MATURE: Poké Wars: Downfall of a Champion

[Drakon]

A very special thanks goes to Cornova for allowing me to use his Poké Wars universe.

ADR stands for “After Dampener Removal” so “3 ADR” means three years after the dampener removal.

For those who do not understand the concept of the dampeners, it is recommended that you read Cornova’s Poké Wars: The Subsistence.

This was originally posted in The Poké Wars Chronicles: Tales From A World At War but after examining how this story was so much longer than the others and how it is more plot driven; I have decided that it should be split into its own story thread.

Now sit back and relax as Drakon proudly presents, Poké Wars: Downfall of a Champion!

Rated mature for intense violence, gore, profanity

Table of Contents:

Chapter 1: Rumblings of War
Chapter 2: Rest and Revelations
Chapter 3: Sunyshore Under Siege
Chapter 4: Battle of Sunyshore Tower
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Chapter 1: Rumblings of War

Spoiler

The area surrounding Suzurin Stadium was ablaze with activity as throngs of people streamed into it. Fireworks shot high into the sky as electronic billboards showcased today’s match ups. The stadium was not normally this crowded but today was the first day of famed Elite Cup – only those who had placed in the top ten of a major league or were members of the elite four were permitted to attend. And there were at least two simultaneous battles.

Outside the stadium grounds, people were waiting in line, soaking in the warm sunlight or training their pokémon. A good portion of the spectators had come from out of the region, some from as far away as Hoenn and the Sevii Islands. With the immense popularity of this championship, who could blame them?

***​

Inside the stadium complex, ushers quickly directed people to the appropriate arena. The air was abuzz with the sound of people, pokémon and hawkers selling everything from refreshments to souvenirs.

About an hour later, all the arenas were filled to capacity. Suddenly, the announcer’s voice boomed out over the arena.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to this year’s Lily of the Valley Conference!”

He was answered by thunderous applause.

***​

Cynthia was sitting on a couch inside the trainers’ lounge. The lounge was sparsely decorated – just some bland couches and white carpeting.

She took several deep breaths and stretched a bit to calm herself down.

She deployed all her Pokémon. “Everyone ready?”

All of them made some noise that indicated “yes”.

She then smiled. “Let’s do it!”

Just then, an employee entered the lounge. “Champion Cynthia! The match is about to begin!”

Cynthia got up from the couch and recalled all her pokémon. She then brushed a lock of her golden hair away from her face and strode confidently into the bright light of the arena.

***​

“And here she is! The reigning champion of the Sinnoh League, Cynthia!” the announcer cried as she strode into the arena. Thunderous applause and cheers broke out as she took her place in the trainer’s box.

She then saw her opponent, a red haired man by the name of Flint, striding into the arena.

“And here is her opponent, the Master of Blaze, Flint!”

More cheers from the gathered crowd. All of them were fired up, expecting an epic battle.

The referee stood in his box and raised both his flags. “This will be a full six on six battle. Substitutions are allowed. The winner will be declared when either side’s pokémon are unable to battle. Challenger gets first pick. Begin!”

“Go Infernape!” Flint shouted as he tossed his poké ball. At nearly the same time, an intense hard rock track started.

“Let’s go, Garchomp!” Cynthia shouted, tossing her poké ball.

“Oh and it looks like they have decided to start off with their signature Pokémon!” the announcer exclaimed. The scoreboard behind flickered to life, showing the trainers (green for Cynthia and red for flint) along with six question marks below their name. The top question mark faded out and was replaced with an icon of their pokémon.

“Mach Punch!” Flint ordered.

Infernape clenched his right hand into a fist, which then glowed a brilliant white. He then seemed to disappear as he sped towards Garchomp like a speeding bullet.

Garchomp leapt over the speeding projectile that was Infernape. Infernape aborted his charge when he saw Garchomp was no longer there.

“Oh! And Garchomp’s dodged that attack! What an amazing jump!”

Cheers from Cynthia’s supporters erupted from the stands as a particularly fierce guitar solo echoed over the arena.

“Dragon Rush!” Cynthia ordered.

Garchomp took a few steps back and then charged forward, wreathed in a shimmering blue shield. So great was her speed that she appeared to be a laser beam.

“Behind you! Mach Punch!” Flint shouted.

Infernape quickly turned around and prepared his Mach Punch.

Everyone held their breath as the two battlers sped towards each other like twin lasers.

***​

At the same time, Will and Lucian were battling inside another arena. Both of them were battling with Bronzong. Unlike Cynthia and Flint’s battle, there was no music being played and the trainers were completely silent. Of course, most of the spectators were unaware that both the trainers were themselves psychic and were using telepathy to give commands to their pokémon.

Suddenly, the arms on Lucian’s Bronzong glowed white as it began to spin at a dizzying rate. It then headed for Will’s Bronzong like a giant buzzsaw. Lucian’s fans cheered; they loved watching his Bronzong’s Gyro Ball.

Just before the whirling mass of bronze that was Lucian’s Bronzong collided with its opponent, a shimmering barrier covered Will’s Bronzong like a second skin.

But the tremendous momentum of Lucian’s Bronzong made it difficult to stop and it slammed into its opponent with a sound like a hammer striking an anvil. Lucian’s Bronzong ricocheted off Will’s own Bronzong and landed in a heap on the other side of the arena. Will’s supporters cheered as soon as Lucian’s Bronzong hit the sandy arena.

No matter how much Lucian tried to encourage his fallen pokémon, it would not budge.

“Lucian’s Bronzong is unable to battle!” the referee shouted, raising a green flag to signal Will’s victory.

The icon for Bronzong under Lucian’s name blacked out, indicating that the pokémon was unable to battle.

Lucian recalled Bronzong and threw out his second poké ball. Gallade appeared in a bright flash of light. One of the five question marks under his name disappeared, revealing Gallade’s icon.

Will recalled Bronzong. The icon for Bronzong dimmed signifying that it had been recalled but was not unconscious. The next question mark vanished as he sent out his Gardevoir.

***​

Infernape and Garchomp were both panting heavily. Both of them had battered one another with their strongest attacks.

“Finish this! Stone Edge!” Cynthia shouted.

Twin crossed hoops of blue light whirled around Garchomp as she prepared to unleash the deadly shotgun-like spray of Stone Edge.

Suddenly, a mysterious voice echoed in her head: “I've given you the power to take back our world from the humans…kill any who stand against you.”

Before she could ponder those words, a splitting headache unlike anything she had ever experienced struck her. It was so intense that she fell to the ground, writhing and screeching in agony. Even stranger, the twin hoops of Stone Edge seemed to glow brighter and rotate faster.

Everyone in the crowd gasped as they saw what happened. Cynthia, fearing for her pokémon’s health, tried to recall her. To her horror, the red recall beam struck Garchomp to no effect.

She then noticed that Flint’s Infernape was also in similar agony. Flint was desperately trying to reassure him – to no effect. Heart racing, she turned to the referee. “Stop the match! I forfeit!”

Before the referee could say anything, there was a sound like a gunshot followed by panicked screaming.

Both of them turned towards Flint, who was lying in a slowly growing pool of blood. Their eyes widened in horror as they took in the gruesome sight. Several stone daggers, some of them bloody, lodged in the wooden door behind Flint or scattered in the general area near him, gave away the identity of the killer: a Stone Edge attack. Both of them looked like they had seen a black Charizard – and with good reason; injuries, let alone blood and death were never seen in pokémon battles.

“But how?” the referee asked. He had seen people get hit by Stone Edge before; all it did was ruin their clothes.

Suddenly, several bright flashes lit up the arena as both Flint’s and her pokémon emerged from their poké balls. Soon the arena was filled with the horrifying sound of pokémon in utter agony.

By this time, the hard rock track had stopped and the announcer was urging people to remain calm. But it was no use, panic had spread like virus and the crowd was desperately shoving and fighting to get out of the arena.

She then noticed the twin hoops of Stone Edge forming around her Garchomp again. Wasting no time, she immediately grabbed the referee and sprinted for the trainers’ entrance.

There was then the distinct crack of a Stone Edge attack firing. She winced as one of the stone shards ripped through her jacket and into her flesh.

“Just a few more feet,” she thought as the door came in sight. Just as she was about to leap through the door; a gout of flame grazed her jacket, setting it aflame. She quickly shed the burning garment and slammed the door shut.

The referee covered his hands with his mouth and ran to the bathroom. Cynthia shoved the couch against the door. She sat on the ground and tried to catch her breath. She then examined her shoulder wound; it wasn’t deep but it bled profusely. She got up and grabbed the first aid kit hanging on the wall. She hastily bandaged her wound and looked around. The lounge was eerily quiet at the moment but she suspected that wouldn’t be the case soon.

Soon, Cynthia’s sense of relief at escaping alive was replaced with guilt. She had abandoned her Garchomp when she was needed most. But could she really fault herself for doing that? She had just seen someone get killed with a Stone Edge attack. What person wouldn’t run from a hail of stone daggers?

***​

But Garchomp wasn’t the only one to hear that mysterious voice. At the time of that fateful battle, the other contestants were battling. And they soon would hear that voice.

Will and Lucian were now on their second pokémon – a Gardevoir and a Gallade, respectively.

Just before Will could give a command to his Gardevoir, a voice echoed in his head: “I've given you the power to take back our world from the humans…kill any who stand against you.”

“Lucian,” he said calmly. “You know it’s bad sportsmanship to use your telepathy to mess with your opponents.”

Lucian’s jaw dropped. “What? I didn’t say-” Suddenly, those same words echoed in his head: “I've given you the power to take back our world from the humans…kill any who stand against you.”

Lucian glared at Will. “Hypocrite.”

Everyone in the crowd was staring at the two. Even the pokémon were wondering what their trainers were doing.

Will sighed. “Well let’s get-ARGH!” He then collapsed to his knees clutching his head in agony. Through his veil of pain, he was able to feel something. Some kind of unusual power coursed through his veins.

“Stop the match!” Lucian shouted. His own head was starting to throb as well and it seemed to be intensifying. The referee went to get medical help.

Whispers spread among the crowd as they looked on in shock. No one moved a muscle as they waited for the events to continue unfolding.

Luckily, the medics arrived quickly. They approached Will – and were promptly knocked on their backs by an invisible force. The sand around him jittered as if invisible fists were pounding the ground.

Suddenly, there was a brilliant flash and the two contestants’ pokémon were released. And each one of them appeared to be in intense pain. To make matters worse, each one of them seemed to be using an attack. A blind-fired Thunderbolt from Mr. Mime carved glowing trenches in the concrete wall.

By this time, the crowd was shouting and milling about in panic. Some of them tried to dodge Gallade’s Stone Edge but it was so tightly packed that they couldn’t. Panic intensified as several people were transfixed by the stone spikes.

At the same time, Lucian felt an unusual surge of energy through his veins but his headache grew so intense that it forced him to his knees. Struggling through his fog of pain, he reached out towards the referee’s microphone – dropped when he had fled. Much to his surprise, the microphone flew through the air and into his hand before he could even reach it.

“Everyone, please evacuate the arena in a quick and orderly fashion!” he said, voice ragged with pain. Just before he slipped unconscious, he let go of the microphone. His newly awakened psychic powers inadvertently hurled the microphone into the wall.

Unfortunately, his words had the complete opposite effect. The crowd panicked and fought to get to the exits. Those who weren’t killed by the stray pokémon attacks were trampled underfoot or accidentally shoved over railings – only to fall to their deaths onto the sandy arena below them.

***​

The pandemonium wasn’t limited to the battlers. Outside Suzurin Stadium, all hell had broken loose as pokémon were struck by this mysterious aliment. Attacks of all sorts lanced into the noon sky, replacing the fireworks that had previously signaled the start of today’s festivities.

Panicking trainers either tried to calm down their pokémon – with fatal results, unfortunately – or simply fled, abandoning their pokémon, their comrades.

Those who were present on that fateful day were left with one question: what happened? Little did they know that this event would usher in Sinnoh’s downfall.

 

[Drakon]

Chapter 2: Rest and Revelations

Spoiler

Cynthia took several deep breaths to calm herself as she leaned against the barricaded door. Her heart thundered in her ears as she tried to process what she had just seen.

“You’re having a nightmare,” she mentally recited. “Anytime now, you’ll wake up back in the trainer’s cabins.”

She yelped as a stone dagger appeared next to her. Who was she kidding? This was no dream.

She quickly darted behind some lockers as she heard more stone spikes impacting the barricaded door.

The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness as she remained crouched behind the lockers. Soon, the sound of the stone spikes embedding themselves in the door died down.

Gathering all her courage, she headed over to the door, now studded with the lethal stone daggers of a Stone Edge attack. She shoved the couch aside and gingerly pushed open the door.

She was not greeted by a hail of stone shards but instead, eerie silence. All she saw was unconscious – or dead – pokémon, Flint’s body and a completely deserted arena. The concrete walls surrounding the arena were scorched and cratered and the scoreboard was pocked with holes that exposed the blue sky. Sparks occasionally showered from the exposed wiring.

Cynthia steeled herself and approached the carnage. She checked her pokémon to see if they were still alive. Gastrodon was her only casualty. The same could not be said of Flint – every one of his Pokémon had at least one stone shard in them. She tried not to look at the dead pokémon as she recalled her own.

Suddenly, an Officer Jenny ran into the arena. “Champion Cynthia, you must evacuate this stadium immediately!”

Cynthia immediately heeded the officer’s words and followed her out of the arena.

***​

Outside Suzurin Stadium, throngs of people headed to the port. Several ferries had been requested from Sunyshore to evacuate the trainers who were present for the championship. In addition, those wealthy enough to afford their own boats volunteered to help the evacuation effort. No one dared to use their Pokémon as transport, not after what they had just seen.

Cynthia stood in line. Several police officers were present. It was their job to ensure that the evacuation proceeded swiftly and orderly.

She wondered if this ailment was limited only to Lily of the Valley Isle. She shuddered to think of what would happen if all of Sinnoh was affected.

She walked aboard the gangplank and was ushered inside by an Officer Jenny. The interior of the ferry was clean but very bland. Normally, the ferry would be abuzz with chatter but not this time. There was no sound except for the sound of the waves lapping against the ship. More trainers were ushered in. She tried hard not to look at their tearstained faces.

She headed to the bathroom to wash up and hopefully collect her thoughts.

Little did she know that Lucian and Will were aboard the same ship. They had been transferred to a makeshift infirmary.

***​

Just as Cynthia returned from the bathroom, she heard the low rumble of the ship’s engines revving up. She looked out the window as the ship began to move. Soon, all she could see was Lily of the Valley Isle receding in the distance.

She suddenly, realized something; her pokémon were still with her. What if that ailment struck again? If that happened, she would be responsible for killing hundreds of people. She pushed the disturbing thought out of her mind and leaned back in her chair.

***​

Outside on the deck, the ship’s crew scanned the ocean for any anomalies per standard operating procedure. They had not been totally informed as to what had happened, just that there was an emergency at Suzurin Stadium and the trainers needed to be evacuated.

All they saw was a clear blue sky and glassy seas.

