Within a week, the plan to liberate the final piece of the Azure Flute was set in stone. Or so Allora claimed. In the few times George managed to speak with her, the Carracosta shared little detail. She was too busy brawling with Smaugus members, spending more air on roars that shook the snow off the trees than explaining the plan.

As the clock ticked down towards the fateful day, she gave George and Blitzer their roles piecemeal. Neither were excluded, of course, but they wouldn’t be working together. George had been assigned to a team led by Terez, tasked with the actual break in. On the other hand, Blitzer had been put under Allora’s leadership. He’d start a diversion with a cast of misfits.

And they sure were misfits, much to Blitzer’s disgust. Big fat meatheads led the way to Tirasford, one a Poliwrath and the other a Snowy Darmanitan, followed by fools who positively redefined foolery. A Manectric who didn’t know to shut up, and a Marowak who took time off the road to play golf with rocks.

“HAAH! GOTTEM!”

“RIGHT IN THE MOUTH!”

Blitzer hid his repeated grimacing by looking away, tongue pressed into his cheek as the Marowak swung his club around. If this was the best crew they could assemble, he may as well start dictating his epitaph. Not that snow could carry a message for long.

Leaving the pessimism behind for what it was, their team arrived in Tirasford after a two day hike, posing as a merchant’s caravan with a few Smaugus escorts. The Soldiers checking their wagons accepted this for what it was; cold as Whitiara might be, the basic etiquette of life was still adhered to. Trade was no exception to the rule.

Taking position in safehouses, they waited for the others to reach their positions…

Terez’s team was far more secretive in their approach. The roads weren’t an option: Only one existed during the winter, and the distraction team had taken it. Second, there was no hiding their intentions from any Soldiers. No merchant goods or pilgrims or simple travel. No sane tourist would throw themselves headfirst into the Whitiaran winter. No Pilgrim who didn’t consider suffering a virtue would follow, either. Those that did would’ve long made the journey by now.

So over the snowy plains and through the endless taiga it was, with nary a soul to bear witness to their trek. What little life did take notice was too concerned with staying alive to get in their way, the group being far too dangerous to approach. And likewise, George, Terez and the silent group of steel types following their lead had their mission to keep them occupied.

Harsh as the conditions might be, they pressed on to Tirasford. What few Mystery Dungeons got in the way were averted, one short detour not withstanding. Eventually, they reached their destination: A cliff’s edge overlooking the Bastion from afar. Mount Tenebrous loomed in the distant mist, its sharp cliffs tame compared to the towers looming over the complex in the distance, the darkened steel melting snow upon contact. George bit his lip as he looked at what they were up against. A wide open plain separated them from the Bastion and Tirasford, with not a single tree, rock or house to take cover behind.

“Damn… how do we get across?” George asked.

Terez shook her head. “They’re not playing games here. Nowhere else in Whitiara is that sparse of rocks, trees... Spared no expense at keeping unwanted guests out.” She sucked in a breath, her voice growing strained. “I have a workaround.”

George blinked at her back. “You don’t sound very confident.”

“I am,” Terez replied, though her voice didn’t cooperate.

“We agree with Othersider George. Are you certain your plan will work?” the Magneton in the team answered, his fellow steel types nodding behind him. Annoyed, Terez grabbed herself by the dress, squeezing it tight into her fist.

“Stop with the questions! I’ve given this more than enough thought!” she hissed. “How foolish do you take me?”

“N-no, of course not,” George muttered, the steel types pensively jutting up and down behind him. Terez snapped her fingers several times.

“Listen. George, you’re part Psychic, yes?”

George nodded. “Yes. Unless I’ve gotten weaker since we’ve trained, which I haven’t.” ‘What kind of question is that?’

The Gardevoir rose to her feet, tiny crystals of snow skittering off the folds of her dress. “You’re going to perform an illusion with me. And not a small one either, if you know what I mean… we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

George rose from his partially crouched position behind a small rock, his feet kicking up snow as he emerged at Terez’ side. All across the vast plain, snow scattered with the wind from west to east, shielding the Bastion, Tirasford’s skyline and the slopes of Tenebrous in a cold mist. No mere vanishing trick would fool the world here. If they were to cross undetected, they had to meld into the terrain. Bury their footsteps, and leave the winds of winter undisturbed. He tilted his head up. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Just like every other day in Eravate.

“Oh, I understand alright…” George licked a finger, then wiped it across the fur on his face. “You handle the group, I’ll worry about the environment. Deal?”

Terez smirked at him. “A deal I can’t refuse… you know more about the cold than I do. You channel it for attacks, after all. Quite effective, too.”

The Dewott grinned. “Ask for the best, you’ll get a fest.” ‘Great pun. Not.’

