Chapter 49
In the morning, it’s quiet. The child sleeps late without Mewtwo’s demands to wake it, then finally comes to in a panic, feeling it must have missed something important.
Thunderstorm idles by an open cabinet, inspecting random wires and computer parts that no one bothered to carry off. Titan’s gone, but Rats still sleeps, curled up by the child’s side. It’s impossible to tell the time, here in the heart of the factory where no sunlight can reach. If Thunderstorm weren’t here, the child would have woken to pitch black.
It stares up at the ceiling, stomach twisting with dread. It can’t just lie here and hope for the best; the thought of Mewtwo’s anger spurs it into action, dislodging Rats as it stands and hurries for the stairs, its head tipped back, searching for the feel of Mewtwo’s mind. It goes up two floors before it reaches the edge of Mewtwo’s psychic field, which is calm, subdued. He must be doing the meditation thing he does instead of sleeping, the child realizes with a flood of relief that leaves it slumped against the wall.
It’s free, then, at least for a little while. But as it turns and starts to clomp back down the stairs, Rats bursts into the corridor below. “Hey!” she barks up at the child. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” it says, puzzled. Rats’ fur is still mussed from sleeping; she must have sprinted out here as soon as she woke up.
“No?” Rats regards the child with one dark, squinty eye. The child imagines her complaining about having to think this soon after getting up. “Well, good. I don’t exactly appreciate being left behind while you and that clone get up to all kinds of trouble,” she says after a long moment.
The child frowns and tromps down the stairs until it reaches the landing where Rats hunches, teeth bared and whiskers quivering. It senses there’s going to be some kind of argument, although it doesn’t understand why or about what. “Mewtwo’s resting. You want to go get some breakfast, and then we can talk about… whatever you want to talk about?”
“Breakfast?” Rats says, sounding perplexed. “Yeah, sure. Breakfast, I guess.”
“For Thunder, too. There’s no electricity out here. It must be getting hungry,” the child says. “Thunder?” Rats sticks close to the child’s heels as it wanders back to the room it came from. They need to find Titan, too. If it’s daytime outside, maybe he’s gone flying.
He has, as it turns out, but he comes winging down when he sees small figures moving in the factory’s courtyard, making his landing in a blast of sand and hot air. “What do you think?” the child asks, smiling. “You like the desert, right?”
“I do!” Titan sounds surprised at himself. “I know you said it would all be sand, but it’s still so much more than I thought! And it’s so warm. Flying is easy!”
“That’s what I thought,” the child says, but its pleasure is tinged by anxiety. Mewtwo could snap out of his trance any minute and come raging down here, take this as some attempt at escape. Which it is. The child wants badly to be gone.
“Okay, Titan. We’re going to Agate Village. Do you want to fly there yourself, or do you want to go in your pokéball?”
The charizard snorts and spreads his wings. “Fly, of course!”
“Great. You can follow me, then.” The only thing left is to change. Who will the child be for its second trip to Agate? Already Melanie Roth is in danger of attracting questions. She was there when Mewtwo attacked the shrine. People saw her.
On the other hand, only a few people care about Jade Winstead, and they’re all in far-off Kanto. Her form is easy and familiar. The child has to concentrate for only the barest few seconds, and then you are Jade Winstead, as nobody as ever.
You don’t look back at the factory. The hover-cycle is too small for you now, but you don’t care. So long as it gets you out of here.
Soon enough your whole team is crammed around a table outside one of Agate Village’s cafes. None of the restaurants here are designed for pokémon, but this one at least has outdoor seating, so Titan doesn’t have to cram his wings way down to fit them under a ceiling. Even so he has to stand next to the table rather than sit, and it’s a good thing you brought an adapter for Thunderstorm, because otherwise it wouldn’t even have been able to charge here at all. Even with that the magneton’s stuck floating down under the table, a taut extension cord leading from one clamped magnet back into the cafe. The cord doesn’t have enough slack to let Thunder be at eye level to everyone else, and you have to keep your chair pushed way back so you don’t bang it with your knee.
You can feel every passing person staring at you, somebody with four pokémon, and one of them a charizard, but you don’t care. The pokémon are noisy in high spirits, Togetic trilling brightly from her spot in the center of the table; your bagel’s delicious, loaded with cream cheese; and you are, blessedly, out from under Mewtwo’s shadow. You even picked up a newspaper before getting your breakfast, and though talk of Mewtwo’s stunt yesterday is plastered all over the front page, nobody really seems to believe it. Everything about it’s “alleged,” the camera footage shaky and indistinct, lots of eyewitnesses but all of them confused. The articles you read all seem to take it as a given that the story’s fake and all anyone saw was some other psychic pokémon–like Celebi, for example, who would make sense for Agate Village.
For some reason the paper seems more interested in talking about Kanto’s prime minister than Mewtwo himself, all about how Kanto’s offered high-level trainers, troops, psychic suppression devices, anything, all “for the safety of Orre’s citizens.” That last part keeps being repeated like no one thinks it’s true. Most of the articles are about boring politics instead of the fact that maybe the most powerful pokémon in the world is running around Orre causing trouble. You don’t understand, but you suppose it’s a good thing. If people are so convinced Mewtwo can’t be here, maybe they won’t do much investigating. The thought helps you enjoy your breakfast a lot more.
