Chapter Text
All aboard the S.S. Oceana. A place where those looking for a safe retreat had decided to vacation – a place to dispel of all one’s worries. Groups upon groups of people had all boarded long ago, waiting with anticipation to arrive at their destination. The light wind, the clear skies paired with harsh sunlight beaming down onto the ship – they were Aevium-bound, and even the birds circling overhead seemed to be excited for a fresh new start.
Whether one was looking to move, or simply wanted to tour the region, they were all bound together by a common goal. Aevium had plenty of sights to see, rumors of mystical mysteries and a rich history had spread relatively quickly to other regions. It was understandable for those to inevitably want to see it for themselves – and in a loose sense, it was harmonious; bringing a sense of safety already assured within most of the passengers.
Little did they know, that safety was soon to be compromised. While a young, pink-haired girl walks out of her room to meet her mother, ready to begin her journey – trouble brews in a completely separate area of the vessel… right below all of the commotion.
“Why the hell did we have to put on these shitty disguises, anyway?!” a short, black-haired man angrily rants aloud within his designated room – one that he was assigned to share with his mission partner, or if he was in a particularly good mood, his “conniving comrade”.
“Someone must’ve woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” the taller man retorts to his co-worker, rolling his eyes in that typically annoyed fashion he always seemed to have. “We’ve already been over this, Geara. It’s best for us to remain discreet. We’re only here for backup, anyways…”
The younger Executive immediately begins to mock the blonde, gesturing a talking hand – before replying, “Yap, yap, yap. I get it, cut the lecture bullcrap while ya’ still can, Zetta.”
A sigh. Zetta silently adjusts his own disguise, tipping up his white sunhat. For a short few seconds, he believes that he’s finally going to receive a moment of peace… before his partner continues on ranting, “I’m still pissed off over this, though. I mean, really?! A bowtie and suspenders – what am I, a little Victorian boy?”
“The point of a disguise is to look nothing like yourself,” he pointedly remarks. “Doesn’t take a first-class detective to figure that out – I’d never wear a sundress and hat combo with my hair down, and that’s exactly why it works. We look like plain and basic people instead of bad guys, therefore everyone will think we’ve got nothing to do with the eventual attack on this place… you get the gist.”
An annoyed groan from the other, as he dramatically plops down onto one of the beds faceflat and emits a muffled whine in tangent. Sometimes, he reminded Zetta of an angsty teenager… no wonder they didn’t get along well. Their personalities clashed, they were far too different for comfort – and he could have sworn he heard; “Ya’ talk too much.”
He’s far too busy in his own mind to be angry over the remark, however. His focus was solely on the mission, rather than taking the time to pettily squabble with Geara. A rare feat for him, given his commonly irritable nature – but no matter the case, he valued work over emotion at essentially all times. And if an operation where he was merely cast as backup was necessary for Team Xen, he would follow it without question. Granted, he could have gone without being paired up with the most annoying executive on the team.
“Right. Are we ready to get on out there, then? The area isn’t gonna scavenge itself, you know.” he puts his hands on his hips, raising an eyebrow at the shorter man.
Geara rolls over, now laying on his back as he stares up at the ceiling with a bored frown. “Not really. This is a lousy mission – courtesy of none other than Nastasia! Wow. Who would’ve guessed that one of the most boring asshats on the team would force us to be backup for somethin’ so stupid,” he sneers, “How come Cassandra and Madelis get to have a normal day, but not us?”
… Ah, now Zetta was visibly irritated. No matter how often he swears to himself to forbid his own emotions getting in the way of work, it seemed difficult to keep his temper low around certain people. Especially him.
“Leave them out of this, Geara. I don’t care for either of those two any more than you do, but we’ve got a job to do and that’s that. They’re busy with their own agendas, and we’re not – so we’re assigned as extra hands on deck. We had this conversation on the way here…” an exasperated sigh.
“Yeah, but is it necessary to do…” a semi-dramatic gesture to their surroundings, “all of this?”
“Well, you have been slacking off recently… and me? I’m mostly just here to keep you in check.”
