Terez and the steel squad rushed into the room, the latter forming a shield wall by the entrance. Even Magneton held the line, despite the exhaustion brought on by breaking the lock.
With bated breath, Terez marvelled at the gleaming flute piece for a split second, before her gaze soured. Even before spotting the electrical current keeping the piece under lock and key, she struggled to keep an optimistic face against the struggles ahead.
“Right… we should be able to pull it to us with telekinesis. What do you think, George?”
George ran a hand through the fur on his head, squinting between the electricity. So close, yet so far. With all the obstacles the Crest had put before them already, it couldn’t have been so simple.
“There’s glass covering the flute, do you see that?”
Terez nodded. “Indeed. Keen eye… what are the odds we can lift it over?”
Fists clenched, the Dewott gritted his teeth. “Either we can lift it away or break it, but it can’t be that easy. Do you see that little line of electricity?” He pointed at a current running along the wall. “I think they’ve got an alarm set up here…” ‘Speaking of keen… credit where it’s due, figuring out alarms. Ugh.’
“Are you certain about this?” Terez asked. George’s eyes narrowed.
‘What a stupid question.’ “Because that’s what people back home have as well. They set up cameras, devices, the whole rigmarole to keep what they own safe. And that’s just single people in their apartments, what do you think massive organisations do? We’ve had tripwires and electric barriers and enough Soldiers to make you vomit coming at us. It doesn’t stop there.”
The Gardevoir’s eye twitched as she squeezed her dress in her hand. “I understood about half of that… but I know the important details. Keen again… right. Unless we want to scour this complex looking for generators, we’ve got no choice but to set off the alarm. And we’ve got no choice. So… I will raise or break the lid. You pull the piece over. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good. Get ready.”
George stuck his hand out, and waited for Terez to break the seal on the flute, fingers itching for the touch of cold metal. It used to be funny to think he’d be completing what he’d so innocently started back in that cave near Greenfield. In hindsight, all of this had gone according to someone’s plan, and his discovery had been no accident. The funny side of it all left a lot to be desired, in the end.
He bit his lip. Reminiscing was a waste of energy. Any moment, Terez could give the sign. But she hadn’t given it yet. Nor were her efforts to lift the lid bearing fruit. The glass vibrated, but didn’t budge a centimetre. All the while, the electricity passing underneath distorted. Something clicked in the ceiling. Alarms flared.
“Damn! Alright, breaking it is!” Terez grumbled, eyes flaring blue as her fingers bent like talons. Cracks formed in the glass. The electricity turned red, just as the glass burst apart into a hundred different splinters, the crash echoing through the room and into the hall.
“Now! NOW!!”
George gritted his teeth, summoning all the might in his body to yank the flute piece through the electric chasm. Suddenly, just as the flute started to fly, giant metal shutters slammed down from the ceiling, each missing the flute piece by a hair as it flew across. With the smallest margin, the flute’s cold surface hit George’s hand.
“Quick! Out NOW!” Terez ordered.
Alas, a final shutter forced its way down the door frame, their lone avenue of escape. Terez immediately shoved both hands forward, her hair standing up right with a blue glow. Just half the door was left.
“Get through, get through!!” she called.
Clanking in a panic, the steel types dove underneath. George followed, rolling over the metal floor while keeping the flute against his chest. Magneton was last to leave, slowly pursuing Terez who floated underneath the door like a ghost. When she let go, the final shutter slammed down and clicked into place.
“Everyone okay?” the Gardevoir asked.
“Yes,” the steel types replied, Magneton the lone hesitant voice.
George stuck his tongue in his cheek.‘If we’re lucky, they haven’t discovered how we entered yet…’
But a bang on the other side of the wall shoved those hopeful thoughts into a ditch.
