinary aeroplanes. Except these ones were arranged around tables, and there were carpets, and curtains, and what looked like an entire kitchenette at the back. There was also a miniature library – containing, a little plaque said, a first edition of the classic Hoennian novel Dr. Pepper Comes to Town – and a TV. And a sofa. And... well, I could go on, but this would then cease to be a description, and become a sort of verbal drooling at the sight of all this splendour, in a plane.

The airport, like all others, had a Pokémon with weather-changing moves on hand to clear the air, and while we were installing ourselves in Steven's luxurious jet, the rain abruptly gave way to bright sunshine. As we rose into the air, I looked out of the window and saw a rainbow, which seemed to make everything complete.

Just think, Puck said. This is how Steven lives. The lap of luxury, rich as Croesus – man, I could get used to this.

"So could I."

The jet rocketed forth through the sky, a long, sleek blade that cut the very air apart, and we travelled northeast to Lilycove.

---

We have read of Darren Goodwin. We have read of Kester Ruby. But where were the comic double act, Blake and Fabien, whose antics put Dogberry to shame?

The answer: they were in Lilycove.

We must now address the question of why they were there, and this is simply answered: they were there on the orders of supervisor Antonio, who had once, on a dark and stormy night, told some bandits a story. These orders were to meet with an informant there who claimed to have information on Zero's whereabouts, extract from them the information, and then bring it back to Antonio, who would pass it on to the proper authorities.

And so it goes that we find Fabien, Blake and Goishi creeping furtively through the streets of Lilycove, looking as suspicious as it is possible to look without actually being arrested, heading for a little bar in the centre of the seedy Bandara District, where they would meet with the informant.

This bar turned out to be, when they found it, possibly the most run-down and uncouth of the establishments that Fabien had ever visited. The windows were black with grime, the bricks were stained black with a slightly different flavour of grime, and the door was little more than a big, grimy black plank held in place with loops of cord. From within, a few faint strains of music could be heard – but, if one had to describe the music, one would have been forced to conclude that it sounded grimy.

"This is not a prepossessing sight," Fabien commented unnecessarily, staring at this façade. It was wedged between a partially-exploded cinema (a sign said that its demolition had been put on hiatus, and was dated 1947) and a tall, rickety house topped with an ominous ramshackle tower.

"'S'a'righ'," Blake said by way of reply, and while Fabien was trying to work out what he'd just said, he pushed open the door and went in.

The music stopped. Dead.

All manner of men and beasts were staring at them in total silence; an assortment of washed-up Jynx, petty crooks, minor thugs and con artist Kadabra variously glared and glowered, according to their taste.

"The 'ell're you lookin' a'?" Blake asked belligerently; apparently, either his dialect or his words satisfied the drinkers, for they seemed to recognise him as one of their own, and went back to drinking. At the back, the band started up again; some of them were human, and some of them appeared to be Bith. The Psychic Pokémon were known to have surprising musical gifts.

Fabien sauntered in after him, and Goishi brought up the rear. The Crobat was certain that had the decidedly middle-class Fabien announced their arrival, they would probably have been lynched, and was quite thankful that Blake had done it instead.

They took seats at a table near the back, and Blake went to get drinks. While he did so, Fabien glanced around uneasily.

"This is not my sort of bar," he told Goishi confidingly. As far as he was able, the Crobat raised his eyebrows.

"'Ere we are," Blake said, setting down two glasses and a dark bottle of uncertain provenence. He seated himself, and he and Fabien set to drinking whatever it was that the bottle contained. It was by no means pleasant, but it was certainly powerful, and pungent with it – fulfilling two of Fabien's 'Three P's' of drinking (patent pending).

Some time passed, and then some more.

And then some more.

And a little more after that.

"I do believe that no one's coming," Fabien said crossly, staring at his watch. "That's annoying."

"It is," agreed Blake.

"I mean, who do they think we are?" Fabien asked, aggrieved. "We're a good old-fashioned criminal trio. Strongman" – he indicated Blake – "skilled fighter" – he indicated Goishi – "and even a genius!" Here, naturally, he laid a hand upon his own chest.

