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RotR Halloween Story Contest 2


MELON LORD

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We skipped a year, but now we're back! By October 31, 2017, you need to submit to me a story that fits the following parameters:

 

  • You must use characters related to RotR, but you aren't limited to just your characters.
  • The story must be at least 500 words.
  • You must, obviously, write a story that fits within BZP's rules and guidelines.
  • You must not plagiarize.
  • You must not plagiarize.
  • While spelling, punctuation, etc won't be judged for their own sake, at least make an effort to proofread/spellcheck the story. If I can't read it, I can't judge it fairly.
  • No character bashing.

Now, onto this year's prizes:

 

While I will be judging and organizing into places, the prizes are going to be randomized and distributed among all who enter. In no particular order:

 

  • Custom Z Move
  • Free Mega Evolution (No EXP requirement)
  • Custom Power Suit
  • Unique Power Customization
  • Legendary Pokémon
  • Custom TM
  • One Item of your choice​ (No Arceus items)
  • Mystery Prize (courtesy of Minun)

 

Switching things up from the last Halloween Contest, I now will require you to fit your writing into a theme. The theme for this year is:

 

Nobody knows what exactly happened all those years ago, but the house on the hill has stood abandoned ever since.

 

Once again, deadline is October 31. Have fun, everyone!

Edited by MELON LORD
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"So Alku, happy 'was that a firecracker or shotgun?' day!"

"Hard mode: I'm in the south."

 

"Planning was never Zac Blazer's forte." - Blade, mastering the art of the understatement.

 

"We'll have to change the initials of the RPG from RotR to PTSD." - Me, discussing Rise of the Rockets.

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  The Limits of Knowledge

   Nobody knows what exactly happened all those years ago, but the house on the lakeside on the hill has stood abandoned ever since. Most of the residents of the nearby Snowpoint City called that area cursed or sacred. It wasn’t as if it were blighted or unappealing to the eyes. Far from it, as the locals would tell you. Children, unless they were younger or lack a sense of danger, avoided it. Not even those seeking shelter from the mercilessly chilly winds seemed to like being outside of the decrepit looking house. There were few records of the family who lived there, the Majors family. They hadn’t seemed the type to have done much to stand out, aside from living on the freezing lakeshore.


However…….

    There were some who whispered of their attempts to gain greater status, be it information or money. The city folk paid them little mind, for what could such a small family of a man, his wife and their son accomplish? Even if they had accrued power, there was little use for it in the snowy northern part of Sinnoh, where there was snow and snow for miles. It even seemed the son, Dack Majors didn’t care for the notion of power, to the point leaving his family’s home for extended periods, just so he could live his life in peace. He tried keeping to himself, but his connections with his family kept coming up, be it through wondering what they were up to, to complaints about them being a nuisance to them all. The son of the Majors managed to assuage the people of their fears, but couldn’t help but feel his family could just relax and be content with what they had.

Maybe then, the tragedy that occurred wouldn’t have happened……

    One day, as he was returning home from one such excursion, he had heard from his mother that his father had finally come across something that would give them power beyond compare: a book that, despite it’s humble trappings, excited the two. It had a plain yellow binding, with writing that seemed to confound Dack. The young man had questioned his family about what was so exciting about the book, when his father educated him. It was a book, when looked upon, would have writing “pop” up as you looked at it, in your home language no less. Furthermore, the writings had knowledge that seemed almost….supernatural. His father claimed that this book could help elevate them to greater heights.

    Days and weeks passed, as did Dack’s visits with his family. Each time he arrived, his father went on and on about the knowledge the book had bestowed upon him, as they talked in his study. Each time, the progeny of the Majors family shook his head, wishing his dad hadn’t found that accursed book.

    Until that fateful day…….

    It was supposed to be another day in the house when Dack woke up. The sun was shining over the frost covered house, a light winter breeze blowing as it did. When he woke up and prepared himself for the day, the house was oddly quiet. Normally, he would have heard his mother milling about, preparing herself for work, but there was not a sound to be heard. “Maybe they already left?” Dack thought as he left his room, sure his worries were ill-founded. Then he decided to go into his father’s study, where he saw an odd sight. Lying on his father’s desk, was the same book he ranted and raved about. The young man approached it, noticing one of the pages seemed to be flapping, despite no wind. Curiously, he reached out his hand. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you, Dack Majors.” A faint voice echoed in his mind. “Unless you are willing to shoulder the burden that your family couldn’t.
Paying the voice no mind, he flipped the page.


Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

    As he turned the page, Dack saw a picture, in which floated a curious creature. It had two tails, each with a small jewel on the end, stubby arms and legs, and a ridged head with a gem above two closed eyes. Dack recognized it as the Lake Guardian Uxie, who was said to live in the lake on whose shore his family lived upon. As he looked upon the picture…...it started to move. “There was a reason this book was created, Dack.” The voice spoke, sounding more stern. “It was so humans and pokemon could exceed their limited knowledge. However, there are those who wish to seek the truly unknowable, your parents being one of those few. For them, who sought knowledge of the inner workings of Sinnoh’s creation in their greed, there was no hope. Through this book, I was able to punish them. Their memories are gone, never to be reobtained. I’ve teleported them off, hopefully to a place where they can live out their lives in peace..”

    As he comprehended what the book was saying, Dack Majors wondered what the book would do to him? Would it take his precious memories away, for not stopping his mother and father? As he wondered, he heard the voice again. “You aren’t to blame for their fate, but…..I can’t let you near this book. I’ve seen it wreak ruin upon many, but seeing it ruin a family….is heartbreaking to say the least. I can offer you a solution, and maybe comfort.” The young man wondered what would be considered “comfort” coming from something this powerful. “I can try to erase your memory of this book, to prevent others like your parents from finding it.” He considered the words of Uxie. As terrifying as the creature was, it was giving him a chance that his parents apparently didn’t take. A chance to live, free of the temptation this book held with it. He nodded, as he began to speak. “This book ruined my parents. If it means forgetting them, and it, will prevent future tragedies, I can’t say I have any choice in the matter. Do as you will.”
 


    No one knows what happened next. Some say Dack Majors, like his family, had
disappeared, never to be seen again. Seeing the disappearance as a ill omen, no one visited the Majors household, to find out what had happened, for fear it could happen again. The book was never to be seen again, it’s maker’s wish finally granted.

Edited by Dr. Hidaka
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-The Ones Who Upset-

In the International Police, there exists a special division that examines cases that have long been abandoned. Special Agent Jennifer Hunter was now in charge of a particular case that had been dropped on her desk. The case involved a mysterious house on a hill near the Galactic Building in Veilstone City. A few years earlier, emergency dispatch in the city had been called out to look over a woman who seemed to be in shock. She was not listed as a resident of the house, but had come from there. The police on duty that day had not been able to get anything of use out of her, and after doing a preliminary investigation found nothing of value. Since that day, the house had stood abandoned.

And now it's my turn to find out why. Jennifer thought as she stood at the front gate. Despite its modest size, someone had made certain that trespassers could not make their way inside. Thankfully, the remote device that she placed on the ground allowed their resident hacker back at the office to open the gates.

"Thanks, Jimmy." The woman to Jennifer's right spoke with quite the amused look on her face. Jennifer sighed, already feeling a headache coming on as the line crackled to life.

"Go away, Belle." The voice from the other end of the line said indignantly. "Focus on your own mission." Jennifer muted the line for a moment as she heard Belle retort jokingly. James Arthur - world class hacker, and one of the ones on their team back home. If it was her own choice, she wouldn't purposely poke the man who could make their lives a living nightmare - but Belle liked to play dangerously.

"Let's just go, no use wasting time here." A sudden gust of wind appeared to punctuate what the woman said, as her hair blew right in her face. A look on pure annoyance crossed Jennifer's face, and she wordlessly just walked to the door and unlocked it with the provided key. As the leader of the team brushed her hair out of her mouth, she glanced around at the room. It looked surprisingly normal from what she could see. . . if she didn't know that it had been abandoned, she would have thought it was a normal house.

----

As Belle walked in and shone her flashlight around and the four members of their team followed, Jennifer focused on scanning the scene as many times as she possibly could. Any little thing mattered, as she quickly found out not long after. The agent pulled out her own flashlight, and focused it on the table near the entrance as she noticed the dust pattern on the table looked almost disturbed.

"James, when was the last time investigators were sent here?" Jennifer asked over the comm link as she frowned slightly. She knew that the place was abandoned, and between the electrified fences outside and the gate, there was no way that anything should have been disturbed since the last investigation.

"Two years ago. That is odd. . ."

"What is it?"

"The report appears to be redacted. I will look into this further."

A redacted report? What could have caused that? Jennifer shook her head, as she took a picture of the table. The group spread out across the house - every part of it had been searched over by the previous investigators, yet. . . this now indicated that something seemed to have been missed. Jennifer walked into what appeared to be a young girl's bedroom, and glanced around with help of her flashlight. She noticed that most of the room was covered in dust and cobwebs, yet a picture frame stood out to her.

The woman walked toward the frame, but a scream rang out throughout the house before she could touch it. Jennifer abandoned all thoughts of looking at the picture, and instead ran in the direction of the scream. Was that Tucker? What happened? She wondered as she dashed down the stairs. When she got to the room the scream sounded like it had come from, Belle and the others were there already.

"Are you all okay? What happened to Tucker?" The lead agent asked, and one of the other women bit her lip in nervousness. Had she been there when Tucker had screamed? "If something happened, we all need to know, Maria."

"W-we were looking around the kitchen. Everything was as you'd expect it to be, but. . ." Maria paused, as her eyes darted around anxiously. "Well, I don't know what happened. Tucker and I kept seeing these weird things, but nothing actually was there when we looked. I thought it was a Pokemon, but it looked like nothing I've ever seen. Plus, it was making these weird sounds like it was angry. Then Tucker screamed, but when I looked, he was just gone. I just. . . I don't know what happened. One second he was there, another and it was like he had never existed at all."

Jennifer nodded with a slight frown, and patted the younger woman on the shoulder. "It's okay. We'll find out what happened, but it's not your fault. Keep your wits about you, everyone. We're dealing with something unknown here."

"Should we invoke protocol 0-84 and prepare a lockdown just in case?" Belle seemed a little uneasy as well, but Jennifer knew that suggestion had to only be a last resort.

"If we do that, our chances of getting out of here without having whatever happened to Tucker happen to us drops to nearly 0. We need to wait as long as we can." The temperature seemed as if it had dropped ten degrees in general, and the woman glanced around the room. What could that thing Maria mentioned have been? "Belle, you're with me; the rest of you stick together. We can't afford to have anything else happen."

----

Jennifer and Belle warily traveled through the rest of the house to where Belle was going to investigate before things went south. The older woman kept the picture frame in mind, but knew they needed to be thorough first. As they left the room without any findings, however, a young rookie boy named Harley and his partner Lily appeared.

"M-Maria is gone! We turned our backs for one second, and then... she just vanished!" Harley cried out, as his eyes glanced around frightfully. "W-we saw a message appear too; it might have been... in blood..."

"I'm sorry! We were supposed to keep our eyes on each other, and then we failed, and now Maria. . ." Lily's lip trembled as her sentence trailed off. Jennifer caught herself glancing around nervously as well, and took a deep breath. No matter the situation, she couldn't have her team falling apart because of fear.

"It's okay. From the sounds of it, even if you were looking, you wouldn't have been able to help her..." The woman bit her lip, as she glanced around for some sort of answer. "Come on. I found something suspicious upstairs. I have to have hope that they are still safe."

The four quickly made their way up the stairs and filed into the room where the picture frame was. As the adrenaline from the creepy situation heightened her senses, she noticed this this picture was of a young girl and what Jennifer assumed to be her mother. It was not covered in any dust or cobwebs, as if it had been continually moved or touched. Despite protests from the other three, the investigator grabbed the top of the frame and began to move it.

Click

To her surprise, the frame was attached to the dresser and a resounding click echoed throughout the house. She thought she could hear gears turning, as well. Without waiting for words, the group quickly ran down the stairs and found a secret opening in the floor which had more stairs leading down into darkness.

"I... what could this be for...?" Lily wondered with a scared tone to her voice. Jennifer had to admit that she had absolutely no clue.

"James, are there any blueprints to this house that would suggest a hidden basement?" The woman waited for a moment and then frowned. ". . . James? Are you there?" All that could be heard was static. Unnerved by this entire situation, Jennifer stepped forward. "If we don't have contact with headquarters, then the only way to find out our answers, is to check for ourselves."

----

The climb down the stairs was more comfortable than the group had anticipated. Lights to either side of the stairs lit up as the four made their way further down the stairs. This is a quaint place. If it weren't so creepy, it might actually be nice. After what felt like hours, they reached the bottom of the stairs, and Jennifer pulled a chain. Old florescent lights lit up with some flickering protests and the agents felt their blood run cold.

"What. . . is this?" Belle whispered, as she stepped forward and saw many things in what looked to be giant test tubes - Pokemon and humans alike. Jennifer noticed a bunch of computers, but some gave off error messages that she couldn't understand. None of the beings in the test tubes looked to be alive. "Just what was this place? What were they trying to do here?"

"I don't know." Jennifer gripped her shoulder to try and keep calm as she looked around the room. Nothing made sense. "Lily, Harley, you two go back and see if James has any ans-" When the woman turned around however, she noticed they were nowhere to be seen. Belle spun around and her eyes widened as she noticed the same thing.

"They... they were right behind us, weren't they...?" Jennifer did not have an answer to that. The two of them saw on one of the monitors the words "WE HATE YOU." scribbled in something red. When they turned around to head further into the lab, however, she noticed a wide eyed young girl standing in front of them. "Hi there... what is your name?"

The girl did not respond, and instead ran off further into the lab as if she were scared. Belle and Jennifer exchanged a look before they followed her. However, Jennifer stopped as she saw something. . . transparent in the corner of her vision. Belle noticed and looked back as Jennifer looked around to try and see what it was. She didn't have to try too hard, however, as both of them saw a ghostly woman in front of them.

The mysterious woman wore a mournful look on her face. "I am so sorry... It was all our fault. . ."

"Who are you?" Jennifer said, as she tried her best to not betray just how scared she was at the moment - nothing the International Police had supplied her with could actually deal with ghosts.

"My name is Francine. I am the owner of this house - and the lab you're standing in right now." The woman didn't seem to know what to do with her hands as she talked, and looked down mournfully. "I am so sorry... Four years ago, we tried to experiment to determine how power is generated. We thought that perhaps we could unlock latent powers in people. We succeeded."

"Is that why people are disappearing? Because their powers have been unlocked?" Jennifer's hand clenched slightly in anger, but the ghost shook her head.

"No. It is worse than that. We unlocked a power that should never be unlocked, a contagi-" The ghost's eyes widened, and as the two watched, she disappeared from sight. The two agents were silent as they looked around at the lab.

"Ghosts..." Belle shivered, and tried to tap a few buttons to make the errors on the computers go away. It didn't help.

"When we're done, we are going to wipe these computers so their research can never be used again." Jennifer said quietly, and then walked in the direction that the girl had gone. Something about the situation still didn't quite fit, but she wanted answers. Plus, the fact that the girl was the only living person present seemed sketchy to her.

----

After a little while of walking, the duo saw the girl again, curled up against a wall. "We don't want to hurt you." Jennifer called out, but the girl covered her ears.

"Go away! I'm not the one you should be worried about getting hurt! Please go away!!" Belle ignored the girl's words, and stepped forward with a kind smile. The girl, however, cowered back a little. Something didn't sit right with Jennifer, as she thought over everything.

"Belle, get back!" The lead agent cried out with a very fearful look on her face. Belle looked back in confusion just as she reached out to the young girl. She was flung back by a wave of energy, as the girl whimpered in fear. "BELLE!"

The younger agent groaned, as she blinked. "Well that could've been better..." Belle's expression faltered as she noticed her hand faded in and out between solid and ghostly. "... Oh. It definitely could have gone better."

Jennifer watched helplessly as that happened, but then looked back to the girl, who was rather audibly crying now. The look on her face was one of pure anguish, something no child should have to experience. The woman stood up, and then slowly walked toward the girl.

"Why...? Why does this always happen now? Why did mommy have to disappear too? Why does this happen to everyone who visits...?" The girl hiccupped slightly while crying, but it didn't stop the crying any. Jennifer knelt down in front of her, and despite everything gave a sad smile.

"It's... not your fault." The agent's voice broke slightly as she said that, but she had to push forward, just like for her agents. "You didn't choose to have this happen to you. It'll be okay, though, I'll help you." The girl's crying paused slightly, as she looked up into tear-filled eyes. Jennifer could notice ghosts gathering around them out of the corner of her eyes, and recalled about how the power was contagious. Regardless, she wrapped her arms around the young girl.