* * *
How long had it been since the attack began? Blitzer didn’t dare to think how short. So short, and yet the Alliance and Smaugus had bit off far more than they could chew. First, a whole crew came running, beat to hell and shivering. Then, another crew had been knocked up, two times the Soldiers tying their unconscious bodies together.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Not even a well placed Flamethrower did much to help a third crew, who sparsely had time to breathe before more Soldiers descended upon them. Blitzer, shaking and confused, stuck close to Allora. She was the only lifeline he had.
“Grr! Ain’t gonna last in here much longer…” she eventually grumbled, stomping her way across the street. “Think we’ll have to retreat soon. And I will…”
“Wh-what about George, though? T-the raiding team?” Blitzer’s tail swayed all over the place. He half expected Soldiers to jump out the windows by the dozen.
Allora shrugged. “Can only hope they’re managing. We’ve got no way of communicating with ‘em in the middle of this.”
“What?!” Blitzer’s tail flared with a spike of anxiety. “You can’t be serious! They’re literally who we’re doing all of this for, and we don’t even know if they’ve been captured, successful, k-killed…” He struggled to get the last word out of his throat. The mere thought made him feel sick to his stomach.
Allora smacked herself in the face with the back of a flipper, before elbowing Blitzer right afterwards. “It’ll be fine, my guy. Goooods almighty, you should start having some faith if you know what’s best for you.”
Blitzer held his claws by his chest. “Faith?”
“Duh! You’re not stupid enough to not get the whole concept, are you?” Allora asked. But the only answer she’d accept was none at all. “Come on. We’re staying here for about five more minutes, then we’ll sound the retreat. Got it?”
“I-”
“No excuses.”
“...Yes, ma’am.”
Living up to her husband’s repertoire, Allora stomped her way through the street, a group of Soldiers jumping out of the shadows near the end, pointing and shouting at her. By the time Blitzer caught up with her, she’d smashed her flippers into the ground, tremors surging through the area with enough force to shatter windows and crack the pavement. Her shell had cracked, yet the damage she received paled in comparison to the three Soldiers at the end. They were all unconscious, a brick having landed on top of one's head.
Staring at the bodies, Blitzer felt squeamish inside. All three had sustained injuries so bad, they’d need a long stay in a clinic to recover. Why go this far? He wondered to himself. The question repeated itself in his mind as they kept pushing on. Alas, the answer was nowhere to be found yet.
And given what awaited them around the corner, later might never come.
One moment, Blitzer fired off a few Flamethrowers in support of Allora. The next, all control over his own limbs left him. Even his tail wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard his muscles spasmed for control. His feet slipped off the ground, his body tilted over: just his mouth listened to him now.
“Wh-what is happening?! Allora, help!”
The Charmeleon flailed around, the scarf tightening around his neck. “HEEELP!” he yowled. “HEEeelp!” ‘I can’t breathe…!’
He struggled to see where the Carracosta was even standing. His body flipped horizontally at a mockingly slow speed. A loud crash struck his eardrums. Roof tiles fell from nearby buildings and shattered on the ground, kicking up dust and electing a scream from nearby residents. The force holding Blitzer let go, and the Charmeleon fell onto the ground, coughing up the air in his lungs.
Upon rising back to his feet, he found a standoff right before him. On his side, Allora, holding her flippers out. And on the other end of the small square, without the slightest bit of fear, anger, joy, sadism, or any other emotion in the slightest, a Metagross awaited them.
“Disgraceful. The only word befitting the hell you’ve unleashed today, isn’t it?” the Metagross said, her voice devoid of any intonation. It matched the body. Hollow, cold, and zero personality, outside of the magnet-like green badge under the X.
“Pfft…” Allora spat out. “Got a lot of guts saying that when tossin’ teenagers around. Kid wants freedom so bad, he’s risking his life for it. Even a clanker like you could sympathise… Dritch.” Her tongue hung out of her mouth, the Metagross’ telekinesis unable to seize her. “Who picked that name, you? Fits you like a glove. One we all vomited in.”
