So, the scene ended up staying where it is at the moment, not so much because the events here prevented it from happening but instead because the chapter turned out to be nineteen pages after proofreading and spacing things out. Yeah, sorry, guys. It's nineteen pages long. I can't really move anything to a new chapter because from here on out, things are going to start moving.
In the meantime, lulz at the fact that the beginning scene turned out to be completely different from what I'd originally planned, and edits will come after I come back from romping around in another country.
Fifteen
(Fire is only as dangerous as you let it be.)
Bill opened his eyes – or, rather "opened" them, as he was instantly aware that he wasn't actually in a physical place. It was the white room he'd seen once in an earlier dream, but this time, it was darker. The bed was harder, and he realized he couldn't move, save for turning his head. Out the window, he could see the blood-red light of a sunset, and between him and it, there his body sat.
Clenching his teeth, he looked hard at himself as the figure leaned back in a wooden chair. His legs crossed, and his dark eyes steadied themselves on what should have been their owner. Pale hands folded neatly over a red-clad knee as the human waited.
Staring at the blank, neutral expression on the face, Bill knew at once who it was.
"You made quite a scene out there," Adam commented.
Bill struggled to shake his head. He felt like something was sitting on his chest.
"No," he rasped. "No, you made me do that."
Adam raised an eyebrow. "Made you? What makes you think that?"
"I would never hurt anyone like that. Not Veronica. Not anyone," Bill replied. "You did something to me."
With a shrug, Adam answered, "That, Bill, was entirely you. Well, rather, our body. Bestial instincts. You see, my kind is very protective of anyone we see as a potential mate. You've chosen a candidate, but you didn't realize that would trigger… your baser self."
Bill felt something cold hit his chest. He had watched the parasite manipulate his form, watched the expression change into something so blank it scared Bill to look at his own face. The thing was a monster, yet… it was him.
He turned his head away and stared at the ceiling. With a squirm, he struggled against his invisible binds and whimpered. After the sound died away, he felt hands gently touching his arm. He didn't want to look, so instead, he turned to stare at the wall. In the meantime, Adam leaned to rest one knee on the bed as it lifted the arm by the wrist.
"The reason why you can't move isn't because of the spores," Adam said. "Look."
Bill's curiosity got to him, and he turned his head to glance at the arm Adam held. There, instead of skin and human fingers, he saw metal and claws – his ixodida arm. A shuddering cry tore from Bill's throat.
"What is this?" he whispered.
"Our form," Adam replied. "You see yourself as one of my kind now. You're adapting."
"Adapting? What do you mean?"
Adam sat on the edge of the bed. "You're beginning to change to become a creature better suited to that body. That is why my kind chose to fuse with yours. Your kind changes so easily."
"Changes… in…" Bill paused briefly as he suddenly felt cold. "In mind?"
Adam nodded. "Of course."
In the next instant, the silver hand curled around Adam's wrist. The parasite frowned.
"I don't want this," Bill hissed. "Please. Don't change me that way."
Adam's hand reached up to grab Bill's. The researcher found himself surprised by the alien's strength; he felt as if his bones were being crushed beneath its grip.
"Were you not listening?" it asked. "I am doing nothing to change you. Your mind is reshaping according to our body."
Despite the pain of Adam's grip, Bill clenched his teeth and grasped Adam's wrist as tightly as he could.
"Then, change me back," he replied. "You started this. Can't you make me human again?"
Suddenly, Adam grinned. Bill faltered as an uncertain frown grew across his face, and in the process, his grip on the alien loosened.
In the next instant, something erupted from the bed. Startled, Bill gasped and released Adam altogether as black hands burst from the mattress to grab his limbs. Adam calmly rose to its feet and watched Bill struggle as the hands pulled his arms and legs down to hold them down. Another wormed upwards beside his head and slipped its long fingers across his mouth before he could turn away from it, so instead, he screamed against its cold, stony skin as he stared helplessly at Adam.
"The process cannot be reversed," it said calmly. "Even if I had the power to begin your transformation back to your original form, you would die halfway through it, and in doing so, I, too, would no longer be able to live. The process would be far too traumatic to the both of us." It paused to lean over Bill. "Now, I must tell you something, and you will listen. If you refuse, you put us in grave danger – something far more serious than you may think you are in now."
Bill closed his eyes and tried once more to shrug off the hands. After a moment, he shuddered and relaxed in defeat. Adam straightened.
"First, you have noticed that other members of my kind call us monarch and rogue. Both are incredibly important terms, Bill. They define us. Literally. Neither are truly bad.
