Act 3: Chapter 12 |
As the crackling, spectral light fades from the rooftop, the entire world seems to hold its breath. The beating rain, blustering wind, even the thunderclaps rolling across the landscape all grow dull and muted as a Dragon is born on the top of the Weather Institute. It only makes the hiss of the raindrops on feverish red and green scales all the harsher.
Mega Sceptile's eyes snap open, the outer lid first, then the translucent inner lid, and the near-feral slits in a sea of yellow lock-on to Sharpedo, who snarls back, razer-filled mouth open and ready.
Across the way, a number of expressions flash across Archie's face in rapid succession.
First is abject shock. There isn't any attempt to hide it, Archie simply lets his composure crack and shatter like porcelain dashed across the floor.
A half-second later, the shock makes way for anguish. One large hand rises to clutch at the tanned man's bandana-covered head as he stares at Sceptile, his face twisted in a grimace so harsh that it must be painful.
Then finally, it settles on open, seething hate, and despite having a Mega pokemon between him and the Aqua boss, Lee's foot still jerks back half a step as Archie's stormy eyes darken, blacker and more grim than the lightning spewing clouds overhead.
Archie's teeth grind audibly even over the storm. His voice, when it comes, is low and rough, scraped raw by something that sounds almost like betrayal. "I thought you were better than this, Henson."
Lee blinks, the non-sequitur cutting through the haze of new sensations flooding his nervous system. "What?"
"Don't play dumb with me!" Archie's composure cracks further, a vein pulsing at his temple. "I've seen what that does to a pokemon! The corruption, the twisting, the way they lose themselves to the pain!" His hand drops from his head, curling into a fist at his side. "I thought you loved your pokemon. That's what people seem to think about you, that you're one of the good ones." The words drip with acid. "And here you are, torturing yours for a little extra power."
…But the words die in his throat.
The second heartbeat is back and thunders in his chest, perfectly synced with his own, creating a drumming rhythm that makes his ribs ache. His skin prickles with phantom sensations: the rain doesn't just fall on him anymore, it feels as if it falls through him, each droplet a pinprick of cold data feeding into senses countless times faster than his own. He can taste the ozone in the air, sharp and metallic on a tongue he doesn't have. His tail, the one sprouting from his lower back that his brain insists is real, overlaps with the other nine on the edge of his notice, pins and needles racing up a spine that ends six feet behind him.
Lee's thoughts scatter like startled Pidgey, and by the time he's gathered enough of them to form a coherent sentence, Archie has already turned his attention back to the battle.
"Sharpedo! Aqua Jet!"
The shark launches forward, trailing water and fury.
Mega Sceptile doesn't wait for Lee's command. He doesn't need to, really. The moment a plan begins to pull together in the front of Lee's brain, Sceptile snaps the rest of it in place himself.
The Forest Pokemon moves like nothing corporeal should be able to move. One moment he's there, scales steaming in the rain, and the next he's in a new spot, three feet to the left.
SNAP!
Sharpedo's jaws snap shut on empty air, loud as a gunshot.
In the half-second where Sharpedo is recoiling from the failed attack, Sceptile's tail lashes out in whirl, no longer the familiar array of leaves. Halfway through the turn, the fern-like protrusions shiver and snap-snap-snap into place, forming a single massive, serrated blade that glows with sickly green-yellow light, and where it carves across Sharpedo's flank, the shark's rough hide shreds like wet paper.
Sharpedo tumbles through the air, water-jets firing wildly to stabilize himself. Blood streams from the savage wound, immediately diluted by the rain into pink rivulets that splash across the rooftop.
Archie, however, refuses to be thrown off balance. "Ice Fang! Get inside his reach!"
The shark rallies with admirable speed, a new layer of needle-like frost spreading across his jaws and over the already-formed icy battering ram as he darts forward again, headed straight for Sceptile's long neck. It's a decent strategy, all things told. Sceptile's reach is a key contributor to his danger factor, and Archie has figured it out fast. In close quarters, against those crushing jaws...