Dritch’s body raised a little. “Slander all you like. You know this is an argument you cannot win. You’re the reason why the security measures have been so tight. You’ve always wanted to banish lord Arceus from the land. You’ve always wanted to destroy the civilised world. And you didn’t hesitate to send children into battle to achieve that. All we have done wrong is make difficult decisions. My only failing on top of that is not having seen through your lies. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.”
“Nothin’ but a clanker,” Allora growled demonically. “Got no opinions that aren’t the Queen’s in there, have ya?” She spat into the square. Dritch didn’t budge.
“Don’t hide now,” the Metagross’ voice echoed. “Why don’t you tell that misguided boy over there what your true intentions are? Who you truly serve.”
Allora peeked over her shoulder, and shot a smirk towards Blitzer. “I’m loyal to my hubbie… and the real King! Don’t believe a word of that crap, Blizzie. Ain’t no emotions in there!”
Blitzer’s frown deepened, as he summoned the courage to stare the automaton in the eyes. No emotion, no soul. His claws clenched into fists. Dritch was nothing more than a robot. And he wasn’t going to fall for a robot.
“You’re nothing but a liar. And a tyrant!” he shouted. “You’ve all been ruining my life since the day I was BORN! Destroyed my village, took my friends away, took EVERYTHING AWAY! LIKE MY PARENTS! WHERE’S MY PARENTS?!”
The Charmeleon hyperventilated to a calm, his heart beating faster than a Dragonite. Allora had buried her face under a flipper, her prideful laughter audible for all to hear.
And all the while, Dritch remained as cold as the snow falling all around.
“My dearest apologies. It appears I will have to set things right afterwards.”
The sharp screech of whirring metal cut through the square, as Dritch unleashed a massive psionic shockwave with a whip of her arm. Allora covered herself, and Blitzer did as well. A purple flash hit the corner of his eye, moments before Dritch’s attack hit him. He was knocked on his back, groaning from a pain creeping up his back. By the time he got up, a psychic barrier blocked the road into the square. And Allora was on the other side of it.
“Blitzer, run!” her voice sounded on the other side. He couldn’t see her past the energy swirlign around.
“A-Allora!”
“Do you value your life?”
“I can’t just leave you there!”
“It’s not me you should worry about… This is what I always wanted.
Worry about yourself.”
An explosion hit the barrier on the other side. And as much as Blitzer didn’t want to leave Allora behind, a deep-seated understanding formed in his mind. The only one he could save now was himself.
And so he ran, hoping to find George somewhere…
* * *
Pipes running along the ceiling ruptured, as George and the rest of the crew made a mad dash for the exit, an unknown threat drawing near. Neither Terez, nor George, nor anyone else wanted to stick around and find out who.
They rushed back through the corridors, sidestepping previously defeated Soldiers in a hurry. Dust fell from the pipes still intact as their enemy stomped after them, the brutality of the footfalls growing louder no matter how hard they ran. One corner before the door, George caught the glimpse of a talon.
Upon reaching the storage room, Terez and George quickly barricaded the door with everything not bolted to the ground. Seconds afterwards, the door audibly cracked from a massive bang on the other side. George grimaced. Their only luck left was the hole to the outside world still being open.
They climbed out, then pushed snow onto the hole. Cold pressed deep into everyone’s skin as they rushed back onto the icy plains. Distant sounds of a riot reached their ears; Soldiers blocked the path from Tirasford to the Bastion.
Still clinging onto their illusions, they began making the crossing the same way they’d come, only shooting the occasional glance back. George had hoped this was the end of it. That they’d escape by the skin of their teeth, in spite of everything.
But as dust spat out from the snow, and the ground underneath shifted and cracked with a pop, those dreams were put to rest. George, Terez and the steel types stopped dead in their tracks, as someone behind them cleared their throat. The sound resembled nails on a chalkboard.
And the Garchomp they saw over their shoulders wasn’t about to stop there.