I Will Touch the Skies – A Pokemon Fanfiction

Interlude – Fallout II

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INTERLUDE - FALLOUT II

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General → Politics
Topic: The Raid on the Pokemon Mansion [MEGATHREAD 56]
Original Poster: Ethan_Rose (Verified Trainer)
Date: April 7th 20XX

First thread after the entire raid, so don't delete this, mods. And can we add a politics subcategory already?

Edit:

So that just fucking happened.

I'm not going to go over the events of the raid since those are very lacking for some reason (censorship, obviously). The only footage we have is from the attack on the garden, so speculating is nice, but as it stands, the only facts we have are these:

Sixteen ACE Trainers raided the Pokemon Mansion with five members of the LTIP (which Denzel Williams was apparently always a part of?). Seventy-six hostages died, and fifty-one were wounded enough to go to the hospital. Two ACE Trainers died, and one was severely wounded. I won't go over the deaths of the guards, because they don't deserve any of my attention. I know this will seem biased, especially when compared to my coverage of the Darkest Day, but I have no shits to give about traffickers, dead or otherwise.

Getting back on track, Edward Backlot had been trafficking Pokemon in his mansion as soon as he had it built according to the League, but he had dabbled in the business before. The Game Corner predates the Pokemon Mansion (the name seems a lot more sinister now) by decades, but they had always been trafficking Pokemon, and Backlot had been involved with them, which was how he forged his contacts in the first place. We do not know what has happened to his associates at this time.

In total, Backlot had sixty-seven Pokemon in his mansion, but thousands of them went through it over the twelve years he'd been doing this for. The Pokemon there were malnourished and drugged so much that they weren't even aware of where they were or what was happening. A lot of them seem to have suffered physical trauma, so it's clear that Backlot wasn't content with just looking, because he was beating them too, and they were all weak enough for the hits to hurt.

The Pokemon that simply passed through him were given to intermediaries, but they always ended up in the Game Corner to fight in pits while drugged on Rare Candies. The number of casualties there are still being tallied, but they're in the thousands.

As for what happened inside the mansion, again, we have no footage. I ask to quit with the rampant speculation, and I also ask for everyone to stay serious in the thread. This is not a joke. People died today, and hope you'll treat them with respect.

Also, like always, keep this thread contained to ONLY the raid on the Pokemon Mansion. There are concurrent threads talking about the Game Corner and its demise.

►SierraHomie

What do you mean, there's no footage? You're telling me that not one person filmed what was going on inside? No leaks? That's very suspicious imo, especially combined with the fact that seventy-six people died. Seems to me like the League fucked up and is trying to hide it.

►Arnold_Marquis (Verified Trainer)

Obviously they fucked up, considering they could have waited an extra day and this could have been avoided.

►Redtree293884

I'm hearing that Backlot was planning on getting Abel to escape to Unova. Turn on SGNC, Cynthia's giving a speech. If they hadn't struck today, then Abel would have escaped. Now, is that a valuable trade to make? I don't know.

►Daphneeeeeee

I won't trust a word that comes out of the League's mouth. If they hadn't fucked up, they'd release the footage.

►Vivian_Kelly (Verified Trainer)

Why yes, let's release the footage to let the entire world learn about our ACE Trainer tactics. I'm sure Galar and Team Galactic would love you.

►Archive

The footage from the garden fight is blurry since they could only get it from afar, but I've analyzed the fight on my podcast with Goalducc. I've tracked a few of the casualties. It seems like all of the LTIP Trainers have killed at least one guard or Pokemon, and that was only outside. Yes, I know it was legitimate self-defense and that we shouldn't blame them for it, but who knows about all of the deaths that went on inside? I'm of the opinion that there was something to hide.

►Kaia_Griffiths (Verified Trainer)

Vivian_Kelly you should know better. We're owed answers by the League. I'm tired of them just pushing things under the rug.

►GarchompW

Archive, you're letting your conspirational side show again. The League is literally explaining itself step by step. All of the theories are being ripped apart live on television RIGHT NOW and people are still spreading fake news. Vivian_Kelly is right, but the reason there was no footage leaked was also because Abel was keeping the mansion in darkness the entire time. It fucks phone signals and doesn't allow people to send stuff.

►HamNcheesePanini

I'm more interested in why Denzel Williams and his group were taken into this mission in the first place? The ACEs had to intervene multiple times to save their skin (proven by the footage from the garden), and it's a given that they weren't trained enough to participate in an active hostage situation. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that more people died because the ACEs were stuck protecting them inside.

►Alma_Neal (Verified Trainer)

And by the way, WHY were they being protected this much? One of the wounded ACEs literally (who can fucking TELEPORT, by the way. Why is no one talking about that?) almost got shredded by some kind of flying type attack to protect Grace Pastel, and they sure as hell weren't affording each other that amount of protection. And if they're that important, why were they there risking their lives in the first place? You don't see Cynthia talking about that on TV.

►Homecoming!_

The press conference isn't over, give it some time. She's got to speak about the actual issues first.

►Hamadi_Baroun (Verified Trainer)

If she addresses it, I'll pay you 10k Pokedollars Homecoming!_

►Kadaris_Pierre (Verified Trainer)

I mean, there were nearly six hundred people in that mansion. Seventy-six deaths seems like a miracle in comparison to what could have happened. This could have been a real bloodbath.

►Goalducc42

Archive, please let me vet your messages before sending them.

►Laurent_Lepoutre (Verified Trainer)

I'm honestly never coming to this hellhole of a region again. Should have gone to Unova.

►CalmnessIncarnate

By the way, I have to note that Grace Pastel and Mira Compton still haven't exited the building. Chase Karlson, Denzel Williams and Cecilia Obel are all accounted for, but they're still inside. It's possible they might be dead.

►Sonya_Hladik (Verified Trainer)

If they were dead, the League would have announced it. I usually don't ask much of people online, but please try to use your head.

►BrambleBlast

This is actually a relevant topic, though. Denzel Williams looks to have been wounded, since he was carried on a stretcher outside according to sources on Chatter.

►HewwoMeowth

Sources: I made it the fuck up.

►BrambleBlast

I typed an essay about how you should remove yourself from this world, but I'd get banned by the mods so I deleted it.

►Brayden_Mercer (Verified Trainer)

This is actually confirmed information. Mira Compton also has a hand injury, but the extent of it isn't known.

►Danielle_Hennessy (Verified Trainer)

I like how the majority of this thread is spent trying to find out if the League is tricking us or not instead of spitting on Backlot's grave. The man was basically a demon. It doesn't get much worse than torturing innocent Pokemon for more than a decade. Could you even be friends with him and not know?

►EndlessEngine11

Holy shit, you're awful.

►Danielle_Hennessy (Verified Trainer)

All I'm saying is that maybe there should be an investigation into every person on that party's guest list /shrug.

►DoeffeeWhyTho

I'm sure those children deserve to be investigated very much. Why not have them drawn and quartered next?

►HOLYWARRIOR

Tbh Grace Pastel kind of looked like she wanted to help the guy she downed? She stood over him for a little bit, but we can't hear what was said, obviously, and even if the footage was good enough to lip read, the angle is wrong.

►FalKKone

See? Cynthia's addressing the LTIP stuff. Arceus, calm the fuck down and let the information come to you instead of yelling murder.

—

Arthur Pastel rested his head against his palm and tried to focus. He'd been a worried wreck the entire day, having gone home early from work when the news first started reporting on the raid and his daughter had been in the middle of it all. His head still felt cloudy, after everything that had gone on today. All of Sinnoh had been shaken, the news could only talk about the raid, but Arthur could care less about Sinnoh when Grace had been in the midst of a literal warzone. The conversation they had just had hadn't been as enlightening as Arthur had hoped. The fact that Grace wouldn't talk about what happened in-depth didn't help with his rising anxiety. Fifty times, he had called. Hours, he had spent, wondering if Grace was alive or dead with a pit growing in the deepest reaches of his stomach as the sun set. He cried when he heard her voice again for the first time.

