Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Division: Part One

(day 0)

Thousands are gathered in the streets of Pravlome. This city is the capital site of the island nation of Isria. A country similar in size to Australia. The reason for this gathering is the culmination of division and years of growing turmoil. Why? You may ask. The reason for this would-be celebration is the opening of a new skyscraper, owned by the economic giant Mraj Corp., a company in good relations with the Isrian Republic. The issue is not this building, nor its intentions, but its roots. The Mraj Corp. Skyscraper was built by the underlying issue dividing the country: Pokemon. The structure was erected not by paid, trained, skilled workers, but starving, malnourished, unpaid and abused Pokemon. What normally would take millions of dollars and years of labor took only $800k and 9 months for the government-regulated laborers to complete. 

Many Pravlomers recall seeing Pokémon falling from the building during its construction, whether it be from exhaustion, anger from their owners leading them to be pushed off, or even suicide. Nonetheless, the building was finished, and it will be officially opened today to the horror of many Isrians. This building, to them, represents the atrocities of the Isrian Republic’s regime. Armed guards surround the building, beating back protesters with batons, riot shields, and pepper spray. At the front gate of the skyscraper stands 2 men. One: Alfred Syneck, the mayor of Pravlome, and the other: Peter Urvan, the co-founder of Mraj Corp. in front of them a shiny red ribbon is strung up, waiting to be cut to signal the building's completion. The men face dozens of government-sponsored propagandist reporters while they hold giant scissors awaiting to slice through the ribbon.

The anger of many protesters drowns out the few supporters of this building and its symbolic stance. The reporters and journalists are frantically taking notes and pictures of the building, not the crowd, as doing so would show the Isrian Republic’s failure to appease these protesters. Urvan and Syneck cheerfully address the cameras, explaining the building in all of its beauty. Syneck is wrapping up an interview, still conjoined with Urvan by the scissors, when a crack rings through the crowd. Dead silence follows as Alfred Syneck clutches his chest, spewing blood from a fresh bullet wound. A second and third shot quickly follow, one hitting Syneck in the chest again, while the other catches the right leg of a fleeing Peter Urvan. Before Syneck’s body can fall dead on the floor, the Mraj Corp. Skyscraper flashes with a brilliant yellow and orange light. Instantly, the windows are shattered and shoved aside by smoke and flames as the once proudly standing building begins to be dismantled by explosions on every single one of its 113 floors. The crowd watches as the structure collapses in on itself, spewing debris and smog everywhere.

The guards scramble away from the building as the protesters take their opportunity to enact revenge. Among the dust filled streets, glass and concrete meet bone and flesh. People are ripped by the building’s aftermath, as they continue to beat on the guards. Urvan, along with the propagandists, are swallowed completely and crushed by the building. Many flee the rubble as emergency services pounce to help the injured, prioritizing the guards, of course.

The reports, broadcasts, and internet posts are too much for the Republic to censor as soon the entire nation knows about the attack. Many radicals, along with those fed up with the regime and its mistreatment towards Pokemon, take up arms. 

They begin to riot across the country, raiding armories, police stations, and military bases. Thousands are arrested or executed for treason in support of this “terrorist movement”. It still proves too much, as many Isrians begin to call for change. They have had enough, they want their Pokémon and freedoms back. The Republic deploys every correction officer, guard, and policeman they can muster to put down the insurgency, but it is all in vain. Over the next few days, the revolutionaries began to organize in increasingly large groups. With a population of around 120 million people, plus 12 million Pokemon, having around 60% of said population begin to revolt worries the Republic. Some choose to stay neutral, or simply not fight. Some join the Republic, due to its promises of good pay, benefits, and treatment. 

Many of the Revolutionaries congregate in western Isria, where there is more support for their movement. It is there, in the town of Logack, where they join to form the Isrian Liberation Army (I.L.A.). At this point, the Republic has tried to avoid acknowledging this on a national level, in a desperate attempt to stop the ILA short. However, as the three bullets screaming for change ended an agent of Isrian Tyranny, the Republic cannot let this go on any longer. By now, the ILA has a loose hold on about ⅓ of western Isria. The Republic mobilizes its armed forces, and cracks down on the labor camps holding Pokemon, transitioning them into weapons factories. 14 days after the assassination of Alfred Syneck, the Isrian Republic declares war on the ILA. The war of Isrian Liberation begins.

(Day 23)

“That’s it! I’ve had it with you! ” The shout arises from a home in the village of Formada. “GOOD! I’ve been planning on leaving for years !” A response comes from someone else in the house. The two feuding parties are Nathan Vaughn, a 58 year-old man and loyal Republic supporter. He has been in collusion with the Republic for two decades now, planning on starting a business. That business involved that of his son, 21 year-old Locke Vaughn, and his Pokémon, a buneary named Jocelyn. The plan Nathan put in place was to have the Republic let his son raise a buneary into a lopunny via his friendship, because he couldn’t be bothered to do so himself. After the buneary reached its maturity, he would take it and open up a nightclub featuring his prized lopunny. The Republic underhandedly supported Nathan financially and allowed him to keep the buneary out of a labor camp. The catch for Nathan was a profit cut to the Republic, but he had figured by then he’d be too rich to care.

Recently, Locke had thrown a wrench into Nathan’s plan. He announced to his mother by mail, who was neglectful and mentally checked out of the family, and his dad, that he and “Joss” (as Locke affectionately called his partner) would be leaving for the ILA once Jocelyn evolved, as Locke was afraid of taking a buneary into a combat zone. This is where the argument sparked.

“I can’t fucking believe you, Locke! I am gonna be so rich and you wanna fucking leave?! Like hell you’re doing that! To be quite honest with you…I couldn’t give any less of a FUCK about what you do, my buneary is staying here, and you’ll come back in a fucking coffin!”

“Hell no! Joss is mine, remember? I raised her, she’s my friend and my partner. She’s coming with me. I know she can’t stand another second with you, let alone without me.”

“Oh well la-dee- fuckin’ -da Locke! I’ve got that bitch’s ball, remember . She isn’t going anywhere unless I say so!”

Locke was fuming, but decided to storm out and slam his bedroom door with him inside. He sat on his bed and tried to come down, but it was futile, his plan was to run away with his buneary, and fight for the ILA. Locke still desperately wanted to do something about Jocelyn’s situation, but felt hopeless. If he ran away now, she’d be left behind. If he stayed, sure Jocelyn would have company, but he’d be left to watch as the ILA marched on without him under their banner.

“Locke?” A timid-looking buneary peeped.

“Joss?”.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry you had to hear us yelling like that.” He lifted her up off the floor and onto the bed

“It’s ok, I understand, I’m mad too.” She pouted and folded her arms.

“What do you think I should do?” Locke trusted Jocelyn would give an honest answer, as they both believed that since they were young: honestly would keep them from ever splitting apart.

“I want you to go. I’ll be fine here, I’ll…I’ll stop myself from evolving. You won’t be here so…I shouldn’t have enough friendship from Nathan to evolve!” 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you with him. Maybe if I steal your pokeball, we can run away together.”

“Hmm, maybe! I think I remember where he keeps it locked up. We can get it tomorrow!”

“Alright, well, it’s almost 10:30, wanna head to bed?”

“Alright. Goodnight Locke!” Jocelyn curled up in her small bed laid next to Locke’s.

“Good night Joss, see you in the morning.” He turned off the light and shut his eyes.