With a deep breath, Terez’ eyes took on a blue glow as she put her hand out into the wind. A pulse of psychic energy shot through her body, and then through the others in the group. George watched as his hand, and then the rest of his body became translucent, invisible to the naked eye besides a slight shimmer.

“What happened to our bodies?” the Magneton now asked, magnets twisting and clanking all around its body. George felt the panic by proxy, and growled for their attention.

“Temporary invisibility. That’s the plan, don’t worry about it.” He took a similar deep breath, his own eyes turning blue under the transparency Terez had put on him. His psychic energy seeped into the snow, tapped into the wind, mapped the surroundings and frames of the entire group inside George’s head. Putting his hand out as they made their way across the frozen fields, he filled in each footstep left behind, while cautious to keep his tail off the ground. All the while, the wind pelted their sides, heavy and unrelenting as any winter wind. George gritted his teeth, manipulating the flow so the naked eye wouldn’t see the wind’s struggles against the group.

And so, with the snow nipping at their feet, and George’s ears flattened from frostbite, they closed the gap. The Bastion loomed nearby, and the Soldiers patrolling its surroundings and guarding its ramparts were unaware of their presence. Not a paw print or breath of carbon existed to reveal their presence. All was hidden under a psychic mask.

Remaining undercover, they scouted out the perimeter of the Bastion, its imposing walls leaving little leeway to get in. There was but a single entrance. No other way in, no other way out.

“Fantastic,” Terez muttered under her misty breath. “Nothing we didn’t know, but still… one can dream, right?”

“It’s surprising enough we could get this close,” George whispered back. “So… are we digging?”

A psychic shimmer passed over Terez’ eyes. “We are. Let the steel types handle this, we’ve got an illusion to uphold.”

George nodded. “Understood.”

Sentinels to the digging steel squad, George and Terez shivered in the cold. It had been winter for several weeks now, and yet the cold showed no signs of weakening. Given long enough, it would seep into your bones, freeze the blood flowing through your veins, until you were little more than another piece of the frozen landscape. George’s fur was only so thick. His mouth watered at the thought of Aspear berries.

‘Once I get back to base, I’m taking a hot bath. A big one. What I wouldn’t do for a good swim.’

A quarter of an hour passed before the steel types had pierced through the dirt, magnets and metal hitting a steel pipe in the process. George glanced at their work; they’d found a ventilation shaft. He was no expert on Pokemon architecture, but a vent was a vent. Even a primitive one.. Sure enough, as they slowly punched a hole into it, a small passageway revealed itself.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Do we all fit in there?” Terez asked.

“We should,” George responded, hands on the edge of the hole. “I’m surprised to find one of these here, to be honest.”

Terez raised an eyebrow at him. “How come?”

George bit his lip. “Ventilation’s a bit more advanced than most Pokemon buildings, no offence,” he said, to which Terez shrugged.

“All this electrical nonsense is a disgrace. They’re probably working some electrics to death down there to keep the complex powered… but that’s a problem for another time. Get in.”

One by one, the Pokemon descended, keeping an eye on their backs. By some luck, the vent exited into a storage room just below the surface. It carried little except cleaning equipment. George sighed as he got down.

That was just the beginning.

“Stay close. Find a map, keys, and where the flute’s kept. Then get out.”

* * *

Blitzer scurried through Tirasford’s darkened streets, accompanied by a snowy Darmanitan, a Ribombee and a Tinkaton. Peering out of the alleyway, their target was dead ahead: A police station with nary a Soldier outside, spare for one Pachirisu at the front desk.

“Y’all ready for this?” the Darmanitan asked, holding up a few Blast Seeds in between his fingers, a dirty smirk slathered all over his face. His eyebrows looked like they were laughing too, with they sparked. Ribombee casually affirmed with a nod. Blitzer gulped.

“‘Cam on, Gama. Ya know I’m always ready,” the Tinkaton yapped. “If I ain’t, then I’d have stayed in bed. And I ain’t stayin’ in bed.”

Darmanitan Gama stuck the Blast Seeds in his mouth, and ran them against the back of his upper lip, a slimy noise squelching out as he did. It sounded like someone squeezing slime in their hand. Blitzer turned up his nose.

‘Ugh! Gross!’

“Like you like to get outta bed, Aego. Too busy cuddlin’ with that big ol’ hammer o’ yours like it’s a pillow.”

Ribombee snickered, as Tinkaton Aego smacked the face of her hammer with an open palm. “What? You think I’m stupid? Obsessed? I ain’t. Just fond of a good ol’ hammer, that’s all!”

Smirking, Darmanitan Gama held up the Blast Seeds once more. “Heh… well, ‘s gonna have some competition after this. These are some fine, fine Blast Seeds we got, alright. And we’re gonna use ‘em right here. Right now. Ready?”

“Ready!”

“W-wait! Stop!!” Blitzer called out.