"Let's get you out of here." The whisper was barely audible, but the girl almost imperceptibly nodded in response. Belle shakily stood up, and noticed the spectres were attempting to attack the other two, but could not manage to make Jennifer or the young girl disappear. The lead agent stood up and picked the young girl up as she began to carry her out of the lab. The ghosts gathered around and continued to attack them, but continued to be repelled.

----

After what seemed like way too long, the trio reached the front door. Although Jennifer walked outside, Belle paused and looked back.

"I'm... I'm staying." Jennifer looked back in surprise as Belle spoke, and then her eyes widened as she saw the woman begin to fade in and out like the ghost they had talked to earlier. The young woman wore an apologetic look, and then sighed. "Maybe... maybe I can find the others. I think I can see those ghosts fully now. Just... don't forget about me, okay?"

There was silence for the longest time, and both of the agents felt rooted into place. Belle nodded slightly, and gave an awkward smile. "Looks like this is the end of the line... good bye, Jenny. Maybe some day we'll meet again..."

The door shut.

. . .

"We need some help here. We found a survivor - last name Yamamoto, first name Aori." There was a slight pause. "The entire team is also missing in action."

----

Four months later, Jennifer sadly looked up at the ceiling. The case had been closed, the computers wiped, and the young girl had been doing better. There was even research into possible methods to help the ghosts in the abandoned house. Yet, something about that case still bothered her. Perhaps it was the fact that she had lost her entire team at the time, and getting them back was a slim hope at this point. Or maybe it was the experiments that had taken place. Still. . . it was not all bad.

The woman grabbed her bag and keys, and headed to the parking lot. She thought back to how the group was being aided at the abandoned house by Belle in her ghost form, and how the data James had recovered off what was left of the computers gave hope toward a cure. She got into her car with a smile, and drove home. As she approached her front door, she heard footsteps run toward the door from inside. As she opened the door, she smiled at the sight of the young girl with auburn hair she had adopted recently.

"Welcome home, mommy!"

"Thank you! Did you have a good day, Aori?"

-The Ones Who (Are) Upset-

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Betrayal at the House on the Hill

 

The door creaked open noisily, disturbing the silence that had pervaded the house for decades. The beam of a flashlight swept through the doorway, and a figure stepped through. Scanning the room by the bright light of the halogen bulbs, the boy nodded. “Alright guys, it looks safe. Come in.”

 

Four more figures stepped through quietly, each with their own flashlight. The five adventurers huddled around the first flashlight. The first was a boy of 16, with shaggy black hair and bright blue eyes. Next to him stood a slightly older guy with silver hair and eyes. Towering over him was a purple-haired woman wearing a pair of sunglasses. She was holding the hand of the first of two younger girls, a white-haired child with red eyes whose other hand was holding tightly to that of the youngest member of their group, a brown-haired girl.

 

Xander nodded. “Alright, so we should stick together for safety. Who knows how sturdy this house is?”

 

Jared scowled, shaking his head. “We’re looking for clues, aren’t we? We’ll cover ground faster if we split up.”

 

Alma giggled, nodding. “I agree! Plus, if something attacks, it will only get one of us, instead of all of us!” Her caretaker winced, glancing down at her.

 

“Why d’ya always gotta do that, huh? You know I can’t stand these spooky places, and you always make it worse!” She scowled as the albino girl giggled again.

 

“Sorry, Belle! But you shouldn’t be scared. Aori’s not scared, are you, Aori?”

 

The younger girl chewed her lip. “I’m terrified, actually . . .” Alma cast her a look and smiled.

 

“How about this, then? Belle and I can go together, Aori can go with Xander, and Jared can go alone. That way we split up, but still stay mostly together.”

 

This was met with agreement, and the group soon split off into three. There was no map of the manor that they’d been able to locate, so each new room would be a surprise.

 

Belle and Alma headed through the first door on the left, while Jared went to the right and Xander led Aori upstairs.

 

Belle paused as she and Alma stepped through the door. They seemed to be in some sort of graveyard, one that they had not seen from outside the house. A shiver ran down her spine as she looked around. For a moment, her eyes fell upon a fresh mound of earth in front of a pristine tombstone.

 

“Belle LaDonna
1995 - 2017
She died as she lived

Alone and unloved.”

 

She blinked in shock, and the grave vanished, replaced by an old, illegible stone. Alma was giving her an odd look.

 

“Belle, are you alright?” the girl asked. Belle just shrugged, not sure how stable her voice would be.

 

They continued through the graveyard, out the other side.

 

*****

 

Jared had made his way through three rooms, and he was beginning to wonder if the house really was haunted. He’d passed through a room that had collapsed under his weight, but he’d managed to jump to the other side. The door on that side led him through onto a patio of some sort, with a tall tree with a treehouse looking in through a window. Climbing that had shown what appeared to be an observatory. He’d climbed back down and made his way into the next room.

 

The sound of metal grating on wood hit his ears, followed by the sound of something flying through the air. He slammed the door closed and heard several impacts on the other side, the sound of something stabbing deep into wood. Reopening the door revealed the entire contents of a knife block embedded. One knife in particular caught his eye, a large steel implement that gleamed brightly in the dim light. He tugged it from the door and stuck it through his belt, just in case.

 

And now, he passed on into the next room, which, by rights, shouldn’t have fit within the house he had seen on the way up the hill.

 

*****

 

Xander and Aori ran through the upstairs quickly, ducking into an as-yet unexplored room and slamming the door shut. Neither heard the latch slide into place as they swept their flashlights around.

 

Xander turned to the girl, his eyes wide. “Did you see--”

 

“Yes.” Aori looked back up at him, face pale in the halogen light. The first room they’d entered had been some strange chapel, which would have been scary enough on its own. What had sent them running was the fact that, when they’d stepped further into the room, a body had dropped from the ceiling, suspended on a rope. While they’d stared in shock at that, the corpse opened its mouth and screamed at them.

 

Xander was still shaking, but he took Aori’s hand. “It’s alright. It’s okay. That didn’t actually happen, we just--”

 

“We both imagined it?” she sounded dubious, but Xander nodded.

 

“Yeah, yeah. It’s called a mass hallucination, it happens sometimes.” Though he tried to sound reassuring, Xander could see Aori looking more suspicious. “Look, why don’t we go back and check. If it’s not there, then it was just a hallucination, right?”

 

The girl nodded hesitantly and turned to open the door. The doorknob didn’t turn. She jiggled it, trying to get it loose,then looked back up at the older boy. “It’s locked.”

 

“What?” Xander scowled, stepping forward. “Here, you just need to . . .” He trailed off as he utterly failed to open the door.

 

They were trapped.

 

*****

 

“What kinda kook has a secret slide to the basement?!” Belle shouted after making sure Alma was alright. They had been exploring a seemingly normal bedroom, but then one of them moved the wrong object. The floor had opened, and the two slid down, down, down. They’d landed hard, but were mostly unscathed.

 

Alma cleared her throat. “I imagine the same sort who has a pentagram engraved on the floor,” she stated plainly. Belle spun, and a small yelp escaped her.

 

“This place gets worse and worse!” She edged around the star, frowning softly. In the middle of the pentagram was some sort of object, though she couldn’t tell just what it was from this distance. She wasn’t about to step into the middle of some sort of demonic circle.

 

Alma gave no such concerns for the dangers of the room, skipping to the middle and picking the item up. “It seems to be some board with letters on it--”

 

“Nope, nope nope! Put that down, right darn now!” Belle took a step forward. “We are not messin’ with those sortsa things!”

 

Alma raised an eyebrow, but set the board down softly and made her way back out of the pentagram. “Well, I suppose we should find some stairs, then. Which door should we take?”

 

Belle paused, looking around. Four doorways to choose from, and no clue which one led back upstairs. She sighed. “Let’s just try this one, I guess.” She gestured, and the two continued to explore.

 

*****

 

What sort of house had an elevator? Jared looked around the small silver room with a frown. He was pretty sure elevators weren’t even in common use fifty years ago, but he was no expert on the subject. He turned and looked at the buttons, but none were labelled.

 

“Oh well. Let’s try this one.” He pressed down on one, and was somewhat surprised to feel the elevator move. This house clearly didn’t have power, and yet . . .

 

There was a chime, and the doors opened. He stepped out and paused, shining his light around the room. He’d been here before, he was pretty sure. The collapsed floor and the four doorways were familiar, at least, which meant . . .

 

“How did this elevator travel to the same floor?” he asked nobody in particular. Judging from the painting on one of the walls, he had come in perpendicular to where he’d crossed before. SIdling along the edge of the room confirmed this fact.

 

“This makes no sense . . .” he muttered. With a shrug, he turned back and stepped into the elevator again.

 

*****

 

Xander slammed his shoulder against the door with a grunt of effort. Despite his best attempts, the door didn’t budge. He felt himself starting to panic, but he had to stay calm for Aori’s sake.

 

“It’s okay,” he said, not sure who he was reassuring. “Jared or Belle will find us soon enough. We’ll be out of here in no time.”

 

“What if they don’t?”

 

“They will.”

 

. . . “But what if they don’t?”

 

Xander thunked his head against the door. “Then we’ll work until we can break the door down, or something.”

 

“But what if--”

 

“Aori, I just-- I need you to trust me on this, alright?”

 

. . . “But I don’t.”

 

He thunked his head against the door again.

 

*****

 

Alma hummed softly, looking around the room. “Well, I think we have an answer to your earlier question, Belle.”

 

“Yeah, no kiddin’.” Belle grumbled, walking over to the bars that cordoned off one half of the room. “Friggin’ jail cell.” She shined the light through the bars and paused. A box was sitting inside, and something glimmered through the cracks in the wood.

 

“Alma, stay there. I’ma try to grab this box.”

 

Alma stayed quiet,but watched as Belle reached through the bars, fingers just barely brushing the box. With a growl, the woman pushed it so it cocked towards her. With a grin, she started wiggling it towards her. Finally, she had the thing pressed up against the bars. She opened the lid and whooped as she pulled out two objects. “Lookie here! Got ourselves an axe and a gun! Don’t think any spooks’ll be messin’ with us!”

 

Alma giggled. “Can I have the axe?” She stepped forward.

 

Belle nodded. “Sounds good. Here’s hopin’ ya don’t gotta use it.” She handed the weapon to Alma and checked the chamber of the revolver. Six shots, perfect.” She closed it and carefully slipped it into one of her pockets. With a stretch, she stood and made her way towards the exit of the room.

 

*****

 

Ding

 

Jared stepped out of the elevator onto what looked like an upper landing. One of the doors here stood open, allowing him to see into some sort of large chamber. To his right, a doorknob rattled. He spun, snatching the knife from his belt. “Who’s there?!”

 

There was a pause, then a voice spoke. “Jared?”

 

“Xander? What’s wrong?” He stepped towards the door, uncertain.

 

“We, um, got stuck in a bathroom.” The younger boy had never sounded so embarrassed.

 

“You got stuck?” Jared repeated, not sure how exactly Xander had managed that one.

 

“Yeah. We ducked in here to hide--”

 

“Hide?”

 

“Long story, not the point! The point is, the door locked behind us, and we can’t get it open.”

 

“Okay, what do you want me to do about it?”

 

There was another pause, and he heard Xander emit an exasperated sound. “Could you break the door down?”

 

“Break it down? Are ya kidding me? This is hand-carved mahogany.”

 

He heard a soft giggle from the other side, and smiled. Xander, though, continued to sound frustrated. “What? No it’s not, it’s clearly--”

 

“Nevermind. Both of you step back, alright?”

 

A pause, then Xander’s voice, quieter, gave the all clear. Jared backed up a fair distance, then got a running start. With a shout, he jumped, one leg extending in front of him as he flew through the air.

 

The door swung open, and Jared shot through the doorway, landing hard on the tile floor. He groaned, rolling to his hands and knees. “I thought you said it was stuck!” He hollered.

 

“It was!” Xander protested. “As you can see, we didn’t open it! We were nowhere near it!”

 

It was true. If Xander or Aori had opened the door to prank him, they would have gotten kicked in the head. Jared stood, shoving the knife back into his belt. “Alright then, whatever.” He sighed. “Come check out this weird elevator.”

 

“Elevator? It’s a two-story house, with maybe a basement, why’s there an elevator?”

 

“Maybe whoever lived here was handicapped,” Aori suggested. Jared shrugged.

 

“Even if so, well . . . the elevator is weird. It took me to a different room on the same floor earlier, then brought me up to the landing even though I wasn’t anywhere near the landing.”

 

Xander snorted. “Right, sure. You probably just got turned around.”

 

Jared scowled. “I can retrace the path exactly and show you.”

 

“Don’t bother. How about you stick with us for the time being?”

 

Jared rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine.” With a sigh, he followed Xander and Aori out and through the open doorway he’d seen earlier.

 

It was a chapel. Eerie, but not scary. Xander smiled. “See, Aori? Nothing to worry about in here!” The black-haired teen’s voice rang with false cheer. Aori just shrugged and made her way up to the altar to continue exploring.

 

*****

 

“Eugh!” Belle recoiled as she accidentally trudged through the mysterious slime on the floor. The basement was getting spookier and spookier. They were in some sort of operating room, it seemed like. A steel gurney was pushed against one wall, strange instruments scattered on a table nearby.

 

Alma shook her head. “This is revolting. Let’s move on, shall we?” Belle nodded and walked through. Finally, they had found the landing of the basement, with stairs leading back up to the first floor. As she was going up, however, Alma tugged on her sleeve.

 

“Wait, there’s still more to explore down here.” The purple-haired woman turned to her younger companion with a frown.

 

“You can’t be serious,” she said flatly. Alma just met her gaze, and Belle sighed. “Okay. One more door, then we get back upstairs and get the hay outta here.”

 

Alma nodded and headed into the next room.

 

*****

 

After finding nothing in the chapel, Jared showed them the elevator. Xander was quite surprised when they stepped out into the chapel, this time from the opposite side.

 

“What the . . .”

 

Jared just nodded. “Now, can I go back to exploring downstairs?”

 

“Yeah, uh, you do that,” Xander murmured

 

“Later.” Jared pressed the button, disappearing back down in the collapsed room. He hopped over and stepped through into what appeared to be a child’s bedroom.

 

*****

 

Belle hummed, picking up the doll lying abandoned in the furnace room. She dusted soot off of it and chuckled. “Wow, this doll looks just like Xander, don’t it?”

 

Alma giggled, nodding. “That’s amazing! Can I have it?” She held a hand out, and Belle chuckled as she handed it over. “Sure thing. I bet Xander would love to see it.”

 

They headed back for the landing.

 

*****

 

Xander scowled softly as he turned and walked back through the door that had been the elevator. They were in some sort of observatory, it seemed. He could see a treehouse outside the far window, but what drew his attention was the pair of dolls sitting on a seat.

 

Aori walked over to lift them and tilted her head. “Odd. They look like Belle and Jared.”

 

Xander shook his head. “That’s just too weird. We should leave them alone.”

 

“But they might want to see them.” Her voice was pleading, and Xander couldn’t say no. He took one of the dolls, stuffing it into his jacket pocket. “Okay, let’s keep looking for clues.”

 

*****

 

Jared took a few minutes to examine the dollhouse against one wall, noting the doll inside and pausing. The resemblance was uncanny, but he shook it off as he made his way over to the large writing desk, upon which sat a book.

 

He flipped it open and began to read.

 

Diary: The days get lonelier and lonelier. Mother and father have confined me solely to my room, and I can feel myself grow sicker with each passing night.

 

Diary: I can hear them outside, playing. It pains me that I cannot join them. Nothing would comfort me more than to be outdoors enjoying the sunshine and the games they play.

 

Diary: Father suffered an accident today. It is just mother and I.

 

Diary: Mother is gone.

 

Diary: It is just me in this big, empty home. Despite my parents’ passing, my strength has began to wax. I feel well-rested, as though their passing has freed my spirit and allowed me to revive.

Diary: I think I need to make some friends. It has been so dreadfully long.

 

His terror rose with each word he read. As he finished the last entry, he pushed away from the desk and rushed over to pick the doll out of the dollhouse. A familiar face smiled up at him, and he gripped the figure of the girl tightly.

 

With a curse, he turned and ran from the room. He had to warn the others.

 

*****

 

Xander sighed as he and Aori made their way down the stairs to the main floor. A door opened, and Belle stepped out with Alma in tow. The girl was holding a doll like the ones he and Aori had found upstairs. He paused as he noted that this one looked like him.

 

“Um . . .”

 

At that instant, Jared came running down the main hallway, panicked. “Get away from her!” the silver-haired boy shouted. “Get away!”