"That's right," said Blake uncertainly.

"Eeee-eek." By this, Goishi meant that in that case, Kester Ruby probably ought to be dressed in black, and Maxie should be a sadistic prince who wanted to marry Sapphire Birch, but no one understood, and consequently he was ignored.

"Maybe this was a se'-up," Blake ventured.

"Inconceivable!" cried Fabien, and someone at the next table turned to glare at him. He was singularly ugly, and bore an unfortunate resemblance to a walrus.

"Shut up," he growled.

"Shut up yourself," replied Fabien pugnaciously. "I'll not be pushed about by the likes of you!"

Fights seemed to be common enough in this tavern, and so no one took notice of the ensuing ruckus; the ugly man went for a gun, and Goishi was obliged to Cross Poison his arm off. This put paid to any of his attempts to fight, and so, apparently heedless of the pain, he growled angrily, rose to his feet and took his drink elsewhere.

"EE-eee-eek," he said, which was probably a veiled reference of some sort.

"Quite," agreed Fabien. "The cheek of some people—"

"Hello," said a soft voice. "Are you the Magmas we've come to see?"

Blake and Fabien looked up.

And Darren Goodwin looked down.

Chapter Fifty-Eight: Hex, Drugs and Rock and Roll

"Right," said Steven. "I expect you're all wondering what you're here for."

He said 'all', Puck noted. He thought of me... how sweet.

We were in a long, low black car that was longer than your average sedan but whose aspirations towards limousinehood would never be fulfilled. Rain was pattering against the windows in the feeblest summer thunderstorm I'd ever seen, and we were speeding through the streets of Lilycove. I didn't think I'd ever get to use the word, but the perfect description of the car was probably swanky.

He might just have meant me, Sapphire and Felicity.

"We are," Sapphire said. "So... why are we here? What's this plan you have?"

Now that I knew about Sapphire, it was quite difficult to look at her without something of my knowledge betraying itself in my gaze; consequently, I'd been avoiding doing it. I was certain I could work out a way to get past this soap-opera-esque situation eventually, but for now I was trying my best to ignore it.

"Do you know who Archie is?" asked Steven.

"The boss of Team Aqua," Felicity spat, with such force that we all stared at her for a moment.

"Um... yes, that's true," admitted Steven. "But I was referring to his non-piratical persona. His status as one of the highest members of Lilycove's social elite."

"Oh." Felicity seemed unrepentant.

You sure you like her? She comes across as being a bit hateful. Full of hate. A natural born hater. The kind of girl who loves to loathe. I'm going to shut up now.

That's probably for the best.

"Tell us more," Sapphire said.

"Well," Steven said, making a steeple of his fingers, "his submarine has just been finished, it seems, down at Angel Laboratories. He's holding some sort of event to celebrate."

"We're going to infiltrate it?" I asked, an all-too-familiar sinking feeling welling up in my stomach.

Steven beamed.

"You do catch on fast," he cried happily. "Excellent. That's precisely what we're going to do. You see, the event will be held at Archie's mansion, which I know for a fact has a passageway into the main Aqua base. In fact, I suspect this party is actually a way to get certain people into the base without suspicion – backers of the Aquas whose positions would be compromised if they were seen openly consorting with them."

"Wait." I held up a hand. "This is a really bad idea, so there had better be a really good reason for doing it." I looked around. "Does anyone have one?"

Steven pondered for a moment, then suggested:

"Information gathering? After all," he went on, "we don't know anything of how Zero's plans will work out just yet, and the druids also refused to tell me where the Blue Orb is – I think they plan to get it back themselves. I believe it's safe to assume that Zero's plan hinges on the Aquas getting hold of the Orb, so if we can find out where the Orb is—"

"—we can go there and stop them getting hold of it," put in Sapphire.

"And, therefore, thwart Zero's nefarious plot," finished Stephen. He looked at me. "Are those reasons compelling enough for you?"

Reluctantly, I agreed that they were indeed pretty good reasons, and that I couldn't really argue against them.