Sceptile's inner eyelids flicker, and Lee is treated to the disorienting, stomach-churning sensation of seeing Sharpedo move as both a blur, and as a guppy seemingly trying to swim in jelly.
The Dragon lowers himself and flows into the charge, slipping past Sharpedo's gaping maw by millimeters. His arm-blade, the Siphon Blade still humming with that green-gold glow, once more shortens into a knife and is driven into the shark's belly just behind the lower fin.
Schlick.
Sharpedo convulses, a horrid, wet gurgle escaping his throat along with droplets of blood.
Where the Siphon Blade drank before, it now violently rips, and Lee can feel it secondhand, a rush of stolen vitality that races up Sceptile's arm and spreads through his body like warm honey. The shallow cuts and scrapes accumulated before the Mega Evolution knit closed. The gouge in his thigh seals over completely, his skin writhing and pinching itself closed.
Sceptile rips his blade free and kicks off Sharpedo's face with legs that could knock over a building, shattering Sharpedo's hoarfrost armor like glass and sending him spinning away once more.
The whole exchange takes maybe two seconds.
"Protect!" Archie barks, and the shimmering green barrier flickers into existence just in time to catch the follow-up tail-swipe that would have sent Sharpedo careening off the roof entirely. The impact still sends the shark skidding backward with a deep gouge in his shield, his water-cushion struggling to maintain cohesion.
Lee watches through eyes that feel too small for what they're seeing. Part of him, the trainer part, knows he should be calling out commands, directing the flow of battle, but Sceptile doesn't need him right now. The gecko moves with a surety that borders on prescience, reading Sharpedo's tells before the shark even commits to an action.
'This is what we trained for,' Lee reminds himself, fighting to keep his breathing steady as another wave of phantom sensation washes over him. The urge to hunt, to press the advantage, to bury his teeth in prey that can't escape...
It's so much more violent than anything Ninetales has ever fed him. Her emotions are his, and his are hers, but this is so much more wild, more raw. If he didn't have the experience with out-of-body sensations he gained with Nine, would this even be controllable?
He shoves the thought down. Now is not the time to waste brainpower on what-ifs. Instead, what focus can be spared goes to his breathing, pulling back on the leash keeping the duo of hearts between his ribs from beating out of control.
Across the roof, Archie's expression has hardened into something cold and clinical, the earlier fury banked but not extinguished. He's adapting, Lee realizes. Recalculating and looking for a new angle.
"Agility! Crunch!"
Wisps of pink shiver around the shark pokemon, and like someone hit the fast forward button on him, Sharpedo surges forward, jaws spread wide enough to snap a man in half with room to spare.
'No Dark TE around his teeth?' Lee wonders with only Nine and Sceptile to hear. 'Does that mean…'
Only Lee sees Sceptile tense… Or so he thinks, as Archie makes another call a split second later.
"Ice Beam!"
Sharpedo suddenly slows midair, revealing the feint for what it is. Instead of a bite, he stops at an awkward distance, just outside Sceptile's range as an icy blue orb shines to life in his mouth.
It's too bad that Sceptile is just that much faster.
At the last possible instant, the grass-type advances one step and pivots, his tail sweeping low instead of high. The flat of the glowing blade catches Sharpedo across the underside of his jaw, snapping his head upward with a crack that Lee feels in his own teeth, and bursting the half-formed Ice Beam in his throat.
The shark's momentum carries him up and over, and Sceptile is already turning, a Siphon Blade aimed at the base of the ventral fin where the flesh is softest. The tip of the blade warps and bends, forming a cruel hook.
Schink!
Finally, Sharpedo makes a true noise of pain, letting out a choking roar as his momentum drags the hook right into his body.
Sceptile peers up before all the inertia keeping Sharpedo suspended fades, livid red clashing with disappointed yellow. Then the Dragon's arm tenses, and he whips the arm holding his leafy weapon down.
Crack.