Geara had grown uninterested in listening to his co-worker prattle on about work. He couldn’t be bothered to even reply as he slouched over on the bed, keeping a demeanor that practically screamed “get out of my room”. As such, Zetta takes it upon himself to continue on;
“Regardless, I think some fresh air would do us both good. Nastasia’s not all boring,” he exaggerates. “And you never know if it’ll be interesting or not until you get up and do your part in scouting the area with me.”
The reality of the matter wrote Nastasia wasn’t all that truthful about the operation, though. Who did and didn’t know of it was tightly kept under wraps – it was no matter, considering how busy their leader had been lately. It’d been an unspoken matter within Team Xen for a long time that if Madame X were to remain unavailable, Nastasia would be allowed to oversee all work-related matters until her return. She was trustworthy enough as is, and for warranted reason.
Zetta and Geara were none the wiser, and the only one who was more likely to snitch was Zetta. Granted, he was oblivious as always – in fact, they both were. Perhaps that sure-fire naivete was why she chose them to accompany her and Neved to begin with. An excruciating silence passes – and then finally, Zetta is able to perk his head up at that familiar voice.
“Just give me a bit,” Geara mutters out. Usually, that was code for never – Zetta knew this better than anyone. And unfortunately for him, he was just as stubborn. He promptly sits down on a nearby chair, arms crossed as he stares at him.
He could wait all day until he gave in.
It’d taken a lot of convincing, and pushing – but at last, Geara had decided to join Zetta in walking to the deck. In his own words, it was pointless to stand around in one spot. They could be using that time to scout the area – to focus on their surroundings, and ensure that every passenger was in the right spots at the right time. The banquet would be soon, he internally muses to himself… and in Geara’s potential words, that was when all hell would break loose.
Small groups of bustling people walk past the duo, chattering on about how amazing the cruise ship is and their excitement regarding Aevium. A certainly colorful cast – there was even a brown-haired girl eloquently playing the piano nearby, the musical notes filling up the room with united harmony. It was a cruel sense of irony, being amongst the very few people on the cruise ship who knew the tragic events that would soon unfold; and even worse, the ones who were willing to deliberately enable it for their own gain. Not that Zetta and Geara cared. One was in it for survival, and the other for twisted fun.
While walking throughout the cruise’s various hallways, taking turn upon turn – Geara keeps fidgeting with his bowtie, uncomfortably grimacing whenever he manages to accidentally tighten it rather than loosen it. In comparison to Zetta, he was far more zoned out; leading the blonde to swiftly grab ahold of his wrist and tug him the correct direction as they near the door to the deck. This makes him wince – was Zetta aware of just how strong his grip was? Hm… likely not.
“Here we go.” Zetta glances around, double-checking his surroundings to make complete sure that this was actually the deck, and he hadn’t just embarrassed himself beyond repair. “Wasn’t that long of a walk, was it?”
“No, it took forever,” he hisses out, forcefully tugging his wrist out of the stronger Executive’s grasp. It was difficult to tell whether he was being completely genuine, or sarcastic. Zetta hoped it was the former, as dramatism of any kind tended to grind on his nerves. And to be completely honest with himself, he wasn’t all that in the mood to argue.
Black shoes click against the deck’s floors, as Geara trudges over to the very side of the cruise – blue railings surrounding the entire perimeter. The sun was just as bright as he thought it’d be, and he has to squint at first in order to get used to it. At least the fresh air was a welcomed change of pace; not too hot, and not too cold.
“Well, tough luck. We’re here now, and we can get a better view of what’s going on like this…” Zetta walks over to now stand next to him, placing a hand on top of the railing. “No more point in complaining, I’d say.”
Most of it sounds like white noise, as Geara tunes him out – and that noise only begins to quiet down gradually thanks to a lack of reply; fostering an obviously one-sided conversation. They both needed a break from bickering, anyways.
Both of Geara’s arms rest on the deck’s balcony, gazing ahead at the sea with a blank stare. This wasn’t the first time he’d ever seen a good view of the ocean, he’d lived twenty years of his life being fortunate enough to be able to experience all kinds of sights – from aquariums, to beach sand and seashells to other kinds of cruise ships. After a while, he’d grown accustomed to things like this. What was there to be awed by, when he’d practically already seen it all?