Locke struggled to sleep, knowing that his dad would now be extra vigilant to keep Jocelyn from being “stolen”. In Nathan’s mania to start his business, he took the buneary to one of the few Pokémon centers left to have it confirmed that she would evolve soon. Locke loved his partner, they were close ever since they met. Each of them could recall thousands of times needing the other’s shoulder to lean on. One particular time would always come to Locke’s mind. It was about a year and a half ago, when a thunderstorm rattled Formada. Jocelyn, with her sensitive buneary ears and instinctual skittishness, cowered under her blankets. Locke had just finished having another screaming match with his father, and received a (at the time developing) black eye from a glass thrown at him that would last for months. Both were on the verge of tears when Locke entered his room. He saw the quivering mass under the sheets and immediately shifted his focus. He took a deep breath, swallowed his despair, and picked Jocelyn up. Locke held her close and reassured her that everything would be ok and that they were safe inside. She seemed to have calmed down until looking up and seeing Locke’s bruised and bleeding eyelid. She began to cry harder, upset at his pain, and insisted she go get an ice pack and pain killers for him. He was touched at how much she cared for his injury, as she almost marched out of the room, trying her best to brave the distant storm. Although the story was definitely not calming in the slightest, it gave Locke the same warm feeling, and he drifted off to sleep.

Upon awakening, Locke felt odd, his gut said something was off. He got up, and saw Jocelyn’s bed empty. That wasn’t unusual however, as she loved to make herself breakfast in the morning. She probably woke up early . He thought to himself. Locke got up and walked into the kitchen, nothing, no one. He went into the living room, not a soul. He went into the other bedroom; so silent his ears rang. He frantically ran to the front door. The car was gone, so was Jocelyn and Nathan. He was alone, with no friends, and no family. He sank to the floor and began to tear up, feeling horrible for his partner, and what Nathan must be doing with her now. 

Dammit! I’m an idiot! I knew I should have ran away earlier, I knew he’d do something. All because of him and the Republic !

Locke’s anger slowly turned to rage, as his muscles tensed and his heart pumped harder than that of a marathon runner. His lungs took huge gulps of air as he got up and ran to the backyard shed. Inside he grabbed his dark green bicycle. Locke led it to the front of the house and laid it on the front porch. He ran back inside and scrambled through his room. He grabbed clothes, toiletries, his phone, and coat and shoved it all inside a duffel bag. He took one last look at his room before snatching a small picture of a grinning Jocelyn off of a nearby nightstand. He put on his shoes and threw the bag over his shoulder. Locke hopped on the bike and pedaled. He had no idea where to find the ILA, but he knew they were west, so he followed his phone’s compass.

The Vaughn’s lived in Midwest Isria in a relatively small rural town, so Locke wouldn’t have to travel too far compared to a Pravlomer all the way out East would. Locke pedaled for hours as he pumped adrenaline into his legs. His legs ached, as if the bike chain itself was stripping the flesh from his calves. Sweat dripped from his sodden clothes, leaving a trail behind his bike. After almost 11 hours of nonstop biking, Locke spotted something, a flag. A flag with a yellow square in the top left corner depicting a black star, the rest of said banner showed a diagonal pattern of half blue, half black. The ILA. He was home.

(Day 24)

Locke almost collapsed upon stumbling into the building flying the ILA’s flag. Some concerned revolutionaries rushed over and sat him up.

“Oh my god, are you ok?”

“Yeah….I’m fine” he wheezed

Someone gave him a bottle of water which he finished almost immediately. After a few minutes of heavy breathing and drying the sweat on himself off with a towel, someone asked.

“What brings you here kid?”

“I wanted to join…my dad…he took my Pokémon away, and I wanted to get back at that bastard and get her back.”

“Huh. Well, I don’t see why you can’t help, then. Follow me, I’ll get you situated with a boot camp.”

It had only been about a month, but the ILA was making staggering progress in regards to sophistication and organization. Not only had they made a strong foothold in the west, but they began to bolster their arsenal.

One main reason was the Republic’s inspectors. They were tasked with making sure every tank, transport, ship, and jet was absolutely perfect, over the fear of tarnishing their image as an elite fighting force. If they spotted any minor discrepancies, the war machine would be thrown into a graveyard. The Republic’s main flaw with this (besides wasting perfectly good weaponry) was that they almost never bothered to dismantle the trashed vehicles. So, the ILA quickly raided graveyards to equip themselves. By their logic, a jet with a small dent in its wing was just as good as one without it. A truck with a broken radio? They didn’t care. A tank with an unfinished paint job? No problem, they’d repaint them all anyway to separate themselves from Republic vehicles.

Still, Locke paced in his new barracks. They were separated like small rooms, with communal bathrooms, showers, and social areas. The rooms themselves were barebones, as it was all the ILA could afford at the time. Locke set his bag down on a stiff bed taking up about half of the room, with a fan and shelf above it. There was no closet so he’d need to put his clothes and belongings under the bed. He closed the door and fell back onto the mattress. He was exhausted, no doubt, but the thought of Jocelyn made his mind race faster than he had biked. The nerves keeping him awake clashed with the atrophied muscles and his worn out body. He wanted to sleep, but couldn’t. He wanted to cry, but couldn’t. He lied there for a few minutes before the exhausted now-soldier fell asleep. 

Locke rarely had dreams, especially if he slept during the day. However, while resting he dreamt of his friend. Jocelyn, now appearing to be a lopunny, stood in a dark room. Locke couldn’t move, and Jocelyn couldn’t see him. Slowly, a metallic scratching hit his, and Jocelyn’s, ears and grew closer and closer to the Pokemon. She backed into a wall out of fear as the scraping continued to advance on his partner. Locke tried to help but he had no control of his body. Finally, a dark figure began to take shape in the dim lighting. Right as the dream ended, Locke saw what appeared to be some sort of fork reach out at Jocelyn from the darkness. He didn’t wake up immediately, but a wave of sadness pounded his body as he woke up. He wanted to get this feeling out, but he just couldn’t. Maybe it was the new setting? Or the turmoil that had already happened that day? But the tears just wouldn’t come. Locke sat up on his bed, and stopped trying to open his tear ducts, as he was getting nowhere. 

Basic training started in three days, and Locke was more than ready. He was practicing steaming with anger and prepared to unleash it during his training. Over the next few days, Locke barely spoke, unless he had to. He was commended for his excellence during these days, it appeared as if he would stop at nothing to get to his end goal. The drill sergeants took notice, and he had an eye kept on him as a prime candidate for skilled platoons, and special operations requiring a gifted and determined soldier. He would swiftly be assigned to a battalion just short of the frontlines. Locke would get his first taste of combat in a few weeks.

(Day 36)

Basic training for Locke was short, not only because of his natural determination for combat, but because the ILA was desperate to get all trainees to the front. Stationed at a small fort a few miles behind the frontlines, Locke along with 46 other men sat around in their concrete home. They weren’t expecting any sort of attack, at least not one without warning, so the men loitered about for hours on end. Locke didn’t mind that much, even if he was itching to avenge his partner, he knew he’d have to wait.

The fort itself was designed to only hold off a foot assault, and featured a large concrete pillbox built into the side of a hill. The only weaponry besides standard issue rifles and pistols were three 50 caliber machine guns mounted at the front of the fort.

Even with all of the scouting teams and lookouts the ILA had, they failed to spot a small platoon of Republic soldiers, taking an armored transport boasting a covered machine gun turret out of its top. No one in the fort was prepared for when the onslaught began. It was only 7:12 AM when alarms went off in the bunker. Locke shot up from his bed and beelined for his rifle and helmet, and sprinted towards the open slit in the pillbox.

The men were hammered by the transport while the machine gunners peppered the foot soldiers. They couldn’t seem to stop the machine from rolling towards them. Locke was trying to focus, but it was all a blur as he moved from target to target, trying to slow down the invaders. Eventually, a bullet cracked through the skull of a machine gunner to Locke’s right, seeing the bullet protrude from the back of his head, stuck in the helmet. A medic dragged the man away, but it was clear as day that he would not make it much longer. Despite the shock, Locke took up a position at the machine gun and tried to take out the transport. He tried hitting the tires, the front, the sides, the hubcaps, possible weak points, but nothing seemed to stop the metal beast lurching toward him and his brothers. Hitting the mounted machine gun was near impossible, and wouldn’t guarantee to put it out of commission. After a few seconds, he noticed a small, but decently sized vent on the front right side of the transport, it was starting to bend after being hit by so much lead. Locke tensed his arms, trying to keep his sight steady on the vent as it kept bending under fire. He was sweating and the heat of the machine gun made his hands nearly turn red in pain. Eventually, one got through the vent, and fire shot out of any and every hole, crack, or crevasse in the transport, like a flamethrower on wheels. Seeing this, the remaining Republic troops ran into the nearby forest as the ILA picked most of them off while in retreat.