“All right, I think I’m warming up to this place,” Rats says, gazing off at one of Agate’s many waterfalls. “Not a big fan of all the sand and mountains and stuff, but around here? Find a nice grassy spot by the stream, yeah, that’d be great for a nap. Real chill.”
“I like it, too,” you say. “I hope we can find someplace to stay here. I did not see a hotel or anything.” Surely there has to be one somewhere. People from Orre must want to vacation here all the time, get away from the desert for a while. If there’s somehow not a hotel, then maybe you can find some cave or cranny down between the ancient stump’s roots. You don’t need much to keep you happy.
“Yeah.” Rats watches the fall’s spray a moment longer before turning back to you. “But that wasn’t what I was gonna talk about. I wanted to say, Boss, that leaving us alone yesterday wasn’t okay. We had no idea what you and Mewtwo were up to–where you were. And now I hear there was some big incident with Celebi?”
Yes, there are only crumbs left on Rats’ plate. Now that she’s eaten, she’s ready to start hassling you. “I did not decide to leave you,” you say darkly. “Mewtwo did. He wanted to leave way earlier, remember? He would not let me run down and get the rest of you. Besides, you did not miss much. Mewtwo would have done his stupid thing whether you were there or not.”
“Maybe,” Rats says. “But you should have woken us up to go with you in the first place. Yeah, I know I’m adorable when I’m sleeping and it breaks your heart and all, but this is important, right? We’re all in this together. For that to work, we need to be in this together.”
You lift your cup of coffee and then slowly set it back down, watching how the film of liquid in the saucer squishes as the cup settles into place. “I know you want to be part of this, Rats, but you should not be. It is dangerous. That goes for the rest of you, too.” You look pointedly at Titan and wish you could glare at Thunder, too. The magneton’s being awful quiet down under the table.
“We know the danger, Boss,” Rats says firmly, cutting off Titan, who looked like he might have been about to speak. “We’re here anyway. We want to help you. Don’t go freezing us out because you want to protect us or any of that crap.”
“You can still help me, even if you do not do anything with Mewtwo. You can help me. Just having you around makes me feel better. Let me hang out with you, cheer me up when I am sad. That is all I need from you. And you do not even have to do that.”
“Great. Cool. Friendship is amazing and all, but I’m not here to be your pet, Boss,” Rats says. “At least give me the respect of assuming I know when I’m doing something dangerous, and that I’m doing it for a reason.”
“I guess I cannot stop you,” you say bitterly. “But I do not have to help you, either.”
“So you don’t want our help, is what you’re saying,” Rats says. You aren’t saying that at all! You send an exasperated look at Titan, but he’s doing a good job of not meeting your eyes. Rats must have gotten him on her side already. You wish he wasn’t such a doormat sometimes.
“How do you think you are going to help against Mewtwo?” you ask. “What do you think you would have done when he was blowing up the shrine? Or flying away?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I couldn’t have stopped him. But maybe we can at least stop him from pushing you around so much. You need somebody in your court against a guy like that, Boss. Trust me.”
You stare down into the dregs of your coffee, stomach clenching with anxiety. It is nice that Rats wants to stick up for you. You only wish she would take commiserating about Mewtwo with you to be enough. “I just do not want you to get hurt,” you say. “Mewtwo hurts people. The fewer people he can get to, the better.”
“I appreciate the sentiment and all, but we aren’t abandoning you, Boss,” Rats says. “Don’t leave us behind again, okay?”
You want their help, you really do, but you wouldn’t have wanted them there when Mewtwo was threatening those children by the shrine. You wouldn’t have wanted them there the time–the time he burned down your house. But if you don’t agree, Rats is probably going to find some way to get involved anyhow. Plus she’ll be mad. At least for now… At least for now, you can say, “Okay. I will try. But Mewtwo might not let me.”
Rats relaxes, sinking down so her nose barely hovers above the table. “Good,” she says. “Okay, good. Thanks, Boss.”
You can’t say she’s welcome. Instead you tip back the remains of your lukewarm coffee. It’s okay. You were going to have to go and do things soon anyway. All Rats did was make you think about them earlier than you wanted to. “Come on,” you say. “Are all of you done?”
Even Thunderstorm buzzes, if sleepily. It’s time to go.
Mewtwo’s angry when you get back, because of course he is. His eyes glow with malice that makes your heart pound, and you can’t look full at him even while you force words out between your teeth and over his psychic complaints. “We all ate. I got you food. Here.”
The fish distract him a moment. “I got those from Agate Village,” you say. “They’re good, aren’t they?”
“Passable,” he says, tearing into the last one with his teeth, scraps of skin and translucent little bones scattering on the metal around his feet. You think they were somewhat better than that. If Mewtwo were even a little dissatisfied with them, you’d know.
“We should probably figure out where we’re going to stay soon,” you say. “I was thinking–”
How dangerous, Mewtwo sneers. You needn’t have troubled yourself. This is where we’ll stay.
“This? Here?” You look across the baking-hot metal of the factory roof, which gleams blinding wherever it isn’t rusted or obscured by sand. “Why would we stay here? Someplace like Agate Village–”
Is much too full of humans, Mewtwo says, with a feeling that makes your hand twitch in the beginning of a dismissive gesture. We have much more freedom out here.