"The first concerns natural order – biology, really. Among my kind, there are two types of adults. There are monarchs, intelligent creatures born to lead our species. Then, there are drones, mindless, violent servants of the monarchs. This is how you know which is which."
Adam reached over Bill and grabbed his tail. Bill winced and twisted under the grip of the black hands as cold pain raced up his spine. Opening one eye, he saw Adam hold the arrowhead tip of his tail between two fingers.
The parasite released it and continued, "Drones lack a pointed tip on their own tails. Of course, you will also find that our fellow monarchs are superior conversationalists."
Pausing, Adam studied its host. Bill furrowed his eyebrows but made no attempt to look amused. Adam huffed and looked away.
"To understand what a rogue is, meanwhile, you must know how we organize ourselves socially," it stated. "Adults of the same type thrive in groups with others like them. We rely on each other to survive, to hunt, and to raise our young, and we can only trust those who share our abilities and weaknesses. Thus, all steel-types like us – drones and monarchs alike – live with each other in the Iron Clan, but this is only one out of sixteen different races within our species.
"The strongest monarch in each clan serves as its leader. These leaders not only maintain order within each clan, but they also form a court of sixteen representatives, one for each possible clan.
"At the lower end of the court, there are the knights, twelve individuals who govern only their respective elements. They serve the higher circles as both messengers and soldiers. Above them are the guardians, the four strongest clan leaders who not only lord over large swathes of territory but also serve as personal body guards and advisors to the strongest ixodida in existence."
Adam paused for dramatic effect. Glancing at Bill, it found its host still. Adam's eyes moved to its lap, where it folded its hands once again.
"The empress. Or the emperor, whichever the case may be. Our ruler. All of our kind answers to her without question… except people like us."
It turned its head to look at Bill one more time to ensure that it ensnared his full attention. Bill had no choice but to stare at his partner. His mind was already blank, his thoughts shocked until the only thing running through his head were Adam's words. At that point, Adam spoke with a low, hushed tone.
"We are rogues," it said. "We are monarchs capable of intelligent thought, and as such, we can decide for ourselves whether to follow our empress or to defy her. Defiance is rare, with good reason. Those who refuse the empress are labeled traitors. Many do not live long after that. The court guarantees this."
Shuddering, Bill closed his eyes. He realized the arms weren't about to let him go. Squirming, he switched to the silent channel he shared with the parasite.
Why…?
Adam rested its chin on a palm. "I assume you are not questioning the obvious of why we should not expect to exist in quiet safety, so instead, I will answer other whys. There exist many possible reasons why a rogue chooses to defect, but mine is very simple. The empress that sits on the throne now is corrupt. She oppresses my people and turns them into her personal army to eradicate or enslave your kind. Believe me when I say we are not normally a cruel race. We do only what we must to survive and nothing more."
It stopped to look over its shoulder again. Adam knew all too well that it made Bill feel like he was being addressed directly, and sure enough, the researcher stopped struggling or looking terrified. He instead fixed his gaze on his partner and did nothing more.
"Bill, you are a unique human," it told him. "By luck, I found someone with impressive intellect and a passion for advancing his species. What I gave you should not be considered a curse. It is a gift. Combine that cleverness and will you possess with my strength and understanding of my species, and together, we will protect the remainder of your kind by stopping the empress herself."
There was a long pause. Slowly, one of the black hands slipped from Bill's mouth, and he took a shuddering breath.
"I…" He swallowed. "I…"
The fingers of each hand holding him down tightened. Adam watched them twist around one of Bill's arms, and upon realizing what was happening, it jumped. As it knelt over him, it slammed one hand down on either side of Bill's head and leaned close to his face.
"You will not refuse, and you will not retreat. You will understand that there may be no one else who will save your people. Do you forsake them?"
Bill shuddered and closed his eyes. "Adam… how can I help them when I…"
Adam frowned. "You believe that little scratch you gave that silly girl means your human self is getting weaker, but the assumption makes you an idiot. I refuse to have a weak host; you cannot remain the tender-hearted mouse you were as a human. Experience reshapes the minds your people possess, and it is the human gift to adapt and control what your kind becomes. You already know this. I know you do."
Staring steadily at his partner, Bill opened his mouth slightly in surprise. "What?"
Sighing, Adam responded, "There are two ways we may proceed. The first is that you allow yourself to go feral. Your body will dictate what it needs, and your human self and I will live like drones, trapped within your mind until something finally kills our body. The second is that you realize that no matter what happens, as a human, you possess the ability to learn and grow. All of this is you. Conquer it and control it. That is how you will become strong enough to survive."