Locke nearly collapsed from exhaustion and fatigue as he received several fist bumps, pats on the back and head, and handshakes. It felt good to have accomplished something that he thought was little more than standard duty. In reality, he (mainly from the demand of his comrades) was promoted to an even higher ranking position which would see him become part of the ILA’s most advanced and capable subdivision of soldiers.

(Day 48)

Over the past few days, Locke had been relocated back out West for more training. He familiarized himself with the new gear and weapons he would be expected to handle. One of which was his very own CR-52, a semi-automatic rifle which chambered 36 .30 caliber bullets. It was, for good reason, called the “Rolex of rifles” often, due to its superiority in durability, cooling, maintenance, reliability, and relatively compact design. Another piece of equipment was a wrist mounted Damascus steel arm blade that could be extended and retracted when needed. Though its main use was for cutting through brush or obstructions, it found its use in hand-to-hand combat as well. For a sidearm, Locke and others in the program were equipped with an MLAG-226, or just a “Lag” for short. The “Lag” was the standard issue 12-round semi automatic pistol, nothing special, but got the job done when needed.

This lethality all came together in a body armor suit capable of covering the wearer's body almost completely, making them able to shrug off medium calibers and granting them immunity to small arms fire. Each suit was complete with a visor and heads-up display with radio capability and GPS system. It’s safe to say that the unofficial slogan of this division coined by its members was “this is where the budget went”.

To say Locke was happy to be a part of this program would be a gargantuan understatement. He soaked up every lesson, exercise, and practice session. Still determined by Jocelyn, he soared in the program with flying colors, and proved his worth in this division. The official name of which was the EOS, or Elite Operations Solder. They were deployed in set groups of anywhere from 2-5 and were often the ones behind stealth operations, extractions, advanced reconnaissance, and data gathering/stealing. There were only around 100 EOS members in total, but were regarded as a prestigious part of the ILA. Even if they were known to be ruthless killers when confronting the Republic, towards Pokemon and brothers in arms they were the definition of respect and compassion. Locke exhibited this only a few days into his training.

(Day 48)

Locke was fond of taking walks at night, to go over in his mind how he’d soon see his partner again. He thought about embracing his beloved buneary again, holding her close, trying to forget they ever went without each other. It made him feel good, and almost even better when it came to his father. He often fantasized on how he’d enact his revenge on him. All sorts of manic judgment coursed through his mind that night. Locke became so lost in thought, he didn’t even notice that he’d wandered off into the woods.

It felt like he was called there, for whatever reason, like an invisible person taking him by the hand and leading him further into the trees. Eventually, he snapped out of his dreamlike trance and saw the headlights of an industrial grade truck clamber towards him. Locke adjusted his eyes in the face of the lights as he realized the truck had the distinct markings of a Republic vehicle. He dove behind some brush and waited for the vehicle to pass, hoping it hadn’t noticed him. Before it got within a few yards, he once again felt that ghostly tug, this time towards the truck, beckoning him to get closer. Locke knew this had to be some sort of sign, so he ambushed the truck.

He picked up a heavy rock nearby and hurled it at the windshield, cracking it. The rock bounced off, but got the driver to stop abruptly. Locke sprinted towards the vehicle and practically tore the passenger side door off to get in. He grabbed the assault rifle next to the distraught Republic soldier and dispatched him with a handful of rounds. After his ears stopped ringing from the gunfire, he heard something from the back of the truck, some sort of…sobbing? Locke ripped the keys out of the ignition and walked around to the trunk. Keeping the rifle at the ready, he opened the trunk’s metal doors.

After the metal doors swung open, he saw a Pokémon, most likely on its way to a labor camp, huddled in a corner, pressed against the walls, crying hysterically and shaking like a wet dog. The Pokémon was a hatterene, standardly sized and shaped, with messy and thick fluffy hair, which stuck out at certain points and formed swooping bangs over her eyes. Locke lowered his weapon as he felt his heart strain at the sight. Was this what was calling me here? He didn’t have time to think it over now, as the Pokémon whimpered like a puppy and cowered even more at the sight of him.

“Hey, how are you?” He tried to stay calm.

“W-w-w-what are you d-d-d-d-doing here?” Her lips quivered on almost every syllable.

“I’m here to help you get out. Are you ok? Does anything hurt?” Locke carefully placed the rifle down and stepped into the trunk.

“N-n-n-no im-……n-nothing hurt-t-ts.” He could now see the streams of tears absorbed in her hair and still pouring from her eyes.

“Ok, good. What’s your name? I’m Locke.” He gestured to himself.

“M-m-m-my name is Hail-l-ley.” She wiped her tears, but they quickly returned. Locke moved closer, hoping to comfort Hailey.

“Hello Hailey, do you mind if I help you?” He scooted over to try and put an arm around her. He knew hatterenes were dangerous Pokémon, but this one seemed more terrified of him than anyone would ever be of her. Clearly evident by her flinching as Locke moved to put an arm around her, as if she wasn’t tensely shaking enough.

“N-…yes-s ple-ease.” She sunk into Locke’s arm and leaned against his side. Even if her bangs concealed her eyes, he could tell she was exhausted. Locke tried to calm her down by rubbing her. His hand pushed down a few tufts of hair sticking out, only for them to sprout up the instant his palm relieved its pressure. Hailey continued to press herself against him, harder the more the small witch shook. He wrapped another arm around her dress and drew her up. He lifted her close to his chest to try and ease her anxiety. She practically clung to him with her tentacle as her tiny arms repeatedly wiped her eyes.

“Hey, can you tell me what happened? How did you get here?” Hailey swept tears from her eyes before answering.

“T-they c-c-c-came to my h-h-house and put-t-t m-me in the truck, they pointed guns at-t-t-t me a-and I-….I-“ she buried her face in her hair as she sobbed violently. Locke tried to soothe Hailey, but it didn’t seem to do much.

“Ok, I’m going to take you back to my camp, I will get you a private room where you’ll be nice and safe. Got it?” She stifled a shivering nod. He picked her up, and started the trek back to his base camp.

(Day 48)

Locke kept his word, and had a private quarters prepared for Hailey, complete with every fixture and amenity one would need to live somewhat comfortably. Hailey, seemingly exhausted from nonstop crying-which was now reduced to teary eyes-sat up in her bed. Her attention darted in all directions, worryingly looking toward any noise that reached her.

“Are you going to be ok by yourself?” Locke asked, looking at the trembling witch.

“I…uh…..”

“It’s ok if you’re still scared, a lot happened. Do you want me to stay with you?”

“Yes…I would like that.” He couldn’t see her eyes, but Locke sensed them shift to a warmer gaze. He pulled a chair to her bedside and sat down. Hailey snuggled herself under the sheets and shuffled a few inches towards Locke. Just as she was getting comfy, a roar of jet engines rose from the distance. Hailey shot up, confused and scared as ever. She made her way towards a window just in time to see five ILA fighter-bomber jets return from a sortie.

“What was that?!” She was as stunned as she was scared.

“What? You’ve never seen a jet before?”

“….no…” she was shaken up and began to tremble again. Locke led her back into her bed, and began to explain.

“So a jet is…” for the next hour and a half, Locke did his best to explain aircraft to Hailey. He was surprised to see Hailey become fascinated with aircraft the more he went on. So much so that her bubble of anxiety and shyness seemed to disappear for a while. As much as she wanted to ask a million different questions, it was incredibly late and even if no one could see them, her eyes were barely pried open.

“Wow, thank you.” She said, as a weary smile formed on her face.