But what followed was his daughter skirting around classified details and focusing on what happened to other people instead of herself, and Arthur knew her well enough to know that she was not doing well. Her voice had been too steady, because she was pretending. The same voice she'd made countless times when she'd pretended to be fine when she'd been younger, only a lot harder to discern. Arthur ran a hand over his thinning brown hair and sighed. She was closing herself off, and there was nothing he could do about it. She could fly on Princess, now, and when he'd asked about flying to Pastoria, she had vehemently refused.

She was scared. Scared, ashamed, and hurt. And who wouldn't be, after the carnage that had gone on inside the Pokemon Mansion? Seventy-six dead, more wounded, and that wasn't counting the Pokemon and the bodyguards. Backlot had apparently died in the fighting, and Abel had gotten arrested, finally. The dark-haired man rose up on his feet and remembered that he'd forgotten to eat today.

It was lonely, without her, but Arthur had known Grace would grow up one day. He'd been the one to push her into journeying, after all. He hadn't expected for it to take this much of a turn. His daughter was talented— among the best Sinnoh had seen in years, they kept telling him, but he just wanted her to stop risking her life, which was something she'd said she would stop doing when he had come to Hearthome. His attempts to contact the League to get an explanation for why the fuck his Grace had been involved in this in the first place fell on deaf ears, with worthless platitudes that made him more angry than not. No other members of the League Trainer Internship Program had been in the raid, so why her? Arthur made himself a quick sandwich and sat back at his table, in that same, grueling position that had been hurting his back for the last hour.

He had a call to make.

He had spoken to Sam on a regular basis, even after they separated. Be it for news about how Grace was growing up, or doing in school, or even Herdier, but none of the conversations had ever been longer than a few minutes. It still hurt to talk to her. Arthur was not one to forgive very easily, and he never had been.

No, he would never forgive her, but he could work with her and had always done what was right instead of what he wanted, because their daughter needed help, and she wasn't going to seek it out on her own. Grace had always been an independent girl.

"Arthur?!"

He had already told her about Grace's safety, of course, along with the fact that she would be calling her at a later date, after she'd dealt with official Poketch and League business.

"She's fine, Sam," he instantly pre-empted her. "Physically, at least. Cuts all over her body, but only one big one on her arm. Mentally, though…"

He winced, taking in a deep breath before continuing.

"She needs help, Sam, and the worst part is that she doesn't know it yet," Arthur continued with a choke. "She's said that the League will afford her a special therapist if she needs one— she said if, Sam. War is no place for a sixteen-year-old."

Samantha stayed silent for a while, but he heard her tearing up over the phone. Grace might not have known her mother well, but Samantha knew Grace better than their daughter could imagine. She listened to the news about her, a podcast, and kept up with every scrap of information she could find. Things were better now that they texted and called regularly, but it would take more than a few months to forge a motherly connection again. Samantha had left when Grace was five, after all. All of her earliest memories of her mother were faint at best.

"How— how can I help?"

"Grace has told me she'll be dropping by Twinleaf and staying there for a few days," Arthur said. "This is going to be difficult for both of you, but you have to help her, Sam. Please."

"Of course," she murmured. "I'll do whatever I can."

"I don't know if she'll try talking to you about the mansion, but be gentle— don't push her into it, because then she'll put up her barbs and see you in a bad light."

"I know not to step on sensitive subjects," she said. "I'll try to just let her have a relaxing time to begin. I'll—" she sniffled, "go see if I can get us two rooms at one of the neighbors'. Mom's not going to be great to have in a sensitive environment like this."

"You could also kick your mother out," Arthur grumbled.

"It's her house, Artie. I can't just tell her to leave"

Artie. The word had been like sticking his hand in barbed wire, but he decided to let the name go for now and focus on what mattered.

"It'll only be for a few days. And maybe if she wasn't such a hard ass…"

He stopped when he noticed that Samantha had gone completely silent.

"...sorry. Just…"

Arceus, it was so difficult. Arthur put his forehead against the table and clenched a fist around his phone. Isabelle was probably half of the reason Sam had run away from Jubilife. Her words were like poison, and even though he didn't expect her to bother Grace, he would rather the cynical old bat stay as far away from her as possible. Yes, Arthur would have always left Sam, but Grace wouldn't have had to grow up without a mother. They could have seen each other on weekends, or maybe for half of the holidays.

"Just try your best," he finished.

"I'll convince her to leave," she firmly said.

"Thank you," he breathed out as relief filled his very core. "Grace has something she wanted to tell me, but she didn't, in the end. I could tell. Don't… force it out of her, but if she tells you something of note, just— keep me informed."

"I will."

There was not much to say after that. Arthur hung up and finished his meal.

He still wasn't hungry.

—

Melody Summers hadn't slept in more than twenty-four hours. The sheer amount of work the raid had put on her plate was more than she'd ever thought she would have to deal with, but she took it in stride. Tracking social media trends, what people were saying about the attack, and the thousands of rumors that were floating online. Melody needed to keep a pulse on public opinion and make sure she could get ahead of any rumors or bad press that could creep up so she could coordinate with her team to counter those with rumors and good press of their own. Grace was thankfully safe, although injured. She didn't want to speak much about what had happened. Not that Melody had expected her to. It wasn't the first time her sponsee had to keep classified information private, but it had been a while since Solaceon, and that kind of event was not supposed to happen twice in one year.

Melody finished her coffee and patted down her dress. She had spent the entire night in the office, and she still couldn't afford to go home to nap or sleep. Knowing that resting her eyes would have her fall asleep on her chair, she decided to browse through Chatter once again. Needless to say, yesterday's events were trending, and would keep trending for days. Public opinion was… mostly positive, but also muddled due to the high number of civilian casualties. The biggest question on everyone's minds had been, if Backlot was having a party, why the hell not wait another day to strike to avoid any civilian deaths? Sure, the Pokemon would have had to suffer an extra day, but when seventy-six people had died, it was a trade Melody would have been willing to make.

Now that they had answered with the fact that Backlot had been planning to fly to Unova with Abel after hearing about Zoey Miranda's arrest and cooperation with the League, the narrative had largely died down. A man like Backlot abandoning everything he had seemed difficult to imagine, but then again, no one had known that he was a cruel psychopath either, so it was all up in the air.

Of course, she knew she didn't have the full picture, but it was hard not to ponder. Neither the board nor their families had been present at the party, save for Mr. Hemsworth's nephew who had gotten out of the scrap early and with a few scrapes. The East and West divide was not only a factor for trainers, but for civilians as well. Sinnoh's richest mostly lay in the eastern half of the country save for Poketch and another few companies, and the board hadn't known Mr. Backlot very well.

Melody blinked when she saw a series of posts talking about the lack of footage from inside the raid. It was true, she would have expected at least one hostage to have filmed what happened inside of the mansion, but there was just none, save for some blurry footage of the battle in the garden shot from afar by the SGNC that had already leaked. The League had put a gag order on the entire thing, but there had to have been one person who would ignore it and just post something.

The sponsorship liaison was curious— how could she not be? Grace sounded like the entire ordeal had changed her, and how could it not have? Something had happened inside that mansion, and it was hard not to jump to the worst conclusions.

But that wasn't Melody's job. She had to support Grace because Arceus knew she would need it. This was not something a young girl like her should go through without professional help, and her friend group was fracturing, both through conflict and just because they had planned to split before this. Melody couldn't let her sink to depths that she wouldn't be able to come back from, not because it would hurt Poketch— Melody's eyes widened when she realized that in that moment, she was apathetic about the company's profits— but because she cared for Grace.

"Arceus…" she sighed. "When did I grow so attached?"

Melody decided to call Grace again, and to let her know that she would be there when she swung by in Jubilife to see her father. She spoke in that same, hollowed voice she'd spoken in after Solaceon that betrayed her state of mind, but as she did then, Melody said nothing of it. She did not want to confront her, and she was no mental health professional— which Grace was still considering seeing, but thankfully leaning on actually doing so. Regrettably, they were interrupted by a call from the board, which was the fifth meeting they would have in the past day. Melody needed to coordinate so much that she was sure she was the most overworked sponsorship liaison Poketch had ever seen.

But she would endure.

"I need more coffee."