Its words hit Bill hard, and he felt as if the wind was knocked out of him. Exhaling, he watched his partner carefully. Slowly, Adam pulled away from him and moved off the bed to stand beside it. It looked down, locking its eyes directly on Bill's as it stood over him.
"Well?" it drawled.
For a long moment, Bill froze, uncertain of what Adam wanted. Then, the hands holding them tightened their grips until he could feel sharp pain emanating from his arms and legs. Wincing, he craned his neck to examine them. They felt like ice against his skin, and their nails were digging into him, piercing his armor and his flesh like thousands of hypodermic needles. At that very moment, he began to feel them, countless worms under his skin, wriggling in an attempt to consume his body from the inside out.
It was then that he realized what they were, and they were no extension of Adam. They felt natural, like they were always there, but at the same time, he could feel the creature crawling towards his brain from a place somewhere in his chest. He could only imagine what it would do if it succeeded in burrowing into his brain, in seizing control of him and forcing him to do whatever it wanted.
The sensation was him, but at the same time, it wasn't. It was the urge to rip apart another living creature, to hunt, to fight, and to be free. More than anything else, it was something that wanted him, something that desired to ensnare him and make him part of its own. He closed his eyes. To him, it was intoxicating, a temptation that felt like it would fill an emptiness he hadn't realized was inside him. Below that, however, he felt the pain of something cold.
In response, he balled his hands into fists and tightened his muscles.
"No," he whispered. "I won't let you have me."
Adam crossed its arms. "What?"
Drawing in a breath, Bill pushed against the hands still outside of him. At first, nothing happened, and after a few moments of no progress, he relaxed, briefly spent.. Closing his eyes, he gathered as much strength as he could muster, digging deep into himself to summon everything he had, everything that wasn't yet touched. Then, he pushed.
The arms cracked, and the fingers retreated, rushing out of his body like a breath. Their grip on the outside of his flesh loosened.
Bill screamed through gritting teeth. "Get…
OFF!"
With one more push, the arms shattered, raining black shards all over him and across the bed. He sat up, panting and staring at the shards as they turned liquid and rolled into the hard mattress. His limbs felt numb and useless at his sides.
Adam took a step back. "Congratulations. Perhaps you are not as weak as you seem. I may just be impressed. However, the struggle is hardly over. You drove it back, but that part of you will return. Do not let it control you, and do not exterminate it altogether. It is not entirely bad, either."
It turned. Bill forced himself to look at it, but he felt an overwhelming wave of weakness wash over him as soon as he moved. Adam didn't look, although it seemed to notice.
"Rest," it said. "Now that you know everything, we must begin training as soon as we are released."
Breathing hard, Bill found he didn't have the strength to argue. Instead, he lay his head on the pillow and stared at the white ceiling for awhile.
Soon, although he didn't realize it, everything went dark and silent.
---
Veronica made a mistake. She should have known it was going to be a mistake as soon as she saw the silhouette of the security booth outside Littleroot Town. Yet, for whatever reason, she didn't think much of it until she approached its square walls. Almost immediately, the lights from the booth flashed on, and in her squints and flinches, Veronica couldn't see the forms of two men stepping out of the booth. If she had, she might have seen the green uniforms of the NDF, but even then, she really didn't need to see to know who they were. After all, before she had a chance to say a word, their voices boomed for them to freeze on order of the military.
The next few moments were a jumble to Veronica. She remembered being taken at gunpoint past a tent city just beyond the chain link fence to a building just south of it. The place had once been a home, but the family had fled before the quarantine came down. Soon after that, the NDF took it as the center of their Littleroot base, but the possessions that the family owned and abandoned in the rush to leave still decorated the house. In that house, as family pictures on walls stared down at her, Veronica remembered being stripped, being poked, and being examined, and finally, a dark-haired doctor came along to look at the cut across her arm. She didn't know what they did with Rose. Rose was led to another room, and no matter how much Veronica demanded to be placed with the girl, the NDF ignored anything that didn't answer their questions.
Even as the doctor was busy examining the cut, there was a man in uniform, one with bars on its sleeve, standing in front of Veronica as she sat on a queen-sized bed. In the corner of the room, another man in a uniform sat on a wooden chair with a laptop on his lap. Every so often, the doctor would reach behind him for an instrument on a metal tray placed on the dresser, but Veronica wasn't watching him. Instead, her eyes were fixed completely on the lieutenant in front of her.
"Name and occupation," he demanded.