Zetta, on the other hand, had never experienced much of anything. He never got to run on the shore, or feel the breeze against his skin – the sun beaming down onto him. He’d never seen the ocean for a prolonged period of time; never gotten to splash around in it and laugh with friends as if everything was alright in the world. He wasn’t familiarized with such mundane things like Geara was. For his entire life, he’d been cooped up within a laboratory – growing used to the smell of chemicals and the sight of medical equipment, the bleak muted colors that’d surrounded him from floor to wall since the day he–
“You look like you’re havin’ fun.”
A pause. Such scenery shouldn’t have nearly brought Zetta to tears – but he was far too amazed to even notice his own shell-shocked visage.
“... Yeah, maybe I am.”
It was strange, yet oddly familiar – and something about it felt so right. The way that Zetta’s hair lightly blew in the breeze along with his flowing garments, the way that something in his eyes twinkled with a form of awe, his captivated expression – it was all so much in the moment. He’d never looked this happy before; happiness was never something that came to him, in fact. He was the kind of person who spent all day remaining in a neutral state of emotion, mind focused on nothing but work upon more work… every now and then, Geara wishes that he could pull him out of that state and teach him how to live a little. Because whenever he finally lived a little, he was so beautiful. More-so than usual.
… Geara just couldn’t stop staring. It only occurs to him to snap his attention back to the shimmering ocean water as soon as Zetta gives him an inquisitive look; and his eyes dart away in a flustered panic, lowering his head further into his arms – chin now buried within them.
“Heheh. What’s up with you this time?”
“Nothing, Zetta…” he chuckles, a small smile appearing on his face as he rolls his eyes playfully. “I just can’t believe ya’. You’re acting like you haven’t ever seen somethin’ like this? It’s weird to see the workaholic guy so starstruck over some water.”
“Oh, I have,” his eyes dart away, and he can’t help but smile in return. “Never anything this crazy, that’s all. Didn’t really think I was being that off-putting about it.”
“Well, maybe you should try gettin’ out more often.” he suggests, raising back up from the railing and stretching. “Lotta stuff to do, even if Xen just hates letting us walk out of HQ for longer than 5 seconds.”
“Yeah… alas, duty calls.” Zetta’s expression returns to something more characteristically blank – whereas Geara’s shifts to something much more playful as it usually was. He holds back immature laughter as a response, which causes the taller man to tilt his head in confusion. He decides not to question it, however – head turning back to see the horizon.
Lost in conflicted thought, Zetta’s fingers mindlessly tap against the railing. It wasn’t every day that they were able to coexist together without exchanged glares and a vitriol unrivaled by any other. In fact, it was rare for them to go over five minutes near each other without beginning to argue. Was it a bad thing that such a common routine had finally been broken? Zetta’s thoughts begin to swirl around in a fit of varying emotions, whereas Geara’s still too focused on stifling back a laugh. The polarity was unsurprising at best; they never really were on the same page, even if the aggression had been removed from the picture. Not that they’d ever work on their synergy, except for times where it was direly required for missions – ah, well, that was a bit of a tall order too.
… Some more silence passes. And some more. And then, snapping the duo out of their supposed reverie, a voice on the speaker calls out an announcement regarding the S.S. Oceana’s banquet. That’s right – it was starting soon, wasn’t it?
“Ah… on that note, it looks like that’s our cue.” Zetta remarks, gaze now focused upwards as his hand is taken off the railing. He’s met with a frustrated sigh in response.
“Dammit, are you kiddin’ me?! I was having fun here for once,” he huffs, “Speak of the devil.”
“Well, we can’t stand around forever,” he turns around, long hair trailing behind him as he begins to pace off towards the banquet. “Let’s head off nearby, before we look a little too suspicious for skipping out on such an important event.”
Zetta was fully back to his usual, stern and serious self – and Geara would be lying if he said he wasn’t the least bit disappointed. If he could have captured a moment like that frozen in time, no stress or obligations to focus on working themselves to death everyday – then he would have. By no means was he fond of Zetta, yet strangely… he’d give anything to see him smile like that again. It was a crying shame that their moment was cut so soon.