“No problem, I used to talk about this kind of stuff all the time with my friend.”

“Used to?” 

Locke hardened and he seemed to freeze staring at her. Hailey could sense his emotions beginning to amp up as she drew into her hair and sheets. After a few seconds, Locke exhaled deeply and crossed one leg over the other.

“Goodnight Hailey.” From what she could tell, he had calmed down from whatever nerve she had accidentally struck. 

“Goodnight.” She turned over to face the wall. “Sorry if I upset you.” Locke didn’t hear her, or at least pretended not to.

(Day 49)

Locke would fall asleep only a few minutes after Hailey. During his sleep he had that same nightmare again; same scraping, same dark room, same Jocelyn, same prong-looking arm. Once again he could make next to no sense of it, other than that he felt the instinct to claw the eyes out of whatever was coming to hurt his partner. He tried to brush it aside as best he could, as he now had a hatterene to tend to.

Around mid-day (as both had gone to bed very late, and the only reason Locke wasn’t reprimanded for such was due to his spontaneous rescue mission), Hailey had mentally built up the courage in herself to ask Locke something. He couldn’t tell when she tapped him on the shoulder, but she was about five seconds away from giving up and locking herself in her room alone out of pure nerves.

“Locke?”

“Hm?” He turned to face his friend.

“About that jet last night…”

“What about it?”

“How would…” She took an internal meditative period to re-collect herself. “How would I be able to fly one?” Hailey blushed hard, as she expected her moonshot of an idea to be stomped into the ground under Locke’s armored boot.

“Oh? I can get you signed up. The ILA-AF is always looking for more pilots.” Hailey could barely believe herself as her already warm with embarrassment head began to feel light.

“Really? I can just…go?”

“Yeah, they have an express training program that will get you flying in no time.”

“Ok uh…where do we sign up?”

What followed was a brisk walk to a registration office. However upon reaching the door, Hailey froze.

“You ok?”

There was a muffled whimper as Hailey had drawn her hair in front of her face like curtains. Locke put an arm around her and led her to a nearby couch in the waiting room.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” He said, brushing aside a portion of her thick hair. Hailey remained unresponsive as Locke could see her tiny body quivering once again.

“I-I-I don’t know, I…I d-don’t want to be alone again.” His heart sank as he began to cold sweat, he thought he was relieving her stress and anguish, not adding to it. Locke wasn’t too sure how to handle her, they had just met, so he stuck to what he knew: hug her against him and talk in a low voice.

“I can make sure you have a place to stay with plenty of others and people to keep you safe. You don’t have anything to be afraid of. There will be plenty of guards and new people to meet.” Once more, his words fell flat on the vibrations of her body.

“I…I want you…”

“Hm?”

“I want-t you to st-t-tay with me…I-I dont want new people.” Hailey was on the verge of tears, as evidence of her beginning to gasp for air. Locke tried to calm her down and reassure her of her safety.

“Ok…I can stay with you, but you will have to come with me to where I’m stationed…that’s all I can control.”

“O….ok…j-just-t please don’t leave.” She wrapped her tentacle and tiny white arms around him as best she could. Locke took her up tightly and carried her back to the room. On the way there, he once again tried to soothe the witch.

“Don’t worry Hailey, I’ll make sure you stay with me. No one will take you away.” Hailey didn’t need to question him, as it was clear how serious he was. Finally stable, she snuggled up in his arms while being carried back. She was still crying, but the tears were from a place of bliss. She was happy for the first time in a long time.

Epilogue:

Over the next month, Hailey and Locke would be stationed on an aircraft carrier named the ILAS Pointman, which patrolled the southeast area of the Isrian island. Hailey would begin her flight training-with a confidence boost from Locke-as a naval pilot. However, when her friend wasn’t around, she spent her time in their shared quarters, which was conveniently isolated to just the two as no sailor wanted to risk sleeping near a witch Pokemon whose species is known to be violent. Locke, when not accompanying Hailey, remained relatively quiet, he still yearned for his partner, who he was sure was out there somewhere. Over the next few days in their boredom, Locke would inform Hailey of his ultimate goal, which she felt indebted to help him achieve in some way. It was while discussing this on a lower deck when they spotted a small silhouette floating atop the waves.

Division: Part Two

(Day 79)

It has been about two and a half months since the Isrian Civil War began, and its first foreign toll was soon to be paid. Just a few miles East of the Isrian Coast stood a small archipelago of islands. Bairo, as the nation was called, had politically kept its distance from Isria, as it juxtaposed many ideals held by the Republic. Mainly, it’s laws regarding Pokemon, as cooperation between them and humans had been tradition and culture for centuries. The Bairosians simply didn’t understand why the Republic would do such a thing, and there were very few who could blame them. 

Even if they were neutral, Bairo had been stockpiling munitions for years to hopefully ward off any invasion threat. This, however, had almost the opposite effect. At the beginning of the war, the Republic was seeking cheap military gear, and now they had just the place to get them. Almost overnight the Bairosian islands were surrounded by the Isrian navy, as the shores were mercilessly pounded with artillery shells. The Bairosians could not mobilize quickly enough to stop the invasion. The 17 islands of Bairo fell one after another until they had to sue for peace. The negotiations were naturally harsh: Bairo would forfeit its entire arsenal and military force to the Republic, pay an ungodly sum of money, and hand over government control of all 17 islands to puppet governors put in place by the Republic. Needless to say, Bairo was staring at the gaping mouth of the Republic preparing to swallow them whole, and they could do nothing.

One of these islands, Vanoto, was home to a family consisting of a married couple and their Pokemon. Paul and Fiona Deutin were never interested in having children of their own, so they raised a Pokemon as their pseudo-child. The adopted Pokemon, a Primarina named Mina, was their pride and joy. She had a singing voice that was finer than any silk on Earth, and a heart of such pure gold the carat scale would do her an injustice to deem it 24. Mina could often be seen in the village square at night, performing for the audience in nearby houses. Her voice soothed even the most rowdy and agitated babies, and made anyone who heard her sing forget about the troubles of their lives. To put it simply, she was adored by all Bairosians who had the luxury of hearing her sing. 

She wasn’t perfect, however, as her incredible voice came from years of learning echolocation. Mina was born without vision, not even the slightest ounce of sight. She had eyes, yes, but they were permanently glazed over and resembled silver pearls inside her skull. She didn’t seem to mind, as her natural optimism never failed to keep her in high spirits and almost always upbeat. That was, until the invasion.

(Day 79)

Upon hearing the news, the Deutins practically shoved Mina into the basement. They would be heartbroken to see her be taken and made to serve the Republic. She, of course, understood despite being a little pouty about having to live isolated underground. Almost daily, she could hear the tanks and transports rolling through her once peaceful town. As the Bairosian resistors were cut down by the merciless auto canons of tanks and helicopters, Mina’s heart broke for them. The only time she dared come upstairs to eat and freshen up was in the dead of night, usually around 3-4 in the morning. She knew what had to be done, but was almost brought to tears upon watching Paul and Fiona take down pictures and memorabilia of her and hide them away, lest they clue the Republic’s secret police in on her existence. 

The police searched every house biweekly on random days. In the first month of occupation, it was mostly a quick look through the doorway. However, the aggressiveness ramped up exponentially as policemen regularly turned over every house in search of hidden Pokemon. The Deutins, seeing the writing on the wall, decided Mina needed to escape. 

Vanoto was on the smaller side of Bairo’s islands, and meant no one was more than 2 miles from the shore. So, one night, Paul shook Mina awake at 3:25 AM and told her to get in a large duffel bag he had out. She was confused but complied, her “parents” were always nice to her, treating her as equals and showing constant affection towards their daughter, so she had no reason to suspect anything. Paul carried Mina out into the car and drove. Mina wasn’t sure where they were going, but knew that being out at this hour was against the Republic-imposed mandatory curfew. Paul sped towards the beach and hauled the bag and himself out. Realizing what was going on, sirens erupted throughout the island and searchlights burned the tropical island with their glare. He unzipped the bag and let Mina out.