 

“Jared, what--” Xander was cut off as Jared’s foot caught on the carpet. The older guy tripped, sprawling hard. A fourth doll flew from his hand, to land at Aori’s feet. The youngest member of the group knelt to pick it up carefully, humming.

 

“This one looks like Alma,” she commented. Jared got to his feet, wincing.

 

“That’s right, but Alma isn’t real.” He turned to glare at the white-haired girl, who seemed very confused. “I found your room! I found your diary!”

 

“What--”

 

“Calm down, Jared,” Belle growled, stepping forward. “Yer talkin’ crazy.”

 

“I found that doll in the dollhouse! Alma is a traitor--”

 

“No,” Belle said coldly. “Alma has been traveling with me for months, she couldn’t be a ghost.”

 

Alma nodded. “It’s true. I--”

 

Jared finally noticed the other dolls, and his blood ran cold. “I get it. Xander, Aori, get back! Alma got Belle. She’s controlling her with that doll, somehow!”

 

Aori giggled. “So close, and yet . . .” She turned the Alma doll out, and smirked. White light shimmered around the doll, then reached out to engulf the other girl. There was a brief cry of pain, and then the light faded. Alma, still holding the Xander doll, staggered towards Aori.

 

“Wh-what . . .” Jared had no idea what to say or do. As Alma handed Aori the doll, it clicked. “Xander, run!” But it was too late. The ghost had grabbed the likeness of Xander, and purple light engulfed him.

 

Seeing the doll with his face, Jared lunged, smacking it out of Xander’s hand. As it hit, he felt a brief twinge of pain, but he ignored it. Scooping up the figure of himself, he ran for the elevator. Aori growled. “Xander, go after him! Get that doll!”

 

“Alright.” Xander took off, but he wasn’t nearly as quick as Jared. As he gave chase, Aori turned to a confused Belle.

 

“Now, you’re going to be my friend, too.” She held the Belle doll out, and blue light infused them. Belle nodded.

 

“‘Course I’m yer friend.”

 

“Good! Now, I need to go set the dolls in the dollhouse. We have to get Jared before he finds the doll that looks like me.”

 

“Awright, Aori. Let’s go.” The three girls started walking.

 

*****

 

Jared hit the elevator button, heedless of where it would take him. For now, he just needed to escape Aori and the others. He knew what he needed to do. He had to destroy the dollset. But something was telling him that he had to destroy all of it. Starting with Aori.

 

He had an idea where to start looking. If Aori’s parents had somehow been containing the girl’s spirit, then the doll would likely be in the master bedroom.

 

He just had no clue where that was.

 

He stepped out onto the upper landing and continued his exploration of the house.

 

*****

 

“Upstairs, hmm?” Aori tilted her head. “Ah, right, the elevator. Xander!”

 

“Yes, Aori?” the boy asked, smiling.

 

“I want you to play guard! If Jared comes down here, you have to stop him, alright?”

 

“Sure, sounds fun!” He leaned against the wall, smiling.

 

“Belle, Alma!”

 

“Yes?” they chorused.

 

“We’re going to go play hide and seek with Jared.”

 

“Sounds like fun!” the two said. Aori grinned.

 

“Let’s go upstairs!”

 

“Yes, Aori.”

 

They turned and walked down the hallway.

 

*****

 

Jared had gotten lucky. The fourth door from the upper landing led him into the bedroom. There, in the corner, was a dollhouse. He walked over and found Aori’s doll sitting in the child’s bedroom downstairs. Perfect.

 

He grabbed the doll, and a wail ripped through the room. He clutched at his ears and spun. Standing there was a ghostly image, a man with his neck bent at a painful angle and a woman with a slashed throat.

 

He nodded. “I’ll avenge you,” he whispered as he walked back out onto the landing.

 

Right into Belle. Physically, she was the only one who could match him in a fight. He had no doubt that she would be tough to take down.

 

That said, he realized that he could keep himself from being enslaved quite easily. Assuming he could evade Belle and the girls for a few minutes.

 

Belle swung at him, a wide haymaker. He ducked, spinning to get past her. He saw something move out of the corner of his eye and unleashed a kick. He heard Alma cry out as she hit the wall, but he had no time nor inclination to check on her at present. He hopped into the elevator and slammed the button.

 

*****

 

“Curse that elevator,” Aori grumbled. “He’s in the basement! Go!”

 

Belle took off downstairs, Alma in tow.

 

*****

 

He stepped out into some strange room with a pentagram in the middle. The perfect place to make a sacrifice. He stepped into the middle and set down the two dolls. Raising his knife, he brought it down hard onto the chest of the Jared doll. Pain ripped through him. The world spun, went dark.

 

He came to a few minutes later, his knife abandoned in a pile of ash. One doll down.

 

But this wasn’t the place to destroy Aori. No, for that he would have to travel into the belly of the beast.

 

*****

 

Aori cursed. “He’s destroyed his doll! Belle, Alma, we’re going to go play with Xander!”

 

“That should be fun,” they chorused.

 

That would probably get old eventually. Aori led them back to her room, where Xander was still standing guard.

 

If Jared wanted to destroy her, he’d have a tough time doing so.

 

*****

 

He made his way through the house, pausing just outside of the collapsed room. No doubt the others were waiting for him in the bedroom.

 

He fingered the knife in his belt. On the one hand, he didn’t want to kill them. On the other hand, he didn’t want to die.

 

Grimly, he stepped through and hopped to the door. He pushed in, and glared at the four people inside.

 

Aori smirked a bit. “Game over, Jared. Stop running and accept that we’ve won.”

 

“No.” He threw the knife. It likely wouldn’t kill Aori, but it would definitely disrupt her for a few seconds. Sure enough, as it hit her head, her form seemed to scatter, dissipate. She screamed, and Alma rushed forward, axe raised.

 

Jared gasped, turning to the side as the axe came down. It passed within inches of his face. Using his momentum from the turn, he came all the way around, kicking Alma in the head for the second time that night.

 

The girl slumped, unconscious. The axe clattered to the ground. As Jared scooped it up, Belle stepped forward. A gun was in her hand, pointed directly at him.

 

That sucked. Jared roared, diving forward to tackle the woman. The two wrestled briefly for the gun, but Jared’s struggles ceased as pain flared through his back. He turned his head to see what had struck him and gurgled a bit. Xander stood there, hands holding the axe buried in Jared’s shoulder blade.

 

The silver-haired teen collapsed, gasping. Aori giggled as she reformed. “Excellent! Now I’ll have friends forever!”

 

Jared groaned, hand clutching at his pocket. “No . . .” he mumbled, vision hazy.

 

Aori was talking happily to Xander and Belle, who were paying her rapt attention.

 

He had one last chance. He fumbled the doll from his pocket, grabbed its body in one hand and its head in the other. Aori turned to look at him, surprise etched on her face as, with the last of his strength, Jared ripped the doll in two.

 

A scream pierced the air, and the girl vanished with a flash of light. The others blinked, seeming to come out of a daze. Xander knelt, tossing the axe aside to press down on Jared’s wound. “I’m so sorry, I don’t--”

 

“Don’t worry about it.”Jared staggered to his feet, groaning. “Belle, grab Alma. Let’s get out of here.

 

*****

 

Nobody knows what exactly happened all those years ago, but the house on the hill has stood abandoned ever since.

 

When four kids seemed intent on exploring the mystery, the locals tried to warn them away, but were brushed off as superstitious. The group made their way up to the house.

 

They came out the next morning, worse for the wear. As the door slammed, they weren’t aware of a small flame starting in the basement. By the next day, the house had burned to a cinder.

 

Whatever malevolent spirit had resided there was gone for good.

Edited by MELON LORD
  • Upvote 1

"So Alku, happy 'was that a firecracker or shotgun?' day!"

"Hard mode: I'm in the south."

 

"Planning was never Zac Blazer's forte." - Blade, mastering the art of the understatement.

 

"We'll have to change the initials of the RPG from RotR to PTSD." - Me, discussing Rise of the Rockets.

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Acedia
 

A bright hill. A full mansion. A bustling party. A grand hall. A roaring fireplace. An innocuous occasion. A great host. A mighty king. A fearless conqueror. A confident smile. A sharp suit. Fire in flesh.
 
A day of celebration. An eager crowd. An emperor's toast. A ring of glass. A sip of champagne. A joyful feeling. A hero's welcome.
 
A drop of rain. An opened door. An unlucky servant. A short man. A weak man. A sweaty palm. A fateful piece of paper. A light tap. A slight turn. A warm face. A terrified face. A message delivered. A casual thanks. A running servant. A cowardly man.
 
A quick glance. An eternal stare.
 
A simple message.
 
A simple horrible message.
 
An untimely accident. A mistake. A culpritless crime. An explosion. A great fire. A wife and child. His queen and prince. A confirmed report.
 
An eternity. An unmoving body. A word of concern. A worried shake. An empty expression.
 
A loud fire. A crackling spark. A moment of anger. A bucket grabbed. A torrent thrown. A fireplace quenched. Six Poke Balls thrown out a window. Six dear friends dismissed. Six refusals. One demand. One final fire.
 
A canceled party. A confused crowd. A great dispersal. A gray hill. A quiet house.
 
An open window. Scattered rain. A reflective man. An empty heart. A pointless empire. A grieving husband. A mourning father.
 

 
A rainy dawn. A beautiful chair. An unmoving body. A breakfast uneaten. A pill rejected. An empty glass of scotch. A worried servant.
 
An unaswered phone. A conversation refused. A visit denied. A friend's plea. A comrade's begging. An emperor's order. A dejected departure.
 

 
A month passed. A funeral missed. An unpaid salary. A resignation letter. An unstaffed house. An overgrown yard. A damp fireplace. A dead fireplace.
 
A stagnated nation. An undesired decision. A title stripped. An empire salvaged. A king abandoned. 
 
A messenger dispatched. A door unanswered. A letter left. An unreceived message.
 
A sickness took. A weak body. An unwilling heart. A dying fire.

 

 
A second month. A great flood. An isolated hill. A solitary house.
 
A sickness deepened. An emaciated body. A putrid smell. A feeble frame. An empty bottle of pills. A lonely man. A tired man. A wishing man. A final spark.
 
A faint spector. A hallucination. A dream. A hope. A prayer answered. An addled brain. A light on his face.
 
Three ghosts.
 
Three familiar faces.
 
Three sets of longing eyes
 
A whole family.
 
A gentle smile. A longing call. An outstretched arm.
 
A smile returned. A call responded. An arm clasped.
 
A reunited family.
 
A final drop A last flame extinguished. A storm quieted.

 

 
A delayed rescue team. A flooded level. A collapsed staircase. An uneasy foundation. A task impeded. A task far too long delayed. A failure reported. Two grieving comrades. A mourning group of six.
 

 
For a long time after. A dusty chair. A rotten suit. A sitting skeleton. A rusted fireplace. A dark hill. An empty house.

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  • 2 weeks later...
Patient Interview: 'Lily'

 

 

[Date: November 27th, 2015]

[Time: 1:52 AM]

[Room ID: Seashell]

[interviewee: 'Lily']

[interviewer: Archivist Booker Samir]

 

{Archives Note: The proceeding recording was composed following the discovery, pick-up, and transportation of Subject 'Lily' to Team Liberty's Alamo base. Subject was initially discovered conscious but unresponsive by Field Agents Anders Wayward and Monica Lynch at 8231 Marsh Street, Petalbug, Hoenn during a midnight reconnaissance of a suspected Team Rocket outpost on November 25th, 2015. Upon arrival, the hilltop outpost appeared to have been abandoned for some time, overgrown with ivy and moss and clearly damaged from environmental effects, despite earlier reports of movement that week. Subject 'Lily' was the only remaining entity on-site, unharmed yet clearly unwell.}

 

{Archives Note: At the time of this recording, Subject 'Lily' had been held under Team Liberty custody for approximately 49 hours. During that time, several physical and mental changes were noted. While subject eventually regained consciousness and was moved to the Seashell Room for investigation into her situation, subject noted intense discomfort from even the most basic of movements, including speaking and movement of the eyes. At 26 hours following subject's retrieval, subject's skin began to pick up a greenish tinge. Multiple markings and growths similar in shape and color to water lilies were noted to have appeared on subject's torso.}

 

[sound of Seashell Room's door creaking open, groaning as it shuts.] Good morning, ma'am. [Agent Booker Samir's voice speaks from a distance, growing louder as he approaches the table. A chair scrapes against the ground.]  

 

[A gasp at the noise.]

 

My apologies. [Agent Samir appears to lift the chair, moving it forward and taking a seat. It clinks against the ground.] You caused us a great deal of concern--we weren't sure if you were ever going to wake up.

 

[silence]

 

I'm sorry--you must be very confused right now. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Booker Samir; I'm an Archivist for Team Liberty's Information Documentation and Archival Sector. It is my job to interview and record notes regarding persons of interest to Team Liberty. Usually that just means getting an idea of who is working with us or for us, but sometimes we get someone more . . . unusual. Does that make sense?

 

[silence. Agent Samir's following response suggests a nod, or other form of acknowledgement.]

 

Great. [sound of paper shuffling] Well, with that being said, I should tell you--you've been out for about two days now. We are sitting in the Seashell Room of Team Liberty's prison district in the Alamo. It is currently November 27th, 2015. The time is currently 1:52 AM--you look confused.

 

[inaudible]

 

I'm sorry?

 

N . . . November . . . twen . . . ty . . . s-seventh . . .?

 

. . . Yes, it is currently November.

 

S-Sea . . . shell . . . [inaudible]

 

. . . [Note: Subject appears to be uncertain of time and place.] Right, ah . . . Let's start with something simple. Can you tell me your name?

 

M . . . my name . . .? [silence] L . . . Li . . . [sound of coughing]

 

'Li'? You're trying to speak your name, correct? [subject appears to nod] Is it . . . Lee? Lila? [scratching of pen on paper.] Lily--was that a nod? Here, drink some water, please. [silence, interrupted by a slight sloshing and gulping sound.] Lily? I thought so. [Note: Subject confirms via head nod that name is Lily.] Do you remember your last name, Lily?

 

N . . . no . . . [inaudible] I'm . . . L-Lily . . .

 

Just Lily, then . . . [Note: Run search of missing 'Lilys' in Petalburg area?] How old are you, Lily?

 

[inaudible]

 

I'll need you to speak up a bit, Lily. Do you remember your age?

 

I . . . I was . . . nine . . .

 

But you aren't nine now. When were you nine?

 

I . . . November . . . eleven . . .

 

November 11th? . . . November of 2011? 

 

[inferred nod]

 

That would make you thirteen years old now, Lily. Does that sound correct? [Pause; scratching of pen on paper.] Lily, thirteen years old . . . That gives us something to work with. [Pause] We found you in Petalburg, Lily. Does that sound familiar?

 

I . . . I do . . . don't know . . . [inaudible]

 

I'm sorry? I didn't quite catch that last part.

 

Where . . . where is she . . .?

 

She? Who are you talking about, Lily? Who is 'she'?

 

The . . . the director . . . She's [inaudible] . . . isn't she . . .?

 

There's no 'director' here, Lily. It's just us.

 

[sound of a chair crashing to the floor] DON'T LIE TO ME ANYMORE!

 

[buzzing sound, followed by the door creaking. Agent Samir's voice shifts in volume; he appears to have turned away.] You stay right there--I'm not in danger! [Agent Samir's voice returns to normal] Lily, I need you to calm down. No one here is lying to you. Please, sit back down.

 

[sounds of heavy breathing. Something drops to the floor.]

 

You can sit down there--I'll join you. Okay? [sounds of Agent Samir lifting his chair and moving it.] What are you worried that I'm lying to you about, Lily? 

 

[silence]

 

Please, tell me.

 

Th . . . the tests . . .

 

Tests?

 

They . . . test me . . . they do it . . . to test me . . .

 

The director? [Note: Director is negative figure related to Lily. Conducts 'tests'.] What does the director look like, Lily?

 

[inaudible] . . . see her face . . .

 

She's secretive. I understand. [Pause] Why does she test you, Lily?

 

. . . Th-they . . . want us . . . to win . . . [inaudible] be . . . powerful . . . smart . . .

 

What kinds of tests do they do to you?

 

[silence]

 

. . . What did they do to you, Lily?

 

. . . the knives . . . the . . . [inaudible] . . . My Petilil . . . my Petilil . . . ['Lily' begins sobbing] Momma . . . Momma . . .

 

[Agent Samir sighs.] Let's get you back to the hospital, Lily. I think you need rest . . . [Pause] I am so sorry for what happened to you.