You can argue against anything, actually, Puck said. The difficult part is winning the argument. That's the bit you have to work at. Took me two years, fourteen thousand pounds and half a ton of chopped liver to get that right. That was one weird teacher, he added reflectively.

"Right. Firstly, we need to get you two disguised," Steven said, to Sapphire and I.

"What about Felicity?" I asked.

"I am a traitor to the Team," Felicity pointed out dourly. "I can never go near them again."

"Fair enough," I admitted. "All right. Are you coming, Steven?"

"Oh yes," he said. "I go to all the important functions. It was expected of me when I was the Champion, and I suppose I never really lost the habit. They won't know I'm working with you, so I should be fine without a disguise."

"Is this why you said to bring fancy clothes?"

"Yes. I see you didn't, but never mind; I can get hold of some."

The car pulled up outside a luxurious-looking tower block with a marvellous Palladian façade—

Kester! This joke is beyond not funny now!

—where a smartly-dressed concierge of some sort came and opened the doors for us. We got out, Steven unfurling a large steel-grey umbrella as he did so and holding it over our heads.

"Manuel," he said, rapping on the driver's window of the semi-limousine, "go and get hold of all that make-up stuff, would you? I think I left it at the Hafter."

"Hokay," agreed Manuel, and drove off.

"Come on," said Steven, turning back to us. "Let's get inside."

We walked over to the entrance, where the concierge-type person was holding open the doors.

Heh heh heh, sniggered Puck, in a most unpleasant way. The game's afoot! I smell humiliation, drifting in on the breeze. It's the only smell better than binary.

What? What do you mean, you smell humiliation? And how can you smell binary?

If Nick Carraway could hear yellow cocktail music, then I can smell binary. So there. As for the humiliation, Puck added sinisterly, you'll find out soon enough...

"Now that's a bad omen if ever there was one," I muttered under my breath, and followed the others into the hallway.

---

For a long moment, Fabien stared into the eyes of the man in the green overcoat, mouth slightly agape. Then, slowly at first and then faster, he began to speak.

"Well, it's about bloody time!" he cried indignantly. "Do you realise how long we've been waiting here?"

The man in the green overcoat looked puzzled.

"What? This was the time we agreed on."

"No, you were meant to get here at five o'clock!"

The man looked at his watch.

"It is five o'clock."

Fabien checked his own.

"It is not," he proclaimed. "It is ten past four, exactly the same..." His face fell and his voice went quiet. "Exactly the same time as when we got here."

"Your watch 'as stopped," Blake concluded helpfully.

"Yes, well, my apologies," muttered Fabien unhappily. "Right. Well, you're here now, and that's all that matters. Have a seat."

The man in the green overcoat sat down, and a rather attractive woman of Mexican origin sat down next to him. Fabien blinked. Where on earth had she come from? He could have sworn she hadn't been there a moment ago.

"Give us this information, then – oh, damn."

Fabien had just noticed that there was something lying in the middle of the table. It was brown and hard and had a pair of stiff, ragged wings. Above it hovered a whitish crescent, and it didn't move at all – not even a twitch.

"Goishi, can you...?"

"Take down the Crobat," the man in the green overcoat instructed. The hard thing rose up into the air, still immobile, and now Fabien could see what he'd suspected; it was something like the shed shell of an insect.

"Goishi!"

The Crobat blinked himself out of a trance, but the shell moved first; its edges blurred and the whole vanished for a second. There was a low impact sound, and a dark flash, and then the shell was floating still again above the tabletop, and Goishi was sprawled across his seat, blood running into his eyes from a giant gash across his temple.

"Sucker Punch always goes first," the man in the green overcoat said.

The Mexican woman clapped her hands and cried something happily in English, which ruined the effect somewhat; the man looked cross and shushed her, elbowing her in the ribs.

Blake started to get up, but Fabien motioned for him to sit down.

"Who are you?" he asked sharply. "What do you want?"

The man in the green coat smiled thinly.

"Don't you remember me?" he asked. "We've met before."