Gama turned to him with a look of utter disgust.“Two seconds from startin’, and now ya speak up, Quiet Boy? Spit it out, ‘cause I ain’t got all day.”

Blitzer breathed in deep, the flame on the end of his tail sparking. “Just, be careful where you throw those, alright? You’re gonna hit the street. There could be Pokemon there. And don’t use them all-”

“-at once? Hah!” Gama spat at the wall beside him, leaving an ice-crystal loogie sliding down to the pavement. “Kid, I ain’t a moron. ‘Course I ain’t gonna chuck ‘em all! And there ain’t no finer aim in the land, WATCH!”

Blitzer attempted to grasp for Gama’s arm, in a vain attempt to delay the inevitable.. But as the Blast Seed flew against the police station’s front door, and exploded into bits of fiery shrapnel that scattered and started fires across the street, the time for objections had come to an end.

Screams of terror rang through the street, and battle erupted. First blood had been drawn. Soon after, alarms rang through the skies above Tirasford…

* * *

One step past the storage room, and alarms blared throughout the complex, sending the Soldiers on patrol into an uproar. George, Terez and the steel types following them immediately slammed the door shut, Terez cursing under her breath.

“Already?!”

“Have they found us?”

“No…” Terez grumbled, eyes flashing blue.. “Idiots got the fireworks started already…”

George’s ears perked up. ‘Great… explosions outside.’ He smacked himself in the face. “What now?”

“Stick together,” Terez lectured with a finger, in an attempt to keep everyone calm. “We’re not stopping now… we’re too committed. Quick. Find out if there’s a master key and get it, avoid guards if possible, but not if necessary… find out where the flute piece is kept, get out hands on it, then get out. Understood?”

“Of course.”

“Let’s go.”

A group of quadrupedal Soldiers dashed past the room with heavy footfalls, gone with the wind as fast as they’d arrived. Terez opened the door, then gestured for the others to follow her through. George kept his head low, still hoping to keep a low profile despite the sirens whistling in his ears. Explosions roared in the distance, rocking the ground under their feet. George grimaced after each one.

‘God, they were asked to start a distraction, not a war… how is Blitzer doing right now? He’d never have signed up for this if he knew.’

Disturbing as the chaos might be, George’s plate was full enough. He moved with the rest of the group, masking their presence with a few more psychic illusions. Far easier said than done this time, however. The electric lights throughout the complex demanded nothing short of perfection to be improved. Always a shadow out of place, or the green-grayish walls turning blue, or a shimmer revealing the steel types to the world…

One Vaporeon who ran past screeched to a halt, frills standing up straight.

“I-Intrude-”

Before they got a paw on the alarm, Magneton broke through the illusion. Thunderbolts arced from each magnet into a frill, another going in between the eyes. Vaporeon collapsed with a droning “uuuuuhh” spilling out her mouth, limbs twitching with static energy.

“Our position has been revealed. It will only be a matter of time.”

“We were on the clock already,” Terez dismissed. “Keep going. If we move fast, we’ll succeed.”

Though her words were determined, her fingers shook. George straightened his scarf before putting the illusion back up, giving Vaporeon’s body a nudge. He closed their eyes and made them look asleep. It wouldn’t fool anyone above the age of three, but the thought counted.

‘Knew this was a suicide mission, but damn… Terez really believed it wasn’t, huh.’

* * *

Buildings caught fire as Pokemon battled in the streets, elements flying loose in all directions. Screams in the west. Children crying to the east. Roars high above and nearby. In the middle of the chaos, a Charmeleon struggled to find cover, a group of lost Cleffa following him while terrified out of their minds. By some luck, he found a shelter not far from the banks of the Entivesi, the few Soldiers there ignoring him in favour of the Cleffa. He ran away before they reconsidered.

‘...I did NOT sign up for this!’

Blitzer roamed about. He’d lost sight of Gama, Aego, and that mute Ribombee cheerleading them on, thank goodness. They rampaged through the city like it was their own fantasy, Soldier and civilian be damned. Blitzer ran away in horror, discovered the Cleffa cowering behind a trash can, then took it from there. This wasn’t a distraction.

Disoriented, he searched the city for anyplace he’d be useful. Some of the Smaugus had begun to mark their turf, carving messages into buildings, bossing other civilians around, or beating up Soldiers who’d surrendered already. He frowned at the sight. They just smiled back at him.

‘I promised my parents I’d grow up to stop scum like this. I-It’s not just the Soldiers, the Smaugus now too…? We were promised the Alliance was… Allora promised the Smaugus wouldn’t-’

A Cetitan suddenly flew past him, rolling against the door of a greyed out building. They ended up upside down, green scarf flopping over their eyes. Blitzer watched the unfortunate ice breather’s crash landing, then went back the way they’d come from. Moments later, he stood face to face with a smirking Carracosta.