“Mewtwo, everybody saw you come this way! You’re just lucky people are playing it off as some kind of hoax because they hate Kanto. If people keep seeing you, they will find us here eventually.”
We’d see them coming, Mewtwo says. No comment on the news articles he can see playing in your memory. Instead he strolls up to the edge of the roof and looks out across the desert. Quite a view from up here, isn’t it? You can see most of this ‘Orre.’ And, he adds over the beginning of your protest, I quite enjoy the poetry of it. The heart of Cipher’s old empire will be the seat of our power as we scour them from the earth.
Oh, poetry. So that’s what this is about. “Mewtwo, there isn’t even any electricity out here! Or water!”
Indeed. Getting the generator back online has to be the first priority. By which he means your priority, because you can’t imagine he’ll do it himself. After we meet our shadow friends, at least.
Right. The hypno and whoever else she’s bringing. The other shadow pokémon. “When? When are we going to do that?” You don’t want to drop what you were talking about, Mewtwo’s being ridiculous, you have to convey to him exactly how much of a terrible idea it is to hide out in the factory. But it’s nearly noon, and knowing him, he might have made you late already as some kind of stupid power play.
A couple of hours, judging by the sun, Mewtwo says lazily. You’re fortunate I didn’t have to come and get you. Consider that the next time you decide to slip away.
There are so many things you want to say, about how you can’t believe he’s threatening that, when him showing up in public would hurt your mission even more than it would hurt you, about how you know he’s trying to distract you and he’s wrong and it’s not going to work, about how you needed food, for him, too, it wasn’t slipping away. You can’t say any of it. Not one word. So what you force yourself to say instead is, “Where are they?”
The metal city. Pyrite. Look. He pictures the place for you. You see it as Hypno must, a looking-up image from the perspective of a squat pokémon.
“Pyrite?! Mewtwo, we have to leave!” It’s going to take at least an hour to bike there. “I can’t teleport. We have to do this the slow way.”
What’s the rush? Wouldn’t you rather complain about something or other?
“Get in your master ball,” you say, impotent anger bubbling in your chest. Mewtwo takes his time about finishing his meal, licking his arms clean with unhurried, precise little strokes. It’s only when your anxiety’s reached boiling, the very moment you’re about to give up and tell him to be faster, that he reaches out for the master ball. Of course it is.
Mewtwo disappears in a flash of red light, and the master ball clatters to the roof. The roof that’s supposed to be your roof now, for as long as you stay here in Orre.
You have to fight the urge to try and break the master ball. Toss it over the edge of the roof, let it be lost forever. You think you can actually feel Absol’s eyes on you, staring from the shadows.
Instead you pick the master ball up and tuck it into a pocket. At least you’re going to Pyrite, Orre’s biggest gangster town. There’s no way it can be boring.
Maybe someone will try to hassle you and you can punch them. With the way you’ve been feeling lately, getting to punch someone would be really, really nice.
You’ve seen Pyrite Town in so many movies that it almost feels like you’ve been here before. The place practically is a film set, all empty and quiet. The desert sun comes down like a hammer, gleaming off dingy metal siding and foil wrappers discarded on the margins of the dusty main street. Air conditioning units rumble and gurgle from every building, and neon signs buzz as you go past, flickering and fizzing on and off. They’re nowhere near as impressive as they will be after sundown. “The people here come out at night, like roaches.” You smile to yourself. That’s a line from Orre Sunsets.
You focus on the huge, cracked dome of the colosseum at the far end of town, squinting one eye and shuffling sideways, then forward, as you try to line it up with Hypno’s memory. Forward again, and then a lot more. You need to go up three streets at least. That’s the problem with getting a psychic picture for your directions: you’ll know the place immediately when you get there, but until you do, you’re going to be lost.
You aren’t worried. It’s barely past two, and if push comes to shove there must be someone here to ask if they’ve seen a hypno around. There’s probably only one hypno in all of Orre, like she’s some kind of legend.
Titan’s probably the only charizard, too. It’s hard to imagine somewhere with only one raticate, but maybe that’s what Rats is. Your team stays close by your side, staring around wide-eyed. They probably don’t find Pyrite as cool as you do; they don’t watch enough TV. You try to hurry up your hypno-finding for their sake. Nerves aside, Titan and Thunder are okay, but you can tell Rats is hot by the way she stays scrupulously in your shade.
With all the metal and machines and grit, you’d been thinking of Pyrite like a city, but it really is a town, one long past its glory days. Its main street runs through in place of the river that once carved out its sheltering canyon, but there are no other major roads. Its metal houses, all exotic colors and shapes, are rusting, and old machines, hunks of rock, the detritus of construction is piled haphazardly in building sites that look like they haven’t been touched for years. In the end you find the place that matches Hypno’s memory not because it’s in any way obvious, but because there aren’t many places to look.
You take shelter under a jutting roof-edge, in a sliver of shade, and Rats crams in beside you. There’s nothing to do but wait for Hypno to show up.
There aren’t any humans about, and no pokémon, either. It’s eerie. There are lots of desert pokémon, and you’ve never been in a town where there weren’t murkrow or pidgey or spearow chattering away on the rooftops, rattata fighting over rubbish in the gutters. It might be hot, and dry, but that shouldn’t mean there’s nothing. Fan turbines turn creakily, constantly, in hot blasts of wind that only seem to make the temperature worse.