“Dad? Where are we going?” She recognized the route they had taken, the turns and stops were memorized by now as she loved going to the beach. She had no answer from her father. Paul was quiet as he grasped the Primarina in his arms, hugging her incredibly close. She could feel the tears streaming down his face. He broke the hug, and put both hands on Mina’s head, pointing her out to sea.

“I want you to swim…you…you need to go, you’ll be safer in Isria. Find the ILA, they’ll take care of you ok?...don’t come back until you’re sure it’s safe ok?” He was breathing heavily as Mina began to tear up as well.

“Me and mom will be fine, don’t worry…please…” Mina, tearstricen, pulled herself out to the water and began to swim. She swam for hours before resorting to floating on her back due to exhaustion, she wasn’t conditioned to swim so far for so long and had pulled nearly every muscle in her body.

Little did she know, the Republic had found the pictures of her back home and, after not finding her in the labor camp’s files, made sure she would never hear from her parents again.

(Day 81)

Hailey and Locke seemed to be the only ones on the Pointman to notice the primarina drifting in the calm waves below the ship. Even if there wasn’t anyone else nearby-as to Hailey’s liking-no one else noticed the white chest and head of Mina floating beside them. The two did a double take before recognizing that the seal was most likely near death.

“Whatdowedowhatdowedo?” Hailey began to panic as she turned towards Locke, who by now had become her trainer in some ways.

“Uh, uhm-there!” He pointed to a lifebuoy attached to a long rope that was used to rescue a man overboard.

“Hey!” He called down to Mina, as the floating ring was lobbed over the deck railing. No answer came from the Pokémon, as all that was signaled was a turn of her head and prying her eyes open a sliver. The buoy smacked the water a few feet away from her. However she was too weak to swim over to it. Hailey, realizing (and sensing) Mina’s exhaustion and anguish, outstretched her tentacle and slowly guided the ring towards the seal with her psychic abilities. What followed was a grueling 30 seconds of Mina moving her spent self into the buoy. After she seemed secure, Locked dug the toes of his boots into the railing and began heaving her up the side of the Pointman. Hailey wrapped her tentacle around the rope and combined its strength with psychic power to help her friend haul the stranded Pokémon on deck. As she slowly ascended towards her rescuers, Mina’s arms, head, hair, and tail all dangled towards the ocean below. She could barely even register what was happening due to the fatigue, starvation, and mental pain that had gripped her for nearly 3 days straight.

Finally, the two managed to safely yank the Pokémon all the way towards them. Locke began to examine Mina while Hailey lifted the buoy off of her. Mina’s eyes were still their usual cold silver, but her face expressed a sense of exhaustion, she hadn’t slept at all while stranded, and the water was too salty to sustain her body. Despite this, she was breathing, albeit heavily, and seemed to be stable in terms of any injuries or immediate concerns.

The two lifted her up and carried her to a mess hall nearby and sat her up in a chair.

“Hey, you ok?” Locke asked, hoping she was still with them. All that reached her lips however was a faint groan.

“We’re going to get you some help ok? You’re safe here now, just wait here a-“

“She needs water.” A gruff and masculine voice grunted from a corner of the hall. It was between lunch and dinner, so it didn’t make sense for anyone else to be there.

“Excuse me?” Locke said, as Hailey cautiously eyed the origin of the voice.

A gray, 6 foot 4 urshifu rose from his seat and walked over to them. He looked as though his eyes could split the Pointman in two just with a gaze, and as if his body emanated an aura that commended the utmost respect of those around him. It was clear he’d watched the two heave Mina up the side of the ship from where he was sitting.

“The thing hasn’t eaten, slept, or drank in a while. She’s dehydrated, get her some water.” Locke wanted to snap back at the urshifu, but forced his anger down in favor of helping the primarina. He ran and got a large cup full of water and brought it to her mouth. He carefully assisted her with drinking as he held his hands around the glass and her face. Mina drank the whole thing in one go before gasping for air and holding out a flipper to signal her need for more. The urshifu was already ahead and had prepared a second glass in the meantime. Hailey, slightly alarmed, silently quivered to herself at the prospect of having to meet two others. She hoped Locke would try and comfort her, but he was too focused on the more urgent task. She wanted to leave and go to her bunk, but it would be rude and unkind to do so in a situation like this. As the bear-like Pokemon poured the water down Mina’s throat, Locke asked:

“So what now?” 

“I don’t know. Do you have a spare bed to lay her in?”

“Yes…two actually.”

“Take her there and bring her some food.” Locke was offended at the urshifu’s near patronizing way of commanding, but he knew it needed to be done. The bear lifted her up, prepared to carry her. It was at this moment Locke noticed Hailey starting to panic.

“Could you do us a favor and make this primarina some food?” She seemed to calm down at the sound of Locke’s voice, it had become somewhat of a comfort to hear it.

“Ok” she answered silently, floating away.

As she left, the urshifu slung Mina over his shoulder to reach out his right hand.

“Garrison.”

Locke gripped his hand and shook it, his prior disdain subsiding.

“Locke.” He tilted his head and pointed with his chin at the hatterene. “And Hailey.”

~~~

Locke led Garrison into his room where he laid Mina down on one of four unoccupied beds. Locke sat on Hailey’s lower bunk (his was above) and Garrison took to a nearby stool.

“So, what brings you here?” Locke said, attempting to strike up some sort of conversation.

“Parents.” The bear said, staring at the wall, resting his head on clasped hands. “We were all placed in a camp near Tropyn. I was able to escape.”

“And your parents?”

“I don’t know, we were separated when we started out at the camp.”

“Oh.”

Locke was suspecting Garrison to ask him something in return, but he seemed disinterested in him entirely. By now, Hailey had returned with a plated sandwich chalk full of tomatoes, lettuce, cucumbers, and bell peppers. Confused with what she was supposed to be doing, she set the plate on the nightstand next to the primarina; half expecting her to pick it up herself. Locke stood up and attempted to feed the exhausted seal. To his and the other Pokémon’s surprise, she began to eat the food that was guided into her mouth.

After about ten minutes of Mina taking slow, silent bites, she had finished her first meal in about 3 days. The Pokémon had regained enough strength by now to nuzzle her face against Locke’s. Before he could ask her anything, she yawned and promptly fell asleep.

“I think she’ll come around.”

“Yeah…” Hailey agreed.

“So.” Locke turned to Garrison. “We could use another roommate.”

The Pokémon pondered more as Hailey quietly began to sweat. She wasn’t sure if she could handle not one, but two new strangers sleeping in her room with Locke. However, she was too stricken with fear to interject.

“I guess.” Garrison grunted. And the deal was sealed, Garrison brought his things from his room (he wasn’t so fond of his roommates there to begin with, so the change was welcome) and took the bunk above the rescued Pokémon.

Locke and his witch friend helped Garrison move in, and notified command of the change so they wouldn’t get into a screaming match - especially in front of Hailey. By the time they were done it was close to dinner time, and the primarina had begun to stir in her bed. The three crowded around her and watched as she started to move. None of them had noticed until now that her eyes resembled fine pearls that reflected the ceiling light breaking through the seal’s caretakers. Locke, looking to stimulate her further, gently grabbed her hand.

“Mmmgggh.” The primarina groaned, her eyes now open fully.

“Hello? Are you ok?” Locke asked, trying to stay quiet.

“Mmm-huh? Wha…” her sentences drifted into nothing as she started to move more.

“You were stranded, we pulled you up. Remember?” Garrison asked bluntly.

“Uh….oh-oh yeah. Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome.” Hailey squeaked, retreating into her hair, thinking she’d said too much.

“So, does anything hurt at all?”

“I feel sore everywhere. ” She said, throwing her arms up, and unknowingly smacking them on the top bunk.

“Ah! Hey where am I?” She said, confusing the three. After a few seconds, Locke informed her:

“You are on the ILAS Pointman, an aircraft carrier. Don’t worry, we aren’t with the Republic.” The primarina sighed and turned her head towards the group, although not directly at anyone.

“Is….everything ok? Are you seeing alright?” Locke asked, unintentionally making the seal’s face a tinted red.

“Oh uh, yeah…about that.” She laughed nervously. “I’m blind.”

“Huh. Well, I uh.” Locke looked embarrassed, and she could hear it in his voice.

“Oh no no no it’s ok! I know it’s awkward but no worries you’re good.” She gave a thumbs up, also directed at no one.

“I’m Mina by the way.” Her thumbs up broke into a splayed hand for a handshake aimed in Locke’s general direction. Locke grasped it and shook.

“Well, uhm, since you can’t see, there’s an urshifu to my left named Garrison.” The Pokemon let out a low, uninterested noise that resembled a greeting. “And to my right there’s a ha…” Locke felt a tap on his shoulder, which he turned to see Hailey nervously shaking her head and making a “shh” gesture with her claw. Locke stepped back and came in close to the witch.

“What’s wrong?”

“I….I don-n’t know, I just don’t want-“

“There’s a what to your right?” Mina asked.

“Uh, one second.” Locke answered, before lowering his tone to a whisper. “Look, this nice lady seems to want to meet you, all you are going to do is say hello. Ok?”

“O-…ok.” Locke gently wrapped his right hand around Hailey’s claw and led her over to Mina’s bed.

“Sorry about that. This is Hailey the hatterene.”

“Heya Hailey.” Mina said, causing Hailey’s grip on Locke to tighten as she gulped.

“…hi.” She said as fast as the word could leave her mouth. The hatterene let go of Locke and floated back.

Meanwhile, Garrison had taken note of the time and stated, “Dinner.” Locke and Hailey looked towards the clock, while Mina looked in Garrison’s direction.

“Huh, yeah. Ok, we’re going to the mess hall. Are you still full?”

“Yes, thank you very much.” Mina smiled, the effects of her being stranded showed no hindrance toward her.

“Ok, we’ll see you in about an hour.”