Sharpedo hits the concrete hard, shaking the roof and sending red-tinged water flying as his water-cushion finally fails him. He tries to rise, the orb-like water-jets at his sides sputtering and coughing, with half of them failing to manifest. Under him, red crawls across the concrete.
The shark isn't done. Lee can see it in the way those red eyes still burn, the way his jaws still work, trying to find something to bite out of instinct, but the stalemate is no more.
And through it all, the second heartbeat in Lee's chest pounds on, savage and triumphant and so damn alien.
Sceptile sneers down at the wounded shark, extending his leaf out to its full length once again, but doesn't deign to even hold it at a low ready, instead keeping it at his side. The rain that strikes the rail-thin weapon right on the edge fills the rooftop with the sound of tiny bells, all overlapping into an eerie drone.
Lee swallows hard, forcing his shaking self to steady despite the alien sensations still crawling through his nervous system. Before the lull can pass, he finds his voice. "Archie. Look at your pokemon."
The Aqua leader's jaw clenches, but his eyes flick to Sharpedo despite himself.
The shark is still trying to rise, water-jets firing in weak, stuttering bursts that barely lift him off the concrete. His rough hide is marked with wounds that weep red into the rain, and one eye has narrowly avoided being carved out. His breathing comes in wet, labored rasps.
"This fight is over," Lee continues, and he hates how much effort it takes to keep his tone level, to not let the triumphant drumbeat in his chest color his words. "Backup is on the way. The League knows you're here. Whatever you came to do, it's done." He gestures toward the stairwell. "Surrender. Get Sharpedo medical attention before those wounds get any worse."
For a long moment, Archie doesn't respond. He just stares at his partner, something unreadable moving behind his eyes.
Then he laughs.
It's not a pleasant sound. There's no humor in it, no warmth. Just a hollow, bitter thing that he forces out of his throat and dies in the storm.
"Surrender." Archie's teeth all bear themselves in yet another grimace, rain streaming down his face. "To you."
"To the League," Lee corrects. "I'm just the one standing here."
"No." Archie's voice hardens, his gaze snapping back to Lee with renewed intensity. "No, I don't think I will. Not to the League, and sure as hell not to someone like you."
Lee's brow furrows. "Someone like me? What does that even mean?"
Archie's hand moves to the anchor pendant at his chest, fingers curling around it like a talisman. "Both for what Aqua stands for and my own principles won't let me yield. Not to Maxie, and not to anyone who'd stoop to his level." His lip curls. "I told him that the next time we met, there'd be no backing down. No retreating. No compromise." He releases the pendant, letting it thump against his chest. "For you, I make the same vow."
Lee finds himself genuinely baffled. His thoughts are already sluggish, split between his own mind and the torrent of sensory data pouring through the keystone on his wrist, and this conversational whiplash isn't helping.
"What did I do?" The question comes out more plaintive than Lee intends. "Seriously, Archie, what the hell are you talking about? What could I have possibly done to put me on the same level as Maxie in your eyes?"
Archie's scoff is loud enough to hear over the thunder. "Playing dumb doesn't suit you."
"I'm not playing anything! I genuinely don't know what you're..."
"That!" Archie jabs a finger toward Sceptile, toward the gorget around the gecko's neck and the gleaming stone set within it. "That twisted shit right there! Anyone willing to force that kind of torture on an innocent pokemon, anyone who'd warp their own partner into... into that..." He trails off, disgust twisting his features. "You're an enemy of Aqua, Henson. Now and forever."
Lee's vision bleeds red, and he can't stop the vitriol that burns up his throat and out his mouth, because the fury that surges through him isn't entirely his own.
It crashes through him like a tidal wave, hot and sharp and offended, and Lee can't tell where Sceptile's outrage ends and his begins. The dual heartbeat in his chest spikes, pounding against his ribs hard enough to hurt, and for a terrifying instant he feels his lips peel back from his teeth in a snarl that has no business being on a human face.
"Harm him?" The words rip out of Lee before he can stop them, rougher and more guttural than his normal speaking voice. He has to fight to modulate it, to pull back on the tide of emotion threatening to swamp his higher functions. "You fuckin' dare? You think I would harm my own pokemon on purpose?!"