 

{Archives Note: Approximately six hours after her interview with Agent Booker Samir, Subject 'Lily' passed away from complications related to the plantlike growths across her body. Coroner's report noted the cause of the green tinge to 'Lily's' skin as a pigment bearing a 93% match to Pokémon-produced chlorophyll and a 7% match to subject's own DNA, along with total transformation of 'Lily's' inner organs into a material similar to bark. It is with great unease that the coroner also noted that 'Lily's' final moments were likely spent in a great deal of agony.}

 

{Archives Note: A follow-up investigation into the hilltop outpost on November 30th revealed the remnants of a laboratory beneath the surface of the house. Data-mining of salvageable computers indicate that the lab remained in use until a catastrophic failure on November 25th at approximately 6:53 AM. Multiple corpses identified as Team Rocket Agents were found within the base and the surface structure, hidden by the sudden growths of ivy arising from that same day.]

 

{Archives Note: As of July 31st, 2017, no further subjects bearing similarities to 'Lily's' condition have appeared since subject's passing. Team Liberty is left with many questions as to the origin--and the potential danger of spread--of said condition.}

 

[End interview recording]

Edited by Parugi

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~ Rise of the Rockets (I II)/Discussion Topic/Side Stories ~

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Kit



"This looks like a nice spot. Lots of hills, some enchanting woods, a babbling brook. What do you think, Anna?"

"I think for a city boy, you really like the backwater country." Anna's laugh was not deterred by her fiancé's mock look of offense. Countless Volbeat and Illumise dotted the pastoral scene, their soft glow brightening the ever dimming twilight. Deciding he'd had enough teasing for the moment, Anna rested her head on Paul's shoulder and gave his hand a loving squeeze. "Oh, don't get me wrong; I think it's a wonderful spot for a romantic stroll. But if we're looking for a place to live, I think this is a little too isolated."

"Not too isolated for them." Paul pointed toward a house perched atop one of the many hills that marked the divide between Village Bridge and the neighboring Route 12. The aged wood undermined the Victorian architecture, rendering what must have been a very pristine structure several decades ago into a weary but nevertheless captivating relic of days long past.

"Oh, that's Old Lady Helga's house." Anna gave the structure a cursory glance as if it were merely an uninteresting speck on the beautiful landscape. Her tone suggested both familiarity and apathy, but it was the former that caught Paul's interest.

"Wait, you actually know her?" he asked.

"Everyone knows her." Anna shrugged, tossing her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder. "She's nice, I guess; always bakes pies for the village festivals, sometimes stands on street corners and plays odd tunes on her violin, likes to take in hurt Pokémon from the woods and nurse them back to health. Still, everyone in the village thinks she's a bit of a nutcase." Her eyes widened in mock horror as she lightly struck Paul's shoulder. "See, this is why I don't want to live out here. Everyone will think we're nutcases, too!"

Paul gave an amused chuckle. "So that must be it. They always said love makes you crazy. Guess that makes us the nuttiest cases out there." He leaned in for a kiss, which Anna emphatically denied on account of being called a nutcase before she playfully conceded.

The couple's moment of affection was interrupted by a terrifying shriek that echoed across the hills from the direction of Old Lady Helga's house. Paul and Anna stared at each other in shock before racing towards the old home.

Up close the house looked even drearier. Faded paint peeled off of the front porch in such a way that the paint seemed determined to take the gnarled wood with it. The entire structure seemed to creak under the strain of a light breeze. Paul gingerly rapped on the door, afraid the entryway might collapse at a single touch.

"Th-this doesn't feel right . . ." Anna clutched her fiancé's free arm, her face pale with fear. Her grip tightened at a cacophony of thumps and clatters that came from the second story.

"There's nothing to worry about; the old lady probably just fell down." If Paul were being honest with himself, he'd admit to being uneasy about this whole situation. But in the presence of his soon-to-be wife, he had to maintain an image of utmost confidence and all the manliness that came with his title of apprentice blacksmith. And so, heedless of the building's questionable structural integrity, he rapped louder on the door. "Ms. Helga?" he called out. "Are you alright?" There was a single thud, then silence.

"Paul, we should go get the authorities," Anna pleaded. "They'll know what to do."

Paul shook his head. "If she's had a heart attack, the authorities will be too late. You go get help; I'll make sure Old Helga's alright."

He didn't think it was possible, but Anna clutched his arm even tighter than before. His fear of permanently parting with his asphyxiated appendage was quelled only by the timid squeak of Anna's voice. "I can't let you go in there alone. I'm going with you."



***


Several Years Later . . .

"There aren't any houses out this way." Ellen picked up her long skirt to keep it from dragging through the mud puddles that dotted the grassy hills. "And Mommy's gonna get mad if I get my costume dirty."

"Relax; I know where I'm going." Ellen's companion, a young girl named Marie, turned around to give her friend a reassuring smile. The girl's blonde pigtails complimented her pointed cat ears far better than the rugged cat tail that dragged behind her gathering mud and leaves and general filth.

It was the girls' first year trick-or-treating on their own. In the past they had always stuck to their respective streets, dragging their parents from one house to the next in an enthusiastic expedition for candy. But Ellen and Marie's budding friendship as fellow homeschoolers, mixed with enticing reports of the bountiful supply of candy waiting to be claimed on the busier streets, led the girls to beg their parents to let them expand their route.

They finally came to an agreement: both families would get together for a Halloween party late in the afternoon, then the parents would stay home and watch movies deemed too scary for the kids while Ellen and Marie – donning the guises of a witch and a cat, respectively – would trick-or-treat to their hearts' content alongside their Pokémon. Of course, Ellen's mother added one condition. The family Herdier, Terry, would accompany the girls to make sure they stayed out of trouble and were back by curfew.

Ellen didn't mind Terry's involvement. His simple costume of bright red horns and a pointed tail turned him into the fluffiest and most adorable little hellhound to ever walk the streets of Village Bridge. Marie, on the other hand, saw their mandatory guardian from the underworld as an impediment to their sense of adventure. Nevertheless Marie refused to let Terry dampen her spirits, and so the merry little band of humans and Pokémon traipsed across the village, amassing all the candy they could muster.

Their grand scheme of stockpiling sweets was soon found to have a major flaw: there was no way their tiny trick-or-treat baskets could contain the countless confectionaries they collected. The ever dependable Marie quickly remedied this problem with what she promised Ellen would be an unforgettable adventure. So far, the only adventure Ellen found was the constant challenge of keeping her witch's skirt out of the mud.

Are you sure we're not lost? Solo floated a head length above Ellen, a height which gave him no fear of muddying the white sheet that made up his ghost costume. His telepathic words as usual were directed solely at Ellen. I don't think we've ever been this far out of Village Bridge.

"Of course we've been this far out before," Ellen said aloud. "Just not to this area. And Marie says she knows where she's going; I think we can trust her."

Most people would find Ellen's habit of speaking aloud to her Solosis confusing, but Marie had been around the pair long enough to know she was only hearing half a conversation. And it wasn't hard to guess the other half. She abruptly stopped and turned around. "Solo doesn't trust me, does he?" an exaggerated pout formed on her face. "Well if that's how he feels, then I guess Boo and I will just have to go on our adventure alone!" At the suggestion of leaving Solo behind, the tiny Gothita at Marie's feet began bawling. Streams of tears ran down her face, smearing the makeup of her harlequin costume.

H-hey, I never said I didn't trust you! Solo frantically tried to calm the weeping Boo. He floated down to her eye level and projected his thoughts directly at her. C'mon now, don't be like that. Of course I'm coming with you. After all, what's a Halloween ghost without his Boo? The Gothita wiped her tears, further smearing her makeup, and let out a soft giggle at Solo's change of heart.

"Looks like it's decided, then!" Marie's pout instantly flipped into a grin, and Ellen had to wonder if she had truly been pouting at all. "Perfect timing, too. The house is just over that hill!"

Sure enough, an old fashioned house came into view, resting atop one of the largest hills in the field. At a distance the house looked appropriately foreboding, but as they approached Ellen started to think the house wasn't just decorated extra spooky for Halloween. The splintered windows seemed to have been painted over with a thick layer of dust, the front garden was overgrown with weeds, and each gust of wind was accompanied by the baritone groan of rotting wood.

"Isn't it great?" Based on Marie's beaming smile, one might think she was looking at a pristine mansion or a majestic castle. "This place has been abandoned forever! People say it's haunted or something. What better setting for our grand Halloween adventure?"

A distant memory dredged itself up to the forefront of Ellen's mind. "I've heard about this place," she said in a whisper. "Mommy and Daddy told me never to come here. This is an evil place."

Marie laughed. "Come on, Ellen. A place can't be evil. And if we do come across any monsters inside, we've got Solo and Boo to protect us!" Terry gave a sharp bark. "And Terry, too."

"I don't know . . ."

"An abandoned place like this is just full of secrets waiting to be discovered." Marie walked up to the front door and beckoned Ellen to follow. "Don't be a scaredy cat!"

Says the girl dressed like a cat. Solo rolled his eyes, but followed Boo up the rickety porch. Terry whimpered in protest. Ellen hesitated for a moment, but when the others all disappeared inside she urged Terry to come along with her.

The inside of the house was just as unnerving as the exterior. Fragile cobwebs hung in every corner only to disintegrate at the lightest disturbance. Dust hung thick in the air. An open room to the left sat in a disheveled mess; broken shelves piled high and old books lay strewn across the floor. It looked like a Bouffalant had charged through. Solo and Boo clung to Marie's side, and Terry planted himself in front of Ellen to guard her from any danger.

Outside of the occasional creak of wind through the rafters, the house was completely silent, a relic frozen in time documenting whatever disaster had happened here. Ellen clutched her candy basket like a lifeline. "Can we go home now?" she asked in a small voice. "This place doesn't feel right."

"Don't you want to find out what happened here?" Marie was hardly deterred by the spooky atmosphere and walked over to investigate the former library. "Maybe these are spell books owned by some old witch."

Although her costume suggested otherwise, Ellen was not interested in learning the secrets of witchcraft. Swallowing her fear, she busied herself looking around the entryway and came across a broken end table by the staircase. Amidst the splintered wood and shattered glass, she saw what looked like a picture frame. She picked it up and turned it over to reveal a dusty, yellowed photograph of a remarkably old woman. Maybe it was the general atmosphere, or the monochrome of the photo, but something about the woman seemed sinister.

Underneath where the picture frame had rested sat a small wooden box with a latch and a crank. Curious, Ellen set the disturbing photograph aside and took the box in her hands. The moment she unlatched it, a haunting melody began to play.

A large book fell to the floor with a thud. "What's that noise?" Marie whirled around, then caught her breath when she saw the music box in Ellen's hands. "Oh, it's just you." Laughing off her fright, the girl walked over to her friend to investigate the find. "It's kind of creepy, isn't it?"

Ellen shrugged. "The music almost sounds sad. Like it's longing for something." She gingerly closed the box and slipped it into the folds of her costume. "Did you find anything interesting?"

"Not yet." Marie pursed her lip and walked over to a closed door. It was jammed shut. "Hey Ellen, a little help here?"

Solo couldn't help but laugh at Marie's determination to find a hidden treasure on par with the music box. A little jealous, isn't she? I wonder what dreadful secrets she hopes to find in the mysterious broom closet?

Ellen would have much rather left with the music box as their sole prize. But she could tell Marie wasn't about to let the expedition go unfinished. With the two girls working in tandem, they were able to pry the door open with a loud creak that echoed through the dusty halls. It wasn't a broom closet after all; steep stairs led down into the darkness of a dank basement. Boo timidly peeked over the edge of the first step.

"What do you think's down there?" Ellen whispered. As if in response, a guttural wail echoed from below, and a powerful draft forced its way up the steps, chilling the girls to the bone.



***


"Mrs. Helga?" Paul cautiously looked around the foyer. Tall bookcases lined a library room to the left, and a hallway to the right led to the kitchen. Sounds of movement came from the second story, and so Paul bravely moved toward the staircase with a terrified Anna in tow.

The moment Paul reached the bottom step, Anna let out a shriek. Startled, Paul turned around and found himself face to face with an elderly woman. She must have come from the kitchen, but Paul was surprised she had been able to move so stealthily hobbling on her cane. She spoke in a rasping yet hollow voice, eyeing the young couple with suspicion. "What are you doing here?"

Paul glanced at his fiancé, who had turned white as a sheet. He moved to position himself between her and the old woman. "Are you Mrs. Helga?" he asked warily.

The woman did not seem to have heard him. "What are you doing here?" she repeated.

"W-we were looking for you." Paul was starting to see why people called Old Helga a nutcase. Something about her was decidedly unnerving. "We heard a crash upstairs, and thought you had--" As if on cue, a hysterical moan echoed from somewhere above. "What do you have up there?" he demanded.

Instantly the woman's expression darkened and she took a threatening step toward the couple. "You shouldn't be here," she murmured, almost to herself. "Shouldn't be here . . . Shouldn't . . ."

Paul stumbled backward as the woman continued to move toward them. "We can get out of your hair, ma'am."

"Get out!" The woman yelled in a rasping voice. "Leave this place!" With inhuman speed, Old Lady Helga pounced forward and pushed Paul into the library. Her eyes seemed to sink into their sockets and her face distorted into something out of a nightmare. Tumbling to the floor, Paul continued to back away until he was pinned against a tall bookshelf.

"Leave him alone, you monster!" Anna brandished a heavy encyclopedia and tried to hit the clearly psychotic woman over the head. Helga turned at the last moment and Anna lost her balance, striking her fiancé instead.

"Get out!" Helga repeated, raising her cane to strike at the couple.

The bump on his head had put Paul in a daze. It was all Anna could do to move him out of the way of the old woman's attack. In desperation, she thrust all her weight against the side of the heavy bookshelf. Slowly, with the creak of aged wood, the shelf tipped over. The top corner of the shelf struck the wall before it toppled, sending hundreds of heavy tomes onto the old woman.

The books did not move. Anna brought a hand to her mouth and doubled over with the realization that she may have just killed the old woman. Her heart pounded against her ear eardrums. Paul, having recovered from his shock, wrapped a comforting arm around her. "It's over now," he whispered. "There's nothing to worry about."

A feeble plea echoed from somewhere upstairs. "Help me!"



***


The draft carried with it a horrible odor, like rotten eggs mixed with wet mold. The sound of labored breathing grew louder as a dark figure took shape at the bottom of the basement stairs. A sinister, hulking creature lumbered up the stairs, each thundering step threatening the house's structural integrity.

"Marie, we have to get out of here!" Ellen cried. She started to back away as Terry uttered a low growl at the creature. Marie did not move from the top of the stairs. Her skin was deathly pale. "Marie!" Every muscle in her body was screaming to get out, but Ellen forced herself to run back and grab her friend. Marie stood rooted to the ground. The creature slowly approached, jagged horns and sharp fangs becoming visible in the dim moonlight. Ellen used the only weapon she had, tossing her basket of prized candies at the monster. The creature roared, an unearthly, guttural scream, as hundreds of colored confections pelted its face.

Ellen managed to drag Marie to the front door. Escape was within reach, but her surge of hope was instantly extinguished when Solo brought a crucial detail to their attention. Has anybody seen Boo?

A clattering nose came from upstairs, and the Gothita's small, frightened cry echoed through the house. "Come on." Ellen dragged a protesting Marie up the stairs. "We have to save Boo!" She didn't dare look back at the creature her as she raced up the stairs, not even when its primordial roar shook the entire house, causing lights to flicker all around them. They would have precious little time before the creature followed them.

Ellen didn't think anything could be more disturbing than the grotesque monster downstairs. Then she saw the room Boo had found. Like all the other rooms this one looked like a disaster zone, but the wreckage was recognizable as an infant child's bedroom. The splintered remains of a crib lay piled in a corner, and an elaborate array of colored baubles dangled from the ceiling gathering dust and cobwebs. The sky blue walls were speckled with the dim brown of dried blood, the same ugly color that stained the carpet around a horribly disfigured human skeleton.

Boo stood transfixed in horror, and were it not for the monster stomping up the stairs behind them, Ellen, Marie and Solo would have done the same. "What do you think happened here?" Ellen asked, hardly daring to speak above a whisper.

The lights around them began to flicker in a disorienting manner, and for once in her life Marie lost her boundless curiosity. "The same thing that'll happen to us if we don't get out of here!" she cried as she scooped up the little Gothita in her arms and turned to run out the door.

The snarling creature stood in her path, its bulging muscles threatening to tear the doorframe asunder. With a mental cry of desperation Solo unleashed a blast of psychic energy on the creature, but it had no effect. Terry planted himself in front of the girls and started barking. The creature eyed the Herdier like a bug to be squashed, and a powerful swing from the creature's sharp claws sent Terry scampering behind the very girls he had tried to defend. Boo started bawling, but Ellen knew her Fake Tears were anything but. They would soon join the unfortunate soul that had perished in this room long ago.