His brows furrow, as he begrudgingly trails after his companion without another word. And in a surprising revelation amongst other little details and intricacies in his mind, he’d realized how listening to Zetta had actually benefited him earlier. He’d had just as much fun as he did when causing trouble all by himself. His face pales, and then reddens at the prospect. What an odd occurrence, indeed – he was thankful that Zetta couldn’t see him at that moment.
All retreat from the S.S. Oceana – a place once viewed as a safe haven for traveling, now taken down out of seemingly nowhere. Debris flies and crashes against the structure of the inside, and a heavy thicket of smoke wafts through the air, strong enough to even manage its way out of the ship itself. The stoked flames are present all throughout the lower area of the vessel, those still trapped nearby emitting panicked cries and screams for someone, anyone to help them escape.
The hostages had already been taken, the grunts aboard being quick to jump into action in order to follow their superiors’ commands. Their path was relatively clear of anything they couldn’t wade through, as they’d gotten fortunate – their instructors were more than adept with timing, and the flames wouldn’t be reaching the areas near the deck just yet. Regardless, they had to move fast; both were acutely aware of this, and took the extra steps to remain calmly prepared.
“For a backup role, we were in charge of jackshit,” Geara complains, casually striding back up to the deck with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.
“Well, that is the point of a backup role. It’s fifty-fifty that we’ll actually be able to do somethin’ significant,” Zetta replies, accepting of the situation as usual. “At least we got to order a lot of the grunts around near the end, you know? I’ve had backup operations where I do nothing but stand there and give off that relief that if things go wrong, the team has someone who can jump in right away to steer the cruise back on track.”
“Seriously?” a groan, “Now you’re usin’ ship analogies?”
The shorter man is met with a silence that reads “no time to talk”, as his co-worker continues to diligently hurry towards the entrance of the deck.
“Can I at least light somethin’ on fire?!” he exasperatedly interjects, breaking the silence. “As like, a big fuck you to everyone here. It’d be awesome.”
“No, Geara.”
“Come on, I’ve been on my best behavior all day or whatever the hell–”
“No, Geara.”
A dejected sigh. The door is hurriedly flung open, Zetta paying no mind to his companion’s obvious disappointment and inaudible muttering. Rather, he pulls out a Pokeball from his coat pocket – enlarging it. Geara takes note of this, eyes darting to stare at the capsule. If memory serves him right, then–
“Alright,” the blonde pipes up, tossing the ball up into the air as a Dragonite emerges from it. “Not sure if you were paying attention during the debrief, but this is our way out. Let’s hurry up before we become one with the good ol’ Titanic over here.”
A devious grin as he promptly begins to climb onto the Pokemon, hopping on its back before Zetta follows suit. “Hell yeah! About time we got some action that isn’t just dickin’ around – and we’ll get a view of all these asshats runnin’ in circles like scared mice.”
“Sure, if that’s what you want to focus on,” he mumbles out. “I’ll be keeping my eyes ahead, ‘cos I’m a responsible flyer…”
“Hah! Whatever ya’ say, Zetty – I’ll just tell you about what’s goin’ on down there and you can picture it in that big head of yours.”
A nod in reply – albeit, an unamused one. “C’mon, Centi,” he pats the side of the Dragonite, as he commands it; “Let’s head off now.”
As the ship began to crash and burn, a girl still searching frantically for her mother down below; the duo of disguised executives were already fleeing from the scene – the Dragonite taking flight and soaring far away from the nauseating smell of smoke. Their next destination: Team Xen Headquarters. They give prideful smiles to one another during the ascent, as if they were made for a grand escape like this. Whether they were at the front of the helm on operations or not, they’d still succeeded at playing the role they’d been assigned. And for once, that was enough. Being backup may not have always been the best source of busywork… but it was still enough.
Yet despite it all, Zetta and Geara were not friends. They would never be friends. They were nothing more than two co-workers with an overly complicated history, paired together with a now bitter rivalry. And even after today, and many other days ahead that drew on like clockwork – that was just fine with the both of them.
“Ya’ think your big sunhat’s gonna fly off into the ocean before we get there?”
“Eh… probably not.”