Now that he mentioned it, there were faint bells ringing at the back of Fabien's head...

The Mexican woman, evidently bored by the lack of conversation she could understand, started whistling loudly. The song was vaguely familiar, but Fabien couldn't place it – something Western, perhaps?

"Look, I'm trying to cultivate a mood here!" snapped the man in the overcoat, before sighing and repeating himself in English. The woman made a face that suggested he was overreacting, and fell silent. "Sorry," he said, turning back to Fabien. "Where was I? Yes, we've met before."

Then Fabien got it.

"You're – you're the Devon man who had the goods in Slateport!" he cried theatrically, pointing a melodramatic finger.

The man inclined his head with just the right amount of menacing confirmation. Fabien, a connoisseur of the art of criminal overacting, had to hand it to him – the guy was good, very good.

"That is correct," the Devon man said. "Do you realise exactly how much danger you are in?"

Fabien nodded; Blake asked for clarification. This did not help the man's attempt to create an atmosphere, but he answered anyway. A terribly good sport, Fabien thought. The best sort of crook – the gentleman thug.

Goishi looked up blearily and managed a feeble 'Eek' before flopping back down again; it was likely that this was his way of saying that Fabien was making less sense than something that had been jointly written by Edward Lear and James Joyce. This was not up to his usual standard of inferred scathing retort, but his imaginative faculties were a little impaired at present.

"I could kill you at any moment," the Devon man said for Blake's benefit. "Hex could take you apart before you could so much as blink."

"Righ'," Blake said apprehensively, eyeing the exoskeletal Pokémon. "Nice to know where we stand."

"So tell me everything you know," the Devon man said, looking at them through half-closed eyes, "everything you know about Kester Ruby, the boy with the Rotom-powers."

That ought to have been a very intimidating moment, but the Mexican woman chose it to start whistling again. A long, drawn-out shudder thrummed up and down the Devon man's body; the merest ghost of a suppressed shriek of rage escaped his lips.

"Please stop that," he said through gritted teeth. Fabien didn't understand it, but he was certain it was nothing good. "Right, you two. Just start talking."

---

"No."

"But you see—"

"I'll handle this, Steven," interrupted Sapphire, holding up a hand. She turned to me, and that lopsided grin had spread across her face in a way that reminded me unpleasantly of a serial killer I'd once seen in a film. "Kester..."

"Whoa," I said, taking a step back and raising my hands defensively. "You can't make me do anything, Sapphire. I'm dangerous. I burned your arm."

"And blew up my phone. By my count, that means you owe me not one, but two." Sapphire looked at me triumphantly. "And I want to call in that debt. Now."

"Well, you can't," I replied bluntly. I tried to take another step back, but the wall was there and I couldn't go any further. "Seriously, if you come any closer I'll Ominous Wind all of you."

Oh, this is so much fun! cried Puck happily. I swear, if I could ingest popcorn I'd have got myself a bucket to eat while watching this!

"You're not helping," I muttered angrily. "Shut up." Then, louder: "I'm not doing this!"

"Yes, you are!" Sapphire took a step forwards and I Charge Beamed the carpet in front of her feet; she jumped back smartly. "Wow," she said mildly. "I didn't think you'd actually shoot."

"Please be careful," said Steven unhappily, regarding the scorched patch. "This carpet cost nine hundred and seventy-eight thousand dollars."

"What? Oh, cal! Er, sorry," I said apologetically. "I – er – sorry. I forgot we were in your apartment."

Steven sighed deeply and went to sit on the sofa, where he stared despondently at the floor.

"Um... how much would it cost to have it repaired?" I asked nervously.

"I don't want to offend you," the Steel-user said sadly, "but probably more than the net worth of your entire family."

I winced.

Oh, that's bad, Puck said sympathetically. It's a nice carpet, too. I would steal something like this. In fact, everything in here's pretty nice. Nice paintings, nice sculpture – beautifully-designed furniture. In short, lovely place. Security's not too strong, either; I might come back here when I get out of your head.

"Is there – is there any way I can make it up to you?" I asked.