~~~

Locke and Garrison were the only two that left, as Hailey liked to stay behind. Not only did she require not nearly as much food as the average person, but preferred to eat in solitude or with Locke. She hoped Mina would have assumed she had left with the two guys, but the seal's heightened sense of hearing picked up on her small movements and breathing.

“Hailey?”

The hatterene was silent for a moment before forcing a “yes” out.

“Is something wrong? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“no”

“Ok…..welp. I’m gonna take another nap, it was nice meeting you.” No response.

Mina turned to face the wall and readjusted her blanket. Hailey sat on her bed and tried to focus on a book while it shook in her nervous grip. Though in reality it wasn’t a terribly draining thing for most - especially aboard a military vessel - to meet two new people, it welled up inside Hailey. She tried to push down her anxiety, hoping it would collapse under the mental pressure, but it backfired. Now it was her who was breaking down, as she tried to remain calm. She started tearing up, and barely knew why. It felt overwhelming as it crawled over her, the feelings of nervousness and embarrassment sucker punched her and had sent her spiraling into a panic attack. Hailey had wrapped herself with a blanket as tightly as her springy hair would allow and silently wept, bringing back memories of being locked in the back of the truck.

She remained that way for the next 45 minutes, while an ignorant Locke and Garrison ate dinner. Upon their return, Garrison opened the door and locked eyes - the best he could with her swooped bangs in the way - with Hailey, and closed the door.

“The other one needs you.”

“Oh no…” Locke firmly pushed his way past Garrison and into the room while signaling for him to go somewhere else. He begrudgingly, but understandably, set off elsewhere.

“Hey…everything alright?” He rested his hand on her side. Hailey gave her head a small shake and looked down. Though she seemed to only have accelerated her anxiety, she internally had wished he’d returned sooner. 

“Do you want to go for a walk together? Maybe that will help you.”

She shook her head again.

“Well what’s the problem then? Why are you like this all of the sudden?”

“I don-nt kno-o-ow. I…I just start-t-ted to feel n-nervous and….” Locke pulled her in closer.

“Everything will be ok. We’re here together and surrounded by nice and friendly people. Mina seems like a very sweet girl and Garrison seems to respect you.” The last part was a white lie, but Locke didn’t care much for that at the moment. Hailey took another gasp for air and tried to calm down. After a few minutes of physical and emotional security from Locke, she felt her anxiety subsiding.

“Thank you…” she forced a smile through her tears.

“You’re welcome. Now you should probably get to bed soon. It’s late.” Locke broke his hold on her as the witch emerged from the blanket.

He went outside where Garrison was standing. For the rest of the night the two made small talk about recent events.

(Day 82)

Mina was the first to wake up the next day. Her blind eyes opened as the sounds of rampant stomping and running rang throughout the ship. A few moments later, the other three were jolted awake by a loud blare from sirens. It only took a few moments to hear the roar of jet engines and cannon fire. 

Locke and Garrison rushed out to see swarms of Republic jets sacking the Pointman and other vessels in her strike group. Surface-to-air missiles sprouted from the various ships, but couldn’t keep up with the multitude of fighters. As the two left for their defensive posts, Garrison looked back at Hailey. She was shaken up by the sirens and had frozen in the corner of her bed. Upon seeing Garrison, she received the signal that he thought she was pathetic. She was a fighter pilot, and if anyone was to be in a hurry it should be her.

Hailey gulped, and briskly floated to her hangar. She was sweating cold as she approached her designated aircraft. The witch had proven to be a natural at flying and grasping procedures, but was yet to fire a weapon. She yanked herself into the cockpit, which had been especially tailored to her, on account of her being high value due to size, and a good word from her friend. Before it felt like she could get a breath in, she was staring down the runway. Hailey went into tunnel vision, the noise of the conflict around and above her slowed to a droning hum as her engine lay waiting for takeoff. She couldn’t bail now, there were others waiting for her to take off, and she would definitely be court martialed; if not discharged for failing to follow orders. Nonetheless, she shook her head to stop herself from getting even more anxious from the tunnel vision, and by doing so, saw a small light and dark blue speck to her right. Mina was in the hangar. Hailey had been so caught up that she hadn’t noticed the Primarina following her. She had followed her noise and engine sound and waved directly at her jet, beaming a smile in her general direction.

Hailey felt herself relax slightly, before realizing she still was yet to take off from the runway, it had been only about ten seconds, but the internal eternity had strained her. Nonetheless, Hailey, with renewed and foreign confidence from her guest, gave the jet full throttle and slowly pulled the stick back to leave the runway.

The whole time, she had to remind herself to simply follow her lessons, and pretend it’s a drill. Now in the sky, it was an aerial melee, there was little communication from the control tower, as it had just scrambled every jet it could muster without forming groups. As far as the ILA pilots were concerned, it was every man for himself.

The witch figured she’d have to pick someone off first, and found a Republic jet preparing to turn into a chase behind a friendly fighter. Hailey prepared to pursue but was startled by a sudden tapping on her fuselage. It felt like she had flown into a hailstorm, as she could barely register she was being shot at. Partially out of instinct and fear, she tugged the stick to go nearly vertical, a maneuver that would make larger pilots pass out. Her assailant knew this, and could not follow her, breaking his chase. She pushed back down to face the jet ahead of her, almost dead center on her nose. Her plane descended until she was staring nearly directly into the engine of her attacker. Hailey squeezed the trigger, sending a light-yellow stream of lead into the jet. After a few bullets had penetrated the back of the enemy, the pilot tried to evade. Not a second later, Hailey’s target burst into flames, as the engine spat black smoke and fire. The jet teetered, trying to coordinate itself, before the pilot ejected over the open ocean. Hailey watched in disbelief as her first aerial victory cycloned into the waves and exploded.

