Novels2Search

The end of Night 2

“You understand how much your operation’s cost us, right?” A voice asked from the phone.

“I understand, but I will make it back.” Jallis Everitt said, trying his best to keep his anger in check.

“Mhm. With items loaned from Clan Pendula.”

“It’s temp–”

“Our reputation isn’t temporary,” The voice snapped. “Best get your act together or perhaps we’ll pay a visit.”

His blood ran cold. “I…of course.”

The line went dead, and Jal sat back into his chair with an angry huff, slamming the landline with more force than necessary. He didn’t care much though, he was having a real shitty week.

It didn’t start that way, being Chronos, even if he was from a minor clan, meant that the thugs under his purview looked at him with respect that he deserved. He was always bowing and scraping to the 3 Major Clans, (He did not count the Finchley’s. Those braindead muscle heads were only useful security) even though his own achievements were far greater.

Every operation under his command had brought in profits in record time. He’d drilled himself in the mechanisms of a smuggling route, whom to bribe and whom to silence. Every bit of knowledge his Clan (and what little Clan Tempus shared) was studied to the point where Jal was a master at his craft.

But no. Oh no, as soon as that old bastard Avery’s kids came scampering along, Jal was pushed off to the side with this…shithole of a place.

“Prideful assholes.” He fumed, opening his drawer for a pouch of Ambrosia.

They’d kicked him down because he dared suggest an alternative to their operations. He knew the game, he worked his ass off to get to his position. But those fucking Tempus kids, riding on the coattails of their father, had just waltzed in and took over his whole operation.

He placed a tab of gold on his tongue, pressing it against the roof of his mouth before he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Jal audibly groaned as he felt the effects finally hit, his senses temporarily expanding beyond the normal limits of a human, his mind processing a million feelings before settling on absolute bliss.

Ambrosia had multiple forms from Clan Quartez’s research into the drug. It could be used to increase awareness, pure fighting adrenaline, to even aphrodisiacs. Jal personally used the relaxant variant, and he needed to otherwise he felt as if he’d pop a blood vessel from all the stress thrown his way.

“And now I’m in charge of this fucking place.” He said to no one in particular.

He didn’t know why the Tempus kids gave a chopped recipe of Ambrosia to the 8th Road Roots, but he did know these nobodies were doing it in the most crude way possible. He wasn’t allowed to refine their recipe, so he streamlined the process instead.

He hated inefficient work.

It was a good process too. Keep the Pokémon loopy, let the ditto do their job, hatch the eggs, harvest the product. Simple, effective. Just the way he liked it.

But then that fucking Kricketune. He’d captured it because it had managed to down one of his Pokémon. A Kricketune. The music bugs. They were prey Pokémon, but this one fought like a maelstrom, blades and all. It had embarrassed him so much that he went out of his way to stomp its children dead in front of it just so he could teach that fucking bug a lesson.

In the end, it still caused him problems.

“7 million. That’s how much I need back.”

In truth he should’ve domed the Kricketune after it had killed his first Ditto, but he was confident in his methods, and sent a second. The second had managed to gain a clutch of eggs, as did the third. But in every instance eggs were laid, they were smashed apart by Kricketune, and eventually it got its grubby little hands on his dittos as well.

“I can make it back, I always make it back.”

“Valerie.” Jal said, reaching for the walkie on his chest. He had to wait a few moments as static crackled, even being in close proximity signals were still as shitty as ever.

“Here.” His cousin, and second-in-command said.

“Start moving the bodies into the furnace again. There’s a chance the Tempus kids are going to be stopping by.”

“The furnace that doesn’t work?” His cousin asked.

“I’ll use Rapidash, it’s fine.”

“Not the best idea, little coz.”

“Just go order the others to do it,” Jal sighed. “Come up and hit some Ambrosia with me, I’m fucking tired.”

“Hah. Sure.” The line clicked shut.

Jal settled back into his chair, unclipping his belt and looking at the Pokeballs hanging from the leather. They weren’t his, not truly. He’d tried to raise his own when he was a boy, but being from a minor Clan meant that if your Pokémon weren’t up to standard, you didn’t get that privilege anymore.

The radio on his chest buzzed, “Hey. Jal.”

“I’m here.”

“Can’t find Elliot or Phoebe. The others haven’t seen them either.”