Frantically seeking a weapon, Marie grabbed a long chunk of the crib and wielded it like a sword. The aged wood crumbled when it met the creature's deadly claws. The terrified companions slowly backed further into the room.

There was nowhere left to run.
 

***


Paul and Anna would have loved for nothing more than to leave the crazy woman's house far behind. But neither of them could ignore the desperate plea for help. With a cautionary glance back at the motionless wreckage of the library, Anna gripped her fiancé's hand and led the way up the stairs.

The pleas were coming from the farthest room at the end of a narrow hallway. The floor leading down the hallway was littered with large splotches of blood. Each step Anna took was accompanied by another pulsating thump of her heart. She swallowed her fear and pushed the door open with a low creak.

"Old Lady Helga?" Anna gasped. The old woman lay writhing in a pool of blood. The rest of the room was in shambles: curtains were torn, toys littered the floor, and what looked like a crib lay in pieces in a corner.

"Anna, wait!" Paul cried. "It could be a trap." But the girl was already kneeling at the old woman's side.

"H-help me . . ." The woman's eyes rolled back into her head and it was clear that even the tiniest movement wracked her with intense pain. She reached out to grab onto Anna for support, but her grip was too weak. "Help . . ."

"But if you're Old Lady Helga . . ." Paul felt a clammy chill crawl down his spine, a tingly sensation that made every last one of his hairs stand on end. "Then who did we fight downstairs?"

"M-monster . . ." The old woman brought a hand to her head, thrashing about in a pain that seemed to be more than just physical. "That thing is . . . a monster . . . !"

"Just hang on, Helga. You're going to be alright." Anna desperately tried to stop the bleeding, but the sight of so much blood made her sick. "Paul, call a doctor or something! She needs help!"

"Tried to . . . kill it . . ." The woman muttered to herself. Her strength seemed to be fading rapidly; her hand wavered at her side before delving into her pocket and producing a small wooden box. "Kit . . ." She pressed the box into Anna's hands. "Give this to . . . Kit . . ." Her hand slipped back to the floor, and Old Lady Helga breathed her last.

Anna hardly dared to breathe. Her hands were covered in the old woman's blood and tears were running down her face. Still trying to process everything, she shakily opened the box. A haunting melody filled the room like an elegy for poor woman.

"Quiet!" Paul snatched the box out of Anna's hands and snapped it shut. "You hear that?" Something scampered down the stairs, making padded footsteps on the hard wood. "We're not alone."

Holding out an arm to protect Anna, Paul carefully led the way out into the hall. The splotches of blood that had decorated the floor now adorned the stairs, glistening in the pale moonlight. They followed the trail to an open door that led down into the basement. Whatever waited down in the darkness, its labored breaths made Paul freeze at the top of the rickety stairs.

"Maybe it's Kit," Anna suggested. She had reclaimed the music box and cradled it in her hands. "Whoever that is."

The breathing stopped. Silence filled the musty air. Paul took a cautious step forward, and a high-pitched wail blasted his ear drums. The staircase seemed to warp and undulate, as if the very fabric of reality was being twisted around. Paul had to clutch the railing to keep from losing his balance in the sudden vertigo. A terrible pain wracked his head. His senses were pummeled by a cacophony of horror, too rapid to fully process – the stench of blood, the glint of a knife, the rustle of a forest, a familiar tune, screams, pain, falling, falling, falling . . .

Anna dragged her fiancé up the staircase, fighting her own disorientation. They stumbled back into the hallway of the ground floor, crashing into a table. The moment they were free from whatever sinister force had possessed their minds, Paul kicked the basement door shut.

The entire house seemed to rattle, walls bulging in and out, and the disturbing images from the basement forced their way back into their minds. "I don't know what sort of demon is down there," Paul gasped. "But we are not going to find out!" He grabbed the music box from Anna and hurled it at the wall. "This house is evil!"

The disorientation was starting to grow worse. The wind howled, the front door throbbed, and both Paul and Anna felt like their heads were getting trampled by a herd of Bouffalant. Amidst the flickering lights and high pitched wail, they stumbled toward the door.

The night air felt cold and clammy after the stuffy house. The terrible scream still echoed in their heads as they scrambled across the dark hills. It wasn't until the warm street lights of Village Bridge came into view that Paul and Anna regained control of their senses.

Once the wave of adrenaline passed, Anna broke down into tears. "Wh-what was that thing?"

"I don't know." Paul held his fiancé in his arms as much for his own comfort as for hers. "We're going straight to the police. We'll tell them everything. And they will know what to do. They can handle it. It's okay, Anna. That thing, whatever it is, it can't get us out here."

Anna looked up at him fearfully. "We don't know that."



***


Ellen was starting to regret her choice in costume. The long and dragging witch's skirt made it exceedingly difficult to move quickly, and as she neared the back window of the room she tripped over the folds of the ragged cloth. With a scream of terror, Ellen raised her arms in a vain attempt to defend herself from the inevitable end.

Terry took charge and sunk his fangs into the creature. The once-threatening roar turned into a pitiful yelp of pain. Fresh blood pooled on the ground as the creature writhed on the floor, its form starting to shimmer in the flickering light. Ellen shut her eyes against the horrible sight.

That was when she noticed the song. From somewhere far away, barely audible over the pounding of her own heart, a faint melody played. Ellen nervously opened her eyes and saw that the music box had tumbled out of her pocket and opened up. Haunting music poured forth, filling the long-silent room with its tintinnabulating lament.

A high-pitched wail harmonized with the music. Before Ellen's eyes, the hulking creature shrunk into a thin and ragged black-furred fox. It curled into a fetal position, its blood-red mane hiding what Ellen suspected to be tears. Terry slowly backed away, silently beckoning the girls to follow him out of the room.

Marie and Ellen glanced at each other, hardly daring to breathe. This was their chance to escape, but they feared any sudden movement would disturb the moaning creature. The memory of the ferocious monster that had chased them was all too fresh in their minds, but the sight of this pathetic creature struck something akin to pity in their hearts. Boo hesitantly waddled forward to offer a comforting hand to the creature.

The moment her tiny hand reached out and touched its matted fur, the creature looked up with a snarl. It eyed the frightened girls with a wary hiss. Terry responded with a warning bark. For a long moment the creature sat there poised as if to strike. Then it snatched up the music box and scampered out of the room.

The girls let out a collective sigh of relief. "We have to get out of here," Marie said in a weak voice.

Ellen nodded and cautiously made her way down the hall. The sound of the music box echoed through the house, growing dimmer and dimmer as the creature retreated back into the basement. Slowly, silently, Ellen tiptoed down the staircase. Terry crept by her side, Solo floating above, Marie and Boo following close behind.

"Now's our chance," Marie whispered, making a beeline for the front door.

"Wait." Slowly, delicately, as if in a trance, Ellen turned toward the faint music. She did not hesitate at the entrance to the basement but continued down the stairs, each step in time with the music box's gentle chimes.

"Ellen, no!" Marie grabbed her friend's arm, but Ellen shrugged her off. Terry barked frantically, but she ignored him, too.

Are you sure about this? Solo cried in a panic. I don't think we should be disturbing that thing!

Ellen was undeterred. As she crept down the stairs, her eyes slowly adjusted to the murky darkness. The basement was far more cluttered than any of the rooms up above, and yet it was also the most hospitable. It was clear the room had once been used for storage, but the many boxes that resided here had been discarded into a corner haphazardly. A large number of the boxes had been ripped to shreds, their remains piled next to the wall in the same fashion one might pile straw together to form a bed. The opposite corner was completely barren, save for the remains of a vulpine skeleton. A rusted knife sat next to the brittle bones, reflecting off the pale moonlight.

In the dead center of the room sat the creature, slowly rocking back and forth in time with the music. Ellen held her breath as she approached. The creature sensed her presence and turned its head, uttering a soft warning growl.

"I'm not here to hurt you," Ellen whispered. "You lost someone, didn't you?" She looked over at the skeleton in the corner. "Were they your family?"

The creature hissed and drew closer. Its eyes narrowed at the young, frightened girl. What did she know of loss? What did she know of pain? She had lived a perfectly happy little life, free from the horrors the creature had endured. She knew nothing of its plight, and yet she had the gall to show the creature pity.

Ellen inhaled sharply and stepped back against the wall, sensing the creature's anger. "I can't say I know how you feel," she said, tears welling up in her eyes. "But I really am sorry. No one should have to live like this."

The creature continued to peer at the girl, its head tilted in dark contemplation. It could make her suffer. It could show her how it felt. But what good would that do? She seemed to understand, at least in part. The creature towered over her, giving Ellen a good look at its frail, bony body -- a stark contrast to the burly illusion that had chased them up the stairs. It extended a bony hand, in which it held the music box.

Ellen stared up at the creature. "You . . . you want me to . . . ?" It nodded. Gingerly, delicately, Ellen cupped the music box in her hands. The creature gave her one last look, something that almost looked like a smile. Then it scampered up the stairs, heedless of Marie's screams and Terry's barks as it bolted out the door.

What was that all about? Solo cried. I thought it was going to eat you! And then it was going to eat me!

Ellen closed the music box and slowly made her way up out of the basement. She stood at the front door, looking out onto the hills that surrounded the silent house. There was no sign of the creature. It had finally moved on.
 

***


The Village Bridge Police Department – if you could even call their small, run-down building and force of four cops a department – was not used to dealing with anything out of the ordinary. Every now and then someone would report a Glameow that had gotten stuck in a tree or some bratty teenager would decide to graffiti the town's famous bridge. The most exciting thing that ever happened was the time a rowdy tourist started a brawl in the streets. The big crimes tended to stay in the big cities, which allowed the brave men of VBPD to enjoy their long nights of donuts and solitaire in peace.

And so when a young couple barged into the station one night shouting about Old Lady Helga's house being haunted, Officer Parry's first instinct was to dismiss the case as the mad ramblings of a couple that'd had a little too much to drink. They insisted the old woman had been murdered, and so Parry begrudgingly told them he'd look into it.

The next day he sent Officer Bates to investigate the old woman's house. Bates came back emptyhanded, offering some wild story about something messing with his mind when he got close to the house. And so with much irritation Parry pulled himself away from his daily crossword puzzle and headed off to investigate the house himself.

He never found the house. The spot where Old Lady Helga should have lived was as empty as the hills around it. Parry would have checked the site further, but he suddenly felt dizzy – all those hills must have been more tiring than he'd realized. Pining for the days of his more athletic youth, Officer Parry made his way back to the station.

The official report said Old Lady Helga died in her sleep. No one had actually confirmed she was dead, but Helga herself never came around to rebuke the story and that was good enough for Parry. Every now and then someone would report strange happenings around the abandoned house. Frightful screams, fleeting shadows, everything the site needed to gain a reputation for being haunted. Officer Parry dismissed every last one of those reports as made-up ghost stories or hallucinations. After all, he knew for a fact the house did not exist. So how could it be haunted?

Several years later, on a chilly November morning, a woman came into the station, her face deathly pale. She introduced herself as Anna Burks, the same woman who had initially reported Helga's death all those years ago. She claimed her daughter had been to the house and had nearly died at the hands of the monster that lived there.

"Sounds like a story for the tabloids." Parry turned back to his newspaper, waving a dismissive hand at the woman. Anna snatched the paper out of his hand and slammed an old wooden box on his desk.

"Open it," she demanded. "I think you'll find all the answers you need in there."

Parry grumbled something about this woman being just as batty as Helga had been, but nevertheless he opened the box. A haunting melody filled the room as the cylindrical music wheel slowly spun, its scattered pins plucking on the tuned metal teeth in perfect harmony. Parry was about to shut the box and hand it back to its clearly delusional owner, but Anna insisted he wait.

The song ended, but the music wheel continued to spin. Then a small inscription rolled into view, a mere four words carved in delicate, flowing handwriting. Parry barely had time to read them before they scrolled out of view.


For my Zorua, Kit

Konuju: Kopaka and Nuju meet the Spear of Fusion

 

Quotes from throughout the years:

 

2001: "Your past is forgotten, and your future is an empty book. You must find your own destiny, my brave adventurer." --Nokama

2002: "Mata Nui faces perhaps its greatest challenge -- one that will test our courage, our strength, and our belief in each other." --Tahu

2003: "So... it has begun, my brother. But soon, it will also end..." --Makuta

2004: "Your journey must end." "By the will of the Great Spirit, it has just begun!" --Makuta and Vakama

2005: "Our destinies are not written in stone, set in place. They are something we have to find for ourselves." --Vakama

2006: "Don't you realize you're fighting for a lost cause?" "Maybe. But don't you realize those are the only ones worth fighting for?" --Axonn and Brutaka

2007: "Sometimes a hero has to do something else besides beat the villains and come home covered in glory." --Hahli

2008: "Dive into the darkness, Ignite the flame within. Now, there is no turning back. Make the future... begin." --Narrator, The Final Battle Animation

2009: "It is said that all endings are merely beginnings waiting to be born." --Mata Nui

2010: "All journeys must come to an end, but this time, there is a new beginning as well. ... All that has gone before, my friends, has only served to give birth to this new day. Let unity, duty and destiny be your guides." --Mata Nui

2011: "Not dead. Just frozen. They’ll thaw out … eventually. I’m tired of villains spouting gibberish." --Kopaka

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Lingering Will


October 31st, 2012

A vintage gold Ferrarthorni climbed the winding mountain road atop which the manor sat. Behind it, a carefully precise three car lengths back, a sleek modern Charjla followed, matching its lead turn for turn. Neither driver seemed to be in any particular haste, and yet neither were they unassociated, their formation distant yet rigid. Before them rose the manor of Obadiah Valdari, a sprawling estate tucked away in the west-facing valley between two snow-capped peaks. The northernmost reaches of Kalos were known for their seemingly ageless climes, with Dendemille to the south and the routes just west keyed to an atmosphere of autumn that faded into neverending winter to the north and east, but the Valdari estate somehow managed to maintain an impossible ideal of cozy comfort beneath the sheltering shoulder of the mountain range, a bubble of timeless beauty caught between winter above and fall below.

It was, in fact, quite beautiful, a picture-perfect view--which meant, to the mind of Lionel Zyther, that it was undoubtedly a ruse. He left his butler to the details of driving the meandering blacktop, his own attention seeking the inevitable clouds of Castform the affluent Collector had no doubt imported to manage the estate's pristine facade. A glimpse of the Ferrarthorni in front of them, however, gave him pause.

An empire built atop the world's most advanced technological prowess, the power and influence of a king, and all the worldly wealth a man could ask...and yet the mind of a woman remains beyond me. The technology tycoon shook his head ruefully. While he hadn't yet caused irreparable damage to his holdings, his wife's unexpected behavior had thrown him, his distraction and bewilderment costing him several expensive opportunities in recent months. He had yet to understand why she was avoiding him, but perhaps the upcoming gathering would offer him a chance at reconciliation, or at the very least a clue.

Of course, that was not his sole motivation. Lionel Zyther was not the sort of man to embark on a potentially futile venture, and tonight was no exception. He had business to attend to, and if he could not find success in one field, he would try another, and another, and another. He had not achieved his status through idleness, and he was not about to take up the habit.

A large pair of wrought iron gates, the sole entry point into the handsome brick wall surrounding the grounds, passed them by, the car rumbling slightly as it drove over cobble instead of asphalt. A short moment later, they stopped. "We've arrived, sir," the butler informed him, stepping out to open Lionel's door.

"Thank you, Chalmers."

"Of course, sir."

Lionel couldn't help but stare as his wife stepped out of the car in front of him. She'd always taken his breath away, and did tonight as well, but for once his quiet gasp was one of concern. Lila was a genius with regards to fashion, effortlessly adding playfulness and whimsy to her every outfit without robbing it of its formal dignity. On this night, the very eve of Halloween, he'd expected one of her masterpieces, whether a paneled blouse in Pumpkaboo pink or a wispy ribbon-bedecked dress in Mismagius maroon or a backless Lapras lazuli gown with a seafoam train. The year previous she'd assembled a marvelous ensemble evoking the appearance of her beloved Lilligant, though circumstances had conspired to prevent its public revelation.

Tonight she wore a simple red frock with a white skirt, a matching red hat-like headband completing the ensemble. It was simple, stylish--and completely unlike her.

Lionel hesitated but half a step, but it was enough for her to notice. Something sparkled in her eyes--surprise? sadness? something else?--but what he couldn't tell. Those pools of cool cobalt--they were what had first drawn him to her, the way she used them to speak for her when mere words were not enough. Now they were walled off, the windows to her soul shuttered to even the strongest of scrutiny.