“Well! This is cheerful,” Rats says after a couple minutes, and you can’t suppress a smile. Thunderstorm buzzes noncommittally, and Titan looks confused.
“It’s not supposed to be cheerful, Rats. This is where the bad people in Orre live.” At least most of them.
“Oh, really? They’ve got a whole town for that? Mighty convenient. Makes you wonder why Kanto doesn’t just round up all the bad eggs and chuck them somewhere grimy, too.”
“It is kind of strange,” you say. “Maybe because Team Rocket is too strong to let them do that.”
Rats finds that funny for some reason, but Titan says, “If this place is for bad people, then why are we here? I’d rather be flying.”
“The bad people are the ones who took Mew, so we have to go where they are. Maybe she’s even around here right now.” It’s funny. You hadn’t even thought that today, at last, you might find Mew. After everything else, could it really be that simple?
Maybe. But it’s a “maybe” that sets your heart fluttering until Hypno finally appears from a narrow side street. She stops in the middle of the road, her pendant a searing disc of light under the bright sun. You can tell she’s sizing your pokémon up, but then she waves. Finally, Mewtwo mutters in your head.
You walk over to Hypno, slowly–it feels like everything has to happen slower in this heat. “Who are these people?” she calls before you’re even halfway there.
“My pokémon,” you say. “They are looking for Mew with me.”
“I thought Mewtwo wanted to be discreet about this.”
I did, the clone says immediately in your head. If those pokémon are going to be a liability, recall them. Can a psychic like hypno overhear that? You hope not.
“They are coming with me,” you say defiantly, and it feels good to be defiant, with Mewtwo in his master ball and unable to do anything but seethe. “They want to meet your friends, too.”
It feels good, too, to have Rats step up beside you and say, “That’s right. Or have you got something to hide?”
Hypno gives her a long, hard look, then turns back the way she came. “Follow me,” she says, and doesn’t wait to see if you’re coming.
She makes one turn and then another, taking you from narrow lane into short alley and then through the ruins of a chain-link fence around what used to be somebody’s backyard. The house ahead gapes with glassless window-scars, so long abandoned that even its graffiti’s fading. Hypno hoists herself over an empty sill and into the dark interior. You follow, grinning. This feels furtive, and illicit, and very appropriate for Orre.
Rats follows in a scramble of claws, and Thunderstorm drifts sedately through after her, three eyes rolling in all directions to take in its surroundings. But Titan’s brought up short, peering in through a window that definitely won’t accommodate his girth. “Umm…”
You recall him and release him again inside, but you’re beginning to think it might have been better to leave the pokémon out of this after all. The building can’t be bigger than maybe two of the rooms in your old house, total, and it feels like no matter where you stand you’re in danger of getting swatted by one of Titan’s wings. Harsh sunlight streams through holes where the metal walls have rusted out, casting spotlight-circles on the floor. Everything’s covered in a fine layer of sand, and there’s more graffiti in here, too. Hypno leads you into what was once front room and kitchen both, judging by the skeleton frames of cabinets and the pipeless sink. In one corner the bare concrete floor is blackened, as if by fire, and trash is strewn around, old threadbare blankets and food wrappers and what you recognize with a fascinated shiver as a needle shoved up in one corner.
You can’t dwell long on the state of the house, though, because Hypno’s friends are already here. A great noctowl stands in shadow, eyes huge and gleaming, totally silent. Him you could imagine as a shadow pokémon, or even Hypno, who watches you with arms folded. But then there’s the heracross, who slurps loudly from a can of soda and says, “So which one’s supposed to be Mewtwo, huh? They’re all less purple than I expected.”
“Mewtwo’s right here.” You take the master ball out of your pocket and hold it up, then immediately feel stupid. “I guess I’ll, um, send him out. He has to stay away from the windows so no one can see him.” The last a warning to the clone himself, before you toss the master ball into the doorway behind you.
Mewtwo seems to unfold from his confinement, so tall his head nearly scrapes the ceiling, pale purple skin looking ghostly in the dim. He looms, and his psychic field settles heavily over the little house. You see Heracross and Hypno flinch, and Noctowl’s head turns sharply, his eyes widening. Not a bad entrance, you think sourly. Everyone backs away instinctively, and now you really are tangled up with your pokémon, Thunder’s ambient static tickling at your skin.
“Oh. Uh, wow,” Heracross says after a moment. “Guess you weren’t lying, Hypno. Noctowl, I owe you an ice cream.”
“So this is what it’s like to stand before a legend,” Noctowl murmurs. Mewtwo radiates catlike satisfaction.
You’ve done that before, haven’t you? he asks. Cipher captured several legends.
“None I ever met,” Noctowl says. “I heard stories, but it’s not the same as being there.”
“They had Lugia controlling the weather around Citadark Isle,” Hypno says. “That’s where I was. But I never met her, only saw the storm.”
Well, I’m sure it was a very impressive storm, Mewtwo says indulgently. Regardless. I appreciate you meeting me here today. What do you know about Mew?
There’s a long silence. “Well, I got nothing,” Heracross says. “You guys?”
“None of us saw her, either,” Noctowl says.
“Sorry. The people around us didn’t know half of what was going on with Cipher,” Heracross says. “Mostly they did what they were told and cashed the check, you know? Not questioning types.”