"Veronica Jenny of Mauville City," she replied. "Former police."
The lieutenant frowned. "Why are you not in your precinct?"
"There is no precinct in Mauville anymore," Veronica growled. "Every citizen except me is dead or infected. It didn't make sense for me to stay."
"How did you get here?"
"On foot. I've been traveling with that girl for a couple months now."
"That girl?"
Veronica winced, trying to pass the expression off as a reaction to the pain from the doctor cleaning her wound. She knew better than to argue with an officer of the military, but she was heavily tempted to ask him if his colleagues weren't already drilling the girl enough as it is.
"Rose McKenzie," she finally replied. "Pokémon coordinator. I don't know where she's from."
The lieutenant nodded. "What is your business in Littleroot Town?"
"Where else are we going to go? Ixodida are infesting the rest of the region. I thought an NDF zone would be ixodida-free. Rose is just a kid. She can't be anywhere where she's not going to be protected."
At that point, the lieutenant glanced over his shoulder at the other man.
"Are you still recording, private?" he asked.
Without hesitating, the subordinate nodded. "Yes, sir!"
"Good. Starting the main questioning." Turning back, the lieutenant frowned. "How did you injure your arm?"
Veronica's eyebrows rose as she glanced towards the doctor. He was busy threading a needle in preparation for the first stitches. Glancing back, she did her best to keep her face neutral.
"I fell," she said without reacting as the needle went through her skin the first time.
"Fell?" the lieutenant asked.
Veronica nodded. "It's really dark out there, you know? I couldn't see a ledge, so I ended up falling onto something sharp. I guess there was some sharp rock under the ledge, but I couldn't really see it."
"What were you doing traveling at night, then?"
"We had to get here as soon as possible. It's Hell out there, sir. You don't know if there's an ixodida lurking around, so you're always on guard. Here, you don't have to worry so much."
There was a long pause after she spoke as the lieutenant stared at her. During that time, the doctor finished her stitches and cut the final thread, and at that, Veronica felt a sense of relief. Yet, on the other hand, it was quickly replaced by discomfort towards the lieutenant's stare – one that was unwavering. Eventually, he finally turned to the doctor, glancing at him with gray eyes.
"Well?" he asked.
The doctor shook his head. "The wound doesn't match."
At once, Veronica's heart nearly stopped as she turned towards the doctor. "What do you mean, 'The wound doesn't match'?"
"You said you fell on a rock," the doctor replied with a shrug. "That would be a laceration. This is an incision."
One word traveled through Veronica's mind at that point:
Shit.
Shaking her head free from the thought, Veronica narrowed her eyes at the doctor. "Who said I stopped? Sure, I fell on a rock, but then I sort of slid a little more down the slope. It caught my arm. There you go."
Calmly, the doctor grasped her arm and examined the stitches. "What's strange is that the cut is deep and clean. I didn't have to remove any soil or detritus that would indicate the patient fell on the ground. Moreover, the cut was to the muscle, and the edges weren't ripped. It was like she got it from a knife."
Shit, Veronica thought.
Shit, shit, shit, shit! I'm supposed to know what this kind of thing looks like! What's wrong with me?!
The lieutenant nodded and stepped forward. "As a former officer of the law, you should know that it's illegal to withhold information from an investigation."
"This is an investigation?" Veronica snapped. She wasn't in the mood for protocol anymore.
Ignoring her tone, the lieutenant responded as if he was reciting something he'd said countless times. "All military personnel here are required to inspect thoroughly all arrivals to Littleroot Town. Moreover, we are ordered to investigate any suspicious behavior in any arrival, as this may indicate a possible threat to the security of this base." He leaned in, placing his hands on the bed on either side of Veronica. "So, I'll ask you plainly, ma'am. What attacked you in Littleroot Forest?"
"And I'll say it plainly," Veronica replied. "Nothing did. There was an accident. That's all."
The lieutenant straightened with a frown. His eyes fixed on her as he thought for a moment. Then, glancing back at the private, he jerked his head towards Veronica. Nodding, the private stood and made his way towards her.
"What's going on?" she demanded.
"Confiscate her pokémon," the lieutenant ordered. "This woman and her companion are to be detained until we can get a proper answer."
Immediately, Veronica was on her feet. "You can't do that without a warrant! Don't touch me!"
However, her protests were ignored. The private pulled Growlithe's poké ball from her belt and turned away from her. She, meanwhile, tried to reach for it to take it back, but the doctor and the private grabbed her arms. Turning away from her, the lieutenant walked nonchalantly to the computer and tapped a few keys.