He takes a step forward, and some distant part of him notices Archie's shoulders tense.
"Mega Evolution is… is…" Lee's voice fails for a moment from the effort of keeping it level. "It's one of the deepest expressions of the bond between trainer and pokemon. Only the closest partnerships can even attempt it without..." He stops, reins himself in, forces air into lungs that want to breathe too fast. "Without tearing themselves apart in the process. Sceptile and I spent weeks preparing for this, making sure we could handle it together."
Sceptile shifts beside him, blade still glowing but held low. The gecko's eyes, those near-feral yellow slits, fix on Archie with something that might be pity.
Archie stares back.
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"I've seen what Maxie does," he says slowly, but the certainty in his voice is wavering now. "I've seen his Camerupt scream. Seen the way it thrashes and writhes, like something's eating it from the inside out. The way it goes blank afterward, like there's nothing left behind the eyes but..." He trails off.
His gaze moves from Lee to Sceptile. Really looks, this time.
At the way Sceptile stands steady and sure, no trembling, no signs of pain.
At the clear intelligence in those yellow eyes, the awareness that keeps the body-rupturing power in check.
At the way the gecko's posture mirrors Lee's own, two halves of a single whole rather than puppet and puppeteer.
Something in Archie's expression cracks.
His shoulders sag, just a fraction. The fire in his eyes dims, replaced by something tired and so very sad.
"Damn it, Maxie," he murmurs, so quiet that Lee almost misses it beneath the rain. "How far have you fallen?"
Before either of them can speak again, the weather tower behind the building lets out a sharp, electric crack. The constant hum of static that Lee had tuned out some time ago sputters, whines, and dies. The crackling arcs of electricity dancing across the donut-shaped apparatus at its apex flicker once, twice, and go dark.
The storm doesn't stop immediately. The rain still falls and the wind still howls, but there's a shift in the air, a sense of pressure releasing, like a held breath finally exhaled.
'Lee.'
Ninetales' voice cuts through the haze Lee hadn't even realized he was drowning in. It's like surfacing from deep water, the world snapping back into focus with jarring clarity.
'The Institute employees have successfully shut down the weather machine. It seems Aqua was using it as a makeshift radio jammer as well.' A note of grim satisfaction colors her mental voice. 'All the jammed wireless alarms are now transmitting to the League. They'll know exactly what happened here.'
Lee doesn't get a chance to respond.
A sharp, urgent chirp cuts through the fading storm, coming from somewhere inside Archie's jacket. The Aqua leader's hand dips into an inner pocket and emerges with a compact device, all matte black plastic with a stubby antenna. He thumbs a button on the side. "Make it quick."
The voice that crackles through is tinny and distorted, but audible. "Boss, we detected the weather machine going down. Bad news: we've only been able to get a few hits on the sonobuoys."
Archie's expression doesn't change, but something in his posture shifts. "Can you make do?"
A pause. "...Uncertain, Boss. We'll need to analyze what we got, but..."
"Then analyze it." Archie stuffs the radio back into his pocket without waiting for a reply. His gaze turns skyward, tracking something in the roiling clouds that Lee can't see.
The storm is weakening. Lee can feel it now, the way the wind is losing its edge, the rain tapering from a deluge to a downpour. Without the weather machine feeding it, nature is already beginning to reassert itself.
"Despite you coming to muck around in my mud, Henson..." Archie's voice is calm again, that earlier crack in his composure sealed over like it never existed. "Today was still a victory."
His eyes drop from the sky to Sceptile. Specifically, to the gorget around Sceptile's neck, and the Mega Stone sparkling within.
"A victory in more ways than one, it seems." Something complicated moves behind his expression, there and gone too fast to read. "The wind isn't blowing our way anymore, anyway," he says, glancing up behind Lee once more. "Time to go."
As he speaks, Archie takes a step backward. Then another. His left leg rises up to step on the lip of the roof's edge, followed by the right, until his heels are inches from slipping off.