Then why, Mewtwo asks after a moment, am I here?
“Do you know where any of the important people in Cipher went?” you say desperately as the air grows heavy with psychic potential. “Like that guy, Greevil, or his sons? Or especially one of the scientists like, uhhh, was she called Lovey?” The three of them must know something, if they really were shadow pokémon.
Heracross appears not to notice Mewtwo’s growing anger. “Remind me who you are again?” she asks.
Answer the question, Mewtwo snaps, and the pokémon flinch from the sudden cold stab of his anger.
“I’m sorry,” Hypno says, raising a hand. “None of us knows about Mew. Not directly, anyway. But we know people who might. It was just that these two weren’t going to take my word for it that Mewtwo showed up and asked for my help. I knew they’d have to see you for themselves before anything else. And I… I had to see you, too. After talking to you yesterday, I guess I started doubting myself a bit.”
Noctowl nods, slowly and solemnly. “Even with people saying they saw you in Agate, it didn’t seem possible.”
You had me come all the way out here because you wanted proof of who I was? Blessedly, Mewtwo seems more confused than angry, psychic field eddying with conflicted emotions. You pick fretfully at your shirt while you wait for the explosion.
“I guess so,” Hypno says. “We had to be sure. It’s only been a day–give us time, and I promise we’ll find something out. Cipher hurt a lot of people, and some of them know a whole lot more than us. We’ll get in touch with some of the other pokémon who were captured by Cipher and see if they’ve heard anything about Mew.”
“And if they don’t know anything, we’ll ask them to talk to anyone they know who can help. And so on, and so on.” Heracross makes a vague circular motion with her can of soda. “There’s a lot of us out there. Somebody knows what’s up with Mew. Guaranteed.”
“It might take a while,” Noctowl says. “But we will try. We want to help.”
“And there’s loads of other things we can help out with in the meantime,” Heracross says. “You’re new to Orre, and we know plenty about it. You need a place to stay, a hover cycle for getting around on, anything like that, we’ve got you covered.”
Mewtwo doesn’t seem to know what to do with that information. What about humans? Do you know any of them who were part of Cipher? he asks after a moment, his oscillating emotions turning you queasy.
“No one important,” Hypno says.
Anyone, Mewtwo says. Anyone involved in Cipher would be better than nothing.
The pokémon turn to one another, Noctowl shifting slowly foot to foot. You wonder what Mewtwo’s seeing in their heads.
“Sure, right, there’s loads of former Cipher types around here in Pyrite,” Heracross says.
Excellent! Where? You’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to the way Mewtwo’s face stays blank no matter what he’s feeling. His excitement tingles in your blood, but he looks as ominous and detached as ever, lurking in the doorway in the dark. Maybe he’s leaning forward, slightly, perhaps his eyes are wider than usual, but there’s nothing more than that.
“The person who got me from Cipher lives in Pyrite. I might be able to figure out where,” Noctowl says. “But it’s not something I would… like to do.”
“Some of us would rather not know,” Hypno says.
But you. You do know. Mewtwo’s full attention shifts to Heracross, who grips her drink tighter.
“Sure, I mean, I think so, anyway.” She’s looking at Hypno like she expects some kind of help.
“Well,” Hypno says slowly. “Actually, we were wondering if you wanted us to show you around Pyrite for a bit. Just, ah, to get to know the place.”
Mewtwo’s too confused to even be annoyed by that. You wanted to give us a tour?
“We can point out places where goons might hang out while we’re going along,” Hypno says, rushing the words out in her enthusiasm. “If you’re interested, I mean.”
A tour, Mewtwo says thoughtfully, and you fight to keep your interest tamped down. He’s going to say no, maybe even just because he knows–because you can’t hide–how much you want to go. Yes, I believe that could be useful. There is much I have yet to learn about this ‘Orre.’
For a second you think you must have misunderstood. Since when does Mewtwo care about learning things? The clone turns towards you, face expressionless but an undeniable smirk in his mind, and you smile nervously back. What’s the catch? There has to be a catch.
No catch, Mewtwo says airily. These fine pokémon proposed a good idea, and I agreed with it. What’s so strange about that? He tosses his master ball to you with a flick of psychic power, and you fumble to catch it. Let’s be going.
You wish you could think of some reason to protest. Mewtwo’s purple eyes bore into you, the gentle amusement coloring his thoughts doing nothing to reassure you, and you can’t think of anything to say. With a flash of light, he’s gone, returned to the master ball.
As always when you leave Mewtwo’s psychic field the world seems brighter, the air fresher, and you’re so light you can practically float. You take a deep, relieved breath, then find yourself being stared at by the shadow pokémon. That exchange probably would have looked pretty strange to them, wouldn’t it? “Let’s go,” you mumble. Stupid Mewtwo, making you seem weird.
Outside the sun beats down mercilessly, not that it seems to bother Hypno’s friends. Heracross lets out a whoop and takes to the air in brief, buzzing flight. Hypno trots after, holding one arm out for Noctowl to alight on. Heracross lands at the end of the street and waits for her to catch up, burst of energy spent but enthusiasm clearly not.
“So that was Mewtwo! Hell! I can’t believe it!”
“And you doubted me,” Hypno says. You hang back, helping Titan back through the window and waiting for Rats and Thunder to catch up.