Unfortunately, when the board called, Melody couldn't ignore them for long. Jubilee Tower was a hubbub of activity even though only Grace had been involved in the raid. Thankfully for Melody, she did not encounter any other sponsorship liaisons in the elevator, because Arceus knew they would have asked for her head on a pike. They were already doing so, but Melody knew it wasn't personal. It was, after all, in their interests to take Grace out of the company to put their own sponsees in a better position. Unfortunately for them, however, the board had other plans. Melody shook herself awake as she exited the elevator and she strode through the darkened room that preceded theirs. The board secretary looked just as tired as she was, the poor girl.

After a gentle knock, Melody let herself in, her tiredness sinking to the far reaches of her mind as she straightened herself and placed her hands behind her back. She was surprised to see Remington's son sitting in the seventh seat. He hadn't been here during their last meeting, so she assumed that Landis must have gotten on the first plane back from Alola because his father had demanded it.

"Members of the board," she greeted with a slight dip of her head.

"Melody," Remington McMillan said. "How is the situation progressing?"

"Civilians are more preoccupied about the events in the mansion as a whole, and not Grace's presence there," she explained. "Trainers, however, want to know what she was doing there. The League's explanation satisfied a portion, but trust in them is running low these days."

They had, in part, said that the reason Grace's group had been involved in the operation was because they had helped with the investigation into Edward Backlot's schemes and that all showed the potential to be ACEs themselves and had not hampered the recovery of hostages whatsoever. Melody wasn't sure if both of these statements were lies or not, but it was the story the League was going with, and Poketch knew better than to go against the grain when there was money to be made.

"We've gotten private assurances from Cynthia that Grace Pastel is only receiving ACE training, and that she still plans on going to Unova next year," Mr. Sandy droned. "So there have been no changes there."

The narrative they were spinning was a lie, then, Melody guessed. One of the current theories online was that the League was trying to keep Grace and Cecilia and foster their talent instead of letting them go, despite them having announced plans to go abroad before, and it would certainly fit if they were no longer going to Unova. Why give such training to trainers that would leave, after all?

The Poketch Board and Melody were the only ones who knew about the lie, but knew better not to pretend to believe in it.

"That's wonderful news," she said to fill the air.

"As it stands, Grace Pastel was seen killing one individual with a Musharna," Remington said. "And unlike Craig's run-in with Team Galactic and his subsequent short stint in prison, we can't sweep this one under the rug. It might scare away investors."

Melody still couldn't believe it. Grace had killed someone. The words still didn't feel real to her, but she knew it had been an act of self-defense.

That did not mean, however, that she would be able to forget it any time soon, or be able to stop imagining it every time they spoke.

"So tell the investors that she was valiantly saving tortured Pokemon and that the Musharna was seen trying to kill her too," Melody said. "You should—"

Landis Remington sighed a lot louder than what was necessary in a very obnoxious fashion as he leaned back against his chair. "Look, you've marketed this kid as some kind of Pokemon whisperer, right? And she's got this entire 'Pokemon rights' shtick going on. Would it be that much of a stretch to have her character fight to free some poor tortured souls?" Landis finished with a smug smile.

That was my idea, Melody internally groaned. "I do agree with this assessment," she said, still surprised that he had kept track of Grace even when he'd been spending time in Alola.

Landis unfortunately did not understand that Grace was not acting a character, but that she genuinely cared about these issues, but Melody did not deem it necessary to correct him. The board was generally out of touch with her regardless.

"It fits," Mr. Powell nodded with a breath. They were just as tired as Melody was. "But the League has been stepping on our toes. We can't keep doing this if they don't warn us ahead of time. Eventually, we'll run out of yarn to spin."

Melody felt the hair on her neck stand on end, and none of the board members deigned to answer that. Still, she knew they were all thinking about it.

"Cynthia's offered her sincerest apologies," Remington cut in. "She said that the risk of a leak was too high to let us know, but that she'll inform us of any future… operations."

The tension left the room as fast as it had filled it. The board members nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer, and the meeting continued.

—

"It was out of your jurisdiction, Wake. You don't get to shoulder all of the blame."

"The Pokemon Mansion might be on Hearthome's turf," Wake Fraser muttered, "but most of the victims were in Pastoria's territory— both wild and trainer-owned Pokemon. We aren't completely blameless here, JP."

Jean-Pierre affectionately placed a hand on Wake's shoulders, and the Gym Leader appreciated the contact. Without his husband here, the Gym would have fallen into disrepair already, with how much he managed alongside him. Wake's lips thinned as he studied the report sent by the League— the public report. He knew that Cynthia would be sending him what really happened in the coming days when they'd pulled together a more comprehensive report of what had happened.

"So many years, right under our noses," Wake tiredly sighed. "And nothing was done."

When he was not in public, in the deepest reaches of the night, Wake's persona fell off the wayside. He was still boisterous and loud when he needed to be, and that would always be his true self, but he knew when to turn it off.

"The Rangers answer to the League, not to you," Jean-Pierre soothed. "Even they didn't find anything when they searched Backlot's mansion for the first time, which was… somewhat incompetent."

"Abel is a man beyond the means of most of the League's investigative skills."

"It's a wonder they found out, then," JP said.

Wake knew why already, of course, but it was one of the many secrets he'd have to keep from Jean-Pierre over the years. Jean-Pierre was no fool. He knew that the League had many skeletons in its closet— skeletons that he would never be able to unearth. Both of them had long learned to live with that fact, even if it was still difficult at times.

"At least it's done with," Jean-Pierre said. "Sinnoh's largest poaching ring was broken. Surely that is cause not to be so morose."

"You're right on that front," Wake nodded. "But the victims will take years to heal, and so will the trainers. That isn't even counting the civilian deaths…"

Fantina was beating herself up due to her lapse in judgment. It was her, after all, who had given the final stamp of approval for Backlot to build his mansion on Hearthome's side of the route more than a decade ago. Wake pinched the bridge of his nose and finished reading the report.

"You've been working for too long," JP said. "Give yourself some time to rest and approach the situation with a fresh mind tomorrow. I can tell one of the trainers to take over for the day."

Wake dismissed him with a grunt. "No. What people need right now is normalcy, and I need to be there to sell it to them."

When had he grown so complacent, willing to sit and wait for the League to deal with issues he should have been fixing himself? This was not just about the poachers. Pastoria was tearing itself apart at the seams, be it the Safari Zone, the docks or the economy as a whole. They'd been under a heavy deficit for a few months now. Tomorrow, he would contact the City Council and start working with them in tandem, but that was not all.

"What the people need now, Jean-Pierre, is Crasher Wake."

—

Cecilia traced a finger around the edges of her Trainer ID and found no Fen Badge on its seventh slot. She had failed to triumph yesterday, and the loss felt hollow. She did not cry or throw a tantrum as she had during her first loss against Lauren. She had grown up now, and the fact that losing a battle had made her cry just a few months ago was still something she could not quite understand. Badges were still a milestone, but when Cecilia had first started this journey, they had been a personal one. Every new notch on her card had been supposed to signify a closer step to freedom. She had freedom, now. That, and everything else she had ever wanted. Badges were a means to an end. A way to measure strength, and nothing more.

Annoying as Wake's performance was— and she had not participated in it whatsoever— he had handled her perfectly. The battle had been close, and exceedingly so, no doubt due to the terrain disadvantages she suffered from. Having Talonflame boil the water until it became unbearable to stay in had worked wonders until Wake had pulled out his Gyarados, whose hardened scales the heat would not bother. The enormous water type had been her true test— a test that Lehmhart and Slowking had passed with much difficulty. It was Scyther, that cleaned up after that. The bug type was no flashy fighter, but he got results and he was steady. Croagunk's inclusion into the team had given him something to latch onto. Something that finally made him feel like he truly belonged. Despite being at a horrible disadvantage, Zweilous had pulled their weight and taken down a Milotic before fainting themselves, having much space to work with thanks to Lehmhart's progress with geokinesis and Slowking managing to leave a barrier behind even after fainting. Cecilia's plan had been sound and beyond a few hiccups, it had worked at every single turn.

But the fact of the matter is, she had been fighting a five on six, and she was no longer at a point where Gym Leaders would let that slide. She had not bothered sending Croagunk out during the fight, one because she would have lost horribly, and two because the fighting type was still grieving. Croagunk did not deserve to get thrown out into a battle that Wake had made a joke of. Even after the events at the Pokemon Mansion, he kept his aloofness during fights.

It was all so tiresome.