Lee's hand shoots out instinctively. "Stop! You'll fall!"
"That's the plan."
Archie tips backward and drops from sight.
"Archie!"
Lee lunges for the edge, heart hammering against ribs that already ache from the dual heartbeat. He reaches the lip of the roof just in time to see Archie plummeting through the rain, arms spread wide, his open jacket flapping behind him like broken wings.
A huge shape shades Lee for a half-second, then rockets down and nearly knocks him over from the airwash.
Sharpedo's water-jets fire one last time, a desperate burst that sends him careening off the roof after his trainer. Archie's hand finds Sharpedo's dorsal fin, grips tight, and the shark twists in midair, angling them both toward the churning river that runs alongside the Institute.
They hit the water with a splash that's swallowed by the current, and then they're gone, vanishing beneath the surface like they were never there at all.
"Shit!" Lee slams his fist on the lip of the building, uncaring of how one of his knuckles splits open.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going!? Come back here!"
There is barely any time to register the bellow coming through the floor as Zinnia's before…
CRASH!
Lee's head whips toward the sound. Below, two figures burst through the second-floor windows in an explosion of glass and splintered framing. Matt rides his cracked-shell Crawdaunt like a too-small surfboard, the crustacean's legs and lobster tail spread as he tries to glide down with his bulky cargo. Shelly clings to her Tentacruel's bell with white knuckles. The jellyfish's tentacles, of which several are reduced to blue-stained stumps, propel them forward in undulating waves.
Like Archie, both of them are headed for the river.
"Sceptile!" Lee spins, already pointing toward the fleeing Admins. "Cut them off! Don't let them get away!"
But Sceptile isn't looking at the Admins or the retreating shadow in the water. He isn't looking at the river, or at Lee, or at anything on the ground at all.
He's staring straight up, every muscle in his sleek body locked tight. His tail-blade, still extended, trembles with barely suppressed violence. A low, rumbling hiss builds in his throat, something primal and territorial that Lee feels echo through into him like a warning siren.
Lee follows his gaze.
The clouds above are... wrong. They're bulging and distending, pressing outward from some central point like a great finger is pushing through from the other side. The weakening storm fights back, lightning arcing and thunder rolling, but it's a losing battle.
Then the sky tears open with a dull boom.
A column of wind punches through the cloudbank, scattering vapor in a perfect circle that expands outward like a shockwave. Through the gap, Lee catches a glimpse of stars, the first he's seen all night, before something else fills the opening.
After seeing Aster's Sala, Lee thought he'd met the pinnacle of the Salamence species. How could he not have? The dragon was the size of a small house, with jaws of a size more fitting for a heavy duty excavator than a living thing, and breath that turned solid rock to molten mush in seconds. Surely it doesn't get badder than that, right?
A roar that isn't so much heard as felt, vibrating through Lee's chest and rattling his teeth in their sockets, begs to differ.
The Salamence that descends through the eye of its own making is an utter behemoth, as no other word fits. Even hundreds of feet up, warmth like a housefire radiates down, a clear warning that standing too close is foolish. Like Sala, the beastly pokemon wears a coat of scars proudly, but unlike Sala, its limbs and neck bulge with muscle, so much so that its scales almost seem too small for it. Despite the great height, the feeling of eyes tearing through him like spears makes Lee fidget in place.
And standing on its back, balanced perfectly despite the wind and rain and impossible angle, is a figure Lee recognizes from a hundred news broadcasts and a dozen failed runs through the classic gen 3 games.
Bare-chested despite the storm, and a captain's coat draped over his shoulders like a cape, his white mustache and sailor's hat whipping in the gale, Drake of the Elite Four surveys everything below with annoyance, not unlike a Persian woken in the middle of the night to deal with a Rattata.
The monster Salamence descends lower and lower, growing impossibly large the closer it gets, until its wingbeats nearly make Lee's ears pop.