***​

A few hours later, the ferries arrived at Sunyshore. A triage/treatment area had been set up in the port. Several officers from the Sunyshore Police Department were trying to hold back a curious crowd. Several ambulances were present in case the injured needed to be transferred to the hospitals. The shouts of the police trying to contain the crowd mingled with the keening of trainers who had lost their pokémon – their best friends.

Cynthia disembarked the ship. She stood in line to be triaged. After a few minutes of looking her over and asking some questions, she was determined to be perfectly healthy.

She robotically trudged to the exit of the harbor and sat on a bench with her head in her hands. She had been clinging to the fantasy that this whole debacle was a horrid nightmare but as the seconds ticked by, the layers of that fantasy eroded under the harsh rain of reality. As the shock of her escape from Suzurin wore off, something inside her snapped. Images of what she had seen flashed through her head. Gastrodon lying dead on the sandy floor. Stone daggers lodged halfway through a thick wood door. Flint’s body in a pool of his own blood.

Adding to this already volatile combination was a suffocating sense of guilt. She should have stayed to help Flint, but no, she chose to run and hide.

I shouldn’t have run. If I didn’t, Flint would still be alive. She thought.

It was all too much for her to take; the façade of stony calmness that she wore through the ferry ride shattered like glass against concrete. Tears streamed down her face and dripped onto her clothes.

***​

After what seemed like hours, Cynthia managed to compose herself. She looked around; the activity in the harbor had died down but it was far from empty. She stood in line for a bus to take her to the temporary shelter. As she climbed aboard the bus, she wondered where Lucian and Will were.

The bus lurched as it pulled up in front of the shelter – a nondescript hotel near the harbor. All around her were police officers and the refugees. Luckily, this hotel had the good fortune to be mostly empty

Cynthia disembarked and entered the hotel lobby, which was just as crowded as the outside. All around her were snatches of conversation from the refugees. She sighed as she realized that, quite literally, all she had were the clothes on her back.

With the mechanical movements of one who had seemingly lost their will to live, she picked up her room key and stepped into the elevator which took her to her room. All around her, the miasma of depression hung heavy in the air like a poison gas.

With a ding, the elevator opened and she stepped out onto her floor. She walked through the bland, but clean carpeted hallway and opened her door.

The scent of fresh linen filled her nostrils as the Sinnoh champion stepped over the threshold and took stock of the room. The room itself was clean but it wouldn’t win any awards for interior decorating. The only thing that stood out was a black mini-fridge next to the flat-screen TV.

Cynthia entered the bathroom and shut the door behind her. A minute or so later, the sound of the toilet flushing could be heard and she stepped out to wash her hands. As she did so, she looked at herself in the mirror. The face that stared back at her wasn’t the elegant Sinnoh champion with her flowing golden locks. No, it was the face of a stranger with matted hair and a tear-streaked face.

She flopped down on the couch to rest her body stomach growled as she looked at the clock – slightly past 4:00 PM; she hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast at Lily of the Valley Isle.

Maybe they’ll have something to eat downstairs. She thought.

She entered the elevator and descended to the lobby. She looked around and it was soon apparent that the hotel was going to be quite crowded. Most of them were picking bundles consisting of clothing, toiletries and other essentials that were donated from the local charities.

The Sinnoh champion looked at them and she realized that she could use some new clothes, considering that the Stone Edge attack that she narrowly dodged back at Suzurin Stadium had damaged her clothes. Her growling stomach reminded her that food came first, then getting some new clothes.

She grabbed a plate and stood in line to be served. In front of her were two trays containing the sole food options available – spinach quiche and a mix of rice and beans. At her request, the man in charge of the food heaped both meals onto her plate. She silently picked up a bottle of water along with some utensils and headed back to the dining lounge to eat.

Cynthia dug her fork into the rice and beans. Midway to her mouth, she was interrupted by a “Hey, Cynthia, mind if we join?”

She put her fork down and turned to the voice. It was then she saw who the speaker was; it was Johto’s own Master of the Mind, Will – albeit sans his distinctive mask, jacket and cravat. All he wore was his slightly dusty maroon shirt and pants. Standing next to him was the silent figure of Lucian.

The Sinnoh champion nodded her assent and the two psychic trainers sat down next to her. The three ate in silence before Cynthia cleared her throat.

“Will, Lucian, if it’s not too painful for you to remember, are-”

“Our pokémon are fine, thank you for asking,” Lucian replied calmly.

Cynthia did a double-take; how did Lucian know exactly what she would ask? She pondered it for a moment but then chalked it up to coincidence.

“Cynthia, there’s something that you must know,” Will said between bites of spinach quiche.

“Let me guess, it has to do with the evacuation?” Cynthia replied.

“It does.”

Cynthia sighed; this was not something she wanted to hear soon after such a disaster but at the same time, she wanted to know all that she could about the mysterious outbreak at Lily of the Valley Isle. “Fine, tell me.”

“That would not be advisable in public,” Lucian cut in.

Cynthia gritted her teeth as she placed her fork down a little too forcefully, resulting in a loud clang that caused several pairs of eyes to turn towards her. “The public has a right to know about this as much we do!”

“I understand but they are extremely agitated; this piece of news could push them over the edge.”

Cynthia tamped down her anger. “Meet me in room 445.” She then continued to eat her meal in silence.

The two psychic trainers continued eating.

Several minutes later after they had returned their dishes and grabbed the bundles of donated clothes and toiletries, the trio headed upstairs.
When they entered Cynthia’s room, the two psychic trainers sat on the couch while the Sinnoh champion grabbed a chair from the desk. She tried to keep a neutral face as her slate grey eyes bored into Will and Lucian but a creased brow hinted at her anger. “Now then, what was so important that you didn’t dare risk anyone eavesdropping on us?”

Lucian cleared his throat. “Approximately fifteen minutes after the battle between Will and myself started, I heard a voice in my head. The voice said, and I quote, ‘I've given you the power to take back our world from the humans…kill any who stand against you’. I can safely say that the voice was not human in origin. But I do not know anything other than that. Soon after I came down with a headache that started intensifying.” The words came out so quickly that it was hard to distinguish them.

Cynthia’s eyes widened in shock. Someone – or something – was fomenting a pokémon revolution. But who? “I can safely assume that message was not intended for you to hear but who would do such a thing?”

Lucian shook his head. “That I cannot answer. However, you should know what happened next – pokémon attacks became deadly. Flint and your Gastrodon were proof of this new lethality.”

The Sinnoh champion shivered. Both from the fact that Lucian had again, seemingly peered into her mind and what she had heard from the Sinnoh psychic.

“But it’s not just pokémon that have received this boost,” Will cut in.

Cynthia paused; she didn’t feel any stronger, faster or tougher. Her attention then shifted to the Will. “What do you mean?”

“Watch.” Will then stared as hard as possible at a phonebook resting on a nearby wooden table. A nearly invisible blue aura coalesced around the tome as the purple-haired psychic focused. As beads of sweat began forming on his forehead, the book jittered and flew through the air at a surprising velocity. Before anyone could do anything, the book smacked Will right in the forehead causing him to yelp with pain and the other two to chuckle briefly. “As you can see, this is my first time using telekinesis,” he added, rubbing his forehead.

“Lucian, I assume that this mysterious being granted you telekinetic powers too?” Cynthia asked.

Lucian looked at a pen on the desk. The pen eventually jittered and leapt into his hand. “I would assume so as I have only been able to use telepathy previously.”

“Do you have any explanation for this?”

Lucian shook his head. “All I can hypothesize is that because Will and I have mild psychic powers, this being somehow mistook us for pokémon, sending us that message and increasing our powers.”

Cynthia shrugged; it was as good an explanation she was going to get. Before the words could form on her lips, Will spoke.

“Don’t let your pokémon out and watch your poké balls very closely,” he said, reading Cynthia’s mind.

Cynthia frowned as Will read her mind; it was a gross invasion of privacy, an act that left her feeling violated. “Ask before you read other people’s minds,” she scolded.

“Sorry, I’m still getting used to how much more powerful my psychic abilities are compared to before.”

The Sinnoh champion then yawned and looked at the clock on the wood desk. It was now slightly past 9:00 PM. “Well, thanks for the info,” she said. “But I’m going to go to sleep.”

The two psychics said their goodbyes, picked up their bundles and headed back to their rooms to sleep. As they left, Cynthia grabbed her package of clothing and toiletries. They were packed inside a cheap suitcase.

She then entered the bathroom, and keeping Will’s warning in mind, placed her poke balls on the counter where she could easily keep an eye on them. As she stripped off her clothing, she kept the bathroom door open and didn’t bother to close the shower curtain. All this was so she could keep an eye on the red and white spheres that rested on small tray next to the coffee maker and so she could easily run if things really got ugly.

As the blonde woman turned on the water and allowed the warm water to wash away the dirt on her body and the tension that permeated it. Still as she lathered her hair, she couldn’t help but wonder; was Will being paranoid or was his warning justified? She took a look at the red and white spheres on the tray just before she closed her eyes and rinsed away the shampoo. Her pokémon loved her; they wouldn’t kill her just because a mysterious voice said so. But as she continued her ablutions, paranoia began to creep in. Maybe they were just biding their time. One night, she was going to go to sleep and the last thing she will ever see is the gleaming razored claws of her beloved Garchomp.

As she toweled herself off, she forced those unsavory thoughts from her mind. As she donned her new clothes, she got a look at herself in the mirror. The Sinnoh champion was clad in a set of hot pink pajama pants and long-sleeved black shirt with a cartoonish Garchomp embroidered on the front. She would have preferred something less embarrassing but as the saying goes, beggars can’t be choosers.

She then closed the door to the bathroom, leaving her poké balls on the tray. Normally she would have placed them on her nightstand but she decided that if her pokémon did go rogue, the closed bathroom door would give her the precious few second she needed to get the hell out of the room.

She slid into the soft bedand soon fell into a fitful sleep. A sleep where violence, war, death, chaos and hatred reigned.

***​

Cynthia stood in front of a house. The once charming structure had been reduced to a smoldering ruin. The air was heavy with the stench of smoke. The charred corpse of the house’s owner, a nightmarish scream forever etched onto his carbonized skull, lay mere feet from the door.

Suddenly, there was the sound of hooves in the distance. Cynthia turned around and saw a horde of Ponyta and Rapidash bearing down on her like demons. She let out a scream and bolted down the opposite direction.

***​

Suddenly, she found herself back at Suzurin Stadium. The thunder of the crowd echoed through the stadium. There, in front of her was the Master of Blaze, Flint.

With no words from the announcer, Flint sent out Infernape. Cynthia countered with Garchomp.

“Garchomp! Stone Edge!” she ordered.

At her trainer’s command, twin crossed hoops of blue light orbited Garchomp and materialized into a swarm of razor sharp stone shards. With a sound like a gunshot, Garchomp sent a hail of the lithic daggers at her opponent.

But much to her horror, Garchomp aimed the attack at Flint. Flint’s eyes widened in pain as a foot long stone shard lodged itself in his stomach. His hands wrapped around the projectile as blood dripped from his mouth. Before he could do anything, another shard pierced his ribcage. He then fell over in a patch of bloodstained sand.

Cynthia could only watch in horror as her Garchomp callously killed another trainer. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the twin hoops of Stone Edge materializing again. Panicked, she ran into the door leading to the trainer’s room.

***​

The Sinnoh champion could only wonder at where she had found herself. The entrance to the trainer’s room somehow led to this unknown post-apocalyptic city. Broken glass, bullet casings, chunks of concrete and other assorted battle debris littered the ground. All around her were buildings in various states of decay with pieces of their facades missing, windows destroyed or gutted by fire. In the distance, she could see small fires. The entire area had a faint stench of death and smoke. Distant gunfire provided the only noise in the deserted city.

A windblown newspaper stuck itself to her foot. She picked it up and read the headlines:

Sinnoh Has Fallen​

A pulse of horror ran through her; she was in Sinnoh after the pokémon had swept through the area.

Suddenly, she heard a human voice, “Hey! We found a survivor!

The former Sinnoh champion turned around and saw three figures wearing military fatigues, combat helmets and battered ballistic vests. Two of them were toting 7.62 X 39 caliber automatic rifles and the other was toting what appeared to be a six shot grenade launcher. A bandolier of grenades dangled from his shoulders.

Cynthia looked at the three figures with trepidation. “Who…Who are you?”

The man with the grenade launcher introduced himself. “We’re the last survivors of Sinnoh. The government has abandoned us so we do what we can to survive. We eventually plan to recapture Sinnoh. Will you join us?”

Cynthia hesitated; she was not interested in joining a resistance movement but what choice did she have? “Yes,” she said with a slight tremor in her voice.

The group of five then walked down the ravaged streets until they got to what was clearly the industrial section of the city.

The group then entered a large warehouse. Inside, a group of people were sleeping, eating or just going about their daily activities. Crates filled with scavenged or stolen supplies lined the back wall. As Cynthia entered, all activity ceased and the eyes of the survivors began to bore into her.

“Everyone,” the man with the grenade launcher said. “This is-“

Suddenly, a siren rang out. Almost immediately, the people inside the warehouse stopped what they were doing and started preparing for battle.

One of them handed Cynthia a 12-gauge pump shotgun, which she took with some slight trepidation; after all, she had never actually seen a gun in real life before.

There was then a massive explosion that knocked Cynthia to the ground. Before her vision went black, she could still hear the incessant wailing of the siren.

***​

The real Cynthia woke up in a cold sweat from her nightmare. She could still hear the siren ringing in her ears. It was only after a few seconds that she realized the siren was no dream. She immediately, shucked her pajama pants and changed into a set of blue jeans. She ran to the bathroom to fetch her pokémon. She hoped that this act of kindness would show that she really cared for them – and keep her alive.

After she shoved the poké balls into her pockets, she opened the room door and entered the hallway. As she did so, she was slightly stunned by how many people were present. Despite the incessant wailing of the fire alarm, they calmly filed down the exit stairwells.

When they were out in the cool morning air of Sunyshore City, they immediately began to chatter about the fire alarms going off.

“Great like my vacation to Sinnoh can’t get any worse,” someone in the crowd said.

Little did they know, Sunyshore City would soon become a battleground between two warring factions with the inhabitants caught in the lethal crossfire.

 

[Drakon]

Chapter 3: Sunyshore Under Siege

Spoiler

The wailing of the hotel's fire alarm pierced the pre-dawn misty seaside air. Nervous chatter broke out among the gathered refugees. Most of them were understandably skittish, considering the hell they had survived at Suzurin Stadium.

Cynthia failed to suppress a yawn as she rubbed her eyes. She silently prayed it was just a malfunction caused by the humid air of the sea; then she could go back to sleep and put the whole incident behind her. She leaned against a lamppost in attempt to stay standing; the chilly metal instantly snapped her back to reality.

Will and Lucian fought their way through the crowd to reach the Sinnoh champion. Both of them had somber expressions on their faces.

"So what do you plan to do after this?" Will asked in an attempt to break the tension that swirled around them like the sea fog.