“Aah… what a day. Feels good to finally break out of the trap. Even if it’s just for a while. Ain’t that right, Blitzer?”

Allora grinned, the pointy edges of her beak taking the centre stage. Her armour had been scratched and scarred, as if she’d gotten into a fight with half the city. From a warped mind, that was something to be proud of. But while the pride was definitely there, she also seemed concerned.

“L-listen,” Blitzer stammered, “I’ve got no idea what we’re doing, but this isn’t right. I’ve just escorted a whole bunch of Cleffa out of here! None of them could’ve been older than six!”

The Carracosta dragged her tongue across her mouth. “I’ve noticed. And no, I don’t appreciate it either, of course. We’re quite the troublemakers now… but you know what they say about repressed emotions, don’t you?”

Blitzer tilted his head. “No?”

Allora extended a flipper at the mountain overlooking the city. “‘Tis like ol’ Tenebrous over there storing up magma. She can only hold it in for so long, and when she can’t? All hell breaks loose.”

Blitzer pulled a sour face as she ran back the way she came, flippers overflowing with a watery energy. “Th-that’s a mountain! We’re Pokemon!”

She cracked her neck around. “There’s a long history behind this, I’m afraid. But we’ve got no time for this now. Quick, follow me. Gotta keep the Soldiers busy.”

Though he didn’t like it, Blitzer knew full well that Allora wasn’t spilling anymore beans. They’d started a fire. And unlike the fire on Blitzer’s tail, it was only growing.

* * *

With each second, the Bastion resembled a disturbed beehive. Soldiers buzzed around like Beedrill. Alarms blared, intruders ran amok, Soldiers searching each corridor, and the angry roars of commands being barked out echoed, bringing a dusty smell with it.

Magneton supercharged an electrical panel, shutting down the lock on a door. The other Steel types barged in, George and Terez covering their backs. The increasing resistance asserted itself forcefully, and their illusions grew faded and foggy as a result. Masking everyone fully was too difficult a task, and the inkling that their mind tricks didn’t fool any longer revealed its ugly head.

So far, most stepping stones had eluded them. They’d gotten a key from a guard post, but no doors accepted it. They’d found a map, but part of it was a blobby, unreadable mess. And their search for the flute piece had been fruitless so far.

The steel types returned from the room. “No flute here. Just the prison block.”

“Did you see anyone there?” Terez asked. Magneton’s magnets buzzed.

“No. We did not. We could not access the block.”

Terez put her hands on her head. “Argh… we haven’t got the time to go down there… We can’t just chase empty promises! George, has that map been useful thus far?”

George rubbed his whiskers. “Yeah. Everything’s matched up.”

“Okay… any objections to going to the omitted part on that map?” Terez asked. “It’s the only hope we’ve got.”

“Perhaps the prison block contains more answers?” Magneton suggested. George shook his head.

“I… doubt they’d keep the flute or anything related near prisoners. Imagine if they escaped.” ‘As much as I’d like to go down there… must be good folk down there. People who stood up against the Crest.’

“Interesting thought,” the Magneton replied. “But is the blob a good idea?”

George shook his head. “Best one we have. None of the marked places on the map differ, and there’s no flute related things on there.”

Footsteps approached in the corridor behind them. Terez put up a psychic barrier.

“Go, go!”

Without dawdling, the group ran off towards the void. Uncharted territory. Dangerous on the surface, but the whole Bastion had been uncharted originally. On the way in, the Soldier presence was stronger than ever. Fierce combat ensued. Steel slashes and electricity surged through the halls, psychic shocks and blasts of water washing away the aftermath, a tinge of grass rejuvenating a little. They broke through the Soldiers, each desperate to reach the alarm or to shout out the danger.

After a struggle, George was the first to break through, the others hot on his heels. They came across a door which demanded four separate slots be filled. There were small indents in each, resembling an electrical outlet.

“Step aside. We will handle this.”

Magneton took charge of the situation, pointing a magnet at each outlet before George, Terez, or anyone else noticed the lack of keyholes. In their place was a footprint reader, with the old mark of a Metagross on the surface. Magneton shocked each outlet with arcing bolts of thunder, charging and overloading the mechanism inside. After ten seconds of strain, a mechanism in the wall clicked. The door slid open.

“Darn, good job,” George whispered. ‘That looked absolutely exhausting… had to shield my eyes.’

“There,” Magneton clanked out. “We are tired… tell us this has been worth it.”

“Can’t make promises,” George said, Terez edging him on to check it out first. Past the door whose massive iron bars had locked it in place, lines of power careened from the floor to the ceiling, illuminating the vast electrical currents that activated at the slightest nearby motion, blocking the other end of the room. And at the other end of the room, underneath a glass lid, sat a gleaming blue piece.

“It’s here!” George shouted. “We’ve found it!“