Masking his disconcert, he stepped over to her side, offering her his arm with practiced familiarity. "Lila."

"Lionel."

She took his arm with identical comfort, but he knew his wife; the wall remained firmly between them despite the contact. He'd expected it, of course, but it did little to diminish his disappointment. Still, she seemed content to maintain their united front, and even that little spoke volumes. She doesn't hate me, he mentally considered, so at least we have that much.

It was a start.

* * * * *


The manor's entryway was the picture of eclectic opulence, a spiraling staircase at its center overshadowed by wall-hanging trophies and artifacts from far-flung regions, most of them simple but ancient. An array of half-height cabinets displayed a carefully-curated collection of tiki heads and other strange souvenirs, the upper half of the wall replaced by two frosted glass panes down which a waterfall flowed, broken only by the door into the kitchen beyond. At the base of the stairs lay a miniature Johtonian rock garden, here managed for aesthetic rather than tradition, with false bamboo rising to intertwine with the staircase struts; meanwhile, the right-hand wall seemed to be decorated primarily by antique firearms, though the space below was dominated by an ornate oil painting of the manor's present master. The eccentric style evidently continued well past just the entrance hall, as could be gathered from glimpses into the hallway on the right and the open-concept parlor to the left, but the primary element of interest was the entry hall's occupant.

"Lionel Zyther," a boisterous voice boomed. Obadiah Valdari filled the parlor entryway, his long, scruffy gray beard doing little to diminish the dignity of the fine Georgio Armaldo suit he wore. "Lila, good to see you as well."

"Val." Lila offered the bald businessman a polite smile and a dip of her head, though she allowed Lionel to engage his enthusiastic handshake. She took the opportunity to step quietly away from the two men, though their conversation followed her well into the hallway.

"Obadiah. I see you've been doing well for yourself. How is the weapons sector?"

"Lionel," Valdari chided with a false friendliness. "We all do what we must, and besides, Kanto is still on the map last I checked, so no harm no foul."

"Mm, yes, Rule of Acquisition Thirty-Four was it? Yes, that certainly seems like a solid foundation for sustainable business practices." The technology tycoon kept his tone polite, but pointedly laced with his disdain.

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Lionel."

"Neither does evasion."

"It's a bit early in the night, but all right, fine. Let's talk shop."

Lila had more pressing concerns than the two men's verbal pot-shots at each other. Now sure they were fully preoccupied, she increased her pace, putting further distance between her and the entryway as she searched for her true objective.
 

* * * * *


Lionel didn't like losing; in fact, there were few things he hated more. But even he could tell when he was being forced into a retreat. "I understand that, Obadiah, but I'm confident they'll rebound next quarter."

Obadiah shook his head. "You keep saying that, but the numbers disagree, and with the Unovans going back into shutdown again it throws a wrench into trans-oceanic distribution. Meanwhile, I've got supply chains and buyers across the continent, plus Hoenn, whereas you've got, what, some island off the wrong side of Sinnoh? If you're gonna talk sustainable that's really not it."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think the Unovan shutdown is going to drag the numbers nearly as badly as you think, and once I work out a deal with Alola--"

"Alola's inconsequential, you'll spend more getting in than you'll make in a decade of sales throughput and you know it. Face it, Lionel, you've done amazing things with Strange Science, but it's been almost three years since anything it's developed has been relevant. It's a relic, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm something of a collector."

"Yes, well..." Lionel countered, somewhat reluctantly. "If it's relics you're after, perhaps you'd be a bit more interested in this."

Like a magician conjuring a dove from thin air, Lonel withdrew from an inner pocket a small, cylindrical object with a spherical bulge, wrapped in a silk cloth. Carefully, making certain not to touch it directly, he unwrapped the artifact, revealing a reed-and-ceramic antique instantly recognizable to anyone familiar with Kalosian history.

Obadiah alternated looking between the Poké Flute and Lionel's face, expression wavering between suspicion and disbelief. "Lonel. You know I can't possibly afford this right now."

Lionel smiled thinly. "Yes, that's the idea. So, will you be paying with paper, or plastic?"
 

* * * * *


"I've got a feeling, whooo-hoo, that tonight's gonna be a good night..."

Lizbet Parfum grinned mischievously, singing loudly to the radio as she raced along the treacherous mountain roads. It had been far too long since she'd allowed herself this kind of luxury--or to be more accurate, since she'd been able to enjoy it. Over the years the various gatherings of the rich and famous had slowly but surely blurred together one into the next, each filled with the same faces, the same lines, the same food, the same civil facade. Even this gathering, with the recently-returned Obadiah Valdari reasserting himself after his long-lived leave in Unova, had promised little more than a single simple substitution. But now, with both her favorite person in the world and the mystery of some unknown scheme awaiting her? Her grin only grew wilder.

Oh yes. Tonight was going to be a good, good night.
 

* * * * *


Lionel watched Obadiah exit the parlor with no small amount of satisfaction. It was unfortunate he'd had to sell the flute, of course--a contingency meant as last resort rather than first--but with it, his present prospects were assured. More concerning, however, was the unexpected absence of his wife. He was just about to go looking for her when the sound of footsteps on the stairs drew his attention.

"Obadiah?" a woman's voice queried. "I'm so sorry, I got caught up with the outfit and...oh." She trailed off as she rounded the final curve to see Lionel waiting for her instead of Obadiah. She stared at him a few moments, mentally seeking the name to match his face. "I'm sorry, Mr....Zyther?"

Lionel, to his shame, could not manage the same feat--but in his defense, if they had previously met, he doubted she had worn her present attire. Her cocktail dress--red, to match her hair--bore a wide white stripe down the middle, intricately detailed with points and curves of some obscure design. A pink-and-red striped belt with heart-shaped metal end tips marked where the dress flared into a pleated skirt with a white trim, with a pair of matching red evening gloves and white-cuffed red boots completed the ensemble. The outfit was clearly a costume, or at least meant to evoke one, of the sort that Lila usually wore to her Halloween functions, though here the specific reference was lost on him. "I apologize, I know we've met but, I'm afraid I can't recall your name, Ms....?"

"Hikari. Cassandra Hikari, but please, call me Cassie. My husband introduced us at the Richard Lansatbarrie awards two years ago?"

"Two years...ah, the bone-synthesis prototype." Who was the runner-up that year? They were sponsored by a Unovan named Hikari... "Gerald's wife, then?"

Cassie nodded. "That's right. I don't think I had the chance to tell you, but I was very impressed by your presentation that night. One can only imagine how such a device could revolutionize the field once adapted to human medicine."

Lionel smirked wistfully, a quiet snort betraying his amusement. "Yes, well, it seems modern society prefers to break bones rather than healing them." He glanced around briefly before dropping into an exaggeratedly conspiratorial tone. "Don't tell our host, but I personally find modern society's priorities there a little skewed."

Cassie concealed a giggle behind her hand. "Such a shame. If I'd known a few years ago you needed financiers, Gerald and I would have..." The heiress sobered, but covered with a practiced smile. "Well. In any event, it's good to see there are still men of conscience left in the world."

The tech baron raised an eyebrow. "Conscience?" he scoffed. "Conscience has nothing to do with it. I merely find it short-sighted to risk destroying a world we ourselves have to live in. All the money in the world is of little consequence if there's nowhere left to spend it."

Cassie smiled softly, seemingly seeing something Lionel did not. "Pragmatism doesn't negate nobility, Mr. Zyther."

Lionel politely hummed his disagreement, but did not press the point. "My wife would likely agree with you in principle, though perhaps not on specifics. Speaking of which, I really ought to touch base with her, I don't suppose by any chance you've crossed paths tonight?"

"Your wife?"

"Lila. We attended the ceremony together, but it's possible she was otherwise occupied when we met; blue hair, blue eyes, treats everyone with a gardener's gentle touch?"

"Lila...Lila, as in Shabboneau?" Cassie seemed impressed.

"Before we married, yes. You knew her then?"

The heiress shook her head. "Only by reputation, I'm afraid. We seem to have a knack for adopting the same causes a year apart from one another."

"I see. Well, if you don't get the chance tonight, feel free to drop by the castle sometime. I'm sure the two of you would get along very well."

"I'll remember that, thank you. And if I see her tonight, I'll let her know you're looking for her."

"I appreciate it." Taking his cue to leave, Lionel retired to the parlor, pulling out his Holo Caster as he sat down. He sighed internally as his call went straight to voicemail, choosing to hang up rather than leave yet another unanswered message. She'll come around, he mentally assured himself. I just wish I knew what's come between us in the first place...
 

* * * * *


A black late-model Sawsbuick pulled up to the manor stairs, its driver parking uncaringly next to the marble fountain dominating the cobble courtyard. A woman in a stunning black dress stepped out of the driver's seat, her blonde shoulder-length curls bouncing in the breeze as she adjusted her outfit. The corners of her eyes crinkled with a false smile as she spotted the butler now exiting the manor's oversized garage.

"Chalmers, dear, how are you? I take it Lila is inside?"

"Indeed, milady. Shall I see you in?"

The woman waved him off. "That won't be necessary, thank you, but if you'd be ever so kind as to take care of my baby?" She glanced affectionately at her beloved Sawsbuick.

"...As you wish, Lady Parfum." The butler dutifully accepted the woman's valet key, politely waiting for her to step inside the manor before moving to park the vehicle.
 

* * * * *


Lila entered the study, the somewhat large room brightly-lit but eerily silent, empty save for a few elements of furniture and the shelves upon shelves of lonely literature. She might have shut the door and went on her way, but it was now clear the person she sought was not yet present, so it would do little harm to take a moment to herself. She did so enjoy reading, and yet the life of luxury seemed so oft infuriatingly separate from a life of leisure. Lila found herself drawn to a large red tome set prominently upon a central table, no doubt intended as a conversation piece more than for fine reading, but still an attractive piece nonetheless. She settled herself into a convenient armchair and began to peruse the piece.

The holiday we now call Halloween has been at times controversial, but now stands as among our most beloved, at least amongst the younger generations. Ghouls and goblins, once the source of abject fear to many among the populace, now stand endeared to the hearts of children and adults alike as heralds of the horror-filled holiday. Even Ghost-type Pokémon have enjoyed a resurgence of popularity, with favorites like Mismagius and Gourgeist garnering the mass envy of Trainers across the globe unable to obtain them.

Yet how much to they really know of the history of Halloween? Modern scholars have documented that the modern Halloween emerged as a combination of the religious holidays of All Saints' Day and All Souls' day with the ancient practice of Samhain, a liminal festival in which it was believed the barrier between life and death was weakened or in some cases lifted entirely. One ancient tradition holds that upon the sunset of October the thirty-first, the souls of the dead pass once more into the lands of the living, and may even be glimpsed by those who draw near to death....


The sound of a closing door jolted Lila from her studies. She glanced up, but the door to the room stood open, just as she'd found it. Clutching the tome to her chest, she crept toward the hallway. With instinctive silence, she stared back the way she'd came, seeing nothing but the dim glow of the electric sconces illuminating the space. She shivered, no longer finding solace in the silence, when a creaking noise broke the stillness of the gloom. She slowly turned 'round, and saw...

...nothing. A door, slightly further down the hall, stood ajar, blowing gently in a breeze of unknown origin. Despite herself, almost as if in a trance, Lila drifted nearer, opening the door and passing into the manor's garage. It was a spacious affair, meant for the storage of vehicles both personal and visiting--her own Ferrarthorni now sat near the far end next to a near-identical copy, the duplicate boasting only a broken mirror to differentiate itself. Curious, she drew closer to the cars, reaching out when--

"Leaving so soon?"

Lila started, nearly dropping the book she'd forgotten she was holding before clutching it once more to her chest. "Val!" she gasped out, struggling to get her breathing back in check, "You frightened me. I heard a noise, and though--was that you, then?"

Obadiah shook his head. "I thought I heard it as well. Chalmers, maybe?"

Lila nodded slowly. "Perhaps." It finally occurred to her how silly the situation seemed, and she relaxed her deathgrip on the tome she'd taken from the study. "I suppose I got myself worked up over nothing."

The collector smiled indulgently. "Nothing like a good book to overstimulate the imagination, especially on a night like this." He held out a hand, and an embarrassed Lila surrendered the tome to its owner. Valdari regarded the book as he would a child's plaything. "Ahh, Hilda Spellman. I bought a large number of her works under the mistaken impression she was a one-time Champion of Unova, only to later find I was thinking of a different Hilda with a much less...mystical bent. It's not exactly to my taste, but I suppose we all have our own superstitions."

Lila tried hard not to flush with shame. "She certainly sets an eerie tone. I was half-convinced she was right, that tonight had brought on a real haunting."

Obadiah let out a hearty laugh. "Her style is quite compelling, I'll give her that. Especially here, on a night like this. That's one reason I decided to host this little get-together. The place gets a little quiet, a little empty sometimes, it's nice to put a little life into it, even for just the evening."

Lila managed a nod. "It is a bit quiet out here." She started again as the garage door opened behind her, realizing only a second later that it was Chalmers dutifully taking care of a new arrival's vehicle. Unable to bring herself to meet Obadiah's eyes, she instead scanned the car and its occupants, surprised to see she recognized it. So she's here...

Obadiah smiled, graciously ignoring Lila's jitters. "It seems our final guest has arrived...I should go greet her properly. Care to join us?"

"Of course." Somewhat reluctantly, Lila allowed herself to be escorted back to the party. At the door she stopped, just for a second. Somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss...

"Lila?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing. The party, yes?" Pushing her way past Obadiah, she set her feelings aside, centering herself in preparation for the evening to come.
 

* * * * *


Allie Parfum was disgusted. Really? They think this is the proper way to treat a princess? Despite her disdain, it was not difficult for her to bite her tongue. She'd been chided to remain "seen but not heard" all her life, especially after that disaster with the young Gym Leader a few years ago. Yet to her utter irritation, in spite of her grudging obedience it seemed the rest of the world had failed to live up to their end of the adage. Those two, that buffoon Chalmers, even my own mother is ignoring me. Why did I even come here anyway? As the teenager considered the matter, she quietly left the car, letting herself wander aimlessly. Honestly, I don't know why Mother bothers with parties anymore. The old bloodlines are nearly dead, and she's stopped seeking my future suitors, so what's the point in dressing up for a bunch of lowborn businessmen when we could be perfectly comfortable at home?

As Allie pouted, she sulkily drifted into the next room over, a small room dominated by an overlarge desk, most likely an office of some description. The would-be princess frowned, sensing something. That feeling... She looked around, searching for whoever or whatever had attracted her attention. There's something here...something important...something...

Her gaze fell upon that which she sensed, and the girl's breath left her with a gasp.
 

* * * * *


"Hello, Ly."

Lionel looked up from his Holo Caster, his mood instantly soured. Tonight was not a night he wanted to deal with the Parfum matriarch. "Lizbet," he returned crisply.

"Now, Ly-ly," she pouted theatrically, "is that any way to talk to your dearest childhood friend? Why, one would think we were almost strangers!"

"Hello, Lizbet," he forced out. "What do you want?" When Lizbet merely arched an eyebrow at him, he sighed. "This hasn't been my best day, so unless you need something..."

Lizbet hit him lightly with her canelike umbrella before hanging it on a hook near the door. "I need you, but you seem intent on denying me, so I suppose I'll let it pass."

Lionel sighed. "This again? Liz, we were children. You were in love with the idea of a star-crossed romance with the handsome, bookish clerk straight out of one of your dime-store harlequin romance novels, and I was enamored with a pretty girl who actually deigned to speak with me. I'd think the harsh light of reality would have put things in perspective by now."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Never." She threw herself down melodramatically upon a chair next to his. "So. Where have you managed to hide that wife of yours this time? Or did you manage to leave her home to putter away in the dirt while we take the time to properly reacquaint ourselves?"

Lionel scowled at the woman, half-wondering if she somehow had something to do with Lila's uncharacteristic unhappiness. "You'd be a better judge of that than me, unfortunately. Lila seems to have made herself scarce tonight, but if you'd like to track her down for yourself, feel free to take on the task. I promise I won't mind."

Lizbet crossed her arms stubbornly. "You think it'll be that easy to be rid of me, do you?" She suddenly stood up, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Well fine then. Be that way. But mark my words, you'll regret not making time for me. We could have had such fun together, but nooooo, you had to be sour and grumpy as always. Your loss." With a dismissive twirl, she spun and marched for the other side of the manor, seemingly determined to wreak her unique brand of havoc somewhere else.