"Lieutenant Black to Major Hawker," he said. "We've got uncooperative detainees in Sector 1. The doctor's analysis of the injuries one of them has sustained indicates a possible threat outside the northern border."
Upon hearing the statement, Veronica shrugged the hands off her. "There's nothing up there! I fell!"
Out of the computer's speakers, a female voice drifted. "Excellent work, lieutenant. Reinforcements will be sent to the northern border to investigate. Until then, I want to meet these detainees."
"Yes, ma'am," he said.
Then, with a press of a button, the screen of the laptop went blank. The lieutenant turned towards Veronica, who took a step backwards.
"Oh, no, you don't!" she snapped. "Give me my growlithe. You're not laying a hand on me!"
Lieutenant Black shook his head. "Restrain her. I'm going to confiscate the girl's pokémon."
"Don't touch me!" Veronica barked.
The doctor and the private reached out to grab her, but Veronica swung around, letting her leg cut across the air in a hook kick. Her strike didn't land on either of them, but it caused them to hesitate just enough to let her rush after Black. She tried to grab his arm, but before she could, he slipped out of the room and walked to the next door down the hall. This time, Veronica had time enough to seize him, which resulted in him executing a palm strike to her chest so quick she didn't even see it happen. She only felt herself slam into the opposite wall and slide down as a pain radiated from her sternum and her breath came in short gasps.
Looking up, her eyes fixed on his back. She heard him bark an order to grab the girl's pokémon, but she couldn't force herself to her feet just yet. It was the private, after darting out of the first room and to her side, who grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet. From that angle, she could see a woman in camouflage garb grabbing five poké balls from a man standing with his uniformed back turned to the door. Veronica froze, knowing that the balls contained Rose's team and Kirlia. The two of them would be unprotected for whatever the NDF had in mind.
Then, something worse happened. The man drew out a sixth poké ball from Rose's pocket.
Drawing in a gasp, Veronica yanked at her arm, trying to pull away from the private. It only resulted in the military officer tightening his grip on her arm. Veronica clenched her teeth and stared helplessly at the ball as it was handed to the woman. She knew that if she said anything, there was a chance they'd open it. On the other hand, there was another chance they'd open it without them present, and Veronica knew Bill couldn't defend himself while he was paralyzed.
Unfortunately, before she could make up her mind about what needed to be done, Rose screamed and reached for the last ball frantically. The man who had taken them from her grabbed her wrist with one hand and wrapped his free arm around her waist. Rose tried to pull away, stretching her other hand towards the ball while she shrieked and cried. Taking a step back, the woman looked toward her superior. Black shifted on his feet.
"Open that one," he said. "If it's small, we'll let her keep it during the interrogation. That should calm her down."
Reflexively, Veronica stepped forward. "
No!"
The lieutenant turned, arching his pale eyebrows as he studied her briefly. Then, he turned back to his subordinates.
"Open that one," he repeated in a colder tone.
With a nod, the woman placed the other five poké balls on a nearby table, just beyond Veronica's line of sight. Then, the woman's dark thumb found the button on the front. The button clicked, and the ball enlarged in her hand. Her finger pressed the button on the front again, and Veronica could hear the unmistakable sound of the object popping open. White light filled the room before fading in seconds to reveal a lump that lay on the floor. That object, understandably, caused all three military officers who could see it to swear loudly and whip guns from the holsters at their hips. The private, as a reflex, did the same, releasing Veronica and allowing her to dart forward, shove past the lieutenant, and enter the bedroom.
It was a small place, possibly a room that once held a child, judging by the rainbow-colored pokémon paintings that still hung on the walls. A bed sat in the corner where a second doctor sat, stupefied by the thing on the floor. The main source of light in the room was the early morning sun passing through the windows in the wooden walls. A metal table had been set up near the door to hold a computer, a coffee maker, and now, Rose's poké balls. The floor had a rug, but Veronica could only see the red corner of it under her ixodida companion.
Bill was shivering, in part from the numb sensation running through his body and in part from fear. His muscles still felt stiff from paralysis, but he strained himself to look up at the lieutenant and the pistol he held. Veronica dropped to her knees beside him, but she stopped just shy of touching him. On his cloak, she could see a golden glitter of spores.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
"Step away from the ixodida!" Black roared.
Veronica turned to him. "Put your gun down! He's not going to hurt you!"
"Step away from it!" he replied. "Back away to the wall! Now!"
At that point, Veronica stood and opened her mouth to say something else when she heard a sharp scratching. Looking down, she could see Bill digging his claws into the floor as he fixed his gaze on her legs.
