Chapter 30: Kiritsugu Chapter, A Ignoble Death

His opponent opened the engagement by lunging at him, their fists swinging forward in horribly telegraphed punches which were only threatening by the virtue of their speed; a punctual application of reinforcement was all Kiritsugu needed to weave out of the way, firing his sidearm into his opponent as he did so. And thus did their deadly dance continue; the armored figure not able to connect a single fist with the elusive assassin, and the elusive assassin not able to meaningfully harm the armored figure; his bullets not penetrating the armor but likely bruising the one inside of it somewhat with every shot that connected. It was a classic battle of attrition, at least, in the opening moments of their duel; one that currently favored Kiritsugu ever so slightly. The issue, of course, was that there was only so much mana that the former assassin had left in his tank, and reinforcement to the level he was applying it wasn’t exactly cheap.

The flickering duel was interrupted as Amelie flashed in, a pair of psy-assisted palms smacking the sentai-knockoff into a wall before she blinked back onto Kiritsugu’s shoulder. “Kinda weird, but I don’t think he has any Pokemon,” Amelie observed as the man smoothly landed on his feet, his motions slightly shaky. “And he’s not feeling… anything. No anger, no fear, just… empty resolve? Ugh, describing emotions in human words is hard…”

“Then he’s either very well-trained, or not in his right mind. Either is possible.” Not for the first time, Kiritsugu was grateful for the near-instant nature of psychic communications. “I forgot you were there to intervene for a moment, thank you for stepping in. What’s the plan?”

“His mind’s shielded, so putting him to sleep or scrambling his brain are out. I don’t think I can lift him into a psychic armbar with my power. I could hit him again, and you could shoot him with the Contender, maybe?” Amelie offered as the figure turned to them in the odd dilated timeframe of a thought.

“No. Origin Bullets are both too cruel and not useful for those are not mages. I refuse to test them on something that might not be a willing participant in this farce,” Kiritsugu responded instantly, snapping off a quick burst of shots towards the armored figure, his eyebrows rising as they finally flinched.

“I was just thinking about stopping power, but I guess we don’t have any normal rounds for it. Something to fix later?” Amelie thought back. “Hmm, it seems repeated hits drain whatever barrier that armor makes, that could– oh, it’s the snob again.”

“You!” Kerry and the armored figure both looked to the balcony towards the sound of the voice. Renault stood on the railing, scowling impetuously as a sizable Talonflame lighted beside him. “EXS, destroy the assassin, and we will assist–”

“Pull” Amelie growled, her eyes glowing as her psychic powers wrapped around the man, throwing him into the air. Reacting to the agreed upon codeword for Amelie putting someone in a vulnerable position with her abilities, Kiritsugu fired a series of bullets towards the man, aiming for non-vital locations; he was (unfortunately) more valuable to Interpol alive than dead. The bullets smashed into the man’s leg and shoulder, causing him to writhe in pain as he crashed back to the balcony floor. As he fell, Talonflame blinked, then immediately took off and winged away.

The noble sobbed on the floor as both Pokeballs burst open, Malamar looking around and immediately forced on the defensive as Amelie slammed into him, wielding a hastily formed staff of Fairy energy against the half-dark type, bladed tip flickering against bladed tentacles. Drapion took one look at his master, then roared and charged into the combat where Kiritsugu was busily sparring with the resurgent Sentai.

Amelie’s eyes glowed for a moment, and before Renault could speak again a Hoopa ring popped open and swallowed the crippled admin. “There, he’s out of the way. Kerry, how are you holding up?” Amelie asked as she scored a vicious cut on one of her opponents’ tentacles.

“... I need help, yesterday. I can’t avoid both the armored person and this Drapion. I’m also starting to feel the strain of using so much mana at once. My circuits are already overheating,” Kiritsugu admitted, drawing deep on his mental fortitude to active time alter once more, making space between himself and the two beings engaged with him, staggering slightly as he released the highly painful mystery.

“Help’s almost here, hold on–” Amelie’s words were only a few seconds precinct of an interruption. A surge of water smashed the Drapion back a few steps, Frogadier somersaulting into the battle, slamming both of their legs into a kick which drove the armored man to his knees. The amphibian shinobi landed beside Kiritsugu, nodding resolutely.

Amelie blinked in beside her partner and her new teammate. “Malamar teleported out the moment I gave him an opening. It’s just going to be the five of us for a bit.” She winced as Drapion screeched. “Honestly, I can handle the man, but the poison-type is a bit more of a problem. Also, Frogadier is insisting on learning how to teleport. Is there magic for that?”