“Even Noctowl doubted you!” Heracross laughs. “Real smooth, making out like us two were the reason we had to meet him. Like you didn’t come up to me yesterday going on about how the most uh-maaaaa-zing thing just happened, I’d never believe it…”
“I have a professional interest,” Hypno says with great dignity, then breaks down and grins at Heracross.
“Yeah,” Heracross says. “I mean, damn. That’s power!”
The shadow pokémon’s conversation falters as you and your pokémon catch up with them. They didn’t realize you could hear them, did they? “Who are all of you, then?” Heracross says.
“Yes. How did you come to travel with Mewtwo?” Noctowl asks.
“We are helping Mewtwo. We want to find Mew, too. We were doing it first.”
“Hello,” Titan adds, cheerfully.
“Okay, but what are you?” Heracross asks, sparing hardly a glance for your pokémon. “You look human, but you understand what we’re saying?”
You shrug hopelessly. “I am me.”
Heracross frowns at you, but Hypno jumps in before she can fire off a retort. “Do you have a name, then? What should we call you?”
“I do not know. It does not matter. I am just me.”
“Don’t give the kid a hard time, huh?” Rats says. “Come on. Were you gonna show us around or what?”
Agreed, Mewtwo beams into your head. Get this moving. We’re here to get information, not bicker about exactly what you are.
Thankfully Noctowl saves you from having to nudge things along. “Yes, let’s,” he says in a voice that’s both gentle and firm. “I was told someone owes me ice cream. Perhaps we should head that way.”
“Yes!” In this heat, nothing sounds better than ice cream. It might not be what Mewtwo had in mind, but you can look for bad guys on the way.
“Let’s get walking, then,” Hypno says. “And in the meantime, well, you’ve seen… this.” She waves her hand around at the quiet street, its small rusty shacks, dusty rubbish-choked yards.
“Pyrite used to be much larger,” Noctowl says. “When the mines were open, people came from all over the world to try their luck.”
“People built shanties out of whatever they could find. Most of them didn’t last, but a lot of these places started out that way,” Hypno says.
“I can tell,” Rats mutters, eyeing the buildings to either side as you make your way down the street. Titan’s grinning vaguely, probably fantasizing about ice cream, and as usual Thunderstorm keeps its thoughts to itself.
“Some people who came here for the mines still live here today,” Noctowl says. You’re surprised Hypno hasn’t gotten tired of carrying him by now. He’s nearly as tall as she is, and holding him on her arm can’t be comfortable. Why doesn’t he just fly?
“Living in Pyrite, huh.” Heracross takes a loud slurp of her drink. “It’s a great option if you haven’t got options.”
Whatever that means. “There’s nobody around,” you say. “It’s so quiet.”
“Too hot,” Hypno says.
“Hot is right,” Heracross agrees. “Used to be everyone was down in the Under on days like this.”
“The Under! That was like that gambling place that Miror B. had, right?” A very popular setting for Orrenian crime dramas.
What? What ‘gambling place?’
“‘That gambling place,’ sure,” Hypno says with a smile. “It got shut down a few years ago. They completely filled it in. Supposedly it was unsafe.”
“Like it’s not unsafe being in the sun up here,” Heracross says.
“Well, it was unsafe,” Noctowl says quietly. “But what happened down there still happens. Just aboveground now.”
“It wasn’t all bad,” Hypno says. “That’s where ONBS got its start. At first they were fighting back against Miror B., and now they’re trying to do better for Pyrite. They uncover corruption, they educate people about what’s going on, they recruit human kids so they don’t end up in gangs. Miror B.’s gone. Cipher is… was supposed to be gone.”
“But you’re not here for the hope!” Heracross says. “What was it, hives of scum and villainy? Let’s see what we’ve got around here.” She drums her claws clinkingly against the side of her soda can. “Well, I can’t say I know for certain where to find old Cipher peons, but if you want some of the least reputable dives, I would check out Fool’s Gold or The Two Ursaring. The Copperside Club, too, if you want to be thorough.”
You try to keep up with Heracross’ pointing and commit each place to memory, but it’s tough. Especially with Mewtwo purring in your mind, making plans, all of them horrifying. All the buildings around here are rusty metal boxes shut tight against the heat and sun, their signs dark. Fool’s Gold is a garish red around its rust, though, The Two Ursaring long and low where most of Pyrite’s architecture is compact, and you try to memorize these details, already dreading Mewtwo’s response if you can’t find these places again later.
“There’s the park, too,” Hypno says.
“The park?” Thunder buzzes in polite confusion. Apparently Hypno means the expanse of pitted concrete to your left, a bunch of basketball courts, netless, that double as battlefields, judging by the craters and carbonized black stains. The air shimmers above them, and you reach up to wipe sweat from your face. It’s hot.
“They call it Battle Square. There have been fighting rings there since forever,” Hypno says. “Some are part of gangs, some are just aspiring trainers. Miror B.’s old crew used to hang around there.”
“My old trainer went there,” Noctowl says softly.
“Were they in Cipher?” you ask.
For whatever reason, Hypno’s the one who answers. “A lot of people who had shadow pokémon weren’t, at least not directly.”