"Do what he says," he whispered hoarsely.
The female officer fumbled with her gun in surprise. "Jesus Christ."
Biting her lip, Veronica furrowed her eyebrows. Then, after a pause, she slowly backed away to stand next to the female officer. In the meantime, Bill struggled against the stiffness of his joints to kneel in front of the lieutenant. The latter cocked his gun with a click and kept his hands steady.
"Don't move!" the lieutenant barked. "Private Adler, call for backup!"
The man behind Black didn't hesitate. Fluidly, he raced towards the other room with only a "yes, sir" as confirmation. Bill, meanwhile, continued to stare at the gun as he quickly tried to come up with some way to get out of his situation.
"I won't hurt you," he whispered, although the pale expression on his face told Veronica that even he doubted that.
Before she could think about it, his body seized up again, and he doubled over as he felt a rush of numbness freeze his limbs. Veronica straightened.
"He's been paralyzed," she said. "He needs help!"
Black didn't move except to narrow his eyes. He kept his glance locked on the creature on the floor.
"What the hell are you two doing with an ixodida?" he snapped.
Rose shrank, unable to speak or do anything except shake on her feet. Veronica glanced at her first and then back at Black. She didn't dare step forward for fear that one of the military officers would shoot. It didn't help that her own gun had been taken from her along with her other possessions.
"He's our friend," Veronica replied. "Look, he won't hurt you as long as you don't do anything to threaten him, okay? Put your gun down!"
Black refused to look at Veronica. He could only stare at the trembling alien on the floor as he looked up at his companion. There was an expression on the ixodida's face that Black couldn't entirely understand. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was slightly open.
Surprise, Black thought as he slowly lowered his gun.
It doesn't have its guard up. Careful.
Veronica took a step forward. "He needs help. He got caught in some Stun Spore. It was an accident, and—"
"It attacked you," Black said. "That's why it's looking at you like that."
Bill cringed, feeling his body locking on its hands and knees in that position. Lifting his head, he stared at the lieutenant with a mixture of helplessness and guilt. Narrowing his eyes, Black raised his gun again.
"You have no proof of that," Veronica whispered.
Black nodded. "Yeah, I do. Look at how it's reacting."
"You ever think that's maybe because he doesn't like being threatened?" Veronica answered icily.
Ignoring her, Black thumbed the hammer of his pistol. "It'll get all the help it needs." He glanced over his shoulder to the female officer. "Recall it and bring it to Birch Institute. See what Joshua has to say about it. The rest of you—" He glanced towards the other officers. "—will take these two into custody for further questioning."
Veronica shouted something, but before she could fight, two of the officers darted into the room to grab her. She struggled, trying to push forward to grab Black as he turned to the female officer. The latter lifted Bill's poké ball as the ixodida struggled to stand.
However, before he could make it to his feet, he was engulfed by a red light. Seconds later, he lost sight of the outside world.
---
Polaris Institute was smaller than when Professor Oak had left it. The Inner Ring was almost but not quite finished, and half of the Median Ring was closed off. That left only a handful of laboratories on the eastern side of the bull's-eye-shaped complex and the Outer Ring of dormitories and essential offices. At the same time, the lack of space hardly hindered the Kanto branch of Project Stardust. Oak wondered whether it was because the Committee was relying on data from other regions or if it was because Polaris was far too large for what they needed anyway.
In any case, Tracey wheeled him down the all-too-familiar hallways as they traveled beside Professor Nettle. The woman's face with its shadows beneath the eyes made her look slightly more tired than she had been when Oak had last seen her, but on the other hand, she stood straight and spoke to her teams with a sharper snap than she had ever used as simply the head of the psychology department. Oak could tell she was stressed by the way she carried herself, so that made his acceptance of her invitation – her plea for his help – a bit more valid in his mind.
Through e-mails sent to him in the past week, she told him about a problem without specifying what it was. All he knew was that it needed his presence and expertise, and she was, according to her letters, getting desperate. By luck, the Rousseau sisters had arrived earlier that week to join his efforts in discovering more about the ixodida, and the sisters were more than willing to take care of the lab for him, not that he really needed someone to watch over the laboratory. After all, both Riko and Delia were just as eager volunteers. Hence, he had no problem asking Tracey to help him travel to Cinnabar Island one more time to answer Nettle's plea.
"Thank you again for coming," Nettle said as she led him down another corridor.
Oak grinned. "It's my pleasure, Professor Nettle. From the way you were insisting on having me here, it sounds like you're in quite a jam."