“No,” Kiritsugu deadpanned, firing another barrage of lead into the Drapion as he continued to disengage, letting go of his reinforcement and shutting off his circuits. “No casual conversation while fighting,” he continued, chiding his partner who should know better by now.

“Speed of thought, banter–” Amelie yelped aloud and ducked a sludge bomb. “You know, you’re right, I’ll focus,” she said quickly as she maneuvered to smash the armored opponent with her reformed fairy-staff, cursing quietly

Drapion stalked closer to Kiritsugu, maw opening– only to be cut off as Frogadier hocked up a blast of mud from their mouth, the Mud-Slap splattering its face and blinding it for a few critical moments. Kiritsgugu took the opportunity to crouch down, dropping his pistol as he scooped up his abandoned rifle. The much more powerful weapon barked twice, heavy bullets slamming into both of Drapion’s front legs and sending the top-heavy scorpion to pitch to the ground with another scream.

At the same time, Amelie’s staff hit the armored figure in the shoulder, and for the first time, broke through. All across the armor, bursts of smoke and crackling shudders wracked the figure as the last reserves of the armors’ barrier collapsed. Before Kirtisugu or his partners could intervene further, the figure slammed his fist into the ground, a burst of pink light ripping them away and leaving the battlefield mostly empty save for a writhing, furiously convulsing Drapion.

“Sound off!” Kiritsugu barked into his communicator. “Is everyone alright?”

“They’ve stopped coming down here, and there aren’t any more reinforcements I can see,” Emmanuelle sent across the comms.

“Umm, I think the wards are alright, but Hoopa had to pop out to catch an incoming helicopter and warp it to Orre. Also, there’s a very rude man bleeding in the other room,” Meray chimed in.

“That’s a prisoner, we’ll send someone over to make sure he doesn’t bleed out or hurt you. Don’t get close enough for him to grab you,” Kiritsugu advised. “Actually, who’s hurt, and how badly? Amelie will prioritize anyone who needs healing now.”

“Chespin– well, Quilladin, now– he took several bullets. He’s walking them off, but considering how much Braixen is fussing, I don’t think he’s totally fine,” Elle relayed. “Beyond that, my team will be fine with potions and rest, and I’m unharmed except for the ringing in my ears.”

“... We got off lucky then. Minimal and fairly light casualties, and no fatalities. That’s always good to hear, and all too rare in my former line of work,” Kiritsugu sighed, visibly untensing as he relaxed. “Amelie, do you have enough in you to teleport us and the Drapion down to the rest of them? We should discuss what we’re going to do in the aftermath of all of this.”

“...I don’t know Miracle Eye, so we’ll have to get the Drapion down by raw force. Unless you can find his Pokeball, anyway,” Amelie admitted, peering at the now still dark-type.

“Hoopa can help!” Hoopa phased through the wall, popping open a ring beneath the insectile pokemon and dropping him through. “Alley-oop! Everyone through now!”

Kiritsugu shrugged, Frogadier hopping through ahead of him and Amelie hopping onto his shoulder as they both dropped through to the ground. The entrance hall was largely intact, but spotted with pockmarks and bloodstains. Weakly struggling Pokemon and humans were being laid out to one side, watched over by Braviary and Haboo, while corpses were being dragged outside. The awkward form of Quilladin was slowly seeping blood and sap onto the dust-strewn carpet as Braixen fussed over him, and Amelie was quick to dart over and start healing.

Elle looked up from the doors, grimacing slightly. “Usually, I’m more distraught at this sort of thing,” she admitted as Kiritsugu approached. “Then again, there are usually more civilian casualties than enemies.”

“Hoopa has left Meray upstairs,” the little Mythical added, drifting down to float beside them, his normal smile absent. “She has seen worse, but not like this.” For a moment, his cheer was replaced by an old, heavy weight.

“Let’s do all we can to ease their suffering, then,” Kiritsugu stated rather professionally, moving towards a whimpering Flare Grunt to provide first aid, “We’re better than them, after all.”

Elle snorted. “Like that’s hard…”

--(0)--

Looker peered at Meray, then at Hoopa, then looked over at Kiritsugu and Emmanuelle. “...we will be drowning in the paperwork because of this, you know,” he said as sourly as he could. “And we will have to explain things to the League.”

Meray winced. “I’m sorry…”

“It is not your fault! But when legendaries get involved, people get nervous! Understandably so, at times.” Looker chuckled. “And that will slow our investigation down. As will all the journalists.” He paused, then looked at Kiritsugu. “Ah, maybe you should avoid talking to anyone with a microphone.”

“Avoiding the press will cause issues of its own. I’d assume Interpol is going to prepare and issue a press conference at some point in time?” Kiritsugu countered, eyebrow raised, “Not that I intend to tell the journalists anything, mind you.”