"Well-" Cynthia's words were interrupted by the sound of breaking glass above her followed by panicked shouts as the crowd backed away from the hotel. Instinctively, she did the same. When everyone looked up, they saw shards of glass, gleaming in the sickly blue-green glow of mercury vapor street lamps, raining down on the courtyard of the hotel like drops of dagger-edged rain. A hole adorned the façade of the building, as if it had been struck by a cannonball. Luckily, no one was hit by the lethal rain. The nervous chatter increased in intensity; the already tense atmosphere became positively suffocating. Several agonizing seconds slowly ticked by as everyone tried to process what had happened. The seconds were broken by a sound akin to that of a giant wineglass shattering.

Cynthia's heart leapt into her throat at the noise. She suppressed the urge to bolt in the nearest direction as she did not want to precipitate a mass panic and stampede that could just as lethal as pokémon attack. Instead, she took a breath to slow the frantic beat of her heart and looked around to assess the situation. Unfortunately, the chatter of the crowd drowned out a distant whump akin to the sound of mortar fire.

***​

Will and Lucian were seated on a curbstone and bench, respectively, as they tried to make sense of the whole situation. The other refugees were chatting amongst themselves in an attempt to break the nervousness that pervaded the harbor.

Without warning, Will made a pushing motion towards Lucian. Almost immediately, a deep blue burst of telekinetic force knocked Lucian off the bench and into the flower beds.

"Will! What-" Lucian's words and anger instantly died as a massive brown sphere slammed into the bench, reducing it to a pile of broken wood – right where Lucian had been moments before. The Sinnoh psychic gulped, picked himself up and brushed some wood chips off his pants. He mentally thanked Will; if it were not for his telekinetic push, he would have been splattered all over the sidewalk. Apparently, Will received the message and nodded his affirmation to Lucian, who was now walking off into another section of the crowd. The Johto psychic got up from his seat and examined the brown sphere; it lay inside a shallow crater filled with the remains of the bench. He recognized it as the distinctive signature of the attack Mud Shot. The sphere itself appeared to be unmarred from the impact – aside from some chips on its surface – unusual considering that Mud Shot, true to its name launched a blob of mud; the sphere in question more closely resembled a concrete cannonball. A crowd of curious onlookers gathered and peered into the crater.

Curious chatters filled the air as the crowd continued gaping. Will suddenly felt a prickling sensation all along his arms – the same sensation he felt just before the mud ball impacted the bench.

"Lucian!" he barked.

Lucian was resting his head on his knees as he sat on a curb. Will's shout caused him to shoot his head up – only to catch sight of a meter long shard of ice speeding towards his head. With an uttered swear, he closed his eyes and swiped at the air, as if he could knock the chunk of ice aside.

A seeming eternity later, the Sinnoh psychic opened his eyes and gasped; there beside him, lay two pieces of ice. He looked over himself for injuries: none. He turned towards the crowd who nervously stepped back from him.

"Everyone, I'm fine," he said. He scanned the crowd, betraying no sign of emotion even as his heart thundered in his chest; the crowd was on edge and doing the wrong thing could set off a deadly mass panic.

***​

Little did the refugees know that Sunyshore – and all of Sinnoh – was about to be embroiled in a conflict the likes of which they have never seen.

On a beach near the hotel where Cynthia and the others were staying, a swarm of Kingler headed ashore. Like a single well-oiled machine, they marched towards the hotel, their heavy footsteps providing the drumbeat to their march on Sunyshore.

An unlucky early morning runner was the first to see this bizarre sight. But before he could do anything, he was set upon by two Kingler. His screams pierced the morning air as they swiftly dismembered and ate him.

***​

The death of the runner immediately attracted the attention of the refugees. As Cynthia and her two friends pushed their way through the horrified crowd, they were treated to the sight of an army of Kingler marching ashore and bombarding the seafront buildings with a volley of hardened mud balls. The barrage tore through the sturdy wood structures as if they were no more substantial than tissue paper. The buildings that were remained standing were quickly torn apart with their heavy claws. Any survivors of the initial bombardment and collapsing buildings were quickly dealt with by some of the smaller Kingler with short bursts of explosive bubbles or with their razor sharp cutting claws.

As Cynthia watched in fascinated horror, she realized that these Kingler were not looking for food. They were demolishing the buildings and killing the inhabitants with the cold efficiency of an invading army.

Well, Sunyshore's screwed! She thought. Almost immediately she scolded herself. For fuck's sake, what are you talking about! Get a hold of yourself! You can't let everyone down! You need to keep calm and keep the crowd from panicking!

Cynthia sighed and looked at her feet. She prayed to Arceus that she would be able to maintain her rapidly thinning veneer of calmness.

***​

A mile away from the hotel, a fleet of Cloyster were lined up in the water, their spiky shells barely visible under the gentle waves. The leader – a massive Cloyster with some of its spikes dulled by battle and time looked over the beachfront amusement park. A frown crossed the black pearl that was its face. Just an hour before, the Cloyster were randomly attacking whatever human-made object struck their fancy – usually beach umbrellas or benches, i.e. whatever was most convenient. But this Cloyster quickly took command of the situation; it realized that Ho-oh's mandate would be fulfilled much more quickly if they organized into a coherent group rather than the mob they had previously been. Finding this a more effective way to slake their thirst for violence and destruction, the Cloyster organized under their "fleet commander".

The fleet commander surfaced and pivoted, looking at the gathered Cloyster. It then turned to the sacrilegious structure on the beach. A smile crossed its face.

Suddenly, as if reading their commander's mind, the first group of Cloyster surfaced and launched a volley of meter long spikes, each made from steel-hard ice. Like a fleet of missile submarines, the Cloyster would launch their deadly payload and then sink beneath the waves where they could reload without worry of retaliation.

The fleet commander watched with pleasure as the ice javelins tore gaping holes in the wood and corrugated metal roofs of the buildings. Amusement park rides were perforated by the javelins and rendered useless. Its smile widened as the distant hiss of escaping gas from a pierced gas line was heard. It aimed at a pylon carrying power to the amusement park and launched its lethal projectile – a shaft of ice with a crescent shaped cutting head. The blade of ice cleanly sliced through the top of the aluminum pole. The creak of metal sliding on metal and the snap-crackle of electrified wires breaking rang through the morning air as the top of the pole dragged the live wires down to the ground.

Almost instantly, there was a loud explosion as the leaking gas ignited. The explosion soon engulfed the amusement park in roaring orange flames. A massive column of fire pinpointed the exact location of the perforated pipe.

The lead Cloyster smirked; Ho-oh would be pleased at its handiwork.

***​

Back at the hotel, the refugees collectively flinched as the explosion tore through the air. Nervous chatter echoed through the now clearing fog.

Sirens wailed as the fire department raced to the ruined amusement park to control the raging conflagration. A nearby scream caused everyone to turn.

There, mere meters away from a screaming citizen was what could loosely be called a "body". Organs, bone and flesh were smeared over a substantial section of the concrete sidewalk. A nearby streetlight and newspaper box were painted with a fine misting of blood and particles of flesh. A piece of the decedent's brain had somehow ended up pasted against a STOP sign.

Cynthia pushed through the crowd to see what was going on and to try and keep the crowd calm – at least until the police arrived. Why haven't they arrived yet? She thought.

She immediately regretted the decision to approach the scene as the metallic stench of blood coupled with the malodor of fecal matter assaulted her nostrils with the fury of an enraged Primeape. The stench coupled with the horrific scene dropped her to her knees as she repeatedly dry-heaved.

Suddenly, another nearby explosion tore through the air. The Sinnoh champion grunted as her body was slammed into a concrete planter, knocking all the wind out of her. She got up to her feet and looked around; where there were several other refugees now only lay an assorted mess of body parts. Her heart sank as she saw a bubble lazily drifting towards two men who were chatting. The bubble held within it a roiling cloud of bluish gas.

Cynthia took a breath, wincing as it sent a shockwave of pain rippling through her bruised back. "Move!" she shouted.

The first man turned towards the shout, only to see a bubble of explosive gas mere feet away from him. Thinking quickly, he shoved his conversation partner away from the bubble and dove behind a concrete planter as the bubble detonated.

Cynthia was far away enough that the shockwave didn't seriously hurt her but it was still enough to wind her. As she looked up, she saw many more explosive bubbles floating above high above her – their graceful appearance a sharp contrast to their lethality.

She shook her head and steeled herself. Waiting for the police could get them all killed. "Everyone!" she shouted loudly from atop a concrete planter. Amazingly, her voice was so powerful she could be heard over the chattering crowd.

All eyes turned on her. She flinched as over a hundred pairs of eyes pierced her. "Everyone! I need to you to evacuate this area in an orderly fashion!"

At first, it seemed her speech worked; the refugees were quickly, but calmly filing down the street to get away from the dangerous situation. But it quickly fell apart when one of the bubbles bumped against another. Time seemed to stand still as the two bubbles burst, releasing their payload of volatile gas.

Before Cynthia could say anything, the wisps of gas instantly reacted with the air. The shockwave from that first tiny blast ruptured the other nearby bubbles, causing them to release their explosive payload.

In milliseconds, the mass of bubbles detonated, each individual explosion merging into a steady roar. While the refugees were mostly unhurt – but winded – by the shockwave, the hotel was not so lucky. The explosions had blown out almost every window in the hotel. Broken glass tinkled as it rained down on the sidewalk.

But the destruction was nothing compared to the pandemonium that broke out next. The orderly evacuation immediately fell to pieces as the refugees immediately bolted down each and every available street, not caring if others were pushed down, trampled or crushed.

Cynthia tried to maintain her balance as the panicked crowd ran by her planter; a slip and she could be trampled under the feet of the panicked crowd. Her desperate pleas for the crowd to remain calm went unheard. From her vantage point, she could see the Kingler marching ashore and heading towards the hotel. She could see several of the Kingler with their claws raised and white glow emanating from the gap. Seconds later, the white glow formed into a cannonball of concrete-hard mud aimed at a pillar supporting the decorative roof over the entranceway to the hotel. With a bass thud, the projectile struck home. The cracking groan of failing concrete echoed through the air as the pillar gave way.

Several more bass thuds indicated the impact of more projectiles. She looked around; Will, Lucian, herself and a few refugees who were unlucky enough to be trampled were the only ones present. Luckily, the Kingler were too busy dismantling the hotel to pay attention to them.

Cynthia got down from the planter and went up to a man clutching his ankle. She carefully helped the man to his feet, slinging one of his arms over her shoulder and letting him use her to support himself.

"Thanks," the man said, wincing with every step he took.

Will and Lucian were using their telekinetic powers to help support a rather corpulent woman.

The Sinnoh champion looked at the two psychics. Should she stay and wait for the police or flee? One look at the Kingler and she made her choice. Flee.

Will pointed down a street that would eventually lead out of the city. He had reasoned that the northern and interior parts of the city would be safe from the invading Kingler – at least long enough for them to evacuate.

Cynthia nodded and the group headed down the road. I hope we can find the police or someone who can help us. She thought.

***​

Unfortunately, the combined assault of the Kingler and Cloyster had caused damage, injuries and deaths all along the coast of Sunyshore. Try as they might, the Sunyshore Police Department and Sunyshore Fire and Rescue could only do so much.

***​

As Cynthia and her group made the journey through the streets of Sunyshore, they were treated to a cacophony of sirens and the bass rumble of buildings collapsing. A sound akin to artillery fire periodically echoed through the city – the sound of Kingler launching their hard-packed mud cannonballs.

"Look!" Will shouted as he pointed down the road. Everyone turned in the direction he was pointing at. Sure enough, a set of flashing blue and red lights sped towards them.

Cynthia used her free hand to flag down the speeding police cruiser. The Officer Jenny inside rolled down the window. "Get in!" she barked.

Needing no further prompting, Will, Lucian, Cynthia and the people they had rescued all crammed themselves inside the cruiser.

Officer Jenny immediately shut the door and peeled off with lights and sirens going at full bore.

"Ow! Will you get your elbow out of my jaw!" the corpulent woman shouted.

"Get your knee out of my hip first!" the man replied.

"Can…you just shut up!" Lucian grunted. He was uncomfortably crushed between the fat woman and the car door.

Officer Jenny paid no heed to their complaints. She watched the road in front of her; to her horror, there was a traffic jam in front of her. Luckily, the hospital was nearby. She pulled up on the sidewalk and opened the doors. Lucian tumbled out, giving a sigh of relief as he did so.

Cynthia helped the injured man back to his feet while Officer Jenny and Will helped the fat woman.

Lucian looked at the hospital's entrance. There were at least four ambulances present with another one pulling up to the entrance. At least four times as many paramedics rushing patients into the emergency room were seen.

The group then walked to the hospital entrance where they helped the man and woman they had saved into some waiting chairs.

"Thank you," the man said.

"Thanks," the woman said as she picked up a well worn copy of Trainers' Monthly and started reading.

"You're both welcome," Cynthia replied.

Lucian and Will went to a cooler and got some cups of water. Cynthia sat down on an empty seat and leaned back with a sigh. Her stomach growled; it reminded her of the fact that she hadn't eaten or drank anything for over eight hours.

Will handed Cynthia a cup of water and a granola bar from a vending machine. She wasted no time in devouring the bar and gulping down the water.

Will looked around. "So is this the new shelter or what?"

Lucian also looked around. He noticed that a surprising amount of the people in the waiting room appeared to be unhurt and some were lying on blankets on the floor, napping on the couches and chairs or simply chatting. Of course, there was also the conspicuous absence of pokémon. A few police officers were around to keep order. "It would appear so."

"So do we stay here?"

Lucian scratched his head. "I would like to say 'yes' but I have a feeling that we will need to evacuate the city eventually."

Will yawned. "Look, I don't know about you but I could use a rest." He then sat on a nearby couch, leaned his head back and was soon fast asleep.

A creeping sense of fatigue reminded Cynthia of the fact that she was also in need of sleep. She sat down on chair, put her feet on the table and soon drifted off to sleep.

Lucian sighed. Try as he may, his psychic abilities could only delay the inevitable onslaught of sleep. He soon fell face first into the newspaper he was reading, snoring lightly as he did so.

***​

"Sir! Wake up!" Will snorted as he felt someone shaking him. He rubbed his eyes. "Huh?"

"You must leave immediately!" the voice said.

When his vision returned, he saw an Officer Jenny grabbing his shoulders. "What's going on?" he asked with a yawn.

As he looked around he saw several other people grabbing their belongings and filing out the door. Just outside, he could the refugees boarding cars, trucks and almost every other vehicle imaginable.

The Johto psychic immediately leapt to his feet and scrambled out the door. There, he stood in line with Cynthia and Lucian. A group of refugees before him boarded a transit bus. Cynthia looked away from the bus as soon as she saw what was on the side – an advertisement for the tournament at Suzurin Stadium. She didn't want to be reminded of Flint's gruesome death. As the woman in front of Cynthia boarded, the bus closed its doors and pulled away. She sighed and leaned against a newspaper box.

Will telekinetically levitated some discarded soda cans and juggled them. He looked down the road every so often.