She had no idea what to do, but was quickly reminded the battle wasn’t over as a streaking jet screamed by in front of her. The witch collected herself and began to seek another target.

~~~

On the carrier, Garrison and Locke sprinted through the hallways. Neither could do anything against the tempest of aircraft above them, but they could help get the wounded to safety and repair damage.

They eventually split up, leaving Locke to search for anyone unable to escape near damaged areas of the Pointman. After what felt like miles of gray hallways eventually fogged over into a smoking chamber of wreckage. He saw a few splintered rooms sacked by an explosion. Locke held his breath as he moved past a plume of smoke and into one of the mangled rooms. Only then did a scream break through the crackling and rumble of the fight.

“HEEEEELP!”

He could make out a fellow soldier pinned against the wall by a heavy shelving unit. Locke climbed over the crates and metal shambles of what vaguely resembled a kitchen.

“You ok?” His eyes burnt from the smoke.

“MY FUCKING SHOULDER!” The man yelled at him. “TAKE IT THE FUCK OUT!”

Locke could now see a metal pole had lodged itself between the man’s right shoulder and the wall. Locke ran over and pressed his hands against the cold steel and heaved the shelves away from the man, freeing his lower body, but leaving his arm suspended against the wall. He grabbed the pole in an area between the soldier’s shoulder and the wall and yanked it out, leaving the man’s puncture still plugged by the metal. He groaned as Locke tried to support him with a now blood-coated arm to lead him to the medical bay. The wounded ally sternly muttered curses under his breath almost every other step. He and Locke hacked at the smoke until their lungs were sore and they were away from the wrecked area of the ship.

After they had made it only halfway to their destination, Locke suddenly picked up his wounded brother in arms and carried him over his shoulder the remaining distance. They eventually made it to see a jarring scene. Stretchers and hospital beds were packed with other soldiers with medics and nurses swarming back and forth to triage the situation. Locke set the man on his feet again, and without any exchange of words a medic briskly took him to an open area to treat him. 

Realizing the medical team had the situation inside the ship controlled, Locke headed up to help fight off the assailants. He ran to his locker room, which was still intact, and donned his E.O.S. gear. Now prepared, he grabbed his designated rifle and quickly made his way onto the deck. It was then when the pandemonium truly hit him. There didn’t appear to be any order to anything; jets took on any prey they could find, every gun still functional in the Pointman’s strike group was red hot as they were aiming for anything remotely resembling a Republic war machine. Meanwhile, a swarm of helicopters was fast approaching, using the initial jet onslaught as a front to conceal their arrival. With them quickly coming into view, the preoccupied ships were blindsided with barrage after barrage spitting from the attack helicopters. Almost immediately, a smaller corvette blew off its bow and began fatally listing to the left.

Locke, now getting a look at the main event of the assault, ran to the edge of the Pointman’s runway closest to the helicopters. A few of the other ships had started to try and pick off the easier to hit choppers, but mostly remained unaware or unable to divert their attention. Locke straddled parallel to the nearest helicopter’s nose, and raised his gun to meet his right shoulder. He slowed his breathing as his sights aligned with the cockpit, and took his shot. Nothing, the bullet sprang off the metal armor, barely missing the glass. Locke adjusted to his target as it came closer, and shot again. The glass cracked, but the bullet remained suspended between the pilot and the outside. In his frustration, Locke quickly sent two more shots the chopper’s way, this time, striking the pilot, causing the vehicle to veer left before spinning out into the water. By now, the AA teams had taken full notice of the very imminent threat and began shredding through the helicopter formations with their guns. 

Locke took a few more shots at his targets, but came up empty. He could also see Garrison carrying around munitions boxes for the gunners. The stalemated air melee began to slow down as each side's numbers dwindled. The Republic had superior pilots, but the ILA made up with support from the warships. Eventually, the Republic realized their attacks futility in continuation and turned for home. Of the 70 aircraft the Pointman had launched, 23 safely landed, with another 11 having ejected their pilots.

Now meeting up with Garrison, Locke waited with baited breath for ILAF-59 to come into land (he had committed Hailey’s tail number to memory). Eventually to his relief-Garrison didn’t seem to pay much attention-his friend landed, and was being lowered into the hangar. Locke and Garrison made their way down to meet her, Locke’s mind racing with a million concerns as he watched Hailey stumble out of the cockpit. He immediately ran up and gave her a hug while she subsequently vomited over his shoulder.

~~~

“Oh-….oh my….I” Locke removed his helmet and looked at her.

“It’s ok, you’re ok, you’re safe, you-“

“I did it!” Hailey threw up her tiny arms as she reciprocated the hug.

“How do you feel?”

“Like…like I’m having a panic attack….but, I’m not anxious…”

“That’s good-that’s” he looked over at a mildly interested Garrison. “Let’s get you some water.” Locke took Hailey back to the room where she shivered with adrenaline and nerves. She rehydrated and started to calm down.

“Where’s the blue one?” Garrison raised an eyebrow, acting as though Locke was responsible for Mina’s whereabouts.

“I’m not sure, did you see her?” He turned to Hailey.

“No…she was with me before I took off though.” 

The group began looking for Mina, darting around the ship. Locke began to fear that she had been stranded in a room that incurred serious damage. She couldn’t see any danger coming towards her, nevermind escaping rubble and debris.

“You two keep looking, meet at the runway in twenty minutes, I’m checking the infirmary.”

 The team split up, frantically looking for their fourth member. Locke turned a corner to hear what he was convinced was Mina’s voice. Making his way towards the sound, he saw Mina sitting outside the packed and chaotic infirmary, sipping a water bottle and wrapped in a towel.

“Mina!” She turned in his direction and tilted her head.

“Locke?” He sprinted towards her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Are you alright?” He looked her over, but she looked completely healthy outside of being soaked. “What happened?”

“I heard people screaming in the water, so I helped them get to rescue boats”

The ILAS Samaritan, a cruiser in the Pointman’s strike group, was outfitted with a large infirmary and a small onboard fleet of motorized dinghies used to retrieve wounded soldiers. Now that the battle was over, the injured would be slowly funneled to the Samaritan for higher quality treatment.

“You brought people to the Samaritan?”

“Is that what it’s called? I just followed the boats.”

“How did you know where to go?”

“I listened. I learned to use my voice to find things. I think it’s called echo-……echo…..uhh”

“Echolocation?”

“Yeah! Echoloshathon!”

“Anyway, let’s get back to the others. They’re looking for you too.”

“Hailey’s back?”

“Yes, all of us are safe.”

“Oh goodie! I’m so proud of her!” Locke took her flipper and began to lead her back to the runway. Mina continued to talk about her exploits and anything mildly related to what transpired. As much as Locke would have liked to remind her he never asked about this, he had neither the energy or heart to tell her off. She radiated joy in the most annoying but innocent way.

Upon reaching the meetup spot, Locke spotted Garrison zoning out around him and a distant, fidgety Hailey swiveling around for her friends. Seeing Locke and Mina, she contained herself as she floated over, with Garrison waltzing behind.

“Is she ok? She looks ok……are you ok?” Hailey nervously asked, as if she was expecting horrible news. 

“We-“

“Omigosh hi Hailey!” Mina nearly put the hatterene in a chokehold as she hugged her.

“I’m soooooo so so so proud of you!” Breaking the hug, Hailey gasped to fill her tiny lungs and respond.

“Thanks.” Hailey peeped.

“We’re fine, Mina made it out ok.” Locke repeated, completely this time.

Garrison, folding his arms, looked over the area. “We will be relocated soon, I suggest we all ask to be stationed together again.”

“Awwwwww you do like being with us after all.” Mina said, touching a flipper to her heart.

“No.”

“Then why do you want to stay with us?”

“Because, it brought action.”

“You’re superstitious?” Locke asked.

“Sometimes.”