“Of course.” Jal sighed. Phoebe found herself another boytoy, at least he was Clan this time. “If they turned off their radios just go find them.”

“That’s the thing. I can’t. They’re not in the building.”

Arceus, he needed more Ambrosia for this. “They left the fucking building?”

“Maybe. It’s been a boring few weeks.”

“Whatever. I’ll chew them out when they’re back. Just get the others to work.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

He was pissed, but Ambrosia relaxed him enough that he decided he wouldn’t care too much when they were found. It had been weeks of guarding this shitty little nowhere spot to the point where Jal was certain if he wasn’t taking Ambrosia he’d have done something he’d regret.

The P.I lady came to mind, what was her name? Anita? Anitola? Anna? Something with two A’s. She was decent conversation, but then he and the others had gotten so bored they fed her Amber and watched her slowly degenerate. It was fun for about a day until she became dependant, now nothing more than a fucking zombie.

Better than what the others wanted to do with her. Jal scowled as he remembered their eyes. It was like he and Valerie were the only normal people around sometimes.

“Anyone seen Grant?” One of the grunts asked on open communications.

“Didn’t I send him with you?” Valerie asked.

“Well, yeah. He said he had to use the bathroom but then he was taking a while.”

“You checked his comms?”

“Yeah, he just wasn’t there. Left the tap on too.”

“Jal, you hearing this?” Valerie asked.

“Yeah,” He sighed. “I’ll come help.”

He got up from his chair, taking a couple tabs of Ambrosia with him. His first tab was still running strong, keeping his mind relaxed even though he knew a part of him should be frothing at the mouth at the sheer inefficiency of everything.

Where the fuck did Grant walk off too though? Elliot and Phoebe made sense, but Grant? He wasn’t the one eyeing the P.I. Did he decide to call it quits after handling so many bodies?

He stopped. Footsteps. He was hearing footsteps. They were near silent, but Ambrosia was something that expanded the senses.

“Hey!” Jal commanded. “You, down the hall! Fuck are you doing over here? I thought I ordered you all to go to the furnace!”

The footsteps slowed, abruptly turning around and heading down towards the furnace. Jal scoffed, of course the stupid fuckers couldn’t understand basic commands.

“Carmen’s not responding to comms.” Valerie said, causing Jal to freeze. His mind was slower, but it still worked. Elliot, Phoebe, Grant, now Carmen?

“Check in with above ground.” Jal commanded, his hands reaching towards his belt. He stopped himself by clenching a fist. Even after all these years he couldn’t shake the habit.

“...Shit.” Valerie hissed.

“Are they?”

“Unresponsive.”

“Fuck,” Guess he’d have to check what was going on. “GENGAR! Gengar you fucker answer me right now!”

No response. Dread began to creep through him, did Gengar go rogue? No, that was impossible. They had his Pokeball on lock, strict orders were given that the Pokémon had to follow lest it be trapped in its ball forever. Gengar’s owner couldn’t have changed the orders either, she was at home base.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Get in touch with home base, now!” Jal ordered. Again his hand went to his belt, and again he forced himself to stop. The Pokémon he was given were fighters, trained from early on to start attacking the second they were released. Leaving them outside with nothing to fight meant they got agitated and antsy, and that could lead to a casualty.

“Escort Valerie, all of you! If I hear she’s alone for more than 5 fucking seconds I’ll gut you myself.” Jal stomped over quickly, wishing he brought a tab of adrenaline Ambrosia instead of his relaxants. Someone or something was in here with them, something that convinced Gengar that Chronos wasn’t a threat.

He’d show them. He’d show whoever it was you didn’t fuck with Chronos.

“Fuck. Jal, fuck!” Valerie snarled. “The line’s been cut.”

He quickly changed his comms so that only her walkie was active. “Valerie, send out your Pokémon. If they get too agitated, dome the others.”

“...Are you sure?”

“If it’s you or them, I choose you. You’re family.”

“Technically–”

“Just shut the fuck up and stay safe.”

“Heh. Alright.”

Jal grabbed Rapidash’s ball and began to jog forward. He needed to make it to their security room, even if the lines were cut he could send out a distress call via signal. Besides, Valerie was there too, the two of them could take out any threat–

He stopped.

There was something tingling in his nose…a familiar smell, one he’d thought he’d grown accustomed too. But this was fresh.