Several minutes later, the low rumble of a diesel engine gained his attention. A flatbed truck with wooden rails surrounding the bed pulled up. Three Officer Jennies came with the truck. One of them sat with the driver while two were in the bed.

Cynthia, Will and Lucian were the first to board. The trio sat down in the dusty bed and leaned against the wooden rails, not caring about what it would do to their clothing.

"Finally, we can put this whole mess behind us," Will said with a sigh.

Cynthia shook her head as the last refugees from the hospital boarded the truck and an Officer Jenny shut the tailgate. "We need to find out what's causing this," the Sinnoh champion countered.

Lucian nodded. "I agree but we must allow ourselves and our pokémon to recuperate first." As he spoke the truck lurched forward.

"Will, what do you think?" Cynthia asked. No response. The Johto psychic had fallen asleep – again.

***​

"So where do you want me to take everyone?" the truck driver asked. Despite the air conditioning in the vehicle's cab, a bead of sweat had formed on his forehead. The roads that he drove down were eerily deserted. Puddles of water lay amid small craters. Skyscrapers adorned with gaping holes loomed all around them and pieces of concrete and glass littered the road and sidewalks. A pall of concrete dust hung in the air like a mockery of the sea fog.

"Follow the route out of the city. If you see any pokémon blocking the path, back up and find alternate route. Failing that, ram them. Do not under any circumstances stop this vehicle!" the Officer Jenny ordered. Her sidearm – a black 9 mm semiautomatic pistol was in her hand. The window was rolled down in case she needed to shoot at any hostile pokémon.

The driver grunted as his truck ran over a pothole. He gasped as he saw a Kingler about fifty feet away blocking the road. Its claw was open and cradling a brilliant white orb in preparation to launch a rock-hard ball of mud.

Suddenly, the bang-bang-bang of gunfire rang throughout the cab as the Officer Jenny in the cab and her companions in the bed opened fire. The driver flinched as a piece of hot brass bounced off his cheek. Pieces of asphalt sprayed up as the majority of the bullets slammed into the ground around it. The few bullets that struck their mark were unable to penetrate the Kingler's hard shell but the fusillade forced it back into an alleyway. In that brief time span, the truck was soon out of sight.

***​

Cynthia's heart thudded in her chest. Gunfire – let alone at this close range – was something totally new to her. Nevertheless, she took a breath and continued scanning the road.

By some miracle, Will was still seemingly asleep. Lucian rolled his eyes as he telekinetically flicked a spent shell casing overboard.

"Whoa! Do that again!" a green haired boy said.

Lucian smiled and pointed to a shell casing near Cynthia's foot. The brass tube was surrounded in a light green aura as if lifted off the ground. He then gently levitated it over to the boy, much to his astonishment. A quick flick of his wrist sent the casing spiraling through the air and into a trash can they had passed.

"Wow! You're amazing! I wish I could do that!"

Lucian shrugged – as if tossing a shell casing into a trash can from the back of a speeding truck was no great accomplishment. "Sorry, you have to be born with telekinetic powers."

The boy sighed in defeat and sat back down.

***​

"How far are we?" the truck driver yelled over the ringing in his ears from the previous gunfire.

"Just a few more-" the Officer Jenny's word's died on her lips as a trio of Kingler blocked their path, emitting the deadly explosive bubbles. Several bubbles gently floated towards them.

The driver swore loudly as he slammed on the brakes – but stopping a fifteen ton vehicle was no easy task. To make matters worse, some of the bubbles had stuck to the road, forming an explosive foam that could be detonated by something as simple as a footfall.

The driver heard a faint pop as the truck continued forward under its own momentum. It was the last thing he heard as a massive explosion underneath the truck's cab instantly killed him and the Officer Jenny. To make matters worse, more explosive bubbles were drifting towards the truck. The two Officer Jennies in the bed, owing to their position, were decapitated by a piece of shrapnel that had shot up from the cab. The refugees huddled in the corner, avoiding the two headless corpses that tumbled back into the bed. Without a driver, the badly damaged vehicle continued to barrel towards the roadblock.

Cynthia stared as the Kingler continued blowing bubbles that drifted towards them. As she saw the buildings and street signs passing by her, she realized that the truck was still moving rather fast. She faced a sadistic choice: leap from the back of the speeding truck, possibly break several bones and then get ripped apart by the Kingler or wait until the truck rams through the roadblock of Kingler, get rushed by them and then get ripped apart. She made her choice. Kicking open the truck's tailgate, she crouched down and leapt from the back of the truck, rolling to disperse the impact. She grimaced as she stood up and checked herself for injuries. Nothing major except for some road rash on her hands along with a sore shoulder.

Lucian and Will followed but they didn't bother rolling; instead, they combined their telekinetic powers and leapt, gently floating to the ground surrounded by the auras – light green and cobalt blue, respectively – of their psychic powers.

The three trainers then ran for their lives down the nearest alleyway. Cynthia looked back at the ruined vehicle and the refugees. The vehicle had completely stopped and the Kingler were swarming it, their claws clicking in the anticipation of the hunt. A young girl, her leg injured from when she had jumped from the vehicle, whimpered as a Kingler approached her. The Sinnoh champion turned away and continued running. Though she was spared the brutal sight, the tearing crunch-squish of a razored claw tearing through flesh and bone and subsequent ear piercing screams of agony were indelibly burned into her brain. She fought the bile rising in her throat as she ran for her life.

***​

Inside a dirty alleyway, Cynthia, Will, Lucian and two other refugees they had met along the way were leaning against a wall trying to catch their breath. Out of some forty plus refugees, only those five had survived the assault on the truck followed by a harrowing run through streets laced with patches of explosive foam.

"So where are we?" Cynthia asked. She wrinkled her nose; the smell of blood was not an easy one to remove.

One of the other survivors, a brawny man in blue jeans and a flannel shirt, looked around. "The shitty part of Sunyshore."

"Define 'shitty side'," Will replied acidly as he kicked a glass bottle aside.

"The side where the seaport is."

Everyone's jaw dropped as realization sunk in. While the seaport had a road that led out of the city and straight to Sunyshore Tower, it was also a dangerous spot where drug deals, prostitution and other unsavory activities took place. It wasn't too much of a stretch to imagine that the criminals were still there – despite the presence of Cloyster and Kingler.

"Are there any other alternatives?" a woman wearing a tattered dress said. Judging from the pale gold color of the fabric underneath the blood and dirt, it apparently was quite elegant, hinting that this woman might have been a coordinator.

"Not unless we head back the way we came and face Kingler," the burly man said.

The woman sighed. "All right" – she gulped – "let's do this."

The group turned to find a chained up gate in front of them. The gate itself was pocked with rust and scrawls of graffiti adorned the rusty surface. A rusty padlock and an equally decrepit chain secured the gate. "So where does this lead?" the woman asked.

"Warehouse 151. It hasn't been used for years," the burly man said.

"And how do you know that?"

"Worked as a longshoreman for two and half decades." He then flexed his arms, showing off muscles that would make a Machamp proud.

"Save the flexing for later!" Will snapped. "And see if you can break through this gate!"

The longshoreman glared at him. "Who the fuck made you the leader!"

The two glared at each other – daring one another to throw the first punch. Or at least until Lucian stepped between the two.

"Stop! Both of you! Fighting amongst ourselves will only lead to casualties!" Lucian scolded. Now… Erm, sorry, didn't get your name."

"Andre," the big man said, flicking a lock of black hair from his eyes.

"Yes, Andre, how far is the seaport from city limits?

Andre chuckled. "We're at the city limits. Just go down the road in front to get to Sunyshore Tower."

"Okay, now are there any other ways to the seaport?"

"Not without going back out and facing Kingler."

Lucian sighed as he looked at the gate. He rapped it with a knuckle, the gate giving off a distinct metallic thunk as he did so. The psychic sighed; the gate was heavy gauge steel, there was no possible way through it without pokémon or tools. He looked up, the dirty corrugated metal walls of the nearby buildings were too slick to climb and coils of nasty looking concertina wire covered the top of the gate. "There's no way through or over; we'll need to go around."

Everyone's hair stood on end as they heard the heavy, thudding footsteps of a Kingler approaching.

Luckily, there were a few dumpsters in the alleyway. The five immediately squeezed themselves behind the dumpsters and held their breath – praying that their racing hearts didn't give them away.

A seeming eternity later, the Kingler – its malevolent stalked eyes detecting nothing of importance – passed over the alley.

"Damn, that was close," Andre muttered, wiping sweat off his forehead as he stuck his head out from behind the dumpster and looked around. "It's clear."

The rest of the group emerged from their hiding places.

"Too close," Cynthia said. She peered over her shoulder as if expecting the Kingler to magically reappear.

"But the gate!" the woman said.

Andre looked around for something he could either pry or smash the lock with. He then spied a piece of rebar near a dumpster full of construction debris. He seized the heavy shaft of steel and stuck it between the lock's body and its hasp. He flexed his hands and took a deep breath before he bore down on the improvised crowbar with all his weight.

Twenty seconds later, face red and arms sore, Andre stepped back. "For a rusty piece of shit that thing's still holding strong." He then flexed his hands and did a few stretches before he placed his giant hands on the piece of rebar.

"How about we push together?" Lucian suggested.

Andre shrugged. "Why not?"

Lucian, Cynthia, Will and the woman all grabbed whatever part of the rebar was free. On Andre's count of "three", they all bore down on the piece of rebar.

Despite their efforts and the groaning of strained metal, the lock still held strong.

"Just… a little more!" Andre grunted as he pushed every muscle in his body to the limit. His arms felt like they had been scorched by a Houndoom but he persisted.

Suddenly, with an earsplitting crack, the hasp broke off and catapulted itself through the air, narrowly missing Cynthia's head – much to her consternation.

The former longshoreman tossed the piece of rebar aside, grabbed the rusty chain and threw it aside. "This way!" he said, pushing the gate open.

Wasting no time, the others hurried through.

***​

Andre slammed the gate behind him shut and shoved a piece of metal into the latch, hoping to keep it from opening. He looked around Warehouse 151. The area itself was rather decrepit and sinister looking, despite the bright late-afternoon sun. Despite the fact that no ships had docked in this particular area for over a decade, the stench of diesel fuel still hung in the air. The bollards in the berths were rusted beyond usefulness or just plain missing. Weeds and other hardy plants grew through cracks in the dirty concrete. Rusted metal barrels, their contents unknown, were stacked up against a warehouse with shattered windows.

"So which way?" the woman said.

Andre looked around. He spotted a gate – this one much larger than the one they had just went through – at the front of the dockyard, about a 150 feet away. Like the gate before, it was also capped with coils of concertina wire. "That's the entrance to the road."

Cynthia wasted no time in sprinting to the aforementioned gate. The others quickly followed. She quickly looked over the gate. Unlike the previous one, this one rolled on steel wheels set in grooves cut into the concrete. She pushed her shoulder onto the right side of the gate. "Come on!" Will, Lucian and the woman immediately rushed to Cynthia's aid and began pushing.

Andre shook his head. "Don't bother; it's too heavy to move by hand."

"So how do we get out!" Will snapped.

"These gates are moved by an electric winch pulling on a cable. A manual crank can be used in case of a power failure. But" – Andre picked up a rusted cable with its ends frayed – "the cables are broken."

"We'll have to try," Will said as he pushed against the gate as alongside everyone else. Andre joined them a second after. The rusty wheels groaned in protest as they ground against the concrete.

Almost a minute of pushing later, the exhausted group stepped back and looked at the gate; it hadn't moved an inch.

Cynthia shook her head; she was going to have to resort to drastic measures. She dug in her pocket and pulled out a poké ball that held Lucario. She looked at everyone around her. There was no telling what state Lucario was in. He could be conscious and battle ready. He could be unconscious. Or worst of all, he could be conscious and ready to carry out the mandate of the mysterious voice.

As she debated, she heard the distant thunder of Kingler footsteps getting closer. It was brave the gauntlet of Kingler now running through Sunyshore – and most certainly die in the process. Or gamble: one-third death-by-Lucario, one-third delayed-death-by-Kingler or one-third-survival. Faced with those odds, Cynthia made her choice.

"Everyone else, get ready to run," she said threw her poké ball at the ground. As the ball opened in a flash of white light, everyone's muscles tensed in preparation to run for their lives.

Cynthia took a deep breath and braced herself. "Lucario, br-" he words died on her lips as she saw what came out of the poké ball. It was Lucario, still and completely unmoving. She recalled him with a sigh. She debated trying one of her other pokémon but decided not to press her luck.

"All right, any other… Uh, is something the matter?" she asked as she gazed upon the face of Andre.

Andre scowled as he stomped up to her. Cynthia was fairly tall – standing at about 5'9" but the former longshoreman had several inches on her. "What the fuck was that about?" the man growled.

"We needed someway to get through the gate and since we couldn't push it, I was planning to have my pokémon break through it."

Andre gestured to the plume of smoke in the distance. A low rumble akin to distant artillery sounded constantly. "Look what the Kingler and Cloyster did! Do you think any of your pokémon won't do the same?"

Cynthia sighed. "The Kingler are approaching. If we turn around, we'll get killed by them but-"

A javelin of steel-hard ice narrowly missed her foot. She turned her eyes towards the berths. There, bobbed a fleet of Cloyster, leering from the waves. Andre blanched, forgetting about the argument he had with Cynthia.

The former coordinator glanced around the decrepit docks. She laid her eyes on a building with several grimy windows. "There!" she shouted. "We can hide until they go away!"

"We can't do that! The Kingler will find us!" Lucian shouted.

Will leapt to the side, dodging an ice javelin. "Got any better ideas?"

Cynthia ducked one of the lethal projectiles. "We better hurry before those Cloyster are done playing with us and decide to go all out."

That did it; the group sprinted for the building the coordinator pointed. When they arrived, they ducked into the side against the wall that delineated the boundary of the dockyard from the rest of the city.

Cynthia, heart racing, peeked out from behind the corner. The Cloyster had gotten bored and were busy wrecking the rest of the dockyard. She released the breath she had unconsciously been holding for the past few seconds.

"Now we have to get in here," Andre said, holding up a heavy padlock and chain wrapped around the door's handle, securing it to a rather heavy looking steel post sunk into the concrete. Unlike the lock they had previously broken, this one was covered in a gleaming anti-corrosion coat of chrome.

"Great, now we have to find another warehouse." The woman sighed and looked at the wall.

Lucian peered out from the alleyway. Kingler were patrolling the dockyard and looking for prey. "No good," he said pulling himself back into the alleyway. "There's Kingler everywhere. If we go out, we're dead."

"You've got psychic powers! Do something!"

Lucian looked at the lock with a scowl. "You expect me to break that with my mind?"

Will smiled; he was always up for a challenge. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the padlock and chain. His face reddened and sweat began to bead on his forehead as he concentrated. White hot tendrils of his psionic force flowed through his body and into his target. The padlock and chain were wreathed in his blue psychic aura as he concentrated.

"Will, you can't-" Cynthia was cut off with an earsplitting snap-crack akin to a gunshot. Something sharp grazed her cheek, causing her to wince. She rubbed the spot and found her hand had some blood on it. She wiped off the blood on her pants and looked at post and the door. Her mouth dropped open in shock; the padlock and chain – or its remnants – lay on the ground.