Lionel shook his head, mystified as always as to why a woman of her age and breeding chose to act in a manner more befitting her teenage daughter. He dismissed the train of thought. I've grown up. She hasn't. I suppose it's as unfortunately simple as that. Lionel frowned at the thought of the Parfum heiress-apparent. It had been quite some time since Lizbet had presented Allie at any of these functions, at least to his knowledge. He wondered what had happened, and where the girl was now...
 

* * * * *


The flute. That stupid, accursed flute.

The artifact was clutched in Allie's grasp before she even realized it. Once, she had treated it with the careless disdain of a child's plaything, recklessly wagering the rival family's heirloom for the sake of her unrequited affections toward an unwilling subject. She'd been such a child, and like any child in over her head, she'd lost, badly. Shamed, she'd surrendered her prize, but that shame had stayed with her ever since, overshadowing her every accomplishment until her whole live seemed meaningless and void in the face of her failure...and how, here it sat, returned to her hands once more--

Footsteps approaching from the hall. The lights were flickering like candles in a breeze--why hadn't she noticed that? Whoever was approaching had hesitated, then increased their pace, and now were nearly there--

She hid.

"Obadiah? Is everything all right?" Cassie Hikari opened the door and stepped into the room, straining to see in the dimness. Something was off, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it...

Allie ran.

Bolting next door, she slipped back into the garage, full of a child's irrational fear of getting caught. It was ridiculous, and yet it filled her, and the thought of such piled such anger atop it--

She stumbled into something, snapping it and sending it shattering onto the floor. A mirror--more specifically, a car's side-view mirror. Seven years' bad luck, her mind unhelpfully supplied. She snorted at the superstition and angrily swept the pieces aside, pacing to the front garage doors as she tried to calm herself. This is ridiculous. I took the flute and panicked, for no reason, and now I--

The door back into the manor opened.

Allie bolted into the night, abandoning her prize. She heard it fall to the flagstones and shatter, but she didn't care. She didn't want the stupid thing anymore, all she wanted was to go home...

She passed the gates and continued her flight.

* * * * *


"All I'm saying," Obadiah drawled, "is that if the government's going to give a license to any fool with a car, they need to accept my claiming the repair costs on my taxes every time some idiot takes off my mirror."

Lila's laughter rang through the hallway with the purity of a polished bell. "Or," she countered, "maybe it's time you use public transport like a responsible citizen and save the driving for special occasions."

"Oh, don't you dare give me that, Lils, you drive the same thing as I do, down to the paint even!"

"Like I said," she said smugly, "special occasions."

"To the paint!"

"I'd ask where my greeting was," a sultry voice cut in, "but I guess in retrospect it's obvious."

"Lizbet!" Obadiah greeted jovially, "Glad you could make it. Hey, how's your daughter, her name was, uh, what was it, Allie? How's Allie doing, huh? Been a while since I've seen her, must be nearly grown up by now."

Lizbet stiffened infinitesimally. "She's...fine." Her eyes drifted over to Obadiah's walking companion, who had gone unnaturally quiet.

"Oh, where are my manners, you know Lila, right Lizbet?"

If Lizbet had stilled before, she chilled now. "We're...familiar. Shabboneau."

"P-Parfum." Lila wilted as the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

Obadiah looked back and forth between the two women. "Well, I...guess I'm not needed here, then. Why don't I...go check on the refreshments, leave you two ladies two it." With one last unsure glance, the collector beat a hasty retreat.

Thump, thump, thump, thump...

The women stood in stony silence until the man's footsteps finally faded. They let it stretch just a second more...before shattering their frosty facade with a fond embrace.

"How are you doing, Liz? What with...I didn't realize he even remembered--"

Lizbet waved her off. "It's fine, I can take it. I came here for you, darling. I got your message, but it didn't say why you needed me." She studied Lila seriously. "Please tell me you were just lonely and wanted a talk?"

Lila bit her lip. "...I'm pregnant."

Lizbet's face lit with joy as she prepared to offer congratulations...that died on her lips at Lila's expression. "You haven't told Lionel."

Lila shook her head.

Lizbet stared at her friend askance. "Why? Lionel would love to be a father,he--wait. He is the father, right?"

"Lizbet!"

"Fine, fine, too much to hope for that I've been a good influence on you." The noblewoman laughed as Lila huffed indignantly. "So why haven't you told him? You and I both know he'd do anything for his child."

Lila nodded worriedly. "That's exactly the problem."

Lizbet frowned. "All right, I'm lost here, walk me through this?"

Lila sighed. "Val came back to Kalos a few months ago. When I found out I was expecting, it made me take a long, hard look, and..." She chewed her thumbnail nervously. "I love Lionel, but ever since Val popped up again he's been so, intense so driven, like he hasn't been since he first started buying up Lysandre's old properties. When I talked to him about it, he just said he wanted to provide for our family, to leave a strong legacy..."

Lizbet nodded in realization. "You're worried a child would just get swept up in that legacy, that he'd push them as hard as he's pushing himself."

She nodded. "Tell me I'm wrong, Lizbet? That I'm misjudging the man I married?"

The woman stared at her friend sadly. "Oh, Lila. I'm so sorry darling."

Lila tried to keep up a brave face. She failed, tears rolling down her cheeks as she started sniffling. Lizbet opened her arms, and a sobbing Lila collapsed into them for support.

"Oh, sweetheart, shh, it's going to be okay. Everything's going to work out for you, I promise."

"...really?"

"Of course, darling. You're far too dear to me to just leave things be. You have a bag packed?"

Lila stood, wiping the tears from her eyes, and nodded. "Just a few things, but..."

"Good. You're staying with me now, and I'll handle everything else."

"All right. A few nights to myself will--"

"A few nights? Oh, darling, no, you're staying until the baby comes and then some. I'll not let my favorite woman in the world wallow alone in misery. Besides, it'll be nice to have a child around the house again."

"Are you sure? What about Allie?"

Lizbet sighed. "My little angel will watch over the child like she's one of our own. Forget tradition, forget blood rivalry, you're family as far as I'm concerned and I'm sure she knows that."

Lila shifted from foot to foot. "Are you sure, Lila? I know this can't be easy--"

"Darling, please. Let me do this for you, all right?"

After some hesitation, Lila bit her lip and nodded.

"Good. Now, go get cleaned up, and let me handle the rest."

With Lila successfully shooed off to the nearest restroom, Lizbet withdrew a Luxury Ball from her purse. "All right, my friend...time to get to work."
 

* * * * *


Lionel resisted the sudden urge to throw his Holo Caster across the room as yet another message failed to produce a reply. The man massaged his temples as Chalmers unobtrusively entered the room.

"Everything all right, sir?"

"Yes. No." Lionel sighed. "I almost lost Strange, Lizbet's making passes at me, and Lila still isn't talking. You're sure she hasn't said anything to you?"

"I'm afraid she hasn't, sir. I know it's unusual behavior, but do you have any reason to believe this to be any more than a temporary inconvenience?"

Lionel shook his head. "No. But I can't shake the feeling that there's something going on, something I'm missing, some other party at play. I've got suspicions, but no way to back them up." The businessman pinched the bridge of his nose, his other hand reaching for a glass he'd forgotten to pour himself amidst his own brooding. "If she'd just talk to me, we could work it out...we've always worked things out, haven't we Chalmers?"

"Of course, sir."

"So why the silent treatment? Valdari is on the warpath, we can't afford to fracture our unified front, not now."

"Perhaps she feels she can draw Mr. Valdari out if he believes the two of you can be divided?"

"Fine, but that still doesn't excuse refusing to clue me in before she--wait. Why do you say...?"

"I saw her when I was pulling Mrs. Parfum's vehicle into the garage. She appeared guarded, but nonetheless allowed Mr. Valdari to escort her back inside the manor proper."

Lionel frowned. The interaction proposed any number of possibilities, few of them positive. "Chalmers," he hazarded, "could Obadiah have something on her? Something neither of us know about?"

"It's possible. He has known her even before I began my tenure of service to the family."

Lionel nodded grimly. He couldn't be sure, of course, but if it was true, his wife's silence might not even be by her own choice. He mentally chastized himself for prematurely playing his only trump card. "I need to find Valdari. Make sure Lila doesn't leave without me, all right? One way or another, we need to work this thing out."

Chalmers bowed in acknowledgment. "As you wish."

The two men parted ways, each moving toward his own mission.
 

* * * * *


"Remember," Lizbet warned the Pokémon, "sensors first, then the lines. Leave the shards in so they don't start leaking until after things are in motion. Now go." With a ghostly salute, the Haunter faded into invisibility, and Lizbet slipped the Luxury Ball back into her purse, confident her machinations wouldn't be--

"I hope you weren't talking about my car. Be a shame to find out you think so little of me."

A chill raced down Lizbet's spine. "Obadiah. You shouldn't sneak up on people like that, you're bound to hear things you don't--"

"Cut the act, Lizbet, what's your game here?"

Lizbet narrowed her eyes. "As I was saying, there are some thing you don't want to overhear. You're a smart man, Obadiah, surely you know a thing or two about...let's call it discretion?"

The Collector snorted. "Discretion? Call it what it is, Liz, it's plausible deniability, and it does me no good if I'm the one in the body bag. So I'm asking you again, nicely, who--"

"No one either of us will miss, all right?" she snapped. "I'd be a fool to say anything more, and you'd be a fool for asking. I've said too much as it is."

Obadiah smirked. "I'd say that's for sure. Tell you what, while we're on the subject of discretion, why don't you and I make a little arrangement, shall we? You seem to have a lot to lose, but there's also plenty to gain..."
 

* * * * *


"Now remember," Chalmers chided his Pokémon, "it's the gold one, the one without the broken mirror. Do you think you can handle that for me?" The Grimer gave a goopy nod, before sliding down the sink's drain.

Chalmers sighed, tucking the Pokémon's ball back into his pocket. Truth be told, this whole business was quite distasteful, but duty dictated his obedience despite the difficulty. He stepped out of the restroom--right into an unfamiliar red-haired woman. "Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry, Miss," he apologized automatically, a thrill of panic running through him as he considered whether or not the woman had heard his issued orders. "I do hope I haven't caused you any undue distress?"

The woman smiled and shook her head. "No, it's all right, I'm just...distracted." She frowned, mind still elsewhere.

"If you'll forgive my forwardness, ma'am, is there any manner in which I might provide assistance?"

The guest smiled once more, noting the butler's appearance for the first time. "No, but thank you for the offer." She tilted her head in consideration. "I'm sorry, I don't recall Obadiah having a butler...?"

"Of course, please, pardon my rudeness. Dornez Chalmers, at your service, ma'am, currently in the employ of the Zyther household."

"Ah," she said in understanding. "So you're Lionel's butler, then."

Chalmers nodded in confirmation. "I originally served as the Shabboneau family servant, but Lady Lila saw fit to retain me after her matrimony. I've remained with the Zythers ever since."

The woman instinctively offered her hand before remembering her manners and folding her hands together in front of her. "Cassie Hikari," she offered with a covering nod.

"A pleasure, ma'am. Should you require anything, please don't hesitate to ask."

Cassie once again considered Chalmers with a cocked head. "Actually...you wouldn't happen to have a butler cousin in Kanto, would you?"

"I'm afraid not, ma'am. I've a brother here in Kalos, but he went into politics. If we've any other surviving relatives, we were never made aware of them. Is it of importance?"

Cassie waved the butler off. "Oh, no, no, just curious, that's all. Thank you, Christo--er, Chalmers, that will be all."

"Of course, Ma'am." Accepting the dismissal, Chalmers went about his way, hoping he could soon inform his master of a request successfully fulfilled.
 

* * * * *


As Lionel approached Obadiah's office, he heard the hushed tones of two voices in serious discussion. He ducked into a nearby doorframe as an intense-looking Lizbet left the office, heading down the hall opposite him with some great determination. Tucked away in his hiding spot, he saw Obadiah watch her go with a smirk of smug satisfaction before an incoming-call ring interrupted him. Frowning, the Collector stepped back into the office, allowing Lionel to leave his spot and draw closer. He couldn't quite place the voice on the other end of the line, but somehow it seemed distantly familiar despite the distortion of the call.

"...you're sure she's still there?"

"Well, I haven't seen her this evening, but unless the gate logs are mistaken I don't think anyone's left yet."

"Good. Make sure she doesn't make it back."

Obadiah laughed at his co-conspirator on the other end of the line. "If you'd called five minutes sooner..." He sobered himself. "You've got it, my friend. See you in three weeks?"

The voice on the other end didn't say anything more, but simply hung up.

Obadiah sighed. "That man needs a hobby," he muttered to himself.

Deeming it imprudent to stick around and risk discovery, Lionel retreated, hoping now more than ever the next woman he encountered would be his wife.
 

* * * * *


In the Valdari Manor garage, a sickly scent festered. While at first the malodorous miasma failed to bother the room's lone occupant, as it built in intensity the creature slowly came to realize its solitude was about to be broken. Fading back to visibility with a frown, the Haunter withdrew its fists from within the machinery of the Charjla, one crackling with electricity and the other enveloped in freezing fog as the Ghost-type shifted its focus from sabotage to battle.

Slowly, silently, a slimy purple ooze bubbled up from the floor drain, inching its way out as the Grimer it formed surveyed the room for witnesses.

The Haunter dismissed its pent-up energies. The lone Pokémon seemed of little threat to its orders, and yet still...

The Grimer drew itself up to its full height, confident it hadn't been detected...and was immediately blindsided by a circling, disorienting light. As the Confuse Ray took hold, the Poison-type thought it saw something vanish into the shadows, but somehow its vision just wouldn't focus well enough to spot it. Worried it might fail its mission, it retreated beneath one of the cars with the broken mirrors--

Wait.

One of them?

The Grimer looked back and forth, its Confusion only deepening. It had to choose a car, and quickly--

Footsteps in the hallway. The Grimer latched itself to one car's undercarriage, drew itself up off the floor, and began its work, hoping it would go unnoticed.

The door opened, a human walking quickly towards the cars. A man's voice: "Huh. Could've sworn..." A pause, then more footsteps, the man moving to the car's trunk and opening it. Even Confused, the Grimer recognized the telltale sound of a Pokémon being released from its ball. "Well, friend, it looks like we're back in the saddle again. You know what to do?" The Grimer could not see the Pokémon in question, but from the response guessed it had nodded. "Good. I'll see you in a week at the usual spot. Try not to get caught." The man closed the trunk and left the room.

The Grimer relaxed in relief, burping as it hit the ground. Full, contented, and still Confused, it slid away and back down the drain, hoping its master would be pleased with its efforts.
 

* * * * *


As Lionel made his way back to the entryway, he was unsurprised to see Lizbet waiting for him. What did surprise him, however, was the smug smirk on her face--surely whatever dispute she'd had with Obadiah couldn't have resolved itself so quickly?

"You should have worked with me."

"Sorry, what?"

"We would have made a great team, but..." Lizbet shrugged, simultaneously playful and wistful. "I suppose it's destiny, all things considered. Parfum and Shabboneau, ancient rivals. When Obadiah told me what a precarious fiscal dance the two of you were doing, I just couldn't help myself. That darn meddling streak of mine, I suppose."

Lionel regarded the woman with horror. "...You did not."

"I'm afraid I did, Lionel. A simple loan between friends, and Obadiah's plans are back on track. It's ironic, really. If you'd have just asked I would have gladly helped you instead. We were friends, once."

"Funny, I seem to recall you were always the one more obsessed with the benefits. Nothing from you comes without strings attached."

Lizbet regarded her childhood crush with sadness. "That's where you're wrong, Lionel. You get so caught up in your secrets and machinations that you start assigning them to everyone else. It's losing you Lila the same way you lost me. And sad as it is to say, it's going to lose you everything."

"Don't be ridiculous, Lizbet--"

Lizbet put a finger to his lips. "Shh. It's too late. It's done. Now I suggest you suck it up and make nice with Obadiah before he ends up with more than just the one company, and maybe take some time to appreciate the things that really matter."

Lionel's stare smoldered as it bore into the blonde who'd betrayed him. "...I don't have time for this, but make no mistake: we are not finished." Lionel rushed off to intercept Obadiah, retracing the path he'd taken mere minutes before.

Lizbet watched him go. "I'm sorry, Lionel," she murmured beneath her breath, "but I'm afraid you are."
 

* * * * *


Lila had just managed to fix her tear-stained mascara and was returning to the parlor to rejoin the others when she ran across a red-headed stranger.

"Oh--hello. You must be Lila? I ran into your husband in the parlor earlier, he was looking for you."

"Oh...well, thank you for telling me, Ms....?"