Cecilia's boots sunk in the Safari Zone's mud as she traversed the swamp with Croagunk leading her. Only Croagunk and Slowking accompanied her (and she wanted to trudge in the mud instead of walking on Slowking's barriers to make this more personal), since her other teammates were still at the Pokemon Center, and would be until tomorrow, when she would leave for Canalave. Cecilia was not going to wait two weeks festering in Pastoria to challenge Crasher Wake again. Without Lehmhart to fly them, it took a while to get where Croagunk wanted to go.

"Is this the spot?" Cecilia asked softly.

The poison type answered with a tight nod. It wasn't special, or beautiful. It was just an area where the water was particularly muddy and Wooper liked to stay in. Cecilia stared at the still water in silence and allowed Croagunk to grieve. The fighting type did not cry, for she was not the type of person to. Her grief manifested differently— a laissez-faire attitude that tried to convince her that there was nothing that she could have done and that smothered the rage within her. They were quite similar in regards to stamping out anger before it could become an issue, Cecilia noted. Ice flowed in both of their veins to cool them down before any outbursts could come. Abel had been arrested and taken in by the League, but his demise would not fill the hole in Croagunk's heart. It felt strange, to have the man that had terrified her for so long and tried to rob her of her freedom to be dealt with. To have stared him in the eye and defied his words. To have taken his freedom in turn.

I did not know you, Wooper, Cecilia internally said as she crouched near the waters. But I grieve what could have been.

"Slowking," Cecilia whispered, glancing at him. "Something has been on your mind."

The water type eyed her warily. He'd not spoken much these last few days, and Cecilia knew it was because he did not want to step on a landmine and trigger something within her. She appreciated the thought, really. Even she did not know how to cull the forces within herself. The Voice beckoned, but Azelf had been deafeningly silent ever since she'd used it. The Legend had had their fun with her, and now they had returned to their usual state. Cecilia reckoned she had been amusing enough to check up on every few days for a little while, but Azelf no doubt had other irons in the fire and wouldn't stick to a mortal for long.

She was glad.

Sometimes, I look at you and I wonder, Slowking said. Why hold yourself to such impossible standards?

Cecilia eyed Croagunk and motioned at Slowking to move away so they would not disturb her.

"An expected question," Cecilia murmured. "Had I not used the Voice, then maybe I would have failed to buy enough time, and a few ACEs would have died in the fifteen seconds it took Chase and Mira's groups to get here. I would have blood on my hands, and I'd most likely be regretting my ineptitude and my failure to act."

So why? Slowking asked. In all of our months together, I thought I understood you as well as you did yourself, but this one truly eludes me.

"No one gets it," Cecilia said with a saddened smile. "Even Grace does not. She tries to, but she doesn't, and I cannot blame her for that. How much will I bend, until I can't recognize myself, Slowking?"

It was a one-and-done deal, the psychic chided with a frown. Perhaps you'll have to use it more, if battle with Team Galactic comes to pass.

"That's what I fear," the dark-skinned girl sighed. "My own folly."

She could extract anything she wanted from people, order them to forget, and they would be none the wiser. Such terrifying power sat at her fingertips, power she needed to curtail immediately. Yet, when the rubber met the road, when she met opposition she could not bend to her will naturally in Unova, would she be able to stop herself?

A shiver shot down her spine, and she moistened her lips.

"In the end, I do not regret the decision," she told Slowking. "I only regret what it might lead to in the future. It is a very slippery slide I walk. Do you know what the concept I fear the most is, Slowking?"

What is it?

"The greater good," Cecilia answered. "It comes as a gentle whisper, makes so much sense in the moment, and makes you bend and twist until there is nothing left of you by the end of it."

Croagunk stayed until they ran out of time and had to leave the Safari Zone. The fighting type was staying with them, now, because where else would she go? Strength was something she valued, but companionship even more so, now that she had lost everything. The spars and lessons from Scyther, Lehmhart's gentleness and songs, Slowking's jokes, Talonflame doting on her, and Zweilous being stupidly lovable were all something she'd been growing attached to, because loss was cold and friends were warm.

Cecilia would know, even though she had not spoken to any of them in person since the raid four days ago beyond checking in on Maeve and Denzel in their respective hospital rooms. She needed space, both to think and to reevaluate where she stood. Grace and she had exchanged texts, but she clearly wanted to push her to speak and that wouldn't do. Not now. It would be hard, without Grace's support, and Cecilia had no doubt she would surely handle it worse than Grace would.

Cecilia grabbed her phone as soon as she made it out of the Safari Zone. The press hounded her, of course. They had since the raid on the Pokemon Mansion, but Cynthia had told them to stay silent on the matter. Slowking whispered about therapy in her head as she scrolled through her contacts. Something that the League had also recommended and nearly forced onto them, but she would wait to get to Canalave for it. What good is therapy, if most of my issues have to do with classified information? she had asked, until Cynthia herself had called and said that she would send one that the ACEs had access to and that she would be able to be fully open with. A small respite, at the very least.

Mark Obel. Cecilia stared at her brother's name and called as soon as the press gave up. Slowking was already working on a barrier that would not let sound in or out of it, as most high-level psychics were capable of, but he did not have a hold of it quite yet.

"Cecilia? Thank the Legendaries— I've been trying to dig for as much information about the raid as possible. What were they thinking, sending children into this—"

"Do not pretend," she cooly interrupted, "to care about me."

Her brother paused, and there was a short lapse of silence. "If this is about father—"

"What else could it be about, Mark?" she asked. "You took him back, and you didn't even give him a slap on the wrist when we both know that he deserves so much more."

"The country's economy…"

Mark launched into a ramble of concepts and numbers that went over Cecilia's head. Champion she might want to be, but she was no economist. What she did catch, howver, was that the greater good had warped her brother beyond recognition. Why else would he have let her suffer her father's whims all those years after leaving to escape them himself? But the worst part was that the practical part of her understood, and she was sure the decision was perfectly sound, even if she disagreed with her brother's decision to bend to the will of corporations instead of breaking them. It would take years— decades, maybe, but someone had to start.

Understood, she might have, but she would not forgive.

"Mark, none of this matters. It's all dust," she sighed as she eyed her Pokemon Center in the distance. "You told me once, when I was in Snowpoint, that you would help when Zweilous was on the cusp of their evolution."

She had felt it in her bones, just like in the days before she had battled Candice. She knew Zweilous well enough to know when something was changing. All infighting between the two had stopped, their attacks were so in sync that it was unnatural. Their personalities had started to meld back together, slowly but surely. All signs that a Hydreigon was near.

"Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"Ah yes, now that it's politically convenient, you ask me," she smiled wryly.

"You've… changed. Grown."

"Enough with the sentimentality. Is your offer still on the table, or has our dear father gotten into your head and convinced you that I was a Sinnohan puppet on my way to destroy anything that was Unovan?"

"It still stands," Mark confirmed.

"Then let us speak, Mark," Cecilia said. "Of how I will bring a Hydreigon back under control when the time comes, and of how to train him properly without flattening an entire hill or getting myself killed."

One day later, she was gone.

—

Denzel shifted up in his hospital bed and cursed the pain in his back. It was a constant sting that made him feel like clawing his back out, and the worst part was that he'd been lucky. A few inches deeper, and Zoroark would have damaged his spine and he might have been paralyzed or worse, so despite the pain, he couldn't help but thank his lucky stars. It had been a day since Cecilia had left, and today Chase had been supposed to fight Wake. He wanted to catch up to Cecilia to make sure she didn't do anything stupid and tell her that her offer to go to the Iron Islands still stood, but Sinnoh was vast, and the soonest they'd meet again was probably Canalave since that was where Cecilia was going.

Normally, Denzel would have been watching the fight, but he was too anxious to look at what was happening in the world outside of his television. Sylveon slept at the foot of his bed while Lopunny and Roserade softly bickered next to the window. Froslass was training alone outside while Milotic was sleeping in his Pokeball and Altaria was still getting healed in the Pokemon wing of the Center. Zoroark had only hit her once, but it had been with the intent to kill.

A soft knock on Denzel's door snapped him out of his thoughts, and Maeve stepped into the room when he told her to come in. The lines on her face were still striking, but at least they had paled somewhat, and most of them would disappear in the coming weeks.