Everyone present stared at the Johto psychic who leaning against the post and rubbing his temples and forehead as if he was nursing a migraine.

"Will! Are you unwell?" Lucian asked, rushing over to his fellow psychic.

Will took his hands off his head. "Just got a bit of a headache from exerting myself so much."

Lucian nodded. "When we get the opportunity, you should really take a nap. Maybe meditate as well."

Andre stared at Will with his mouth open. He knew that human psychics existed but most of them displayed relatively weak telekinetic and telepathic powers – and he believed that was the extent of human psionic abilities. And yet, right in front of him, an ordinary human shattered a padlock and chain with nothing more than his mind – it was a feat once thought possible only by psychic pokémon. "But how?" he asked.

"Long story, Andre," Lucian said. "But to sum it up, Will and I somehow got a boost in our psychic abilities. We think it's from whatever's making the pokémon so violent."

The burly man's eyes widened as he stepped back from the two. He looked around for an escape route.

"Relax," Cynthia said. "Those two are in complete control of their psychic powers." She then turned to Will. "Honestly, Will, that was quite impressive. How did you know you could do that?"

Will shrugged. "I dunno; I'm just finding more uses for my psychic powers as I go along."

The woman with them cleared her throat. "The warehouse?"

Andre needed no more prompting to push the door open. He quickly ushered everyone in and shut the door behind him.

***​

The warehouse itself was quite dim, the only light coming from the dirty windows on the side. Crates of unknown goods covered the oily floor and were stacked two high. The scent of grease, diesel fuel and rust hung in the dusty air.

Cynthia looked around. All she could see were dusty metal crates. "We can't hide in here forever."

Andre scanned the warehouse for something to help them get out of the dockyard. Will, Lucian and the former coordinator were looking through the crates for anything of use.

Lucian coughed as he opened a crate, sending a puff of dust into his face. "Nothing."

Will dug through an opened crate filled with excelsior and pulled out a plain wooden box. He opened the box and found what appeared to be six large bonbons wrapped in blue paper. His eyes widened as he realized what it was: rare candy, a powerful – and illegal pokémon stimulant. He placed the box aside and dug out another box – this one also filled with rare candy.

The Johto psychic nervously looked around. "We better get out of here. I think we stumbled upon a drug stash or something."

Suddenly, as they spoke, they heard the sound of the side door opening. Everyone's heart leapt into their throats.

Andre looked around the warehouse. His eyes widened as he saw their ticket out of the warehouse – a large front end loader. He ran over to the vehicle and leapt into the cab. A quick check of the control panel confirmed that everything was in order. Luckily, the key was located on a small hook someone had installed in the cab. The longshoreman stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine coughed for a bit and then turned over with a low growl.

"Everyone! Get on!" Andre shouted.

Suddenly, something whizzed past the cab. He turned his head and saw two men crouched near the side entrance. Both of them had pistols out and were shooting at him. One of the bullets narrowly missed his head. Andre crouched down and mashed the pedal. Unfortunately, this sent the vehicle shooting backwards into a shelf, which teetered dangerously. The two gunmen tried to get out of the way but it was too late; with the creak of strained metal, the shelf collapsed, crushing the two under tons of merchandise.

The woman squeezed herself into the cab beside Andre. Lucian, Will and Cynthia chose to ride on the rear of the vehicle just above the engine compartment. The three grabbed loops of metal to serve as handholds.

Andre quickly put the front end loader into gear and accelerated towards the warehouse door. "Brace for impact!" he shouted as he lowered the machine's bucket to serve as an impromptu battering ram.

With a mighty crash, the speeding vehicle smashed into the thin metal door, completely ripping it off its mountings and tossing it aside.

Andre gasped as he laid eyes upon the scene. Kingler were swarming all over the docks and dismantling everything they could reach. Pieces of scrap metal littered the weedy ground as the shriek of tearing metal rang through the late afternoon air. As he maneuvered the heavy vehicle; he became acutely aware of the dozens of stalked eyes boring into him.

"Punch it!" the woman screamed.

Andre, ears ringing from the shout, quickly set the heavy vehicle in motion. The Kingler quickly scrambled out of the way; those that didn't were crushed under the twenty ton vehicle as it thundered towards the gate.

He swore as a mud cannonball narrowly missed the cab. His heart thundered in his chest as he watched the gate approaching. Would he make it through the gate?

The longshoreman pushed the accelerator to the floor, causing the vehicle's powerful turbodiesel to roar in protest. Black smoke belched from the exhaust pipe as the heavy vehicle picked up speed. One hundred feet.

***​

Cynthia coughed as the black smoke surrounded her and the other riders. She used her free hand to fan the smoke away from her. She gulped as she saw the gate rapidly approaching. Sixty feet.

Most of the Kingler had wisely stayed away from the vehicle thundering down the dockyard. Those who didn't soon became little more than bloody tire tracks under the massive wheels of the front end loader. Hardpacked mud balls streaked through the air as the Kingler launched volley after volley of the lethal projectiles. While these fist-sized projectiles were far smaller than the projectiles they used to demolish buildings, they were no less dangerous.

One of the mud balls impacted the side of the engine compartment sending a spray of dust into Cynthia's face and making her ears ring with the clong of the impact. Luckily, the mud balls – despite leaving a dent about the size of her head upon impact – lacked the power to penetrate the vehicle's heavy steel frame. Unfortunately, the same could not be said about the vehicle's cab.

Lucian said nothing as he watched the hail of mud balls coming at them from the rear and sides. Luckily, for the Sinnoh psychic – and everyone on the vehicle – the Kingler had terrible aim as they were not used to attacking anything smaller than a building, so most of their shots flew wide or merely grazed them. The shots that did land direct hits struck either the steel bucket or the vehicle's frame, doing little more than making everyone's ears ring with the impact. The few projectiles that threatened to strike the cab or engine compartment were quickly deflected by Will and Lucian.

Soon, the Kingler gave up and resumed demolishing the dockyard; their work set to the soundtrack of crumbling concrete and tearing metal. Unfortunately, the Cloyster turned their attention to the steel behemoth trundling down the concrete road. The pokémon bobbed in the waves as they launched volleys of ice and shell javelins.

Cynthia's heart leapt into her throat as she saw the deadly hail of projectiles. She squeezed herself against the cab in an attempt to make herself a smaller target. A spear of shell landed between her legs. Keeping a firm grip on her handhold, she kicked the projectile off the engine compartment.

Luckily, most of the projectiles missed as the vehicle continued on its path. Unfortunately, the Cloyster had anticipated this and launched a second volley.

Lucian whipped his head around to see meter long spike of shell flying on a flat trajectory – and aimed at Will, who was looking skyward and deflecting the projectiles that rained down on them. Time seemed to slow as the javelin closed the distance. Almost as if there was someone else controlling his body, he pointed at the spike. The lethal projectile was wreathed in the light green of his psychic aura as it slowed to a stop mere inches from Will's midsection.

The Sinnoh psychic looked at the spike, frozen in motion. He briefly debated flinging the spike at one of the many Kingler but he wasn't sure if he could deal with taking a life. He sighed as he tossed the spike into the water; he'd eventually have to kill. Deflecting projectiles could only work for so long.

Cynthia took a slow, deep breath as she tried to keep from hyperventilating. Several times, during their crazy ride, the spikes of ice or shell had narrowly missed her. A stinging sensation from where one of the spikes had sliced through her shirt and into her left arm reminded her that she was incredibly lucky. The next projectile that the two psychics missed could be the fatal one that pierces her heart or head. She looked at the gate, now looming only twenty feet away.

***​

Despite the fact that the cab was air conditioned, sweat poured down Andre's face. The woman squeezed in the cab with him seemed equally as uncomfortable. All Andre could hear was the frantic tattoo of his heart as he watched the gate like a Staraptor.

The gate was rapidly approaching and the loader was already at maximum speed.

"Come on, let's hope this works," the longshoreman muttered. He adjusted the bucket to better smash through the gate.

Then it happened. Andre slid forward with a grunt as the heavy vehicle collided with the gate – and came to a stop with its bucket in an enormous dent in the center of the steel wall. Renee thrust her hands out to try and keep from slamming into the windshield as she was suddenly shot forward by the sudden deceleration. She yelped as her hands collided with the windshield, sending a jolt of pain up her arms.

Andre got back into the seat, threw the vehicle into reverse and rammed the gate again. He swore as the gate held firm. Again and again, he backed up and rammed the gate.

After the fifth attempt, Will rapped on the window and mouthed the words, "What the fuck's taking so long?"

Andre ignored him and set the vehicle in motion again. He gritted his teeth as he fiddled with the levers on the dashboard, adjusting the bucket to better ram the gate. As the front end loader rumbled forward, there was only a mild shudder that momentarily unbalanced everyone. The longshoreman whooped as the gate gave way after the repeated ramming. Unfortunately, the gate was now stuck on the vehicle's shovel, which made it impossible to see. He continued manipulating the controls to try and shake off the heavy gate.

"Great," Will said as he clung onto his handhold. "We're out of the dockyard but now Andre's crazy driving is gonna kill us!"

Cynthia looked behind her. Aside from the now open entrance to the dockyard, she could see cars that Andre had accidentally wrecked, knocked over streetlights, crushed newspaper boxes and a destroyed fire hydrant spewing a geyser of water into the air.

***​

A loud crunch rang through the vehicle's cab as Andre flattened another car in his attempt to both drive the vehicle and remove the gate stuck to its shovel.

"Andre! You're gonna get us killed!" the woman shouted.

"Renee, shut up and let me drive!" Andre yelled as he struggled with the wheel.

Renee, the coordinator, snorted in contempt as Andre's elbow dug into her side.

Andre repeatedly pushed one of the levers up and down, causing the shovel to mirror its movements. After several minutes of driving (and a few wrecked street signs later), he managed to shake off the troublesome piece of metal, which was then promptly run over. He then pressed the accelerator to the floor causing the engine to shriek in protest.

***​

Andre focused on driving now that the door was unstuck from the shovel. A smile graced his lips as he mentally congratulated himself for helping ferry four people to safety. Suddenly, he was interrupted from his thoughts by a loud knock coming from behind his cab. He turned around and saw Will pointing into the distance behind him. Andre took the hint and peered into the distance. All he saw were the squat dingy buildings that were the characteristic of the industrial section of Sunyshore – and a column of red heading out from the warehouse. He let loose a rather remarkable array of profanities as he realized what that red column was. Kingler. A horde of Kingler numbering into the hundreds.

He immediately snapped his head back and stared down the road, which looked like it did during any other normal day – save for the utter lack of pedestrians and traffic. Papers and other trash blew along the empty street.

Heart pounding, he mashed the accelerator and willed the lumbering vehicle to go faster. All he got was an angry roar from the big diesel.

***​

Cynthia could only stare into the distance in shock. She had expected the Kingler to retreat once they had left their territory. Instead, the Kingler had followed them for at least four miles. There was no mistaking their intent; they weren't merely content to drive humans from Sunyshore, which they now claimed as their territory. They were out to kill them.

She carefully looked over the cab. There, in the distance was Sunyshore Tower, beckoning them into its safe haven. She allowed herself a smile; it looks like they'll pull through and survive the hell that was the past day.

***​

After a trek of thirty heart-pounding minutes, the group approached the encampment that had been set up around Sunyshore Tower. Thanks to Volkner and the supplies from the tower itself, several lights and tents had been set up for the refugees. Several people could be seen milling about the area as if at an open air festival. Nevertheless, a suffocating pall of tension and fear hung in the air.

As they came within sight, they noticed that all of the vehicles that the refugees arrived in had been arranged into a makeshift wall. As soon as they entered the encampment, they were approached by four Officer Jennies.

Andre, Lucian, Will, Cynthia and Renee disembarked the vehicle with their hands up.

"Relax, you're not in trouble," the first Officer Jenny said.

The tension seemed to fade as the quintet put their hands down.

Once she got a look at the quartet, Renee shook her head to ensure she wasn't seeing things. They four Officer Jennies were dressed like no other Officer Jennies they had ever seen. For starters, their uniform was not a blue blouse, a police officer's cap and black dress shoes; instead, they wore woodland camo patterned BDUs, black helmets and heavy beige combat boots. Their equipment was far from normal as well: a twelve gauge pump shotgun – most Jennies could go their entire careers without having to equip, let alone fire a gun. A ballistic vest along with a belt holding a poké ball, a shell pouch, radio and a holstered 9 mm semi automatic pistol completed ensemble.

In fact, the only thing that hinted at the quartet being Officer Jennies was their green hair and the starburst emblem on their helmet and associated patch on their right shoulder (the starburst being the identifier for Sunyshore Jennies).

Cynthia shuddered as she laid eyes on the four armed officers. Most Officer Jennies carried a baton, pepper spray, radio and handcuffs. At most they carried a 9 mm pistol. For them to carry such heavy firepower meant that things had gotten way, way out of hand.

"Where is the nearest bed?" Will asked with a yawn.

The quartet of officers led the group deeper into the encampment. There, on a grassy field surrounded by portable floodlights were a multitude of tents. Armed Officer Jennies like the ones who escorted the group here patrolled the area. Some refugees walked around, soaking in the cool night air. Owing to the dearth of garbage cans, litter was scattered all over the meadow. An enormous line of people snaked into Sunyshore Tower to wash up or use the bathrooms.

Another line snaked into a large open air tent with grills and tables scattered around and under it.

Will and Lucian immediately snagged an empty tent and entered. Cynthia followed the two.

To describe the tent as bare would be an understatement. The only pieces of furniture present were three cots in a row. Harsh white light came from an LED lantern hung from a rope attached to one of the tent poles.

Cynthia sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose in disgust. She sighed and got in the leftmost cot and lay down. The rough fabric was a far cry from a decent bed but it was leagues above the hard steel that she had been forced to sit on for the past half-hour. Lacking a blanket and pillow, she simply lay down and closed her eyes. The adrenaline fueled nervousness and energy melted away as she slid into the embrace of sleep.

 

[Legacy]

Let me just say that I really enjoy this. I like seeing stories about characters in the franchise that aren't really delved out as much as I would like. Cynthia is popular, but I like to read how deep and rich you've made her backstory.

Great dialogue and something about the style of your writing is something I admire.

Well done.

 

[Drakon]

Chapter 4: Battle of Sunyshore Tower

Spoiler

"Cynthia! Wake up!"

"No good, she's still sleeping."

"Wake up, damn it!" A sigh. "This'll get her up."

Cynthia bolted awake as someone slapped her with surprising force. She rubbed her cheek and looked around the dimly lit tent. In the darkness, she could see a faint blue light shaped roughly like a hand. She gritted her teeth, got out of bed and stomped up to the light source.

"Lucian, explain why you felt the need to telekinetically slap me!" she thundered, jabbing a finger at him.

"We're being attacked!" Lucian blurted out.

That did it; Cynthia immediately bolted out of the tent with the two psychics behind her.