Nobody talks for a bit after that, but the silence fills up with miscellaneous metallic creakings, bangings, scrapings from loose shutters, bad hinges, old fans; periodic blasts of hot wind. The buildings at this end of town look newer, mostly, with a lot of glass. Hypno breaks the silence to point one out, ONBS broadcasting headquarters. “And there’s the windmill! You can’t visit Pyrite without seeing the windmill.”
And yes, you see it, you think sourly. It’s nothing special. And it’s hard to focus when Heracross starts going off again about gangs in the area, where entrances to the Under used to be, notorious members of Pyrite’s underworld. Dizzily, you wonder how she knows all this stuff. Pay attention! Mewtwo snaps. This is the important part. What’s wrong with you?
Nothing’s wrong with you, but it is hot. You think you can actually feel the heat radiating from bare concrete, are amazed your shoes aren’t melting into it. “Is the ice cream close?” you ask. Ice cream sounds like the best thing ever except maybe a cold drink of water.
“Boss, hey,” Rats says, breaking away from a conversation with Thunderstorm to give you a concerned look. Why is she worried? It was a normal question.
Noctowl’s head spins 180 degrees so he can stare back at you. It nearly gives you a heart attack, and a tide of dizziness follows the clenching in your chest. “Are you all right?” Noctowl asks, and everybody stops.
“I am fine,” you say, somewhat undermined by the tremor in the hand you raise to wipe sweat from your eyes.
“I’ll go get you some water,” Hypno says.
“I said I am fine! I will get it myself.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Hypno says. “You haven’t been in Orre long, have you? It takes a while to get used to the heat. Here, why don’t you sit in the shade over there for a minute?”
You want to protest again that you’re fine, but the shop stoop, under a ratty, sun-bleached awning, looks too good to pass up.
Your pokémon crowd in around you, and even Noctowl flutters down next to you, watching with concern you find offensive. “Hey, fan,” Heracross says with a clack of her claws like a finger-snap, “make with the fanning, would you?”
Noctowl almost knocks her down with a wallop from one of his wings, but then he turns to you and begins to flap, buffeting you with a gentle breeze.
“O-oh. Right!” Titan says.
“Titan, wait–gah!” Rats covers her face with her paws as Titan fans his own wings, sending dust and rubbish flying. You cough and duck your head against the sudden cutting wind. It’s powerful, but it’s cool, and right at this moment it’s the nicest thing you can ever remember feeling.
“Maybe bring a water bottle next time, kid,” Heracross says, standing well clear of all the wind.
“I do not need one!” you snap. And if you didn’t have to look human right now, you wouldn’t have any problem at all. You can handle a desert just fine, probably for way longer than any of these three.
“Suit yourself,” Heracross says.
Then Hypno’s back, settling in as close to you as she can without getting swatted by Titan’s wings. She hands you a cold bottle of water with its cap already cracked. “What do you think of Pyrite Town so far?” Hypno asks while you guzzle it down. You can actually feel yourself reviving with each gulp.
“It is great!” you manage after a few seconds. You can muster up a little enthusiasm now that you’re sitting down and shaded. “It is just like the movies. I bet it is even better at night.”
Heracross chuckles. “That’s not the word I would use.”
“Be careful if you come back here after dark,” Noctowl says. “It’s not safe.”
For other people, maybe. You aren’t scared.
“Well, if you liked Pyrite Town, you’ll enjoy Orre,” Heracross says. “Pyrite’s basically the armpit of the whole region, so it’s all uphill from here.”
“I like it here,” Titan says, sounding a little hurt. You grin and reach back to pat his flank.
“I went to Agate Village,” you say after you’ve swallowed another mouthful of blessed cold. “That was really nice!”
“It is nice,” Hypno says.
“Phenac City is, too. That’s where Hypno lives,” Noctowl says. “Maybe she could show you around.”
“That would be great. And Relgam Tower! Can you really see all the way to the ocean from the top? Mount Battle sounds cool, too.”
“I guess I’ll just pencil the whole region in on your schedule,” Hypno says with a smile.
Absolutely not, Mewtwo tells you. We aren’t here to sightsee.
“You know, if you’re looking for old Cipher peons, you ought to visit the colosseum here, too,” Heracross says. “Duking’s in charge now, but there’s plenty of shady types who still battle there, especially since Deep Colosseum got shut down.”
“The colosseum! Yes, I want to go!” The shiny dome dominates Pyrite’s skyline, the terminus of its one real street. “You want to battle too, right?” You look up at Titan and grin. He nods sharply, eyes fixed on the far-off building. Thunderstorm hums thoughtfully, a quiet agreement.
“It might not be a good idea to enter a tournament here,” Hypno says. “Your pokémon are bound to attract attention. Not the kind you want.”
“Yeah, people are gonna start thinking ka-ching, ka-ching when they get a load of your fancy charizard,” Heracross says. “Magneton, too.” Rats makes a faint disapproving noise and combs at her whiskers.
“Fancy?” Titan looks so baffled you have to laugh.
You suppose even your gathering right here would look strange to someone from Orre: a human with a full six pokémon roaming around. You’ll have to be careful, or people might start to recognize someone who has a charizard, or a magneton, or even a raticate. You give the latter an uneasy look. That’s another reason why you might not be able to take Rats everywhere she wants to go.
Perhaps if you show that charizard around enough, the people we’re looking for will simply come to us, Mewtwo muses.