Despite looking as if it should weigh several tons at absolute minimum, Drake's Salamence lands on the roof with enough grace to not flatten the building, though it does take up nearly half of the roof space by itself. Already, the rain water pooled in the nooks and crannies of the building top begin to let go of wafts of steam before the Dragon's burning-hot hide, as do Lee's clothes. There is no time to enjoy the warmth, however, as one crisis is traded for another.
Mega Sceptile, still rigid as a tree, stares at the monstrous Salamence, his pupils constricted down to hair-thin lines.
Drake's pokemon stares back, flames licking his nostrils with each breath.
'No no no now is not the time for this!'
One moment Lee is standing at the roof's edge, staring at the spot where Archie vanished beneath the churning water. The next, he's planted himself directly between Sceptile and the mountainous Salamence, arms spread wide in a gesture that's equal parts protective and, he hopes, not futile.
"Easy," he breathes, and he's not sure if he's talking to Sceptile, to Salamence, or to himself. "Easy. It's okay. He's not a threat."
Sceptile's emotions crash against Lee's mind like waves against a cliff face. Territorial fury. The burning need to challenge. An instinct older than thought screaming that this interloper, this rival, cannot be allowed to stand unopposed in their presence.
Lee's own heart pounds in answer, the dual rhythm threatening to spiral out of control. He can feel his hands shaking, his breath coming too fast, the urge to bare his teeth and hiss building in his throat.
'No.'
He clamps down with everything he has as his right hand finds his sleeve, pulling it back as he raises his watch.
The keystone set into its face pulses with warmth against his wrist, resonating with the Mega Stone around Sceptile's neck. Lee turns his arm, angling the watch face so both he and Sceptile can see it.
"Watch the second hand," Lee murmurs. "Just like we practiced. In and out. One second at a time."
The hand on the second ring ticks on, uncaring of the drama around it. One. Two. Three.
Lee breathes in.
Four. Five. Six.
Lee breathes out.
Sceptile's hiss tapers off into something quieter. The trembling in the gecko's frame begins to subside, the rigid lock of his muscles easing by degrees.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
The dual heartbeat in Lee's chest starts to slow, the two rhythms drifting apart, losing their perfect synchronization.
Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
All of Sceptile's natural weapons flicker, the sickly glow fading. The leaves on his wrist shrink and as the ones in his tail peel apart.
The seconds tick by. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Lee keeps his eyes fixed on the watch face, keeps his breathing steady and measured, with Sceptile doing the same.
Fifty-five. Fifty-six. Fifty-seven.
The minute ring clicks forward.
The light takes Sceptile all at once.
It's gentler than the transformation, more of an exhale than an explosion. The feverish red bleeds out of his scales, replaced by healthy green. The spear-point of his tail shivers and separates back into individual fronds. The bulk and height he'd gained melts away, leaving behind the lean, familiar silhouette that Lee knows and loves.
Sceptile sways on his feet. His eyes, yellow and slitted but no longer feral, blink once, twice. Then his legs buckle.
Lee catches him before he hits the concrete, one arm hooking under the gecko's shoulder to keep him upright. Sceptile is lighter than he looks, but Lee still staggers under the sudden weight, his own exhaustion making itself known now that the adrenaline is fading.
"I've got you," Lee says quietly. "I've got you. You did amazing."
Sceptile lets out a low, tired churr, his head lolling against Lee's shoulder.
Lee fumbles for the pokeball at his belt, nearly dropping it twice before his trembling fingers manage to angle the button towards his exhausted pokemon. The red light washes over Sceptile, pulling him into the safety of the ball's interior, and Lee is left holding the sphere in both hands, staring down at it.
"I'm so proud of you," he brings the ball up and whispers. "Get some rest. You earned it."
The ball wiggles weakly in his grip.
Lee clips it to his belt with care, making sure it's secure before letting his hand fall away.
Heavy footsteps draw his attention back to the present.
Drake doesn't climb down from his Salamence so much as step off, dropping the six feet to the rooftop like it's nothing more than a curb. He lands in a crouch that would make Lee's knees ache for a week, then straightens without so much as a wince, his dark coat settling around his shoulders.