Steven raised his head, and I caught the faintest of smiles in his eye.

"Well," he said, and my heart sank, "there is one thing..."

---

"This is probably the most degrading thing I've ever done," I said glumly, staring at myself in the mirror.

It really isn't, Puck replied. Think of that business from last year.

Fair enough; that had been worse. But this had to come quite a close second.

"You look fine," Sapphire said, and I could hear the suppressed laughter in her voice. "Better, in fact. You look pretty."

I swung round, hand raised.

"If you say one more thing—!"

Sapphire pushed my hand down and gave me an unimpressed look.

"Kester, I know you're not going to shoot me. You don't even really like shooting the bad guys."

I glowered, but did nothing; she was right. I was a bit more of a hero than the Kester Ruby who'd started out on this journey – but I wasn't that much of a hero.

"Now, hold still a moment longer... done!" Sapphire said with satisfaction.
"OK, you're good to go. Just don't touch your eyes. In fact, if possible, don't put your hands anywhere near your face tonight."

"I never thought it was possible to hate someone so much," I moaned.

"Don't be so melodramatic," Sapphire said disapprovingly. "Come on. Steven's waiting."

We left the spare bedroom and went back into the living-room, which now bore the scar of my ill-temper in the scorch-mark on the carpet. Steven was lounging elegantly on the sofa – so elegantly, in fact, that I half-suspected him of arranging himself specially for our entrance. Felicity was sitting next to him, flipping slowly through a newspaper, and both looked up at our entrance.

"Hello," I said sourly. "Look at me, I'm a freak."

"Excellent," Steven nodded, getting to his feet. "No, that's marvellous. But you need to work on the voice."

"I'd rather die."

"In that case, perhaps you'd better remain silent."

Felicity hadn't said anything, but was giving me such an intense look that I felt even more self-conscious than I did already.

"Doesn't he look good?" Sapphire asked her. Felicity seemed to turn this over in her mind for a moment, then replied:

"Yes. Very."

"Really?" I asked, surprised.

Oh, when she says it, it's OK. But when we say it, it's all like, Puck, Sapphire, shut up! You guys are so cruel. Huh. All I'm doing is deriving sadistic pleasure from your misfortune. As Gary Coleman would have put it, you're giving me s-c-h-a-d-e-n-f-r-e-u-d-e.

I wish I had you trapped on a CD. I would get so much pleasure from having it embedded in a block of stainless steel and buried in a pit at the bottom of the Marianas Trench.

Do I detect hatred there? It's a little weak, so it's hard to tell...

Just shut up!

Fine. But, like a Tusken Raider, I'll be back. And in greater numbers.

"See? Felicity agrees with me," Sapphire snickered. Briefly, I considered punching her, but decided regretfully that I was too weak and she was too strong, which was the reverse of how things should have been. If this had been a movie or a novel, I would have been the hero and therefore the strongest.

Not necessarily. You might be Bilbo.

"Whatever. I just... look, let's be clear that I strongly disapprove of everything that's been done to me, yeah?"

"I think you've made that abundantly clear, Kester," said Steven with a smile. He glanced at his clock; it read six o'clock. Getting the disguises ready had taken a long time, especially in my case. "Manuel should be bringing the car around soon. Get ready, everyone. Felicity, will you be all right here?"

She looked up from her paper.

"I will be fine."

"I feel awful about just leaving you like that," Steven said apologetically. "I didn't know you were coming, and you can't really come to the party..."

"It's fine," Felicity assured him. "Just tell me everything when you get back." She glanced at me. "You know, I didn't think you'd be able to walk in those shoes."

"Neither did I, and I didn't want to find out," I replied darkly.

"It was meant to be," Sapphire said. "You've got a knack for it."

"Shut up."

Felicity smiled to herself and went back to reading.

The telephone rang, and Steven answered it.

"Oh, is that so? Brilliant. Thank you so much." He put down the handset and turned to us. "Come along, boys and girls," he said with a grin, "the car's waiting outside."

Sapphire burst out laughing, and even Felicity giggled a little. Needless to say, Puck was the most amused.