"Well, we're not in dire need of help," she replied. "However, even after pushing my teams to their limits, we've only been able to come to a dead end."
She approached a door with a black panel next to it. Her hand slipped into a pocket and produced from its folds a keycard that she swiped in a slot along the panel's side. A small, red light shone on its face as a panel extended beneath it. Pressing her hand to the pad, Nettle watched the red light blink before a green light next to it lit up. Her free hand grasped the silver door handle and pushed it downward to swing the door open.
Inside, the room was just another observation room, much like the ones Oak had frequented as the head of the institute. Machines lined the left and right walls of the room while the far wall was taken up almost completely by a window next to a metal door. Most of the scientists in the room either huddled at the window or around a tank just to the left of the door. Passing by the latter, Oak looked through the group to see the box filled with red water. A pulsing light flashed across it every so often, seemingly in response to what was going on at the window.
Past the window, Oak could see that there was a room much like the one that held his former colleague at one point. It was only a small room with barely enough space for a bed, a table, and a chair. At one point, he knew it had pristine, white walls, but now, they had black and gray spots all over their empty expanses. After a few seconds, he could see why as a jet of flames burst upwards and struck the window, causing the scientists to take a half-step backwards.
Drawing in a breath, Oak put his hands on the wheels of his chair to signal Tracey to stop. His young assistant froze, moving his eyes cautiously towards the window.
"What was that?" Oak asked.
Nettle slipped her hands into her pockets. "That, Professor Oak, would be our problem. His name is Prometheus."
Turning his head sharply, Oak stared at Nettle. Then, cautiously, he tugged on the wheels of his chair, pulling himself away from his assistant to move closer to the window. The line of scientists parted with murmurs of surprise towards their former superior. Hardly noticing their reaction, Oak wheeled up to the window and peered into the room. From that angle, he couldn't quite see much of the space beyond the barrier, but as the flames died down, he could see what Nettle termed "the problem."
Prometheus stood tall, and judging by the muscles of his red-skinned body, Oak figured he might have been young before he was changed. Flames and smoke billowed from his flesh, climbing up his legs to engulf the bottom half of his torso and dance on his shoulders and upper arms. His head itself was almost like a torch, with fire dancing on his bare scalp and surrounding a pair of round horns. Claws on his hands flexed as he narrowed his blue eyes at the window. Across his long, pale face was a sharp frown while behind him, a glowing, orange tail flicked back and forth.
Oak tore his eyes away from the creature long enough to glance at Nettle. She crossed her arms.
"Prometheus is a fairly young addition to our studies," Nettle explained. "He was created only a few months ago. However, so far, he's been mostly uncontrollable."
At her comment, Oak thought back to Pandora, to Bill, and to the rock-type that was responsible for his missing leg. A small frown tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"It's possible that Bill's case was unique," Oak replied. "I haven't yet been able to find another XP-494B that wasn't hostile."
Nettle shook her head. "That isn't exactly the problem. In the past few days, Prometheus has become increasingly angrier. All he does is attack the window and the walls. He refuses to eat. He doesn't sleep. He simply stands there and attacks. It started ever since we brought our tank with XP-494A into this room to keep it here during the reconstruction of its holding tank in Laboratory 18. It's been acting strange as well, flashing now and then. We know there's a connection, but for the life of us, we can't find what it is."
Oak eyed Nettle carefully as he let her explanation sink into his brain. Then, he turned towards the window again, just in time to see another jet of flames pound the window. It lasted for a few seconds before dying down, revealing Prometheus standing calmly in the middle of the room again.
"Open a channel," Oak said. "Let me talk to him."
One of the interns at the control panel hesitated as she glanced towards Oak. Then, slowly, she pressed a button on its face. There was a click, and in a long quiet after that, Oak only heard crackling coming from the speakers.
Taking a deep breath, he took the first step. "Hello! I'm Professor Oak. I'm here to learn more about you."
Prometheus stared at the window and the professor for a long moment in complete silence. Behind the group, the ixodida parasite flashed once more, and the red gleam caught the adult's eye.
Then, the creature screamed.
In seconds, fire burst from his red skin, causing the scientists – Oak included – to stumble backwards. Flames quickly engulfed the ixodida as he launched forward, slamming both of his clawed hands into the glass separating him from the rest of the laboratory. Although his mouth couldn't be seen through the inferno, a piercing shriek shook the walls.
Tracey took another step back to stand closer to the middle of the room. His large hands flexed, and he tensed, prepared to dash forward and snatch the handles of his mentor's wheelchair.