Cassie huffed in frustration with herself. "Honestly, where are my manners tonight? I'm--"

"Cassie," a man's harried voice came from behind her, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but have you seen--"

The man stopped abruptly as he noticed who Cassie had been talking to. Lila wilted--not an act this time--as she laid eyes on the man she'd been avoiding all night. "...Lionel."

The man's face twisted, veiled despair drawing it thin. "Lila, I've been looking for you all night. We need to talk, Obadiah is up to something and I'm afraid he's planning to--"

A Pokégear rang loudly, disrupting the moment. Cassie grimaced. "Mine, sorry," she apologized, stepping away from the group as she answered the call. Before she could get far, however, she stopped, face going stark white. "Lucia..." she murmured. She shook herself back to the present and hung up the phone, still deathly pale, as she turned back to the others. "I'm sorry, I have to go, please forgive my rudeness."

"Is everything alright?"

"My--" The woman caught herself and started again. "My sister needs me back in Kanto, I need to get to the airport as soon as possible."

"I'll drive you," Lila offered, carefully avoiding Lionel's gaze, "I should be going anyway--"

"No, please, let me," Lionel interjected, "it'll be better if I drive the both of you tonight."

Cassie looked back and forth between the couple, not entirely certain what was happening between them. "Thank you for the offer, but I really don't wish to be a burden--"

"Then don't be," Obadiah drawled, coming up behind Lila. He tossed a set of keys to Cassie, who caught them automatically. "Cassie, you're my guest, if you'll be leaving us tonight I insist you let me provide this one last hospitality."

Cassie seemed uncertain. "Are you sure? I'd hate to leave you stranded."

Obadiah's laugher echoed through the confined hallway like a Boomburst. "I'll be just fine. Lizbet can drop me in town on her way home, isn't that right, Lizzie?"

An unamused Lizbet stepped forth from the shadows behind Cassie, but concealed her displeasure before Lionel could notice. "Of course, my friend." She affixed Obadiah with a steely look, behind Lionel's back, breaking it only when he raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Then it's settled. Cassie, I'm sorry to see you go, but I'm sure we can get together again soon--maybe next time Gerald will be able to attend in person?" As Cassie departed, Obadiah continued on as if nothing had happened. "As for the rest of us, why don't we retire to the gallery? I've picked up some new pieces while I was away, and I've been just itching to show them off."

"Actually, why don't you take Lionel? I'd like to borrow Lila for just a moment."

"Of course, Liz. Right this way, Lionel..."

The party dispersed. Lionel and Lila both watched each other over their shoulders as they did, both struggling to interpret the despair in each other's eyes.
 

* * * * *


Cassie stepped into the garage and stopped short. Something seemed...well, wrong. An odd odor assailed her senses, a mixture of smells that would not be out of place at a mechanic's shop, but ultimately she was forced to ignore it. Her Pokégear lay in her purse, a leaden weight given its burden by her worries. She stepped to the side of the room and pressed a button, opening the garage door, before unlocking Obadiah's vehicle and getting inside. With one last moment of hesitation--premonition, perhaps?--she turned the key.

She was off.
 

* * * * *


Lizbet pulled Lila aside, heading coincidentally in the same direction Cassie had just gone. "Lila, listen to me. You need to leave. Now?"

"What? I mean, not that I'm complaining, but I thought--"

"Something's come up, I can't take you myself. You need to get in your car, now, and leave. I'll make sure Lionel isn't a problem."

"All right." Lila bit her lip. "Be safe."

Lizbet laughed. "Does that sound like me?"

Despite the tension, Lila couldn't help but smile. "No." With one final embrace, Lila left.

Now it was Lizbet's turn to bite her lip. She waited until the woman was out of sight, until she was completely alone, to admit it.

"Love you.," she mouthed into the emptiness.

Lizbet exhaled heavily, then put her game face on. It's time for war--and in war, someone always dies.
 

* * * * *


Lila stole into the Valdari Manor garage for the second time that night, the foreboding presence from before even more oppressive now. She coudn't think about that, though, couldn't let herself think about what was going to happen. Lizbet was like Lionel that way--she knew Lila wasn't blind to the dark side of the world, but also knew she wanted nothing to do with it. They were her buffers, the protective force between her and the harshness of reality--and now they were at war. She shuddered, trying her best not to cry, knowing she could ill afford the distraction on the treacherous mountain road. She pulled her car into reverse, grateful that Obadiah's guest had forgotten to close the garage door in her haste--

*KRINTCH*

The unique sound of shattered ceramic pierced the haze around her. She hastily threw her car back into park, jumping out and taking a few minutes to survey the damage. She swore.

Lila couldn't identify the shattered shards that remained of whatever item she'd just run over--though an oddly-familiar reed pipe was rolling away from the remains?--but she could tell that if she tried to drive on this she'd be stranded before she even got back to Lumiose. As she considered her options, another car caught her view--the high-tech toy Lionel called a vehicle. What was it called, something about a foreign Pokémon? Whatever its name, she had a key, gifted to her amidst Lionel's giddy exuberance over getting the thing. She smiled wistfully. Lionel. Where did that part of you go? And why did it have to die? Stopping herself before she could fall into further sobbing, she unlocked Lionel's vehicle and slid inside, the futuristic interior adjusting itself to her automatically. She turned the key.

She was off.
 

* * * * *


Cassie glanced up at the oppressively gloomy sky above her, worrying whether or not it was about to snow. It was still early for it in most of Kalos, but they were far enough north in Dendemille that they ran the risk of snow year-round, in part thanks to the climate zone created by the Pokémon of the nearby Ice Cavern. Most locals' cars were perpetually prepared for the occasional snowfall, but she wasn't sure if Obadiah's car was. She considered calling to ask, but stopping out here on the winding roads ran the very real risk that--

The dashboard dinged, a red warning light appearing above the gas gage, the needle of which now hovered over 'empty'. "What? That doesn't...I could have sworn it was...?"

The Ferrarthorni sputtered and stalled, confirming her suspicions something was wrong. Reluctantly, she pulled the car over, noting regretfully that she'd have to pull up right next to the guardrail to keep the road clear; it would have been far less inconvenient if she'd been going the other way. She stepped out of the vehicle, taking her Pokégear from her purse as she did so. Hmm...no signal, either...

There was nothing else to it. With a sigh, she started her slow walk down the road, hoping someone else would happen by before she reached the base of the mountain.
 

* * * * *


"And here," Obadiah drawled carelessly, "we have a personal favorite of mine. This beauty is authentic Alolan Koa wood, carved in the likeness of one of the islands' guardian deities." The collector held the mask to his face and aped for his guest, who merely crossed his arms and scowled.

"Are we done here? I really do need to get back to my wife."

"'Are we done here?' Come on, Lionel, live a little. Have fun. Enjoy life. You only get one, you know."

"Yes, well, if I only have one life than I'd prefer to spend it in the company of the woman I married."

"Lionel. Your problem is that you're so focused on winning that you don't know how to do anything else. Or maybe you're just so used to brooding you've just forgotten how to be happy entirely. Come on, what's got you down?" Obadiah paused. "Is this still about Strange Science?"

Lionel snorted. "I wish. No, I can't help but feel now that was bait for the trap, and I took it hook, line, and sinker. I find myself wondering if I should have just let you take the firm, despite the damage you'd cause."

"Is that so, Ly-ly? Well then, wish granted."

Lionel whirled to face Lizbet, but she'd entered alone. "What? No, not important--where's Lila?"

"Lila's fine," she promised, "the one you really ought to be worried about is you."

"Lizbet?" Obadiah questioned. Lizbet ignored him.

"As it turns out, Lionel, Obadiah just recently came into a lot of loose capital courtesty of a very loyal friend. Since you find yourself wishing you'd let him buy your business, I think you'll find that his new offer will make you quite happy."

They both knew this wasn't true, in fact quite the opposite, but the smug expression he spotted on Obadiah's face told Lionel he couldn't afford to back off. "Fine," he conceded, "let's...talk."

"I'll leave you boys to it. Good night."

Obadiah frowned, but waved his farewell nonetheless. "...Good night, Princess Parfum."

"Lizbet." Lionel's glare promised retribution, but unfortunately at the moment said promise quite lacked its usual credibility.

Lizbet left, laughing.
 

* * * * *


It felt like hours, but was really more mere minutes before Cassie spotted the first signs of impending civilization. It wasn't much, just a lonely mountain crossroad still miles and miles from Dendemille, but to her fortune a logging truck happened to be approaching. She shouted and waved her arms to grab the driver's attention. "Hey! Over here!"

The surprised driver signaled and pulled aside, waiting for Cassie to catch up. "Can I help ya?" she asked.

"Yes, I..." Cassie gasped for air, taking a few moments to catch her breath. "my car, well, my friend's that I'm borrowing...look, the thing is, I ran out of gas, I think there was a leak? Could you use your radio thing there to call someone from Dendemille to come pick me up?"

"Lady, I'm headin' that way myself, so if ya don't mind the smell of stale chips and coffee, I'd be happy to give ya a lift."

"That would be lovely, thank you."

As she clambered into the cab, Cassie made a mental note to call someone about the car she'd been forced to leave behind. She hated having to do it, but with no signal she'd had little choice. First thing once I'm in the city, I'll call Obadiah and have him send someone after his car. It would be simply dreadful if something happened to it.
 

* * * * *


Lila hated Lionel's car.

Normally she was the advocate for green technology everywhere--indeed, one of her fondest memories was convincing her father to purchase the solar firm Strange Science and let her build it into the green-energy monolith it was today. Of course, she hadn't done it alone--Lionel's meteoric rise from middle-manager to company CEO had been what first brought him into her circle, and the pair had pioneered environmentalist enterprises together ever since, on top of Lionel's personal projects. Yet for all her activism, she never could find the appeal of electric cars; oh, she knew the numbers all right, yet they always felt cold, clinical, detached from both pedals and pavement. Lionel, of course, loved them, and constantly traded up to the latest and greatest car-shaped tech toy year after year.

All this was to say, driving Lionel's Charjla was difficult for her on the best of days. Tonight was not the best of days.

As she sped around a corner--too fast, the accursed accelerator always felt like it could only pick between pedal-to-floor or else no speed at all--she suddenly saw a car appear in front of her, parked precariously next to the guardrail. She momentarily mistook it for her own, before remembering Obadiah's near-identical version. Cassie? Is she all right? She hit the brakes, but they didn't respond. She refused to panic. Come on, you computerized monstrosity, stop already. She tried again. They still didn't respond.

Now she panicked.

She swerved. desperately wishing she could feel if the car's handling would be enough to--
 

* * * * *


Lisbet let out a sigh of relief as she headed to the garage. Tonight had not gone according to plan, but as usual she'd salvaged things. True, Obadiah still had dirt on her, but with him now being the last person to see Lionel alive, he'd be a fool to flip on her and implicate himself, particularly with the well-known bad blood between them. She whistled sharply--the signal for her Haunter to rematerialize--before recalling the Pokémon to its ball and--

She stopped short.

Lila's car was still there, sitting half-in, half-out of the garage.

Lionel's wasn't.

"...No. No, no, no, no--"
 

* * * * *


Lila coughed. Something splattered onto the ground in front of her. Not...good...

She'd survived. Somehow, despite sending itself and another car off a cliff, Lionel's computerized deathtrap had somehow managed to save her life. Guess I owe you an apology, Lionel. Lila laughed bitterly, the sound turning into a gasp of pain as the motion aggravated her injuries.

I can't stay here, she realized, I need...I need... Her thoughts went hazy as pain spiked through her head. Somehow, she found herself outside the car, having unbuckled herself and walked around to the back on sheer muscle memory. Wait...how did I...? She fuzzily noted she was trying to open the trunk, only to find the space where it should have been crumpled like a tin can. First aid, her brain belatedly completed, I need...

She noticed the other car, and remembered the last moments before the crash. Cassie? The injured woman staggered over to the totaled Ferrarthorni, her delirium causing her to giggle (and then wince) at the familiar shape and color, both mangled by the tumble. She managed to get to the passenger side.

Empty. Then why...?

Her vision went red. I'm not mad? ...oh. Her eyes stung from the blood, forcing her to feel blindly through the shattered window for the glove compartment. There should be a switch...

*CLUNK*

The trunk popped. Slower now, since she had to feel her way over, she staggered to the back. She opened the rear compartment, feeling around inside for a first-aid kit, when--

Wait, why would someone leave a Pokémon in--
 

* * * * *


*BWHOOM*

The sound was distinctive, as was the burst of brilliant white light briefly illuminating the night sky. Any doubts as to what had happened were erased by the secondary explosion, followed by the crimson glow emanating from the forest far below.

Lizbet dropped the Poké Ball and fell to her knees.


* * * * *


Chalmers slipped back into the bathroom, discretely retreating his gleefully gurgling Grimer from the sink. He'd have to get a report later, but for now it was more important that he find--

*BWHOOM*

The butler whipped his head around to the window high on the bathroom wall, illuminated for an instant by a burst of bright light. With some alarm, he opened his Holo Caster and navigated to the news.
 

* * * * *


*BWHOOM*

The big rig swerved, but the driver managed to keep the enormous vehicle on the road. "Whoa! What in tarnation...?"

Cassie was looking around in alarm. She knew the sound of an Explosion, and she could have sworn it had come from--

The driver glanced nervously at her rearview mirror. "Gas leak, huh? Lady, I think you mighta just dodged a bullet."

The woman nodded meekly and collapsed back into the seat, all other thoughts forgotten.


* * * * *


Lionel was nervous. His only consolation was that Obadiah was, too; the explosion shook the mansion, but the closed hallway they'd been in had offered no clues as to its origin. As the two men approached the cross-hallway, a shell-shocked Lizbet staggered into view.

"...Lizbet?"

"Obadiah, you..."

Lizbet trailed off as Chalmers rushed in from the other direction, looking shaken. "Sir...you...you need to see this." He held up his Holo Caster, still displaying a broadcast of Malva of the Kalos Elite Four.

"Chopper Six has just established video contact with the source of the inferno. We go live to them now." Malva's face vanished, replaced by an image of a raging fire consuming the autumn forest beneath Valdari Manor's mountain road. At the center, still smoldering, stood the slag of two totaled vehicles, engulfed in smoke and flame. Despite their near-unrecognizability, there were only two cars they could be.

Malva reappeared on the screen. "First-response Rangers are currently hard at work containing the blaze, but officials currently believe there to be no survivors."

Obadiah's eyes widened. "No...no, she wasn't supposed to--" He suddenly silenced himself, but it was too late.
 

* * * * *


Some people, when upset, become enraged. They threaten, they bellow, they even become violent. Lionel Zyther was known for his apocalyptic rage, but Lizbet knew something most people didn't: it was all an act. No, the real danger, the real anger, was when he got quiet.

Lionel got very, very quiet.

"Get out," he ordered.

"What?"

"Chalmers. Lizbet. Leave."

They did.
 

* * * * *


"An update on last night's tragic accident near Dendemille. While the recovered remains were unidentifiable, police have identified the vehicles involved as belonging to noted businessmen Obadiah Valdari and Lionel Zyther. At this time neither Valdari nor Zyther could be reached for--I'm sorry, please hold for a moment..." Malva held a hand to her earpiece as her producers fed her new information. "We've just received word from a representative of Mr. Zyther that his wife Lila was last seen driving his vehicle on the night of the accident. Police have now launched a search of the surrounding woods, but are not optimistic regarding the likelihood of her survival. Our condolences go out to Mr. Zyther, and to the entirety of Camphrier Town, now in mourning for the death of the last remaining Shabboneau heir. Still no word on the status of Mr. Valdari. We'll bring you more as this story develops."
 

* * * * *


Edited by Flipz

 

Me: *has idea*

Blade: "I'd say too convoluted, and I know too convoluted =P"

 

"Dangit, I shouldn't have gotten ambitious."

--Merc, RE: our plotting

 

Pokémon Rise of the Rockets Profiles: LINK

3DS FC: 3625-9584-9417 (Pokemon X Friend Safari: Electric-type, Pachirisu, Electabuzz, Zebstrika)

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Contest is closed! The votes are in!

 

As voted by the contestants:
 

First place: Konuju with Kit

Second Place: Flipz with Lingering Will

Third Place: Alku with Limits of Knowledge

Fourth Place: Parugi with Patient Interview: 'Lily'

Fifth Place: Blade with The Ones Who (Are) Upset

Sixth Place: Unknownmercury with Betrayal at the House on the Hill

Seventh Place: Minun with Acedia

"So Alku, happy 'was that a firecracker or shotgun?' day!"

"Hard mode: I'm in the south."

 

"Planning was never Zac Blazer's forte." - Blade, mastering the art of the understatement.

 

"We'll have to change the initials of the RPG from RotR to PTSD." - Me, discussing Rise of the Rockets.

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