***​

"About time!" Andre growled as the trio made their way to the dining area. The hulking longshoreman leaned on large sledgehammer, the seeming nonchalance of his pose a dramatic contrast to the direness of their situation. Several other refugees milled around the area, most of them unarmed but some with improvised weapons like large rocks, pieces of rebar or other such equipment.

"What's going on?" Cynthia asked.

"Kingler invading! Get ready for battle!" an Officer Jenny barked, lowering the visor on her combat helmet and chambering a round in her shotgun.

Cynthia stuck a hand in her pocket and ran a finger over the smooth surface of the pokéball.

"You may want to get a weapon," a man said as he sprinted after another Officer Jenny. A piece of rebar was clutched in his hands.

The Sinnoh champion looked around the dining area for anything she could use as a weapon. As she stepped forward, she stumbled but managed to catch herself. As she laid eyes on the offending object — a triangular steel tent peg, she realized it would make a perfectly serviceable weapon. She grunted as she yanked the object out of the dirt and examined it.

The tent peg itself was a heavy rectangular piece of steel that came to a triangular point. Its weight alone made it an effective bludgeon while the triangular end could serve as a nasty stabbing implement.

A few swings with the ad-hoc weapon later and Cynthia mentally cursed herself from choosing that weapon. She looked at her hands; they were covered in dirt and rust, scratches — some lightly bleeding — crisscrossed her hands. Thinking quickly, she ripped away part of a nearby tablecloth and wrapped it around the fat end of the spike to form a crude handgrip. She gave a few experimental thrusts. The improvised handgrip made it more comfortable to hold but she could do nothing about its poor weight distribution.

"Ya armed yet?" Andre demanded, hefting his sledgehammer.

"Yes, now let's follow Officer Jenny and hold off the Kingler!"

Will nodded as his hands glowed green. Almost immediately, the ropes supporting a nearby tent undid themselves as six tent pegs tore themselves from the ground. He drew a circle in the air and the tent pegs oriented themselves so their points faced outwards and they began to orbit him. He mentally chuckled; it looked like he was about to use Stone Edge.

Lucian's own weapon, a tent peg wrapped in his blue psionic aura, zipped through the air as he did a few practice swings with it.

***​

The battle lines had been drawn at the entrance to Sunyshore Tower. The vehicles that had ferried the refugees there were occupied by shotgun toting police officers. Behind them were the volunteer defenders, equipped with a wide variety of melee weapons. Several lights had been set up to illuminate the battlefield.

Cynthia gulped as she clutched her tent peg tighter. She could see the river of red flowing towards the tower. She silently prayed to Arceus that she wouldn't have to use her pokémon, which could make things even worse.

Andre's face was a stony mask but his tightly clenched hands betrayed his true feelings. Renee clutched a fist sized rock. She knew it would be almost useless against the Kingler except as a distraction.

Lucian took a deep breath. He felt the tendrils of psionic energy flow through him like fire. His tent peg, wrapped in a blue aura whirled around him like a planet around its star. Will stared off into the distance. His six tent pegs girdled him like a ring of steel.

The Sinnoh champion watched as the Kingler came closer. She could now make out the individual pokémon.

And suddenly, before she could process her next thought, the air around her was rent by an almighty roar. The smell of burnt smokeless powder and blood smashed into her nose. Her ears rang.

She looked at the line of Kingler. They continued moving; the Kingler stepping over the dead, their bodies and innards shredded by one ounce chunks of lead. Another roar and more of them felt the wrath of hot lead.

Over the constant chatter of gunfire, Cynthia heard something that sounded like giant fire hose. She whipped her head around to see an Officer Jenny get struck full in the face with a Hydro Pump. The unfortunate officer's head exploded in a shower of gore as the column of water carried bits of tissue and blood into the sky to fall down in a macabre rain.

More gunfire erupted, mowing down the Kingler. But the Kingler were rapidly learning; the ones in the front had learned to use Protect to defend themselves against the gunfire. The heavy lead slugs harmlessly splattered against the green barriers. Those in the rear launched large blobs of concrete-hard mud skyward. The crunch of the blobs smashing apart the vehicles added to the cacophony of dying Kingler, gunfire and screams.

Again and again, the officers moved and fired. And again and again, the Kingler retaliated with their hard-packed mud bombs. But in the end, the Kingler had the advantage in sheer numbers. For all their training and firepower, the Sunyshore PD had lasted just under an hour. The defenders quickly fell back, lest they be butchered by the bloodthirsty pokémon.

Cynthia watched the Kingler shredding the vehicles as they hunted for survivors. She prayed to Arceus that she wouldn't die here; that maybe, just maybe the Kingler would ignore her. "So what are we going to do?" she said as she watched the Kingler demolishing the vehicles.

***​

Sunyshore Tower interior

Crack!

Broken glass tinkled onto the steel hallway as it rained down from a red box. Volkner threw the hammer aside and reached inside the now shattered emergency box and grabbed the keys.

His four pokémon, Electivire, Luxray, Jolteon and Raichu were lined up before him. Their eyes bored into him as they awaited an order from their trainer.

The Sunyshore gym leader turned to them. "Go help the others get the supplies ready." Without another word, he ran down the sterile metal halls, his booted feet ringing in the cold, white LED lighting.

The quartet of electric-types quickly jogged down another stairwell that led to the garage where the rest of Sunyshore's workers were busy packing.

***​

The electric-type trainer put his hands on his knees as he desperately sucked air into his burning lungs. In front of him lay a heavy steel door labeled "Central Control Room". Fingers trembling, Volkner grabbed the ID card hanging from a lanyard around his neck and swiped it on the reader. Or tried to.

He took a deep breath to steady his quivering fingers but the warning that he had received from the Sunyshore police rang in his mind.

"The Kingler are approaching the tower. We'll try our best to hold them off but no guarantees. Just get the supplies ready to evacuate."

He pushed that thought out of his head as he swiped the key. He was rewarded with a gentle beep and the thunk of the lock disengaging. Volkner pushed the heavy door open and slammed it shut behind him, taking care to bolt it.

In front of him lay a myriad of control panels and monitors. The cold, sterile lighting and minimalistic steely décor lent the room a disturbingly calm appearance. The monitors showed nothing but black, dead calm — except for one that played footage of the Kingler army overwhelming the defenders. He then looked at the panel in front of him.

No, he thought. There has to be a better way. His gaze settled back on the large monitor. A seemingly endless stream of Kingler flowed into the refugee camp.

He sighed; there was no other way. "Goodbye, Sunyshore Tower," he muttered as his lip quivered. Volkner had planned this building; he was present for the groundbreaking and the opening ceremony. He had thrown the switch that provided Sunyshore with a clean and near limitless supply of power. And he was appointed the building's overseer. To do what he had to do was akin to sacrificing his own child.

Volkner then activated the consoles. A medley of beeps and boops echoed through the room as circuits came to life. A warm glow emanated from the active consoles and monitors.

"Greetings Volkner."The voice was cool, electronic and with the distinct accent of an AI.

"Hello, Volta," Volkner replied. He sighed. Sunyshore Tower's AI with its distinctly accented voice made his next step exponentially harder. But he had to do it; Sunyshore was already a total loss. Might as well sacrifice the city to wipe out the murderous Kingler. "Deploy shields."

"As you wish."

The gym leader watched the monitors intently as the tower's massive "wings" unfolded and began to coruscate with a shimmering green light. Soon, the light began to expand and the tower was wreathed in a softly glowing energy cocoon. He watched as a volley of meter long javelins of ice struck the shield. The javelins practically exploded upon contact with the shield, dusting everything nearby with a light coat of snow.

He then grabbed the microphone and activated the PA system. He gulped as he held the device in front of his mouth. "Attention everyone! My men are preparing supplies for the evacuation; they should be ready in half an hour to an hour. I am currently preparing to set the tower to self-destruct. Once that occurs, a siren will go off. Once you hear it, immediately get into the nearest vehicle! I do not know when the tower will explode; it could be in six hours, it could be in thirty minutes. Do not dally."

He then cut the connection and examined his shaking palms. He gritted his teeth, grabbed his key, inserted it into the appropriate slot and twisted it counterclockwise.

"All safety protocols and devices are deactivated," Volta helpfully informed him.

Volkner sighed. He knew that the tower's energy storage was capable of destroying a large portion of the city if it was overloaded. Luckily, he had installed multiple safeguards to prevent that — ranging from safety cutoffs to special wires hardwired into the energy bank to shunt excess electricity into the ground.

He looked at the capacity readout. The energy bank was a quarter full and draining at a fairly fast rate thanks to the powerful shields. The moonlight that the panels absorbed was nowhere sufficient to compensate for the drain of the shields.

The gym leader pressed another button to activate the emergency generators. He pushed the slider up to the halfway point, which caused the power storage to stabilize.

It was then he realized that the safety drain wires were still connected. With a sigh, he got up and grabbed a helmet and a heavy fireproof jacket and pants from a closet. He donned the garments and closed down the visor on the helmet. He then grabbed a set of insulated bolt cutters and headed to the basement.

***​

Sunyshore Campground

Everyone present was staring at the tower — a sleek, futuristic, glistening edifice of concrete, steel and glass — as the protective veil of pale green energy swaddled it in a protective cocoon. The field was pockmarked with ripples as projectiles from the Kingler harmlessly exploded against the curtain of energy. The glowing object had attracted the attention of all the Kingler present and they had decided to try and destroy it.

Cynthia then broke the silence. She looked at the tower and then back at the group. "Did…Did Volkner just say self-destruct?"

Lucian nodded. "He knows that Sunyshore's a lost cause. At this point, all he can do is take out the Kingler with it."

Cynthia's mouth dropped open. A mud ball embedding itself into the ground near her bought her back to reality. "I did not come this far to get vaporized in a fucking explosion!"

The Sinnoh trainer shook his head. "He has no other choice. You saw what the Kingler did to Sunyshore. They won't stop until all of Sinnoh's cities are rubble. They must be stopped now."

The former Sinnoh champion looked at the tall, spire shaped building behind her. She could see the multiple glass facets of the building gleaming in the moonlight. She listened to the screams of the defenders as the Kingler butchered them and the staccato explosions of projectiles disintegrating against the glowing field. Cynthia sighed; she had three choices, all of them unpleasant: be ripped apart by Kingler, flee and later be killed by wild pokémon or be vaporized in a titanic blast.

Cynthia made her choice. She would die here with the Kingler. She turned to her companions. "Let's do this." She reached in her pocket for her three poké balls and threw them into the fray. Lucian and Will tossed their three poké balls into the fray. Renee pulled out her poké ball and kissed it.

"Good luck," she whispered as she tossed it into the fray.

All of the trainers knew that their pokémon could just as easily choose to kill them. Andre stared grimly into the flashes of white light. He marched forward along with his fellows, his hammer held ready. He could see the other defenders already engaging the Kingler. Scattered gunshots indicated that some of them had picked up the fallen officers' firearms.

Cynthia gave a bitter laugh as she clutched her tent spike. Never had she thought she would fight alongside her pokémon.

***​

Garchomp looked around the battlefield. She turned to the pokémon trainers behind her. The mandate she had received told her to kill them and join the Kingler.

All she heard from the Kingler was the incessant chant of "Join us and be free! Join us and be free!" She scowled. Cynthia had raised her from an egg and trained her to be one of the strongest pokémon in all of Sinnoh. The Mach pokémon refused to consider such an option.

Twin hoops of blue light crisscrossed her body. Soon, the hoops of blue light materialized into vicious looking daggers of stone.

"Hey, fuck you and your mandate!" she shouted as she unleashed her blast of stone daggers. Most of the daggers were deflected by the smooth, glossy armor of her opponents but a few found weak spots.

The Mach pokémon's jaw dropped as she saw blood oozing around the few Stone Edge projectiles that were stuck in the Kingler. She had never seen her attack cause bleeding before. She looked skyward only to see a spike of ice heading straight for her. She leapt aside but the projectile sliced a neat furrow in her skin.

"What?" she exclaimed as she saw the gash start to weep blood. She leapt to the side as two mud cannonballs impacted the area that she had been standing on before, leaving two deep craters.

Garchomp looked at the bloody gash on her shoulder and then at the scattered body parts that the Kingler had left behind. "'I've given you the power to take back our world from the humans…kill any who stand against you'," she muttered. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized what that meant — and it horrified her. True, she loved the immense power that surged through her veins but she wasn't sure if making her attacks able to maim and kill — in incredibly gruesome ways — was a good tradeoff.

She heard a scream, forcing her to turn around. She was then treated to the sight of one of the defenders — a woman barely in her twenties — being dismembered by one of the Kingler. She had jammed her weapon, a sharpened stick, into one of the Kingler's eyes, completely destroying it but it did nothing to stave off her death.

The Mach pokémon then looked at the Kingler. She had made an unspoken vow to keep her trainer safe; she'd kill so that her trainer could live.

She looked at the stony glares of the pokémon around her. She had figured they had made that vow too. Garchomp recognized them all — except for a slender, lilac mustelid who appeared to be bored.

"And you are?" she asked.

"I'm Mienshao," the pokémon replied in a feminine voice. "My trainer and I were—"

"Shove it."

"Hey, you can't—"

Garchomp glared at the martial artist, instantly silencing her. "How about you shut up and let finish?" she growled.

Mienshao instantly became quiet.

The Mach pokémon then gestured to the Sunyshore Tower, currently under furious bombardment and then to the Kingler who were trying to kill the refugees. "Anyone who knows Barrier, Protect, Light Screen or Reflect, deploy them in front of the refugees. Everyone else, take out as many Kingler as possible. I don't care how you do. But bear in mind that the humans are much more fragile than we are; you must not hit them. Get to it!"

The pokémon dispersed and waded into the battle, adding even more noise to the din. Mienshao, seeing as Garchomp wasn't someone to be trifled with, obeyed.

***​

"Fuck! They just don't stop!" a man shouted as he fired his scavenged shotgun. A Kingler about ten meters out had its face virtually obliterated by the lead slug. He then saw a Mr. Mime and a Bronzong headed towards the line of defenders. He raised his shotgun but his partner gently nudged the barrel down as he saw what the two were preparing to do.

The man gasped as he saw shimmering golden barriers appear out of thin air. The barriers danced and floated as they began constructing fortifications. He closed his eyes as a brilliant flash of gold appeared before his eyes. When the light died down, he and his partner were treated to an astounding sight. Above them was not the night sky but a ceiling of golden tiles. In front of him were bricks of pure psionic energy. There were even loopholes that he could fire from.

He shook his head at the absurdity of it all. The pokémon had built him a bunker! He was then thrown to the ground by an explosion. As he picked himself off the ground, he stuck his shotgun out the nearest loophole and scanned for targets.

***​

Will's Bronzong hovered in the air as she looked at the handiwork of Mr. Mime and herself: shimmering golden fortifications ranging from walls to bunkers. While Bronzong were biologically sexless, Will's Bronzong had taken after its female teammates, preferring the feminine pronoun. "Honestly, is that elaborateness necessary?"

Mr. Mime sat on one of the battlements. He nodded. "Simple walls would not allow the humans to fight back."