Steven doesn't make many jokes, he said, but I have to say, the ones he does are just the right sort of malicious. Know what I mean?

I want to see you being set on fire one day.

That's the spirit, Kester. That's the spirit. By the way, what're you calling yourself tonight? You can't be 'Kester', that'll be a dead giveaway.

I don't know.

"I'll see you later," I said to Felicity. "Hopefully not too much later. I don't want to spend any longer like this than necessary."

She gave a little smile.

"See you later," she said.

"Bye," said Sapphire, and we left.

A sudden terror gripped me; what if someone saw through my disguise? I was no longer in the apartment, where the only people who would see me like this were my friends (and sort-of enemies). This was the outside world, and there were people out here who—

Stop worrying, Puck advised. You look convincing enough. Seriously.

Hmph. As if I'd take your word for it.

The short trip down to the car was nerve-wracking; we passed several other people, but if any of them realised I was anything more than what I appeared to be, they didn't show it. By the time we reached the car, I had almost convinced myself that Puck was right, and I didn't look suspicious, but I still virtually threw myself through the door – I didn't want to remain in public any longer than necessary.

"That was fun," remarked Sapphire, smiling. "You stumbled a little on the stairs, but other than that, you were fine."

"It's these damn shoes," I muttered tersely, much to the amusement of everyone else present, and Steven rapped on the glass that divided us from the driver.

"You know where to go, Manuel," he said. "Drive on."

"Sí, Mister Steven," replied the Spaniard, and the car pulled out into the street. I let out a long breath.

It was going to be a trying night.

---

A grand plan was coming to fruition.

This plan was grander than Steven's scheme to infiltrate the Team Aqua headquarters, but less grand than Zero's scheme for world destruction; on a scale of one to ten, where one is a plot to commit insurance fraud and ten is a scheme to con the Devil out of Hell, this was probably about a five and a half.

It was a scheme to move a submarine.

The father of Sapphire's childhood friend, Natalie Stern – that is to say, Captain Ernesto Stern (Retired) – was, if you remember, an Aqua backer. Thus, he had commissioned a submarine from Angel Laboratories.

Now this submarine was needed by the Team, to get at wherever the Orb had been taken to, and Stern was faced with a difficult situation. How was he to get the vessel from Slateport to Lilycove without revealing his involvement with the Aquas? He had bought Angel's silence, but they wouldn't sail it up to Lilycove for him; he didn't trust any hired sailors to do it. After all, if you went aboard, it became very clear who the owners of the submarine were: the Team Aqua logo was all over the place, from the breast pockets of the diving suits to the corners of the doors and control panels.

Many men, when faced with this problem, would have given up under the pressure. Not so Ernesto Stern. He thought for a moment, and he came up with a solution: he would get the Aquas to sail it up there.

A moment's more thought had exposed the weaknesses of this scheme. The submarine had been moved by Angel from their drydock to the north-eastern shipyards. It was off the Wharf, and therefore somewhat out of the way – but people would still notice if Aquas turned up. Many skills could be attributed to the sea-loving criminals, but remaining incognito was not one of them.

So Captain Stern (Retired) had thought some more, and then he had hit upon an idea so good he had to go and sit down for a while, and get Natalie to make him a congratulatory cup of tea.

He would get the Aquas to steal the submarine.

Yes, this was nothing short of a staged robbery. It was grand in conception and grand in scale: therefore, Stern was justified in calling it a grand plan. He was rather pleased about that – a grand plan, he thought, was one of those things that every man ought to have at some point during his lifetime.

Of course, a man of Stern's means – he could, after all, afford to send his daughter to Liro Academy without the aid of a bursary, so he was a man of some considerable means – had no problems in setting the whole thing up. The plans of rich men tend to go off well, if only because they have the funds to guard against all eventualities.

And so it was that at seven past six, Stern was standing at the public docks, facing Gabby van Horne and Tyrone de'Medici, preparing to give a televised speech to the effect that he was bankrolling a deep-sea expedition.