Did the blood of humans always smell so different?

He wasn’t sure if it was his Ambrosia or his natural instincts that saved him. Jerking his head to the side he heard the whoosh of something sharp as it grazed his cheek, before he felt the sting and warmth of a cut. Jal snarled as he touched the wetness, someone had thrown a fucking knife at him.

“That was supposed to kill you, you know.” A voice laughed.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jal wished Chronos listened to his request for better lights.

“Does that matter? One of us is dying tonight.”

“Rapidash.” Jal said, finally throwing out the Pokémon. It arrived in a flash of light and roaring flames, the sudden increase in light forcing him to squint. “Kill that fucker.”

Rapidash reared up, fire and light revealing the hundreds of scars across its body before it thundered down the hall. Jal raced after it, but quickly realized the problem.

Rapidash couldn’t make sharp corners at full speed.

Their enemy disappeared into turns as soon as they came up. Jal had to wonder if he was turning at random or if he understood the layout of their facility, but it didn’t matter. The enemy had thrown a knife, something Jal wasn’t expecting, but told him everything he needed to know.

Namely, that little shit didn’t have anything strong enough to kill him.

“I’ll say we were infiltrated by a whole group. Blame the Roots.” Jal thought to himself as he sprinted after Rapidash. “If they saw that our people were taken out by one fucker with a knife they’d kill me too.”

He’d need to kill this one and pretend a larger battle happened. That could only work if he managed to catch the guy though. Just as he was thinking about what he’d do as soon as he got his hands on the enemy though, his whole world began to spin, and he crashed to the ground, Rapidash bellowing in fury as it stopped its chase.

“Ouch,” A voice laughed. “That looked like it hurt, you alright?”

He was hit by a confuse ray. Chronos training kicked in and he rolled himself up to a crouch, steadying himself with a hand against a railing.

A railing?

His eyes focused and he looked down into the darkness…these were the pens. He was brought to the fucking pens. Even with the lights mysteriously broken, he could tell from the smell emanating from the room. The smell of chemicals and unwashed Pokémon.

“Light it up Rapidash,” Jal seethed. “[Sunny Day].”

Rapidash reared on its hindlegs, the fire on its mane growing and screaming until it turned into a mini sun. The whole room was bathed in light, revealing Pokémon who screeched at the sudden change in light.

It wasn’t perfect. Bright lights still casted dark shadows, but now he could weed out the fucker while also powering up his Rapidash, easily the best move he could make.

“Get down there.” Jal commanded, “If you’re feeling antsy, stomp one of the caged ones.”

Battle was made to be euphoric to Chronos Pokémon. Even now he was pushing it just by the chase, that sort of adrenaline with no payoff would have Rapidash itching like it was an Amber addict. It made them powerful though, even if it came at the cost of a little critical thinking.

“Now that’s just cheating.” The enemy said again, though he didn’t sound nearly as smug this time.

Good.

Again his mind was rocked by sudden vertigo, but Jal was ready, tracing the direction to the far corner of the room. “[Flamethrower!]”

Rapidash whinnied, a swirling vortex of fire erupting out of its maw like an angry inferno, raising the temperature of the room by half a dozen degrees.

A flash of light signalled the return of whatever had struck him. Jal grinned wide as he saw where it was coming from. He pointed in its direction, spittle flying from his mouth as he screamed, “[Fire Blast!]”

The true name of fire, etched in raw power, was sent blasting forward, detonating a nearby cage. Steel melted completely and whatever prey Pokémon within screamed as it burnt to ash.

Silence reigned.

Jal didn’t return Rapidash, he wasn’t a fucking idiot. Instead loosing it on another cage to keep its bloodlust in check. He wasn’t too worried about the state of the corpse. The uniform would do a good job of keeping the body intact, even if the rest of his face would be unrecognisable. Jal walked over to where the Fire Blast hit, taking in a good whiff of the burnt carcasses.

He froze.

Jal had killed before, it was part of the job. He’d burnt so many he’d grown desensitized to it, but in the early days he used a tab of Ambrosia to keep his mind from spiralling into depression. While it calmed him down it also taught him the smell of burnt flesh. The distinction between different types of beings, from Pokémon to humans.

There wasn’t a single hint of human in there.