“If avoiding the press a problem will be… classes, perhaps?” Looker frowned. “And yes, press conference. Preferably before Flare tries anything on its side. Thankfully, news will spread a little slower to mainland Kalos. But we will be pinned down here for a while, anyway.” He shook his head. “Corruption, bribes, and old rot. But your hands, we do not need.”

Kiritsugu nodded. “Alright, my team could use a short break. I assume the investigation is underway?”

“Yes, lab space and the battlefield are undergoing search.” Looker reached into a pocket and pulled out an evidence bag, a dented ball visible inside. “And this shows something important.”

“... How in the absolute pits of distortion did Flare get their hands on a Master Ball?” Elle gritted out, eye twitching with a fury that Kiritsugu had only seen from her when she brought up some of her more… unpleasant memories involving Team Cypher. “Those things are supposed to be under the strictest control, with only the League and Ranger Union having access to them in cases of emergency.”

“And this was registered to a League member. Professor Ruscus,” Looker said grimly. Elle’s face morphed into something like shock, seeming to mentally shut down for a second.

“I think I need some context. Master Ball?” Kiritsugu asked.

“Master Balls are… they’re meant for research and emergency containment. Simply put, they’re ruinously expensive and hard to manufacture, but they almost never fail. Only some legendaries can break out of one, and those with experience,” Looker explained. “Granted, once they are out, there’s nothing stopping the captured Pokemon from destroying the ball from the outside, but if the goal is just to catch them…”

“And this professor…”

“Did not give this one over,” Looker said sadly. “Professor Ruscus is a venerated member of the scientific community, and requested six Master Balls ten years ago. Three saw use, three were unused. This one was one of the remainder. The professor has been in a care facility for dementia for the last four years.” Looker finished quietly.

“... That still raises the question of how the League missed those Master Balls. They should have immediately been remanded into secure storage the moment the doctor was taken into care for dementia,” Elle pointed out; she had seemingly calmed down, though all present could tell that it was a facade projected to ensure professionalism.

“Agreed. The Professor’s lab should have been properly locked down and inventoried,” Looker said. “Preliminary investigation shows that his lab was never officially closed down; ostensibly because his assistant was still working there and would handle the cleanup. But…”

“The assistant never did.” Kiritsugu surmised.

"No. And our attempts to reach him have failed.” Looker sighed. “Paperwork reshuffled, temporary stays turning into permanence… signs of tampering at all levels. At least this gives you both a lead to investigate.”

“Umm…” The group turned to see Meray raising one hand. “So, these people got the Master Balls, right? Was there anything else in the Lab they could’ve gotten?”

“Ruscus’ research later in life was about using Pokemon safely in industry and commerce. But his research during the Final War was about using Pokemon as weapons,” Looker said in mounting concern. “Yes, I believe investigating that lab is a primary concern.”

“... That’s bad.” Kiritsugu winced, glancing at Elle, who nodded in turn, “If it wasn’t for Flare’s… unique mentality, I would be horrified at the potential for them collaborating with Cypher. However… they seem to be rather overly obsessed with… well, beauty, apparently.”

“Indeed.” Looker sighed. “Unfortunately, that means getting rid of ugly. Which means a lot of people.” He looked over to see a group of agents shoving a grunt into a Police Van. “I do wish more of these people knew the bigger plans. Thank you for capturing Renault, again.”

“I thought he was locked up?” Elle asked.

“So did I. More corruption, or just a breakdown in communications?” Looker frowned. “A Team with this much support… this could get very dangerous. I may need to call in more Special Agents.”

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea, Looker. Kiritsugu and I could more than use the support if this is the level of resistance we’re expecting from their more major operations. That, and their funds seem to be yes, which is never ideal to fight against,” Elle agreed.

“I’m reminded far too much of the old Team Rocket…” Looker grumbled darkly. “With all the strings that implies.” He scowled. “Which makes me wonder what they’ll do once Renault reaches our cells.”

“Keep a close eye on him.” Kiritsugu paused. “And be ready for anything. That suit… we don’t know its full capabilities.”

“Psychic watch, got it. We’ll need some on hand for the interrogation, anyway,” Looker agreed.

Before the conversation could go further, Hoopa popped back into reality. “Hello, Faller! Thank you for your help!” He said gaily. “This has been… less fun than Hoopa hoped, but still interesting!” He leaned in close. “Is there anything Hoopa can do for you?”

“... Would you mind if I held onto a favor for a while, Hoopa?” Kiritsugu asked, “I do have an idea in mind, but it would need to be on a pair of specific dates.”