You clench one hand into a fist, anger backing up your throat. You want to say you’re not going to use your friends as bait, but you can’t, not out loud where everyone can hear you. You have to content yourself with tapping on Mewtwo’s master ball. He can’t even hear that, but he can tell you’re doing it, and that’s enough to drive him into a rage.
“It’s too bad you didn’t come here on a Friday. They have a tournament every week, open entry. That’s when the Three Musketeers battle,” Heracross says.
“Heracross,” Noctowl says warningly.
“The Three Musketeers? Like from Unova?”
“Bingo. The Three Musketeers, fighting for justice, defending the common pokémon, fierce friends until the end!” Heracross says, raising her soda.
“They come all the way from Unova to battle here?”
Noctowl hides his beak behind one wing, and you think he must be laughing.
“It’s us three. We’re the Three Musketeers. Of Orre,” Heracross says. “I’m Virizion, obviously. Noctowl’s Cobalion.”
“So that makes you… Terrakion,” you say to Hypno, uncertain.
“It’s not a perfect metaphor,” Heracross says. “But don’t underestimate her. She kicks harder than you might expect.”
“Some people are more invested in their role than others,” Hypno says, but she’s smiling behind the hand she’s resting her chin on. Noctowl fluffs himself and narrows his eyes, which doesn’t really have the wise and meditative effect you think he was going for. Rats stifles what you’re sure has to be a snicker.
“But that is so cool! You fight together? You fight the bad guys who go to the colosseum?”
“That’s right. Tell you what, you come down here on Friday, we’ll give you the VIP treatment. Backstage access and all that.”
“Yes! You will? I will be there!” You grin at Hypno and Noctowl, who continue to act half embarrassed, half pleased.
Oh, will you? Mewtwo asks, and it’s like he’s upended a bucket of icewater over your joy.
“It’s a date, then,” Heracross says. “Better be ready. If you’ve never seen a proper Orre battle tournament, you don’t know what you’ve been missing.”
You nod and force yourself to look at her, though you can’t manage another smile. There’ll be time for you to argue about that later. Mewtwo has no reason–no reason to stop you from going. Aside from simply being mean.
The pokémon make small talk, getting to know each other, and you mostly stay out of it, lost in your own thoughts. Even when you feel well enough to get up again and Hypno leads everybody to the ice cream place at last, it doesn’t make you feel much better. Mewtwo’s silence has begun to feel ominous.
The sun’s fading, the colosseum’s dome gleaming golden, when Hypno says she and her friends need to leave. By now it’s cold, genuinely cold, in the shadows, which stretch thick and dark all up and down the sides of the street. Here and there, people are out walking.
“Do you need someplace to stay?” Noctowl asks. “Heracross lives in a cave near here. You could stay with her if you liked.”
“Always happy to have guests!” the bug says, raising her soda in a phantom toast.
“We are staying at the Cipher factory,” you say. “Do you know where that is?”
That’s where they should bring their news. I want to know of any members of Cipher that they find. The sudden proclamation from Mewtwo makes goosebumps rise on your arms, and the shadow pokémon’s silence is icy.
“Really? That’s where you’re hanging out?” Heracross says at last.
“I’d pick Heracross’ cave over that, for sure,” Hypno says. “I’m not sure… why…”
“Mewtwo says it is poetry. I am sorry. I do not like it either.”
Such dramatics, Mewtwo says, irritated. It seems I’ll have to explain to them. Some other time, when I can speak for myself. You’d only make a mess of it.
It’s true you wouldn’t be able to explain Mewtwo’s logic. He doesn’t have logic. The factory is a bad place, no matter how he tries to twist it.
“Yeah. Okay,” Heracross says slowly. “I guess we’ll see you, then.” She draws herself up and flashes a cheeky smile. “If we don’t see you on TV first, anyway. Already got people buzzing about your visit, don’t you?”
It’s a good thing the shadow pokémon can’t feel the anger surging from the master ball. Or maybe Hypno can; she gives you a puzzled look, as though trying to focus on some distant noise. You close your hand over the ball, like that’ll block anything.
The pokémon are looking at you. “Sorry,” you say. “I have to go.”
Your friends fall in around you as you start to leave, and you’re already thinking wearily of your return to the factory, your lair–Mewtwo’s lair–in the cold and dark, when Heracross calls out to you. “Hey! Why the long face? You’ve got the Three Musketeers on your side, remember?” She raises her soda with a warm smile. “We’ve got your backs, all of you.”
If only she knew. If only she understood what she and her friends were getting into. You can’t muster anything more than a dull wave in response.
Your pokémon are quiet for a while, but ultimately Titan can’t contain himself for long. “We’re going to fight in another tournament?” His tail-flame leaps and dances with excitement.
“I don’t know, Titan,” you say wearily. “I don’t know if Mewtwo will like that.”
Oh, I do think I like it, the clone says in your brain. Let’s see what these ‘proper Orre battles’ are all about, shall we? I think I begin to see how this little excursion might work to our benefit.
You swallow hard. If there’s anything worse than Mewtwo not letting you do something, it’s him being enthusiastic about you doing something. “I’ll think about it, Titan,” you croak out. You’ll think about it far too much. You won’t be able to stop thinking about it until you know what awful thing Mewtwo’s planning. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”