"Professor, are we safe here?" he asked quietly.
Oak nodded. "Of course. The observation rooms were designed to withstand just about any pokémon attack possible."
The core of the fire began to glow bright red, as if the ixodida had turned into nothing but a pillar of flames. At that point, upon recognizing the attack, Oak shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Withstanding temperatures in excess of the ones on the surface of the sun, however," he murmured. "Tracey, stay back!"
In the next instant, orange-gold fire burst from the head of the ixodida and slammed into the window. At first, the inferno simply billowed outwards in all directions the instant it hit the barrier, and the window itself hardly moved. Seconds passed, however, and a black circle began to form where the attack struck as the window wobbled and creaked. Slowly, the ixodida leaned into the window to press his attack into the pane until each blast struck with resounding bangs.
Drawing in a breath, Tracey grabbed the back of Oak's wheelchair and began pulling his mentor backwards, through the crowd of retreating scientists. Oak looked up with knitted eyebrows.
"Tracey?" he asked. "What are you doing?"
The watcher shook his head. "Sorry, Professor, but—"
Before he could say another word, a large crack rose from the window. The fire pressed against it a little further, and with a snap, it broke and fell to the floor in large, jagged pieces. A fireball blasted into the room, engulfing both of the interns who had barely managed to miss being sliced in half by the pieces of the window just seconds ago.
The scientists scattered, some racing towards buttons while others darted for the door. Tracey swung around, wheeling Oak as quickly as he could towards the exit while alarms blared overhead. The roar of fire rose as screams and the smell of burning flesh gave Tracey enough of a reason not to look back. His mind blanked, and his vision narrowed to only the path straight ahead; he couldn't even hear Professor Oak's voice protesting the retreat, much less anything else.
Hence, he didn't notice that, as another blast – a burst of fire, the boom of a computer going up in smoke – rocked the observation room, the tank beside the door shook and shattered. He didn't notice, of course, until someone grabbed him. Oak, watching Tracey pull away and fall between scrambling scientists, cried out and grabbed the wheels of his chair, but before he could turn around, the swarm pushed him out of the room.
Tracey, meanwhile, hit the tiled floor in a puddle of water. He looked up just in time to see the face of Professor Nettle stare down at him briefly before she turned away and joined the crowds heading out of the room. In his distraction from the shock of hitting the floor hard, he felt something pinch his hand. Wincing, he tried to look down, but before he could, a flash of red approached and stood over him.
Prometheus's pale face swam in a sea of red and orange, and his eyes were sharp and clear as they fixed themselves on Tracey. For awhile, only a silence descended between them. The room was empty by then, and Tracey realized at that point that no one was going to come back in to save him. His hands pushed him backwards across the floor as the glass cut into his palms. However, he didn't have far to go. His back soon hit the legs of the table on which the tank formerly sat, and he was forced to remain there, staring up at the adult ixodida.
Then, Prometheus snorted and smirked. Without a single word or attack towards Tracey, the adult turned and walked out the door, his orange tail swishing behind him. At the door, he turned to the left and walked calmly down the empty hall and around a corner.
After a few minutes, Oak wheeled himself around a corner at the opposite end of the hall. It hadn't taken much to tear himself away from a panicked scientist, and at least the wheelchair rolled faster than he could run. By the time he reached the wrecked laboratory again, Tracey had managed to struggle to his feet and make his way to the door.
The young watcher leaned against the doorframe, his eyes closed and his right hand wrapped around his left arm. His clothes were still wet from the liquid on the floor of the observational room, and blood trickled down his fingers and dripped onto the tile beside his feet. He winced as sharp pains laced up his arm, and as he tightened his grip around it, he forced his eyes open to look at his mentor. Oak's eyes were automatically drawn to the watcher's left hand, and upon seeing it, his face paled.
"Professor," Tracey rasped, "are you all right?"
Oak struggled to find his breath, but somehow, he managed to inhale and speak. "Tracey… your hand…"
His assistant forced himself to lift his left hand and examine it. The gashes across the palm were still a bright, liquid red, and he was about to explain how that happened when something else caught his eye. On the edge of his left hand, something moved under his skin. His eyes widened as slowly, he turned it over and leaned all his weight on the doorframe. Gradually, he slid down until he sat on the floor, but all the while, he stared helplessly at the red jewel now embedded in the flesh on the back of his left hand.
Little by little, his gaze rose to look into Oak's face, but when he did, he could see the old professor stare back at him silently.
"Professor," Tracey murmured.
After a long pause, Oak exhaled.
"Not again," he whispered.