Bronzong scoffed as her two "arms" rotated around her body's axis. "They're just signing their own death warrant."

Mr. Mime pointed to a woman shooting a Kingler. "They may not have our powers and durability but their tools compensate."

The Bronze Bell pokémon gave a metallic sigh as a Kingler breached a bunker. She floated down and sealed the breach with a Reflect. Unfortunately for the Kingler, the psionic wall tore its body in half, instantly killing it.

***​

Splat! Crunch! Lucian's Bronzong slowed to a stop as the glow on his arms died down. Around him was a mess of blood, organs and scattered body parts and a jagged furrow that looked like someone had gone crazy with backhoe. Unlike Will's Bronzong, it preferred the masculine pronoun.

"Well, that worked out nicely," he said as he spun his metallic body in place, throwing more gore around.

"'Working nicely' does not mean almost pureeing three refugees!" Garchomp shouted, wiping off some blood from her face. "Do not ever fucking do that again!"

Roserade coughed. "Don't look now, but we've got bigger problems!" She pointed a bouquet at another line of Kingler about thirty meters out; this one was even bigger than the one that Bronzong had literally reduced to shreds and scattered across several square meters. Their mouths dribbled explosive foam that formed into bubbles and lazily drifted towards them. Despite their small size, they contained enough explosive gas to take off a limb or even kill.

Garchomp turned to Roserade and Grumpig. "Keep those explosive bubbles away from me. I have an idea." She then double checked to make sure no humans were attacking the Kingler.

The grass-type smiled. Garchomp's ideas were usually flashy and effective. Nevertheless, she watched as the bubbles lazily drifted towards them. Her red bouquet was swallowed in a whirling black mist as she prepared to launch Shadow Ball. Her blue bouquet burned a brilliant green as she drew on the power of the plants around her.

Grumpig's forehead gem glowed as it launched a diamond shaped burst of energy forward. At the same time, Roserade launched her two projectiles.

Garchomp tuned out the roar of the explosions as she drew on the energy from deep within the Earth. She felt a magma vein. Her body began to emit a slight red aura as she manipulated the searing hot rock. Once she had a grasp on it, she began to imagine rocks falling out of a portal.

She closed her eyes and focused her energy deeper. Neither the pop-pop-pop of Power Gem striking its targets nor the buzzing-hiss of Energy Ball and Shadow Ball being fired nor the din of battle could break her concentration. She then opened her eyes.

A swarm of white dots, shimmering like the stars in the night sky appeared above the line of Kingler. Garchomp smiled.

Almost instantly, the white dots widened into pulsating portals. The Kingler all ceased their attacks as they looked skyward.

It was the last thing they would ever do. Boulder sized blobs of magma dropped from the portals and onto the hostile pokémon. Droplets of molten rock flew skyward as the rocks smashed into the Kingler, leaving meteor-like trails as they fell back to the ground. Many of the Kingler screeched in pain as the molten rock burned through their shells and began to cook them alive. The heat was so intense that some even caught fire. And an unlucky few died gruesome deaths as the moisture in their bodies flashed to steam, instantly tearing them apart and spewing blood and gore in every direction.

Garchomp and her allies instinctively took several steps back as the blast of heat washed over them. Rivulets of molten rock began to flow like lethal rivers, forcing everyone to back away. Grumpig, Roserade and Bronzong all flinched from the blast of heat.

The screams of the Kingler as they were burned alive or crushed by the molten rock sliced through the din of battle.

As soon as it began; it was over. The portals closed, leaving an angrily glowing field of molten rock in the distance. The once lush grass was now an ugly carbonized black mat that disintegrated under the footsteps of the Kingler. The Kingler were understandably reluctant to step over the still hot ground so they milled about, trying to find an alternate route.

"What was that?" Grumpig asked.

"I think that was Earth Power plus Rock Slide," Garchomp said as she blinked at the carnage she unleashed. "It seems that we can actually combine attacks — something that's never been done before."

"My turn!" Roserade exclaimed. She closed her eyes as she felt energy surging from the plants around her and coalescing within her body. She felt the grass near the approaching Kingler respond to her touch. She manipulated them into nearly invisible snares — Grass Knot. That alone would have been effective enough, allowing the pokémon to kill them with ranged attacks or for the human defenders to shoot them. But she added another lethal touch; she combined it with Seed Bomb, attaching hard seedpods filled to the brim with volatile energy. The slightest touch would cause the grass to snare the victim's limb. Immediately after, the seedpod would detonate, mutilating the limb beyond repair or killing the limb's owner.

An unlucky Kingler was the first victim of this devious trap. It stepped forward only to suddenly find itself stuck in place. Before it could process what had happened, the seedpod exploded. Its two left legs were sheared off its body and sent hurtling into the air, eventually landing with a squish as they stuck themselves into the muddy ground. The Kingler frantically flailed about on its remaining limbs, succeeding only in getting them stuck in more snares. Three explosions rent the air as they pulverized its limbs, leaving only a torso that could do nothing but screech in agony. Luckily for it, Grumpig had decided to end its misery with a well placed Power Gem. The bolt of energy completely cored the Kingler, leaving a perfect diamond-shaped hole in the Kingler's face, through which charred organs could be seen.

"I wonder how our trainers are doing?" Grumpig asked as she watched plumes of dirt rise from the ground to tempo of explosions. She suppressed the bile rising in her throat as she saw what her Power Gem did to a living target.

***​

Lucian grunted as he used his tent peg to deflect an Icicle Spear. His head throbbed with the effort of him keeping a telekinetic grip on his weapon. But he refused to falter, lest the group of Kingler in front of him overpower him.

Will said nothing as he watched a Kingler approach a young couple hiding inside a golden bunker that Bronzong and Mr. Mime had created. He pointed a finger at his target. The ring of steel immediately leapt from its orbit and flew towards the Kingler, girding it much as they did the Johto psychic. But there was one difference, the points faced inwards instead of outwards.

The Kingler looked at the floating tent pegs. It stopped its attack, seemingly hypnotized by the tent pegs. It was the last thing that it would ever see. Will clenched his right hand into a fist. The green aura around the pegs flared vividly for a second before they all simultaneously slammed into the Kingler with superhuman force. The Kingler screeched as the steel spikes pierced its armor. It frantically flailed about, trying to dislodge the projectiles.

However, Will was not yet done. He rotated his right fist, causing the steel spikes to twist deeper into their hapless target. The wounds that were caused by the spikes began to widen and weep blood. After a few seconds, he opened his hand and beckoned towards himself. Obeying his command, the spikes tore themselves from the Kingler, leaving it to bleed to death from six new orifices. His eyes were chips of hard ice as he gazed into the distance. The screams, the gunfire, the bits of viscera clinging like morbid banners to the steel spikes that orbited him — or the fact that the unfortunate Kingler was his first kill — had seemingly no effect on him.

***​

Lucario and Gallade were back-to-back to each other. Unlike the other pokémon, the two had weapons in hand. But they weren't cold steel like Andre's hammer or hot lead like the guns of the Sunyshore PD. No, their weapons were forged from the raw energy that all pokémon could harness into lethal attacks.

Gallade held up his weapon, a three foot long leaf green scimitar — Psycho Cut. He scowled at the Kingler, daring them to approach.

Lucario maintained a grip on his five foot bone staff — Bone Rush. He watched the Kingler milling around them.

And then it happened, the whump of Mud Bomb being launched. Gallade reacted with lightning speed; a point of blue light appeared and materialized into a single sharp rock. A blue streak rocketed into the sky and towards the incoming projectile. The rock embedded itself in the mud ball; moments later, the mud ball exploded, showering everyone present with dust and debris. Normally, Gallade could not learn Aura Sphere but with the dampeners off, it was an easy task; all he had to do was tap into the chi that flowed through his body and then he could manipulate it anyway he saw fit — whether it was launching the chi itself as an explosive projectile or charging a physical object to give it an explosive punch. Another whump; this time it was Lucario who reacted, flinging an explosive Aura Sphere into the projectile with much the same results as Gallade's charged Stone Edge attack.

The Kingler blinked their eyes once and then they rushed.

Gallade immediately used Agility, a blue aura wrapping around himself as he used his psionic powers to heighten his reflexes and speed. He then charged into the mass of Kingler. While their claws were capable of shredding steel and concrete, they were ponderously slow compared to Gallade's lethal blade.

He leapt atop a Kingler, dodging its comically slow Vicegrip attack and drove his sword into its brain. The green energy blade sliced through the armor as if it were no more resistant than tissue paper. The Kingler convulsed once and Gallade backflipped off its corpse. As he pirouetted in the air, dodging the Kingler's attacks and hacking off their limbs with his lethal blade, one could imagine that he was dancing.

The green swordsmaster landed on a patch of burnt ground. He held his sword out in front of him as he glared at the Kingler who turned their baleful gaze towards him. Gallade smiled and waited for them to approach.

Approach they did, their razored claws clicking in anticipation of the hunt. Gallade charged in. He ducked, twisted, bobbed and weaved away from their clumsy blows. As he dodged, he retaliated with smooth slashes of his blade, instantly removing the Kingler's limbs with the precision of a surgeon.

***​

Lucario used his now-metallic hands (courtesy of Iron Defense) to fend off an enormous Kingler that had pinned him and was now bent on tearing him in two. His muscles burned as he tried to keep the claws from reaching his head or neck. He muttered some curses under his breath as his muscles began to give way.

As if struck by a bolt of lightning he had an idea. He relaxed his arms, letting the Kingler get close. At the same time, he used Iron Head, turning his forehead turning into a solid plate of steel. When the Kingler got close enough, he slammed his metallic forehead into the Kingler as hard as he could.

The satisfying crunch of the armored carapace breaking told him that he had scored a direct hit. He felt the burn in his arms lessen as the Kingler weakened from the carapace-crushing blow. But he was not free yet. Again, he slammed his metallic forehead into the Kingler. Another crunch and his arms were finally free.

He wasted no time in flinging an Aura Sphere at the Kingler. With a thunderous boom, the Kingler was reduced to a fine pink mist and hunks of meat and organs that were now scattered across a few square feet.

Lucario used Bone Rush, producing the bone staff. He looked at the blunt end and pondered something. He reached out with his aura, bending the weapon to his will. Sure enough, before his very eyes, the blunt head of his staff transformed into the leaf-shaped head of a short spear. He smirked as he searched for more Kingler to butcher.

In his journey, he saw a rather large amount of Kingler limbs and body parts stacked up around someone wielding a glowing green blade. Lucario felt a twinge of envy as he saw the swordsmaster effortlessly dodge a blow, retaliate with a slash that cleanly removed an enemy's limb — or completely bisect it. It was like watching a lethal dance.

***​

Andre, Renee, Cynthia and a man with a stolen shotgun were guarding one of the "bunkers" that Mr. Mime and Bronzong had created.

Cynthia flinched as the man blasted one of the many Kingler approaching the bunker. He said nothing as he racked his shotgun, sending the smoking shell onto the bloody ground.

The longshoreman charged a Kingler trying to rip away one of the glowing panels to get at two children inside and their parents. With an earsplitting war cry, he lifted his hammer overhead and brought it down upon the Kingler's crowned body.

The Kingler barely had time to react as twelve pounds of steel driven by muscles forged from decades of manual labor smashed through its red carapace, reducing its organs to a meaty paste.

Andre used his free hand to wipe some blood off his face. The Kingler twitched feebly as the last bits of strength left its mangled body.

The longshoreman looked at the glowing walls and saw the children. Their tear streaked faces and horrified expressions told him all he needed to know. It was then he became acutely aware of the Kingler blood and shell fragments that matted his hair, clothes and skin.

He picked up his hammer and with head hung low, silently turned away from the children as he headed to another spot. It was a moment he'd never forget for the rest of his life: the time when he first killed a pokémon.

***​

Renee yelped as a massive force knocked her to the ground, sending her rock sliding along the dirty ground. She skittered backwards on her hands, narrowly avoiding a Kingler's lethal claws.

As she frantically backpedaled, her hands struck a long metal object. Heart pounding, she groped for it. Immediately realizing what it was, she grabbed the dropped shotgun and swung it around to face the Kingler.

The coordinator's trembling fingers wrapped themselves around the forend and trigger. She raised the weapon to her shoulder and aimed. Of course, anyone who had a modicum of shooting experience would have noticed that her form was atrocious — no cheek weld, odd shooting stance; in short, everything that could be done wrong with firearms.

She closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. The gun bucked against her shoulder, slamming her supine onto the filthy ground as a blast of noise assaulted her senses. Warm matter splashed all over her. When she opened her eyes, she gasped at what she saw.

The Kingler twitched feebly in a pool of its own blood. A fist sized hole adorned its face, through which its ruined organs could be seen. Crimson gore decorated her body and her weapon. Renee swallowed the bile rising in her throat as the metallic odor of blood rammed into her nostrils. She looked at her hands, trembling as if with an electric shock.

She looked at the dead pokémon. Then back at her hands. Then at the shotgun laying in the dirt. Renee fell to her knees and emptied what little was in her stomach.

***​

Sunyshore Tower interior – garage

The garage inside the technological tower was abuzz with activity as men loaded everything from food to tools and survival gear into the "Grotle" off-road cargo trucks. The tension in the air was palpable as the burly laborers pushed and heaved crates into the ramps that descended from the vehicles' rear. Of course, there had to be enough space to allow the refugees to fit in as well.

The vehicles themselves were so heavily modified that they could barely be called trucks. For starters, they were enormous, standing nearly three meters tall on six massive run-flat tires. The front of the vehicle was not flat like as it would be on a normal truck — instead it was shaped like a wedge and reinforced, allowing it to plow through obstacles that would stop most vehicles. Foot thick ad-hoc composite armor composed of concrete sandwiched between two pieces of high strength steel rendered the behemoth almost impossible to damage. The drivers were protected by nearly three inches of transparent corundum armor, making the windows no less impervious than the rest of the vehicle.

When all was said and done, the drivers climbed into the vehicles and started them up. The laborers scrambled aboard the vehicles as the distinctive note of 645 kilowatt electric motors spooling up rang through the garage.

***​

Sunyshore Tower interior – control room

Volkner quickly blinked his eyes in an attempt to clear the white spots from his vision. Even through the helmet's tinted visor, the flash of light from a severing an energized cable left remnants on his vision.

He shed the bulky garments and took his place in his seat. He ignored the scenes of battle that played on the monitors as he examined the dials, gauges and other instruments that covered the control panel. He saw that the laborers had loaded all the supplies. He looked at this notepad with the calculations that gave a rough estimate of how long everyone had to flee. It was time.

The Sunyshore gym leader shut down the shield generators and prayed that the combatants kept the Kingler occupied. His hopes were dashed when he heard the sound of glass and concrete cracking.

Swearing profusely, he flipped open the molly-guard that covered a large red button and slammed his fist onto it. Immediately, a klaxon sounded as red lights began to flash.

The Sunyshore gym leader then rammed the slider for the auxiliary generators to their max output and grabbed his portable radio as he sprinted out of the room. The power indicator began to climb.