"How's our newest member of the LTIP?" Maeve greeted him. "Your back feeling alright?"

Right. He hadn't forgotten, but it felt weird to be a part of the League now. They had contacted him the day after the raid to have him sign some papers, and Denzel knew enough to understand that refusing hadn't really been an option. Yes, he had been retroactively added to the program, but it certainly helped quell most of the theories, or at least he thought it did, since he wasn't looking. Supposedly, the League was saying that he'd been in the program in secret since Sunyshore, and they had suspiciously forged the papers with the wrong date and his fake signature to prove it. The excuse they were currently going with was that Denzel had wanted to keep this private because his parents would have opposed it. It wouldn't have been the first time a trainer would have joined the League Trainer Internship Program in secret, but it was an exceedingly rare occurrence.

Too neat. Too convenient. Denzel had told his viewers multiple times, how his mother was very protective and had delayed his journey by a year. It was scary, how the government could just craft a story and make it seem so real. His mother had called every day since to ask him to leave the program, but he'd refused. He couldn't. Not when the League had created this narrative to save him.

"Denzel?" Maeve asked. "Are you okay?"

The teenager blinked. "Uh, yeah. I'm doing good now that it's all over. My back still hurts like hell, and it will for a while."

Maeve dragged a chair next to his bed with a grimace. "Pauline said it was permanent?"

Pauline had basically bought her way out of jail, and thankfully it would end at that, but she was the one who'd come to visit him the most. Emilia was too busy with her parents in Hearthome, which was something Denzel understood completely. She had written them out of her life, and they had almost died. It was impossible not to be shaken by that fact.

"It won't always hurt this bad, but it'll hurt… kind of? They said it'd be numb, but sort of painful. Like needles poking in my back. The worst part right now is when I have to sleep, though. I can't sleep on my stomach at all, so I have to do it on my side, but that's also a bitch."

She stayed silent for a few seconds. "Going to get the surgery?"

"I will at some point," he said. "Not right now, though. The recovery time is too long. How are things with you?"

Maeve sank a little into her plastic chair. "I don't know. Okay? I feel… relieved, but the whole situation feels foreboding in a way."

"You'll be alright," he smiled.

"How is it that you can stay positive when having come so close to—" she stopped herself. "Nevermind. Sorry."

"If I don't do it, who will?" Denzel muttered.

He needed to be that beacon. The ray of hope for the group to look to before they could spiral out of control and sink further.

"Yanma finally decided to stick around," Maeve said. "And Drapion's arm is making okay progress. It's just a little stump right now, though."

"So you'll have to stay here until it regrows?"

"Yeah. The Nurses need to keep him close in case the Ditto cells go badly and they have to restart the entire process," she explained. "That usually doesn't happen, but better safe than sorry."

Being locked down in Pastoria would hurt, especially when it meant that Maeve was out of the Circuit. Denzel tried to find the words to cheer her up, but he came up empty.

"Chase won his battle, you know?" she said. "Fought a lot more conservatively than usual. The raid changed him."

Denzel smiled. "Word? That's awesome— what was the score?"

"5-6. Vikavolt and Abomasnow pulled no punches," she said. "Took down a Wailord and all."

"Arceus— holy shit."

"Right?" Maeve said.

Talking about Gyms was nice, for a change of pace, so he let her explain everything that had gone on during the battle and how Chase had lit the water on fire with Houndoom and how the flames were so powerful even Wake struggled to put them out. As soon as he did, however, Abomasnow came out onto the field and created a thick sheet of ice to stand on.

"It wasn't really a sheet, more like an iceberg," Maeve specified. "It was fun to watch. Took my mind off of things."

"Yeah… message taken," Denzel said. "Grace said the same thing. That I should get back to doing routine stuff if I can."

"She visit you often? She came to me a lot until I was discharged."

"Every day since, but she doesn't stay long with how busy she is," Denzel said. "Right now she's delivering Leafeon back to Carnivine. She was here this morning."

Denzel clenched a fist.

"She's hurting," he declared. "I think the raid shook her more than she's showing."

"You know her better than me. If you say so, it must be right," Maeve said.

"When we were in Floaroma, I had to basically yell at her to get a therapist, and she's stopped talking to her since," Denzel said. "We finally convinced her, and she says she'll talk to the League one, but her mentality hasn't changed. Grace hates appearing weak, Maeve."

"What?"

"It makes her feel like she's not in control, and I think that's one of her worst fears," Denzel said. "A situation spiraling out of her control." He stopped and looked around for a few seconds, ignoring the throbbing pain in his back. "What I'm about to say here doesn't leave this room, Maeve."

The girl nodded tightly.

"She watched Backlot die with Mira. For hours," he whispered. He ignored her paling and continued. "She's not the one that killed him, before you ask. I don't care what that man did or how he died, staying there to watch is…"

"Abnormal."

"Fucked up," he added. "Someone needs to stop her from doing things like this, but I'm stuck in a fucking bed all day, Cece's… well, Cece's gone and dealing with her own issues. Mira's just as screwed up as Grace is and about to leave, and while Chase has been trying to help both, he's only one guy. I need to ask you for a favor."

"I'll try my best."

"Get the others to talk to Grace before she leaves," Denzel said. "Louis has a soft touch, so he'll help her. Emi's dealing with her parents, but Pauline's mellowed out since the entire incident and isn't angry anymore. Instead of being stuck with me, she should be helping Grace. You should try, too."

"But you—"

"I'll be fine, Maeve. I can deal. I can take hits and get back up. Someone needs to press on the brakes because I think we'll all regret it if we don't do it now and we let Grace become worse. Please."

His friend inhaled sharply. "Okay."

"Just try to get her away from her current mental state… like, talk to her about Gym Battles like you did for me. It won't fix everything, but it'll help get a shred of normalcy back, right? Take Justin with you. She's always babied him. Ask her for training advice with your Yanma, or ask her to spar or something. Anything."

"You have my word," Maeve said, her voice firm.

Arceus, had she always been this dependable, or had Denzel just never bothered to look?

—

Cynthia hadn't been back at the League in months and was happy to see her office in the exact same condition she had left it in. Legendaries, it had taken so many months to convince the cleaning staff not to climb the spire her office sat atop of just to clean some dust off the floor. Bertha followed close behind her, but the old Elite Four wasn't as quick on her feet as she used to be. Her steps were still steady, but slow and deliberate, and Cynthia didn't miss her being out of breath from climbing the stairs. Many times, Bertha had asked her to have an elevator installed, but Cynthia always rejected that notion. It would destroy the League's integrality and that old architecture she absolutely adored. Cynthia sat at her desk with a satisfied sigh, and Bertha slowly dragged a chair and settled opposite of her. Her old mentor's brown eyes studied her with their usual intensity as she pulled out her earth-colored scarf. Bertha had taken Cynthia under her wing, when she had first become the Champion. Without her, Cynthia was sure she would have gotten pushed out of power by the old Elite Four— strong supporters of Gabriel Radetic, the Champion who had preceded her, because holding onto power was, ironically, not just about how big a stick you were holding, even in dictatorships like Indigo, and it especially was not about that when you wanted to turn your country into a democracy during your reign.

Cynthia was sure Radetic was currently enjoying his retirement in Alola.

She had, after all, made it all but impossible for him to stay in Sinnoh. An unofficial exile, one might say. Undermining his support, little by little, investigations into his past dealings had revealed ample amounts of corruption and self-serving his own interests, which helped turn public opinion against him. She had branded him an old man who was out of touch and against public interests. A member of the old order that had stopped Sinnoh from progressing to the heights their country truly deserved, while she had branded herself as a force for meaningful change.

Radetic had fought back throughout the years, but there was only so much a single man could do against the entire apparatus of the state, old Champion or not, and once the first of his goons in the Elite Four had been replaced by Lucian, he saw the writing on the wall and decided to give up. Why fight, when he could enjoy himself in another region? It had made perfect sense for him to leave, with how Alola attracted rejects like Dustox to a light. Most of their national security strategy was assured through old, powerful trainers retiring in the region. With Gabriel gone, Cynthia had forged open a path and worked to turn Sinnoh toward democracy, and she had succeeded. None of it would have been possible without Bertha teaching her the ropes.