“Jesus Christ man…hah,” That damned voice wheezed. “You almost…hah…you almost got me with that one.”

“How the fuck–” Jal said, turning to look up at the steel balcony again. He could see the man now. Dark skin and dark eyes, his hair was plastered close to his skin from the heat and sweat, Jal could tell it had been close. Despite that the man wore a cocky smirk, one that had Jal clenching his fist so tight he nearly pierced skin.

“Take a look brother. You didn’t get me.”

Jal looked back to where Rapidash had scorched the ground. There was ash, yes. Melted steel beams. Purple ooze.

Purple ooze.

No.

It couldn’t be.

“You look a little upset,” The shithead said. “Want me to leave you alone for a bit?”

“That was 2.3 million fucking dollars.” Jal seethed. “Do you understand what the fuck you just did?”

The enemy whistled. “Maybe I’ll circle back after you’re dead. You’ve got a couple more I’ll sell.”

“I changed my mind. I’m not going to kill you,” Jal said, reaching for his belt again. The Ambrosia was fading, overwhelmed by his adrenaline, making him understand what he should’ve done from the start. “I’m going to hurt you, slowly, painfully. When I’m done I’ll turn you into an Amber addict and then have you fucking eaten alive.”

“Damn. Someone’s mad. But I don’t think you’re going to do that.”

“No. No, I definitely am.”

“Might want to check your little walkie-talkie buddy.”

Jal froze, realizing now that his radio had been turned off. When? He clicked it on.

“Jal?” Valerie asked. Her voice was soft, quiet, missing that confident edge it was supposed to have. “Jal is that you?”

“Val? What happened?”

“What’s going to happen is that your cousin here is going to take 50 tabs of Amber if you don’t comply.” A new voice growled.

Ice cold dread worked its way up his spine. There was more than one. Why the fuck didn’t that cross his mind?

No, he knew why. They were too complacent, too angry and too high to think anyone would even dare attack them.

“First thing’s first. Is my partner alive?”

“He is,” Jal said through gritted teeth. “Unfortunately.”

“Prove it.”

“If my partner’s asking for proof, tell him Fedora’s are badass.” The shithead said.

“Fedora’s are badass,” Jal repeated, even if he knew they were overrated.

“Good. Now you’re going to come over here. If I get a hint of any Pokémon, Valerie here is dead and you won’t see a hint of me.”

“And then what? You’ll kill me?”

“Doesn’t matter. You either show up or I do what I came here to do.”

“Do it,” Jal said after a quick pause. “Kill Valerie and see how far you can get away.”

“Hm,” The man on the other line chuckled. “Figured you were more sentimental than the others.”

“I am. That’s why I haven’t immediately let loose on you fuckers.”

He was bluffing. Valerie was the closest thing he had to an older sister. She was the one who told him there were no monsters under his bed, who fought off older kids when he was small and scrawny, who comforted him when Chronos domed his Pokémon for being too weak.

There was only one problem.

If he let them live he was certain the Tempus kids would murder them for failing so badly. He needed them both dead, but he needed Valerie too. He had to play his cards right, it was all or nothing now.

“Tell me what you want, then I tell you whether I can give it to you or if it’s more beneficial to kill the two of you.”

“Very well. We want Gengar freed, the P.I, and any files or reports on Chronos activity.”

“We also want whatever ditto’s you guys got left.” The other one called from above.

“Two amendments,” Jal countered immediately. “One, you let me copy the files for you so it looks like nothing was stolen. Two, Gengar doesn’t get released. You can find the code to his ball, after we’re gone.”

“Works for me.” The gruff one said. “Return your Pokémon and hand them over to my partner. I’ll know if they’re out, so don’t you dare try to play me.”

Shit. A Psychic? Who were these guys? Galactic? No, Galactic tactics weren’t so crude.

“Focus.” He forced himself to snap back. He needed a play and he needed it now. He decided to take a chance as the scrawny one meandered down, returning Rapidash while snagging another ball and tucking it into his sleeve.

It was a Magneton. Not the strongest, but he’d kitted his out for one purpose and one purpose only. The second he saw Valerie, he would paralyse everyone and everything excluding himself, kill the two and then rearrange the floor so that it appeared as if a massive battle took place.

He’d have to kill all the 8th Road Roots outside to make it look more believable. That was of course, if they weren’t dead already.