The Elite Four member's gaze sweeps across the scene. It lingers on Lee for a moment, taking in the exhaustion written across his face, and the pokeball containing Sceptile. Then it moves to the sky, tracking the weakening storm, the clouds still churning but losing their fury by the second. Finally, it drops to the rooftop itself, to the gouges in the concrete, the shattered, half-melted remnants of Sharpedo's ice armor and the smears of red slowly being diluted by the rain.
Drake grunts. "Annoying."
"And then Drake touched down, and you know the rest."
Wet, tired, and thoroughly done with tonight, Lee finishes recounting the evening to the small group before him.
On the left, Rubello's own Officer Jenny finishes jotting down her notes on a notepad, her pen moving all fast and expert like a city cop despite being a rural officer.
To the right, is… Lee never caught her name. Her real name, at least. She introduced herself as "Mrs. Smith, League Department of Justice". The smart black suit, sunglasses she's refused to remove even with the hour pushing midnight, and the title all scream "government spook", and thus puts how real her name is into question. Despite how her presence annoyed Officer Jenny, Jenny didn't send the other woman away after Smith flashed a badge, so she must be the real deal.
Just behind them, Steven Stone stands, his arms crossed and expression half deep thought, half weary.
Next to Lee, Ninetales presses herself against his side.
His clothes are still clammy, rain-soaked fabric clinging unpleasantly to skin that can't seem to hold on to any warmth despite finally being out of the rain. Nine doesn't seem to care. She leans into him, her warmth seeping through the wet layers, and Lee feels the familiar sensation of Fire TE rolling through her belly like a banked furnace. It travels up and up, threading through a pipe that isn't there, and spreads out from his core, chasing away the persistent chill.
'Thank you,' he sends, keeping the conversation private as Jenny and Smith finish scratching away at their respective notes.
'There is nothing to thank me for.' Nine's mental voice is prim, but there's an undercurrent of soft affection beneath it. 'Warming you is the least I can do.'
'I meant for everything else, too.' Lee's eyes drift toward the window, taking in the chaos of the Institute's front lawn. 'For keeping the employees safe. And that grunt who stood down. There were a few points where I thought the whole ceiling was going to come down on top of you.'
Through the rain-spattered glass, the scene outside is on its way to wrapping up.
Police officers and League agents swarm across the grounds, their flashlights cutting through the darkness in sweeping arcs as they comb the grounds for anything Aqua left behind. A helicopter sits on a hastily cleared patch of grass, its rotors beginning to spin up. A pair of escort Pidgeot flank it on either side, both wearing bright hi-vis vests with IDs tacked to the front.
As he watches, one of the remaining Institute employees is ushered up the helicopter's boarding steps. The man clutches something to his chest, cradling it like a baby, and it takes Lee a moment to recognize the small gray form.
'A Castform? Where was that thing during all of this?' Lee wonders, frowning. 'Hidden away in one of the machines? Part of the weather control system itself?'
The games never went into detail about how the Weather Institute actually worked. Just that Team Aqua showed up, caused problems, and the player kicked them out. Nothing about Castform integration or living components or any of the other questions now bubbling up in the back of Lee's mind.
He files it away for later, too tired to puzzle it out now.
Beyond the helicopter, several heavy police vehicles squat on the muddy ground, their treaded wheels designed for exactly this kind of harsh terrain. Red and blue lights still flash across their hulls, painting the night in alternating washes of color as the last of the arrested grunts are loaded into the back. Most of them look shell-shocked, with a few nursing bruises from where Nine swept them off their feet. It's a good thing humans here tend to be made of sterner stuff than on Lee's Earth, as the two guards they impersonated only had some chills despite being left in the rain.
'I hope all the pokemon collected from the grunts are sent to good homes…' Lee thinks to himself, remembering the balled Buizel and Poliwhirl he turned over to the police. 'It sucks that we have to uproot their lives like that.'