Until the Champion had to tear more than a decade of careful work apart in a few months. That still stung, and without Togekiss there, she was sure it would have haunted her at night.

"So, Cynthia," Bertha said with a steady voice. "Out with it. And no need to plaster that smile on your face."

Cynthia's lips flattened, and she almost brought them back up again, as if she couldn't stop herself. She had forged herself into an icon, and not being the Champion took more work than being her true self these days. Bertha knew the real her— arguably more than anyone else in this world. More than her sister Celeste or her ailing grandmother, whom she hadn't seen in so long because there was just so much work.

"My apologies," Cynthia said.

Bertha tapped her delicate fingers against the oaken desk. "What was the reasoning behind your actions, Cynthia?"

Why not force the children to wait an extra day? The question went unspoken, but it was as clear as day, and Bertha wanted the true answer, not the one they peddled to the public. Her tone was grounded, for Bertha had always been a stable woman that could be relied upon. For decades, she had been surrounded by her team, and that had only improved her composure. Cynthia had never seen her panic even once. While even Lucian had been shaken when she had informed him about Team Galactic's plans, Bertha had taken the new information with a shrug and asked what they were going to do about it. Cynthia had learned to discern the quirks in her tone, however. Bertha was perhaps the only one willing to ever challenge her on her decisions like she was doing today—

"Enough with analyzing how best to approach your answer, child," Bertha chided. "None of that with me."

The keystone in her pocket shook, and dread and pressure spread throughout the room until every item on the desk started to rattle. Until the wood started to creak. Until colors started to fade. The Champion clicked her tongue and it vanished just as fast as it had come. Bertha had not bothered to even glance at Spiritomb, having grown used to their outburst whenever someone did not prostrate themselves at Cynthia's feet, or at least act subservient to her.

"I apologize, Bertha. It takes a while to decouple Cynthia and the Champion when I've been the latter uninterrupted for so long," Cynthia said.

"Hmhm," she nodded. "I warned you, all those years ago, didn't I? Politics changes people. The deeper you go, the more twisted you become."

"And yet, I would do it again if given the choice," Cynthia muttered before pausing. "Have you?"

"Changed?" the old woman said. "Oh, yes. Even a woman such as myself will be warped and molded by the invisible hand that comes with power. Earth bends, my dear."

"I would have loved to see it," Cynthia smirked— a real one, this time. "Your old self. But to answer your question, the League came in expecting a quick surrender from the guards and a collapse of any resistance. Admittedly, that did not come to pass."

"Look at yourself," Bertha said. "So wrapped up in your own little game that you don't even realize when you lie by omission." Cynthia's eyes widened, but the Elite Four member continued. "You should know by now, not to treat me like an idiot, Cynthia. You knew of Abel's goals, and you know that humiliating the League as he has would be a possibility. The man has a Malamar, for Arceus' sake. Are you telling me you did not account for the possibility that a guard would be controlled?"

And the League now knew through his confession that he had forced the fight to start in the first place.

"It was a possibility," Cynthia acknowledged. "But he could also have simply escaped. We did not know about the private airstrip beforehand, and so did not know he would dig in his heels and defend the mansion when all seemed lost."

Bertha let out a pensive hum and studied the high ceiling of Cynthia's spire. "Yet you did not bother accounting for that possibility and went ahead with the plan anyway, possibly dooming all of the hostages to their deaths."

Cynthia had missed trading barbs with someone who was her equal— which was partly why she enjoyed Lucian's Alakazam so much— and the smile that stretched across her face was genuine, in spite of the horrible topic they were addressing. The problem with being Cynthia was that, unlike the personality she donned when she was the Champion, she was someone that the vast majority of people would consider not right.

"I did," Cynthia said, ignoring Bertha's glare. "I will reiterate that I did not expect the raid to degenerate as it had, but the possibility had been accounted for."

"And if you went ahead with it, it obviously means it benefitted you," Bertha said, standing up. "Sinnoh's richest, broken for a generation. Empty important posts that need to be filled with new blood. Malleable blood that won't be as entrenched in their beliefs and that can be influenced. Thrown into the arms of the League for support."

"They will be rueful," Cynthia added, "they will have questions, and we will have convenient answers for them that will make too much sense. We can spin this as an attack on all of Sinnoh and tighten ranks in the face of the worsening economic crisis. But I also look beyond the immediate. After Team Galactic is dealt with and I reform Sinnoh into a democracy for a second time, they would have conveniently waited for things to return to normal and opposed me as soon as it became convenient to do so because of how much profit my decisions have lost them so far. It would be best to foster a good relationship with them and give them support after such loss, and this gives us a good opportunity to mend bridges, especially with all of the positions that will need to be filled."

Of course, western companies were another issue entirely, but she'd already given assurances to them, including Poketch. After all these years, it still paid to have Remington at her beck and call. She'd tried to take him down numerous times early in her tenure by implementing anti-trust laws, but their constant legal battles had brought them to an… understanding of sorts.

"A loss artificially created," Bertha accused.

"Is it?" Cynthia asked. "I did not come into this with this as a goal, Bertha, nor did we think it was the most likely outcome. The support afforded will be genuine."

Not only that, but the experience afforded to Chase, Grace, Cecilia and Mira would be invaluable for the future. They had learned more in an afternoon than they would have with a month of lessons— lessons that they would have never agreed to take due to their coldness with the League in the first place. A coldness that was thawing by the day, Cynthia had noted.

"If you shoot someone with good intentions, is it still still a good act? Or in this case, seventy-six people."

"If it will help Sinnoh as a whole, then yes," Cynthia said. "And please. Loss of this scale happens at least once a year in the Iron Islands and the northern reaches of the Battle Frontier. Trainers die every day in Mount Coronet, Victory Road and Eterna Forest. This isn't anything new, Bertha."

And you're the one who taught me to be like this, Cynthia internally said.

"It isn't," the ground type specialist nodded. "And yet."

"And yet," Cynthia sighed with tired eyes.

Bertha dragged herself back to her seat. "Let us speak of the ACEs, then. Two deaths."

Cynthia nodded. "Rene Montoya and Trenton Graves. They'll be expensive to replace. Lou is still unconscious, but she'll be recovering."

Unlike other regions, Sinnoh's ACE Trainer force was a small, but dedicated one, which meant they were among the best in the entire world. The number often fluctuated around two hundred in total, and they took years to train and candidates did not often appear. They were handpicked by the League from the larger pool of League Trainers for their mentality instead of their skill. ACE Trainers needed to be two things: either malleable until they turned into what the League needed, like Ariel Goransson, or empty shells, like Lou had been upon her creation. There were only a few trainers that would be able to stare one of their dead Pokemon in the face and keep going as if nothing had happened. They put their grief in a box and unpacked it after a mission was over, always. Even Cynthia wouldn't be able to, and so, she was not fit to be an ACE.

"I'll look at promising candidates with Aaron, since Flint is busy with other work and is wasting time communicating with that Goodwill child," Bertha noted. "There are a number of issues you need to look into before heading back into Veilstone…"

The meeting lasted for another forty minutes, where they went over the numerous problems that had sprung up in the Lily of the Valley island over Cynthia's absence. The League had scoured almost the entirety of Veilstone, and now she suspected that Galactic was somewhere underground. Digging would be difficult when they would loosen the foundation that Veilstone had been built upon, so they opted to send ghosts instead to see if anything would be found. If one never came back, then it would confirm their suspicions and they would only have to pinpoint the location of the base.

"The children have powers, then?" Bertha mused as the conversation moved. "How peculiar."

"They did blindside me. I never expected them to hide it from us, not when the world was under threat," Cynthia said. "I suppose we pushed them so much they felt like revealing their capabilities would pose a threat to them. We can guess that each lake will give them some sort of ability to do with Emotion and Knowledge."

"How ironic, that a power to do with Willpower strips one of their will," Bertha hummed. "Should we not bring them to the lakes as soon as possible, then? So they could get used to their ability as fast as possible?"

Cynthia shook her head. "Not when we're cultivating some goodwill again. This is even more important now that we know about the powers, Bertha."

Bertha's eyes narrowed a sliver. "Oh. Oh, I see the game you're playing now."