And so it also was that at nine past six, a series of speedboats wove expertly between the docked ships and pulled up beside the submarine.

And so it also was that by eleven past six, the only trace that the submarine had ever been there was a harshly-severed chain hanging from the pier.

---

Ready for the ball, Cinderella?

I ground my teeth.

Didn't your mother ever tell you—?

She didn't, actually. Does anyone's mother ever actually tell them that?

Fair cop. My mother didn't. Then again, I don't have teeth. Not real ones, anyway.

The car pulled up outside the stout iron gates of a tall, solid-looking townhouse; it had a long gravel drive, and all the windows were lit up like a cityscape. The sound of merriment and music drifted through the night air, and in a brief poetic moment I imagined it floating east out over the sea, and glittering shoals of Luxipike swimming to the surface to listen.

A uniformed valet strode smartly down the drive, through the open gates and pulled open the car door.

"Mister Stone!" he exclaimed, slightly surprised. "This is an honour. We didn't think you were coming."

"My apologies," said Steven coolly, flowing out of the car like a great silvery cat. "I changed my mind last night. I trust this doesn't inconvenience you?"

"Not at all," the valet said earnestly. "The master will be most pleased. May I escort you to the party?"

Steven glanced back into the car's dark interior, to where we were.

"Come on, you two," he said. "Get out and let Manuel park the car."

Slowly, reluctantly, I vacated my seat and got out; Sapphire followed behind me, poking me in the back. The valet looked on curiously.

"And who might you be?"

"This is Miss Nicola Courthauld, of the Ecruteak Courthaulds," Steven said, indicating Sapphire. "And this is the Princess of Sweden, Miss Ingrid Sørensen."


Note: On the feasibility of Kester's footwear: I do my research. I'm fairly certain it's possible for Kester to be able to walk in high heels without any practice. I mean, I found out that I can walk fine in six-inch ones having never worn any before, so I'm fairly certain I have whatever knack it is that Kester has, and, therefore, that it exists.

I just laughed my arse off at the thought of someone actually falling for "Miss Ingrid Sorensen". Personally, I don't think anyone's going to really believe Kester's disguise, but the end result should be hilarious either way. The only thing that could have made this better was a description of Kester's...feminine side. You find it fun to humiliate him like this, don't you?

Your grammar is impeccable, as always, but I caught one minor error:

Now I knew about Sapphire, it was quite difficult to look at her without something of my knowledge betraying itself in my gaze; consequently, I'd been avoiding doing it.

Click to expand...

You might want to put the word "that" in between the two bolded words.

Steven's lines were absolutely freaking awesome. He really is one of my favorite characters.

I don't mind the wait at all; if the next chapters are as good as this one was, I could wait months for them because this, my good sir, is a thing of beauty.

Sincerely,

Mem.

Silent Memento said:

The only thing that could have made this better was a description of Kester's...feminine side. You find it fun to humiliate him like this, don't you?

Click to expand...

Yes. Yes I do. And don't worry, there will be a description. It's how the next chapter opens.

Silent Memento said:

You might want to put the word "that" in between the two bolded words.

Steven's lines were absolutely freaking awesome. He really is one of my favorite characters.

I don't mind the wait at all; if the next chapters are as good as this one was, I could wait months for them because this, my good sir, is a thing of beauty.

Click to expand...

Now that you've mentioned that 'that', I think that that 'that' definitely needs to be put in, and I'll insert that 'that' at once.

As for Steven, I like him too. A lot. He doesn't actually say anything funny, but his speech patterns and mannerisms make me laugh anyway.

Regarding chapter quality: all I needed to do was to get out of school. I have particularly long summer holidays, and they began on Wednesday; now, unencumbered by the dull affairs of the schoolboy, I have found inner peace and am able to put the full strength of my mind and wit into writing.

Whoa. I think I'm monologuing. I'd better stop now, right after I've thanked you for your time and patience in waiting for this chapter, and for continuing to enjoy it - because there's nothing better than knowing people like what you like to create. It's a win-win situation.

I said I would stop, and now I will. F.A.B.