“Thank you very much,” The scrawny one said. “Now eyes forward and keep walking.”

“So who do you people work for, anyways?” Jal asked, walking down the silent corridors. He figured he’d learn everything he could if he was going to use it as a defence to plead his case.

“Nobody important,” The scrawny man grinned. “Somebody was interested in the P.I. They hired us, now we deal with you.”

“That’s impossible,” Jal scowled. “Nobodies don’t mess with Chronos.”

“Does that make you upset? Wanna know something else? There were only two of us.”

“Are you showing off now?”

“Call it a critique,” Scrawny chuckled. “You guys sucked so much we didn’t even use Pokémon.”

Jal rounded, pride causing him to act rashly. He wasn’t expecting to get backhanded so quickly. Stars erupted in his vision as knuckles cracked against the side of his head. He grunted as he stumbled back, only for a leg to kick his own out from under him.

“You know the next part of this combo says I knee you in the face,” Scrawny said, his smile seeming a lot colder now. “But I think you’ll need that.”

“...Appreciated.” Jal bit out. There was technique in those strikes, they were fighters. You didn’t see many of them working in the underworld. If they weren’t already under Maylene most were fanatics trying to hone their skills to the next level.

No. There was a clan that also focused on muscle…

“Are you guys Barrings? Ortons?” Jal asked. Those were the two clans under Finchley, equally as brain dead but nearly as strong. Were the Finchley's making a play for some quick cash?

“What don’t you get, man?” Scrawny sighed. “We’re nobodies. Not clan, not nothing, just a couple of guys who are on a job and want some cash, understand?”

That couldn’t be true. There’s no way they could’ve lost to nobodies. They were trained since they were children to handle threats. How did all of them lose to just two?

“You know, most of the guys we killed were high off a little Ambrosia. You look a little confused, but the truth is, you guys were too fucking lazy to even consider a threat–oh! My knife, there it was.”

Jal said nothing, needing time to process everything he'd just learned. Scrawny didn't let his thoughts get very far, as he continued talking. “Who’d we get first, the big guy? No, it was the couple! The one in the janitor’s closet, that was a little funny. They believed I owned the Gengar here, hah.”

“...Well you have some connection to it, otherwise you would be paste right now.”

“What do you mean? I’m Chronos, just like you. Anyways, we’re here.”

Jal’s eyes widened and his head snapped to Scrawny. That tall bastard talked so much and Jal couldn’t get a lick of information off him! Worse, all his rambling had him push off the specifics of a plan.

“Go say high to your cousin for me.” Scrawny waved, pushing him over to the security room.

Jal swallowed thickly, gripping Magneton’s ball tightly. “You’re not following?”

“Did you want me to?”

That would be ideal. But no, this could work too. If he could paralyze the other he could use him as a hostage. Jal walked into the security room, the entire place now trashed. Screens were smashed and destroyed, glass crunched under his boots as he walked into the room. There was a single chair, Valerie was slumped in it, her eyes glued to the floor.

“Val,” He said, striding forward to work the bindings around her arm. “You okay? They didn’t hurt you did they–”

Her body was cold.

“No…”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Music began to play.

Jal turned slowly, his eyes now adjusted to the darkness seeing something large in the corner of the room. It played a low, mournful tune, accompanied by a slow dance of spins and flourishes.

He knew that tune.

“Magneto–ARGH!” For the second time that day, he was too slow. That Arceus damned Kricketune lunged foward, arm blades flashing faster than he could see. It slashed downwards, severing his arm from its elbow, and continued to play.

“HEY!” Jal screamed. “WE HAD A DEAL! YOU NEED ME!”

He got no response, only the sound of Kircketune’s music as it danced and twirled ever so closer to him.

“It can’t end like this!” Jal thought furiously, “It can’t!”

But it did...though not very fast. Kriketune took her time with him, playing a melody as she cut him apart. The mother who’d lost her children began with his legs so that he couldn’t run. Then she aimed her blades towards his body, peeling away flesh with such precision the Pokémon wondered if she could’ve been a butcher.

But no, music had always been her kind's calling, music was what her true children loved. So she played for them, played and played and cut and cut, one song for each of their shining eyes, one cut for every memory she had.

By the time she was done, Jal was nothing more than a bloody mess on the floor.

She thought the look suited him.

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