“Hmm.” Hoopa’s eyes flashed, then he grinned even wider. “Hoopa likes it! Done!”

“Thank you.” Only long exposure to Amelie’s telepathy kept Kiritsugu from being disturbed by the legendary casually checking his thoughts to find out his plans, but this worked, so…”I wish our meeting was a little better, but it has been a pleasure.” He paused. “Actually, do you or Meray know any good places to relax around here? We have a week before our tickets back to the mainland, and I owe my team a vacation.”

“Of course! We’ll have to get you to visit all the best locations in Dahara…” Meray spoke, smiling as the topic moved on to nicer things.

--(0)--

Interpol was a global organization, one with a reach which spanned the entire planet. It should come as no surprise, then, that many of their facilities existed outside any Region’s borders, in the wild spaces where Pokemon still ruled. Silver Oak Maximum Security Detention Center, also known as the Silver Oak Prison, was one such facility. Guards patrolled in teams of three, with Pokemon; sometimes multiple, at their side, while agents and prisoners both came and went exclusively via teleport and aircraft.

One such patrol team was sweeping at the outer edge of the base’s garden complex when they went dark. An immediate response found a single guard fleeing back towards the base, wounded, with a group of red-clad grunts in hot pursuit.

It wasn’t until the lone ‘agent’ reached the gates that one of the on-watch Psychics realized the mistake, almost too late.

Almost.

With a grunt, the Warden was thrown back as the false guard in front of him threw a haymaker, the blow ramming him back into the back wall of the lobby. With a tinkle of breaking glass, the illusion around the guard collapsed, revealing a suit he recognized from a report across his desk. Even as his partners; a Klefki and Aggron, engaged the EXS in a vicious melee, the Warden snapped up his wrist, pressing down a button on his communicator. “Lock down the interrogation wing! Flare is making a play to rescue their admin, the attack outside is just a diversion!”

Deep within the interrogation wing, a once-elegant man sat in a stark cell, listening to the alarm. With a pop, a tall figure appeared, shadows flickering around him as a Kadabra looked around warily. Renault surged to his feet as Lysandre loomed over him. “Sir, you came for–”

“I am sorry, my friend. But this is not a rescue,” Lysandre said heavily, the shadows warping his voice. “The ability which allowed me to come for you cannot cover another, and there is no time to execute a more thorough escape.” He grimaced, barely visible beneath the veil. “What have they taken from you?”

“...a few of our backers, some of our supporters… and pawns. Nothing more.” Renault admitted. “And there’s… no way?”

“No. They’ll be bringing the trained psychics soon,” Lysandre told him grimly. “Old friend…”

“I know.” He closed his eyes, only to open it as liquid sloshed. He looked up to see his leader offer him a small gold cup, crimson wine falling from a flask. “Oh… thank you.” He reached up and took the offered drink, smiling sadly. “One last one for the road?”

“...call it leaving before the rush,” Lysandre joked as his knight upended the poisoned wine down his throat. “Sleep, my friend. And dream of a world more beautiful than this.”

Renault lay down, the cup slipping from his fingers. “An end… like the philosophers…” He murmured as a heavy weight fell across him. “Thank… you…”

“Don’t.” Lysandre murmured as Renault, last son of his house, died quietly. “Thank you for your service.”

The last thing Renault saw was not, however, to be a beautiful vision of the man he admired mourning the loss of a follower. Nay, it was the sight of the man sent flying; his already blurring vision only able to make out the vague figures of a pair of Pokemon he had never expected to see in a facility like this; a Eevee and Pikachu. As he tried to get up, to help the man who was almost a father to him, he fell down again, the glass of wine spilling to the floor as he fought a desperate yet futile battle against the fast acting toxin that was slowly and mercifully shutting his body down.

His final thoughts were rather simple, if somewhat strange:

‘Why were those Pokemon wearing scarfs with such a beautiful badge pinned to them that I’ve never seen before?’

Then the cell was empty of life, sans two souls who briefly swore, before talking amongst themselves.

“Dammit. He got away. Must have had some kind of technology that let him bypass the wards and teleport out. Stupid stupid stupid, I should have predicted that.” A feminine voice cursed, chiding herself for her stupidity.

“It’s okay, Sky, you couldn’t have known. We’ll get him eventually. Especially if that Xatu was right about his plans being potentially world ending…” a masculine voice interjected kindly, more than a bit of steel filling their tone as they continued on.

“I suppose you’re right, Time. They all get what’s coming to them, in the end,” the feminine voice responded, her words filled with a tiredness seemingly born from experience. And, with a soft whoosh, they were gone, leaving the interrogation wing through a mechanism that hadn’t been seen on this side of the barrier for a long, long time…