At the very edges of the clearing, stonewalled by a line of police and a puffed-up, marching Arcanine, a tiny handful of reporters brave the weather, angling cameras and badgering the officers. With them are a smattering of Flying-types, all of them out and ready to jet with their journalist trainers the moment things look dicey.
Lee's gaze drifts further, settling on the overhang of the Institute's front entrance.
Brendan stands there, looking about as wet and wrung-out as Lee feels. Latias hovers at his shoulder, her claws fidgeting anxiously as her head swivels back and forth. The source of her worry is obvious.
Zinnia has a finger poking right in the center of Drake's chest.
The Elite Four member looms over her, arms crossed, expression unreadable beneath his sailor's cap. Zinnia doesn't seem intimidated in the slightest. Her mouth is moving fast, her free hand gesturing emphatically, and even through the window and across the distance, Lee can see the fire in her eyes.
He can't make out what she's saying, but from the gestures, she isn't happy.
Lee shakes his head and turns his attention back to Ninetales.
'The ceiling held,' Nine replies, finally addressing his earlier comment. Her tails curl around his legs, a possessive gesture she probably isn't even aware of. 'So in reality I did little.'
A pause. Her ears flick back, just slightly.
'But... as loathe as I am to admit it...' The words come slowly, dragged out like pulled teeth. 'Leaving me behind was a sound call. In regards to preserving innocent life.' Another pause, longer this time, and she physically sighs. 'It was the correct decision, I suppose.'
Lee smiles. His hand comes up to rest on her head, fingers threading through the silky fur between her ears. He scratches at just the right spot, the one that always makes her eyes half-lid, and feels the sour knot of lingering resentment in her chest begin to loosen.
'I love you too, Nine.'
Her only response is a quiet huff and a subtle press of her head into his palm.
Smith flips her notepad closed with a crisp snap, pulling Lee out of the head of his fox before he can get too comfy.
"I believe I have everything I need, Mr. Henson." Her voice is as professionally bland as her suit. "Thank you for your time and cooperation."
Lee nods, then hesitates. "Any preliminary leads? On where Archie and his admins went?"
Smith's expression doesn't change, but something in her posture shifts. A tell, maybe, or just the weight of bad news settling on her shoulders.
"We discovered that Aqua captured a hydroelectric dam upstream of the river prior to their operation here." She tucks the notepad into her jacket pocket. "They threw the floodgates wide open before initiating their... stunt. The dam is being cleared out by League assets as we speak, but with the river running so high and wild..." She shakes her head. "It isn't safe to pursue directly. And any scent trail that an appropriate pokemon might have followed will have been swept away hours ago."
"So they got away…" He sighs. "Damn it all…"
The thought settles in Lee's chest like a stone. All that fighting, all that risk, and Archie still slipped through their fingers.
Jenny clears her throat. "You might be pleased to know," she offers, her tone gentler than the agent's, "that Mr. Birch and your Corviknight successfully evacuated all of the hostages to the Rubello Pokemon Center." A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "They were shaken and a bit cold from the trip, but it was nothing some blankets and cocoa couldn't fix."
Does that make up for Archie escaping, and thus Aqua marching on? One could argue that on a macro scale, no, it doesn't, but the confirmation that no family is getting the worst kind of news from all of this does perk him back up.
"Thank you, Officer." Lee smiles. "That's good to hear."
Jenny nods. She and Smith exchange a glance, some unspoken communication passing between them, and then both women excuse themselves.
"We'll be in touch if we need anything further," Smith says over her shoulder. "Get some rest, Mr. Henson. You've earned it."
The door clicks shut behind them.
Lee exhales slowly, letting his head fall back against the wall. Ninetales shifts beside him, her tails curling tighter around his legs as the last of the official presence drains from the room.
Just him, Nine, and Steven now, as he replays the night on repeat in his head.
"What a week, huh?" Lee murmurs, not quite looking at the Champion.
Steven's response is to reach into his coat and produce a shiny pocket watch, opening it with a flick of his wrist.
"Lee," he begins, studying the face for a moment before snapping it closed, "it's only Wednesday." A pause. "As of three minutes ago."
Arceus damn.