Already, Cecilia had called for advice before she'd left for Canalave. Mira had asked for Cynthia to connect her with Fantina so she could deal with her new Gengar now that she was traveling back to Hearthome with a series of Teleports. The ghost was another advantage she'd gained from the raid's events. She'd apparently caught an Exeggcute before leaving as well. Chase's ACE trainers had now reported he had learned about the weight that came with being in a position of power, and she knew his edge toward her would soften in time. While Cecilia and Grace were leaving for Unova if Team Galactic was dealt with by the end of the year, Chase and Mira would stay. The League would make much use of their abilities in the years to come. Even if they didn't join the League, they would be a resource to draw upon whenever a favor was needed.

But that was not all. Cecilia's goal was to be Unova's Champion, and having her there meant that Sinnoh and Unova's relationship would be… not secure, but under a better foundation, at the very least, considering how quickly Mark Obel almost turned on them when the going got difficult. She would not win the position next year, but the girl was talented and grew quickly. Her narrow loss to Wake was an unfortunate consequence of catching her sixth Pokemon too late. It was only a minor setback, and she had plenty of time to make up for it. Better a loss here than at the eighth badge, where the stress of time running out could make one make mistakes, and Byron would no doubt be far smarter to beat for a seventh badge than an eighth. It was only a matter of time until she threatened Mark Obel for the position of Champion.

She knew, because they were not so dissimilar after all, as their most recent conversation had shown. Cynthia had had an inkling ever since they'd spoken in that hospital room in Solaceon.

Grace Pastel was still an enigma, however. Cynthia didn't understand where she stood quite yet, but it was clear that it was closer than she had been before. Her rift with her ACE Trainers had all but disappeared.

Their reputations would be safeguarded, of course. The League had gone through the phones of every hostage and deleted the videos recorded because of 'national security concerns'. Who would, after all, want to expose how the ACE Trainers operated? The darkness around the mansion had worked in their favor in that regard. The only footage that had leaked to the public was footage from before the actual breach into the mansion. Not only that, but the hostages who had spoken out about the raid had only worked to sing the praises of the ACEs for rescuing them— vaguely, of course. And now that they had Abel's confession, they could shift the majority of the blame on him for this slaughter. He had, after all, said that without him here, the guards would have surrendered without a fight, and since the League had expected them to do so as well, the stories lined up perfectly. The best lies were ones masked with truths.

"You've always been good at figuring out the way I think, Bertha," Cynthia said. "You're the one who taught me, after all."

And Bertha did not regret it either, because she would much rather have Cynthia in power than Radetic right now. She was, simply put, more competent in every regard.

The meeting ended soon after that, but Cynthia needed to do one last thing before dealing with the problems on the islands. The Lily of the Valley island was a city in and of itself, with tens of thousands of inhabitants at all times— most of them the families of the government employees here, but there was also a high-security prison where Sinnoh's worst criminals were kept. The prison was often empty, because most of the prisoners were executed or shipped away for experimentation with Legendaries before they could clutter the cells. They were crucial in learning how threats to Sinnoh operated and could be combatted should they ever stir again. Today, only five people were jailed here, including Louis Bianchi's father. Cynthia passed through many checkpoints, having her mental state checked by Pokemon and people alike until she strode into the well-lit depths of the prison. The entire facility was clad in white with few distractions for the inmate, save for the one hour they got outside of their cells each day. Cynthia knocked on the reinforced glass and stared at Abel.

The brown-haired man was a shell of his former self. All of his confidence was gone, having been replaced by an air of defeatism that clouded every inch of his being. He was sat on his white sheets, his hands neatly placed over his knees, but he only looked after Cynthia knocked a fourth time. His Pokemon had not been sorted out yet, and they were making very little progress on that front. Their bonds had been strong, and even Ditto refused to communicate with the League.

"Abel Torres," Cynthia said. "Let us talk."

"What's there to talk about?" Abel said, his voice distorted by the glass.

"Your fate, of course," the Champion said, never losing her smile. "Now, I have it on good authority that everything you've told us is the truth now that we ripped away that exquisite technique you crafted with Malamar and Hypno. Truly, it is something that even Lucian would have struggled to come up with. That also means that we don't have a need for you any longer."

Mark Obel himself had thanked her for capturing Abel, which warmed their cooling relations further. Galar had been largely silent, because speaking out against a massive poaching ring wouldn't be great for their reputation, so her actions had been seen as good abroad, which was exactly what she had needed. In a way, Abel had been very useful to her in that regard.

But that did not mean that there would be no consequences.

"Spit it out," Abel sighed.

"The question of your execution has been answered. After a few days of deliberation, the League has decided you will be kept here for the rest of your days," Cynthia said.

She did not miss Abel's small relieved breath and the loosening of his shoulders. Death was a human fear, despite what people told themselves.

"We can also talk about letting your team come visit you once in a while, since they will be staying under the League's care," Cynthia said. That was the bait. There was light in his eyes that hadn't been there, even when he'd been told he would be spared. Cynthia was not doing this out of the goodness of her heart, however. It would make it easier for Abel's Pokemon to cooperate. A Zoroark in Sinnoh's hands would do wonders, and should the Pokemon prove uncooperative, well, they could always renege on this entire deal and kill them all save for the Ditto and the ghosts. "But, there is a condition. Should you refuse, you will be killed."

Reel it in. Make the other option so terrible that he won't even consider it.

"From this day forward, I will use you whenever I need to grasp something about what is happening in Unova," Cynthia declared. "You get their culture and issues far better than I ever will, and it is my understanding that you escaped Caitlin, once? I would be interested in knowing the capabilities she's grown since leaving our Battle Frontier so young."

Of course, there were videos of her battles against Unovan Conference winners, but there was a difference between the information Cynthia was after and sport. Plus, she wasn't challenged very often, since Unova's system let the challengers pick and choose which Elite Four member they would fight first, and Caitlin was never among those options. Marshal was the usual pick, and the Champion couldn't blame them. Fighting against a ghost, psychic or dark type specialist of that level when you were that inexperienced and weak was a daunting experience. Caitlin hadn't been a good battler, really, especially when compared to her valet Darach, who'd been the actual Frontier Brain and who had left for Unova with her. She'd been around the… five-badge level before going on her Unovan journey and staying there. Cynthia never would have guessed that years later she would ascend to the position of Elite Four in that region, and she was not foolish enough to try to dredge up information that way, lest she start a diplomatic incident.

"I'll tell you anything," Abel said.

There was nothing wrong with insurance, Cynthia thought with a rueful smile. There was no one more reliable and loyal than someone you had spared when they did not deserve it.

—

"To Rene and Trent."

Bottles rose up in the air, then clinked together as the ACE Trainers cheered. Carlos quite liked their little group. Maxwell, Ariel, Carlos and Lou were closer than ACEs ought to be, which would make the pain all the worse when one of them inevitably died. Carlos Iglesias had never enjoyed beer. None of them did, really, but it had been one of Rene and Trent's vices, and it was a way to honor the dead. Now that they were given a week's respite where they'd be checked out by the shrinks, Carlos wanted to make full use of the time they had together, because he had no idea which day would be the last. They'd been temporarily replaced in their guard duties by another group of ACEs, so the marks were still protected. It was a perfect time to sit on one of the benches in the Lily of the Valley Island now that the weather was getting better.

In the distance, preparations were being made for the coming Conference. Maintenance was being run on stadiums, hotels were being readied to open, ceremonies were being rehearsed and companies were finishing bidding for ad space. League Trainers, government employees, and their families filled the flowered paths— which were full of white and pink Lilies, as the name of the island suggested. In the less built-up areas of the League, they went as far as the eye could see. The flower signified purity, innocence and rebirth, which were concepts the League had and would never encompass.

Marks. That was how they referred to the four children they'd shadowed since they'd been in Veilstone City. Growing too attached would spell their doom and would keep the ACE Trainers from doing what was necessary if needed. Carlos gulped down the awful beer, which was a lot harder with half of his face missing. He'd long learned to adapt, however. Missing an eye was a lot more cumbersome than half of his lips.

"Legendaries, I can't believe they liked this shit," Maxwell guffawed. "I never did understand."

"It's apparently an acquired taste," Ariel muttered. She eyed the ingredients written on her bottle and actually read it. "There's a lot of added sugar in there. I don't think I'll be finishing the bottle."