***​

Volkner charged down the reinforced emergency stairwell. Even though the stairwells were reinforced and pressurized to allow a safe exit, they weren't indestructible. The groaning of stressed concrete contrasted with the ringing of his booted feet on the metal stairs.

"I hope I didn't fuck this up," he muttered.

When he reached the third floor landing, he stopped and bent over, hands on knees as he gulped the cool, sterile air to soothe his burning lungs. His legs felt like they had been run over by one of his own Grotle cargo trucks. He grabbed hold of the railing to keep from falling as the building shuddered again.

"Arceus, I could use a rest!" he muttered. The building shuddered again. "No! I must not give in!"

With adrenaline surging through his veins, he thundered down the remaining steps.

***​

Sunyshore Campground

Andre leaned on his sledgehammer. His great chest heaved as he sucked in air, heedless of the metallic tang of blood. He cursed as the siren rang out, signaling that the self-destruct sequence had been started. "Well, this is it," he muttered. He then gave the finger to the endless swarm of Kingler.

The shotgunner next to him sighed as he leaned against the bunker that held the two children. Distant explosions signaled that Cynthia's pokémon still battling the Kingler. "Fucking ridiculous!"

"Language," Cynthia reminded him. Her clothing was filthy and she stank of sweat, blood and other more repulsive substances. Her tent peg was gone, lost somewhere in the melee.

Renee staggered back to the group. A battered shotgun dangled from her left hand and she was covered in blood. Her trembling hands and dead eyes said it all. No one spoke.

***​

Sunyshore Tower interior – stairwell

Volkner's heart threatened to burst from his chest as he continued running down the stairs. By now, he was at the second floor. The lights flickered as the concrete above him ominously groaned and rumbled. Pieces of concrete rained down in the stairwell, signaling that Volkner's time was running short. Adding to the cacophony was the wailing of the siren.

Suddenly, Volkner stopped. Before him was a large gap in the landing. He looked up; the landing above him was missing as well.

He looked over the railing. It was still a ten foot drop onto concrete. He'd break his leg if he jumped. He made his choice. He backed up as far as possible and sprinted. Gritting his teeth, he pushed off with all his might just as he reached the edge. Soaring through the air, he only hoped he had cleared the gap.

The Sunyshore gym leader grunted as he slammed into the broken edge of the concrete landing. His lungs burned as he breathed in — he had definitely broken a rib. Fingers frantically scrabbling for purchase, he managed to haul himself up onto the unbroken section. Mindful of the debris that continued to fall, he continued his run.

And found that much to his infinite dismay, the remains of the landing had blocked off the exit. He then headed to the other exit and pushed. It was jammed.

Volkner swore profusely. He looked above him; he could see the door on the second landing taunting him. Not only was it on a section that had collapsed, it was designed to swing inward. He considered leaping across the gap again. He quickly dismissed that as fantasy; he barely made the leap the first time. If he were to repeat it, he more than likely lose his grip and fall to his death.

He looked around the stairwell with pieces of concrete raining down on him. It was only a matter of time before a piece fell on him. Volker looked at the concrete walls and pondered his options. One of the modifications on the Grotle trucks were the addition of three arms hidden behind armored panels on the front of the vehicle: two heavy manipulator arms each capable of hoisting a car twenty feet in the air or battering through concrete; another manipulator arm equipped with a diamond impregnated vibroblade capable of slicing through heavy steel structural supports. And of course, there was the reinforced bow that turned the vehicle into a twenty ton battering ram.

The vehicles were more than capable of rescuing him — at the potential cost of everyone's lives. He didn't know exactly when the energy storage bank's shielding would finally fail. To order the trucks to try and save him under such circumstances was incredibly selfish. He looked at the stairwell turned tomb and listened to the muffled wailing of the klaxon and rumbling groans of failing concrete.

Volkner swallowed the lump in his throat. The Sinnoh gym leader's hands trembled as he grabbed the radio than hung from his belt and pressed the transmit button. He had made his decision: he would die so others would live.

He took out his radio. "Transports, this is Volkner, I'm trapped in the building. There's nothing you can do! Get the refugees to safety and get away from this tower as fast as possible!"

Without bothering to wait for a reply, he hurled his radio against the concrete where it shattered into pieces. This is it, he thought. I'm gonna die. He shuddered as he began to softly weep.

***​

Sunyshore Tower interior – garage

The drivers of the Grotle cargo trucks frantically tried to reestablish the connection as soon as they heard static. An agonizing minute later, they decided that there was nothing they could do. Nothing except obey his last order.

Two by two, the heavy vehicles rumbled as they began to move. Their powerful lights slashed through the darkness as they headed into hell.

***​

Sunyshore Campground

Mienshao's eyes narrowed as she watched a Kingler. The two circled each other, daring the other to strike. Then it happened, a jet of water with the power to rend steel carved up the muddy ground. The martial artist rocketed into the air. She flicked her wrists. The long "sleeves" on her arms glowed purple as they extended and slashed through the air.

The Kingler raised its massive claw to block the attack but it was no use. The strands of hair that made up the whip were moving so fast that they acted more like thousands of nearly invisible razors.

There was horrendous tearing squish as the whip carved through the Kingler's claw and body, rending organs and flesh into a bloody pulp. Mienshao landed on the ground as just as the Kingler toppled over, twitching as the last of its lifeblood flowed from the gaping wound.

Mienshao smiled as she executed the perfect landing — just like Renee had taught her. She bowed to an invisible audience. Her fantasy was shattered by Garchomp's rough voice.

"Hey! This ain't no contest! Keep fighting!" Garchomp backhanded a Kingler, breaking off one of its claws. She quickly followed up with a Poison Jab. The Kingler twitched as a vile purple liquid composed of venom and liquefied flesh wept from the puncture.

***​

Lucian and Will ducked behind the transparent golden barriers that their pokémon had erected. Explosions harmlessly played across the barriers as the Kingler tried to breach them with their explosive bubbles.

The Sinnoh psychic saw movement from the corner of his eye. His hands flared with a bright blue light as he caught a spike of ice in his telekinetic grasp. He smirked as he sent it rocketing towards the offending Kingler, who could do no more than panic as the spike pierced its brain and protruded from its back like a macabre headpiece.

Will pointed to a Kingler chasing a young man. He gritted his teeth as a green aura appeared around the Kingler. He had found its vitals and was trying to crush them into paste but the pokémon's inherent energy made it like feel like he was trying to crush coal into diamond.

Luckily for the man, Cynthia's Lucario sprinted up and slammed his glowing spear into the stunned Kingler. The allied pokémon then scooped up the man and carried him to safety.

***​

The driver of one of the Grotle trucks scanned the battlefield. He saw dead bodies everywhere along with glowing bunkers and walls. He spotted a group of Kingler trying to break into a bunker that held two men with shotguns and a group of children.

He nodded and set the vehicle in motion. The Kingler immediately stopped trying to get into the bunker and focused their attention on the speeding behemoth. Mud balls and spikes of ice bombarded the Grotle truck but its heavy armor held firm. Some charged the vehicle in an attempt to attack it in melee combat but they were crushed into a fine paste underneath its six massive wheels. The wiser ones, seeing as they couldn't harm the vehicle, fled.

The driver lowered the boarding ramp. The two men stood watch as they ushered the children into the compartment. They then boarded and the driver closed up the vehicle and sped off to get more survivors per his orders.

***​

Cynthia flagged down one of the trucks. A boarding ramp lowered from its rear as came to a stop. "Get in!" one of the laborers shouted from the compartment.

Cynthia quickly recalled all her pokémon; thankfully they were fighting within her line of sight. Renee recalled her Mienshao.

Andre watched as the Kingler turned their eyes to the vehicle. He turned to look at the bunker he and the others had guarded. There was a large hole in the side. He turned away; he didn't want to see the remains of the children after the Kingler had gotten to them.

The trio then boarded the vehicle. With the whirring of electric motors, the cargo compartment was plunged into darkness. Dim lights flickered on, revealing crates of various supplies securely fastened to the walls and floors. Refugees sat on the crates or on the ground. Some stood, grasping handholds welded to the ceiling or walls. A small passageway connected the rear cargo compartment to the bridge. Rungs leading to a hatch on the roof of the vehicle could be seen. Volkner's Raichu was perched on one of the crates.

Cynthia sniffed the air and gagged. The putrid scent of blood, sweat and other, more disgusting bodily fluids was oppressive in the humid compartment. She shifted uncomfortably as her stained clothing chafed her. She sighed; her clothes would probably have to be burnt.

Renee stared at the featureless hatch through which she and her companions had boarded. Her shotgun lay across her lap. She showed no response as the vehicle shivered from the impact of a Mud Shot projectile. Andre leaned his bloodied hammer against one of the walls and took a seat on a crate. He clasped both hands to his face as tears ran through his bloodied hands.

Cynthia ran up to the longshoreman and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Andre, is there something wrong?"

The man gave a bitter humorless laugh that set everyone's teeth on edge. "Something wrong? Something wrong!?" he screamed, causing everyone to step back. "Sunyshore's gone to pot; we're fighting homicidal Kingler and Sunyshore Tower's about to blow! Every-fucking-thing has gone wrong!" He continued to rant as the emotions he had bottled up for the past day finally poured out of him like a lake surging through a breached dam.

"Andre, I know the past day has been hard on you — it's been hard on all of us. But you can't let it take you over."

"You didn't have to kill a pokémon with your own hands in front of two terrified children!" His exclamation was broken with the sounds of sobbing.

"It's true; I didn't kill. But I had to watch my Garchomp kill a fellow trainer. There's nothing like watching someone die and you not being able to do anything about it." She tried to fight back the tears that threatened to spring forth as her mind replayed the image of Flint transfixed by her Garchomp's Stone Edge.

Andre then took a deep breath as he tried to wipe the tears from his eyes. His massive hands slowly clenched and unclenched as he tried to calm himself down. "Look, it's just that… I don't want to talk about the things I just did."

Cynthia nodded and left Andre alone.

***​

The inside of the vehicle was silent save for the constant whine of the electric motor and the occasional impact of a projectile.

The driver of the vehicle watched from her high perch as Kingler scrambled over the dilapidated ground to get out of the way. A spear of ice crashed into the windshield and shattered into snow. Around her, the stark white beams of the other trucks' headlights illuminated the utter carnage the battle had left — burnt out hulks of vehicles, spent shell casings, personal effects, craters and body parts were scattered all over the muddy battlefield. Off to the side was the ravaged shell of what had once been the gleaming steel and glass crown of Sunyshore. The "Jewel of Sunyshore" was now Volkner's mausoleum and the soon-to-be destroyer of the once peaceful seaside city. She let her mind wander to Volkner's fates — all of them unpleasant. "No focus!" she muttered as she pulled one of the steering levers, causing the vehicle to avoid a still burning carcass of a truck.

The woman grabbed the radio as she steered around wreckage and craters. "Lightning units, this is Lightning Actual. Comm check," she said. Technically, the term "actual" would be used by Volkner himself but since he was trapped, she became the highest ranked employee.

She waited a moment and then staticky voices came through the radio.

"Lightning One reporting."

"Lightning Two reporting."

"Lightning Three reporting."

"Thank you, Lightning Actual out."

After another tug on the steering levers to avoid another crater, she realized that she needed a radioman. "Hey! Anyone who can operate a radio! Get up here!" she barked.

***​

Cynthia was soon the subject of several stares. She wiped her forehead as her eyes darted back and forth. "Wait, you're expecting me to operate a radio?"

"Hey, none of us know how to," one of the laborers replied. "Besides, you're the league champion."

Like that matters for shit now, Cynthia thought as she locked eyes with everyone. "Wait, but—"

It was no use; several pairs of hands shoved Cynthia through the passageway. The Sinnoh champion soon found herself in the extra seat. She buckled the five point harness and made herself comfortable in the sparsely cushioned seat. "So exactly what am I supposed to do?"

The driver tossed her a manual without taking her eyes off the path. "Read this and then get back to me," she replied.

Cynthia flinched back as a mud projectile impacted the windshield. Luckily, the projectile wasn't able to penetrate, despite leaving a filigree of cracks. She saw a Kingler caught in the vehicle's high beams as it scrambled to avoid getting crushed. Cynthia took a deep breath to calm her racing heart as she opened the pages. She looked out and saw that the ravaged battlefield had given way to a grassy plain. The white beams of the other trucks lit up the trees surrounding the plain.

***​

Sunyshore Tower interior

Volkner sat cross-legged as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his frantic heart. He had spent the past few hours reminiscing. Photograph-sharp memories flashed in his head as he fought back tears.

The shrieking klaxon gave way to childish laughter as he recalled how he met Flint so many years ago. A smile crossed his face as memories of the friendly battles he had with his childhood friend came surging back.

Flint's voice faded out and was replaced by Volta's warm, feminine voice as the AI greeted him on his first day at work. He swallowed a lump in his throat. Volta was an AI but she was more than "just a machine". She was just as real as his fellow coworkers. He almost wished he could bring her along with the survivors but it was impossible; her processor core was simply too large and bulky.

His eyes snapped open when he heard Volta speak. "WARNING! CONTAIMENT BREACH IMMENIENT!" The voice was eerily calm; the AI announced her own destruction with the calmness of announcing the weather.

The Sunyshore gym leader smiled as he heard the announcement. "See you on the other side, Flint," he whispered as he closed his eyes.

No sooner had he said that, the overloaded energy storage finally failed in an intense flash of the brightest white light. Temperatures near the bank soared to millions of degrees, producing a blast of superheated wind and a shockwave that quite literally disintegrated Sunyshore tower and everything within a four mile radius. Further out, the blast leveled buildings and set everything flammable aflame. The vast majority of the Kingler died horrible deaths, being unlucky enough to be within the blast radius of the tower; those that weren't reduced to their elemental constituents by the blast of intense heat were broiled alive as the superheated gust washed over them. Those that somehow survived the heat had their organs pulped by the concussive force of the resultant shockwave.

***​

Sunyshore City entrance to Route 222

Cynthia grunted as the shockwave from the tower's explosion slammed into the truck like the fist of an angry giant. The driver unleashed a torrent of profanity as she wrestled with the steering levers, acceleration and brakes in an attempt to keep the truck from either spinning out or worse, rolling over. Even twenty miles away, the blast still had enough power to rattle the multi-ton armored vehicle.

She looked at the entrance to Route 222. The trees surrounding the road gave the trailhead the look of an eldritch beast's mouth.

The former Sinnoh champion looked at the driver who seemed to be feeling the same way. The driver took a deep breath. There was no turning back.

***​

All that remained of Sunyshore Tower was mushroom cloud of debris rising high into the night sky and a massive crater, surrounded by patch of glass, glowing dull red in the night. The beloved gym leader of Sunyshore was no more than puffs of vapor, wafting up from the smoking crater.

Sunyshore itself became little more than heaps of rubble scattered across ravaged streets. Fires ignited by the explosion and fueled by flammable debris and gas lines rampaged across the ruined city like the Kingler had previously done.

It was a high price to pay, but the Kingler would never trouble anyone ever again.