"Come on," Maxwell smiled. "For Rene and Trent."

A shadow of guilt passed over Ariel's face, and she gave him a reluctant nod.

"You know, I'd reminisce, but they'd hate it," he continued.

"That, they would," Carlos said, chasing away the memories.

"How will you keep track of your mark now that she's going to be Teleporting around?" Ariel asked, not bothering to look Carlos in the eye.

She'll have to bring one of us over during each jump," Carlos answered. "It'll probably be me, when I get back."

"Ms. Compton does enjoy your company," Maxwell said. The words were innocent enough, but he did not miss the accusatory glance. Don't grow too attached. It was a warning.

"Better than the job you've been doing with yours," Carlos gruffed. "Grace Pastel dislikes all of you. It makes cooperation harder, and word is, she'll be going into the ruins to get herself a Teleporter."

"She'll get over it," Maxwell shrugged. "Ariel did screw up, you can't deny that, and Ms. Pastel holds grudges deeper than your average trainer."

"She has actually spoken to me to bury the hatchet," Ariel declared. "A surprising development, but a welcome one."

Maxwell raised an eyebrow. "When was that?"

"A few days after the raid. You wouldn't have known about it, since you'd already left," she said. "I'm quite relieved."

"Well, isn't that sweet?" Maxwell snorted.

"Now who's getting attached?" Carlos chimed in after finishing his beer.

Ariel shook her head. "Not attached per se, but it makes me feel like my mistake has been atoned for, at least in part."

A comfortable silence settled in as Carlos watched his colleagues— never friends— finish their drink.

"You ever think we threw them into this too young?" Carlos blurted out.

"You were the same age when you were selected to be an ACE," Maxwell shrugged. "It's the way the world goes."

"But I was eighteen when I went on my first operation like this one," he said.

"You weren't picked by the pricks," Maxwell shrugged, which was his undercover way of saying that he hadn't been the key to saving the world. The ACE had a very strong disdain for Legendary Pokemon. "When that type of duty calls, you unfortunately can't refuse it."

Carlos sighed. "Well, let's hope they get a bit of a breather after this one."

—

"See, how the hell do you even do that? I can't just move my hands that fast," Pauline grumbled.

I let out a soft laugh as I ran my hand through Mudsdale's hair. We were sitting in the same park I'd played piano, and the same Kricketot had come as guests, although they weren't really enjoying Pauline's attempt at music, and I was pretty sure they were badmouthing her too. She gave them the finger and they chimed indignantly, picked themselves up and left.

"Why'd you do that?" I groaned. "You know what, whatever. You've got to slide your hands through the keyboard," I explained. "Like…"

I mimicked playing the piano in the air, but the redhead just looked at me like I was talking another language.

"I've never been great at music. Mommy tried to get me to play the violin, but I kind of threw tantrums until she gave up on me."

"What's with rich people and having their kids play a musical instrument?" I asked. "I mean, it's cool, but I'm pretty sure all of you at least tried to play one."

My friend shrugged. "Probably something to brag to their friends about. Oh, look at me, my daughter can play the trombone!"

We both laughed at her terrible impression of some snotty billionaire.

"I'll have you know that's basically what you'd have sounded like if you hadn't met me," I teased.

"I'll let you have that win for now, gremlin," she said as she traced a finger on my piano.

One week had passed since the raid.

I turned back to Mudsdale and watched the oldie doze off to the chimes of the small woods, happy that he'd still be joining us for the journey north. A lot had happened since then. Chase, Mira and… Cece were gone. Denzel was barely getting out of bed again. Emilia had gone to Hearthome, where she'd probably meet Mira tomorrow. Justin and Lauren had won against Wake today, and now Pauline was only waiting for Denzel to fight the water type Gym Leader so she could carry him to Jubilife and drop him off there on Braviary.

But there was also the looming consequences of what I'd done, clawing at the back of my mind despite my friends trying to distract me. Oh, I knew what they were trying to do. Finding out had been easy enough, with the way they'd all swarmed around me a few days after the raid with the same faces and lines. I couldn't help but think that a part of them were scared of me. They all looked at me like I was different, and they didn't know how best to approach the topic of the raid, and for some reason, that hurt even more than them calling me what they really thought.

But it felt good, to ignore. To hang out with Pauline like nothing had happened, and to just banter about her piano skills. I dug deep into my bag to grab a water bottle to drink, making sure to keep my ankle still while I did so. The raid had not been without its consequences. I had moved around too much, and my recovery would be delayed. I got lucky, the doctor had said. I could have gotten a permanent limp or worse.

"Cecilia's still on your mind?" Pauline asked. "You had that look on your face."

I smiled at her, something fake and foul, "No, I'm fine. She just needs her space, that's all."

The redhead clicked her tongue. "None of that with me, Grace. I know what it's like to have a relationship in a permanent limbo—"

"It's not in limbo," I snapped with a twitch of my fingers. "I just need to— to talk to her, but she won't let me. What if she decides to go off somewhere dangerous alone somewhere? The Iron Islands?"

"She won't. She's not in that kind of headspace anymore, Grace," Pauline said. "Her loss to Wake probably bummed her out too, along with whatever went on inside the mansion that you won't tell me about."

"It's not my place," I said. "Ask her when you see her again."

Pauline nodded, then wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Cheer up, alright? She loves you more than anything— literally. You guys will be fine."

I could only muster a weak affirming hum.

"I don't want to see you leave sad," she said. "Honestly, I don't want to see you leave at all."

"We've gone our separate ways before."

"Never like this," Pauline murmured. "It feels different this time, doesn't it?"

It did, and I'd have to be blind not to realize it. The Pokemon Mansion had scarred us in a multitude of ways and people needed their space to deal with the aftermath. That didn't mean Cecilia leaving without even a word didn't feel like a part of me had been ripped away. We'd always been supposed to separate, but never like this. I echoed Pauline's words in my head and sighed.

"Are you scared of me, Pauline?"

My friend didn't freeze, but I knew she'd wanted to. After pondering how to answer for a few seconds, she finally did. "I'd lie, but you'd see right through me, so honestly? A little bit."

My lips quirked into a sad smile. "I figured."

"Or maybe unsettled is the right word? Denzel told us what happened to Backlot," she whispered. "I— well—"

"Don't worry about it," I said.

"I still love you. We all do," Pauline said. "But you've got to get a hold of yourself… somehow."

"Never thought Pauline King would be the one to tell me that."

"This isn't a joke," she scolded. "Don't make it one."

"Sorry."

"Do you want to talk about it? About, uh, what happened?"

I hesitated for a second. Pauline was offering me a hand, and it was what I'd wished for, so why was it that I couldn't agree? You know the answer, I told myself. Because to this day, I still didn't regret watching Backlot die and killing his associates. Something is wrong with me. What would she say if she knew what I truly thought? Would Cecilia throw me away? Would they all look at me worse than they'd been doing now? Would we even still be friends?

"I'll be fine," I said. "I'll start seeing that therapist soon… they're being flown to Twinleaf, and then they'll follow along wherever I end up."

"You could have seen her earlier if you hadn't had to be convinced that therapy was necessary," Pauline chided. "Going to see your mother too?"

"Uhuh. Honestly, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm looking forward to it," I muttered. "We've been talking more, and Twinleaf will be nice for what I'm dealing with. Seeing family will be nice, and Mudsdale will like the flat fields."

Even if I'd have to see Mesprit too.

I didn't miss the sliver of relief on her face. Was it how this was going to be from now on? Was talking to me going to be like walking through a minefield? Everyone talked to me like I was insane, and maybe I was, but I was growing tired of it. I gently wrested myself away from her arm and yawned.

"Maeve's running late," I said, changing the subject.

Pauline wanted to fight it, but she did not. As if nothing had happened, we went back to talking about music and her childhood as we waited for Maeve, Justin and Louis to arrive with take-out. The afternoon passed more cheerfully than the morning had been, but eventually, it was time to leave. I bid all of my friends farewell, including Lauren, who would be Teleporting to Solaceon with Sirris and trekking to Snowpoint on foot just like Mira. Arceus knew I needed to hurry now that Sweetheart was showing the first signs of molting.

I wanted her to evolve near Lake Verity, and I would be cutting it close.

---