“Uh huh.”

~~~

The group slowly made their way under the cloudy and mourning-stricken deck towards the barracks. On the way through the ship, Locke looked around at some of the warped and mangled rooms. The group seemed to move on without him as a room he’d never seen had its door blown open. The room had a gaping hole in the wall bending metal inwards. It appeared to be some communication room, with tons of receivers and decoders, part of it looked like it was tasked with intercepting Republic communications. What else was left was someone’s ruined lunch of a Caesar salad, some notes from what looked to be a tech support (“if the decoder stops working hit shift 3 times” read one), and a slurry of burnt and shredded papers, one was laminated and pinned to the wall, reading:

“Mboplk lkb: Zljb fk Obmryifz zlkqoli

Mboplk qtl: Obmryifz zlkqoli, pqxqb fkqbkqflkp

Mboplk lkb: F xj Alzqlo Jlrdpq, F tfpe ql pmbxh tfqe Jo. Qoxpbqqb

Mboplk qtl: lkb jljbkq

Mboplk qeobb: Ebiil? Jlrdpq?

Mboplk lkb: vbp

Mboplk qeobb: al vlr exsb kbtp lk qeb C.F.P.Q.?

Mboplk lkb: vbp! Tb’ob xijlpq alkb tfqe qofxi mexpbp, lro molpqebqfzp molsb aroxyib xka tbii rm ql qebfo qxph.

Mboplk qeobb: tebk tfii fq yb obxav clo ifsb qbpqfkd?

Mboplk lkb: tbii, vlr pbb, obpbxoze exp zljb yxzh ql jb…xka

Mboplk qeobb: vbp?

Mboplk lkb: C.F.P.Q. Zlria bxpfiv zxrpb pbsbob kbroxi axjxdb lo xiqboxqflkp, tb jxv exsb ql pzxib yxzh qeb buqbkq ql tefze-

Mboplk qeobb: F’j ploov yrq tebk afa F xph clo C.F.P.Q. Ql yb x prkpefkb xka oxfkyltp plirqflk. Vlr qefkh fq jxqqbop? Fc fq zxk al texq fq kbbap ql, tel zxobp?

Mboplk lkb: vbp, yrq fq zlria yb x txpqb fc tb alk’q-

Mboplk qeobb: vlr qefkh fq fp jv obpmlkpfyfifqv ql cfu qebpb fpprbp Jlrdpq?

Mboplk lkb: kl pfo.

Mboplk qeobb: qebk vlr bfqebo cfu qebj klt lo alk’q ylqebo xka zlkqfkrb lk ql jxhb prob C.F.P.Q. Zxk dl xp cxo xp mlppfyib. Kl. Buzrpbp.

Mboplk lkb: rkabopqlla…….Jfpqbo Qoxpbqqb?………pfde”

Locke didn’t even bother and moved on to his barracks. The room, despite clearly being rocked by the battle, was undamaged. Hailey and Garrison gathered their scattered things while Mina took a cat nap.

“Her fortitude is unreal.” Locke remarked in his head.

“I put your stuff on your bed.” Hailey mumbled as she hovered past him.

“Thank you.”

The next few hours were theirs as the injured were evacuated briskly while the well were left on the ship. Mina stared into nothing while Hailey shakingly read one of her books. Garrison and Locke started exercising in the cramped room, seemingly trying to one up the others' difficulty. Mina interrupted the increasingly obvious masculine show off about twenty minutes in.

“Jeez, you know I can hear you two, right?”

“What about it?” Garrison snarled.

“Me and I’m sure Hailey have had enough of you guys sweating up the room and almost breaking the top beds doing pull-ups.”

“Fine.” Garrison said

“Sorry Mina.” Locke resigned

The two men dispersed and tried to entertain themselves over the next hour until they would be escorted off the ship. The group remained silent for a while until they were called to the deck to be transported off. As per request they were granted the same barracks to stay together throughout the rest of the ordeal. The four would try to relax as they were unsure where they would end up, and if they’d see one another again. Hailey couldn’t stop thinking about it; as did Locke. Mina daintily went about her day without a care in the world it seemed. Garrison didn’t seem to care if the rest of them lived or died.

One day would pass as their transport ship made its way back to its destined port. During the journey Locke had the same nightmare again. Still unable to make out the creature trying to claw its way toward Jocelyn, he woke up in frustration. Frustrated that not only was Jocelyn lost somewhere, but even in fantasy all Locke could see was her suffering. The spike in anger drove Hailey to hastily check on him while still half asleep. He noticed the witch staring at him with her head tilted slightly forward and to the side.

“Hailey?” He whispered.

“Hm?”

“Why are you up?”

“You were angry.”

“I-yes, just a dream. Don’t worry. Now get some sleep.”

“Ok.” She slowly turned around and flopped onto her bed.

Locke tried to fall back asleep as easily as Hailey did, but kept feeling his anger begin to well up. He took a folded up sheet of paper he hid inside one of his bags and re-read the plan he’d been looking over feverishly since its completion a week ago. As soon as he set foot on land again he’d start to ready himself. The pieces would be falling into place soon. Jocelyn would be coming home. Whether he would make it out in one piece wasn’t in his concerns.

Division: Part Three

(Day 72)

Luane cracked open her eyes at 5 am. She was beyond groggy as she took a cold shower, dried and brushed her hair, and put on her uniform. She was as far from the typical Isrian Pokemon as one could imagine: she was not part of the ILA, she was not in a labor camp nor in hiding, and she was the right hand gardevoir of one of the most prestigious generals in the Republic Army.

The gardevoir carefully tied the two tufts of hair by her chin into a ponytail, and swung her uniform over her shoulders. It was a deep gray trench coat that nearly reached the floor, epaulets and tassels lined her shoulders as the cuffs folded neatly around her wrists. She buttoned it from bottom to top, and left a crack in the seam for her heart crystal to shine through. Luane was the poster child  for what every Pokémon under the Republic should be: strong, hardworking, and loyal to their government. She didn’t see the reason for the ILA to launch its rebellion. Her trainer (whom she only referred to as sir) had informed her about how horrible and savage-like they are. Luane need not fact check her trainer, lest she be punished for accusing him of lying.

She had learned from previous instances what would befall her if she disobeyed. A few years ago she had snooped around some personal documents to learn about the current state of labor camps, only to be caught red handed. Her trainer locked her in a room with a pair of shears. He then informed her that until she sliced off her own dress she would be given food and access to the rest of the fort she resided in. Luane would lie down on the cold floor for nearly 3 hours before bringing herself to pick up the shears, and another 2 before she had fully removed her dress. It wasn’t all bad though, she was given good food and a comfortable place to stay inside the fort. Luane had also been saved by her trainer as a ralts. Not from a camp or shelter-she was taken from one of the few breeders left in Isria-but from what she was told was a dangerous brain tumor. 

She would be told later in life that her trainer had graciously paid for an operation to remove the deadly mass, however it left her without the ability to read minds, as most gardevoirs could. Luane was informed it had to be removed due to the location of the tumor. “No issue” she thought, it’s not like the man who saved her life would lie to her. Right?

Since the start of the war, Luane had been questioning the legitimacy of the information she was being fed. As a sheltered Pokemon who was almost always with her trainer, she never was able to see things for herself. Almost always she was discouraged from looking into things, especially her operation as a baby. The excuse was normally “there is no need. We won’t lie.” Or “It will bring up bad memories, trust us.”

As Luane made her way out of her cramped room filled with just a mattress, closet, and a bathroom, she went to meet her trainer in the mess hall. Being his second in command, she was told to set his table to not eat until he was finished with a meal. The man himself, Brad Vihks, was a tall muscular man with white hair and a beard to match. He was decades older than Luane, but still commanded her respect and loyalty. After an hour and a half of sitting across from an empty chair, Luane saw him enter.

“Good morning sir.” She rose from her chair and saluted.

The only answer was a gruff “hmmph” before waving his hand at her to stop saluting.

Luane sat down and stared at her plate of food. She didn’t dare pick up a utensil or even drink. She waited to ask if she had permission to eat until Mr. Vihks had finished his meal in its entirety.

“May I eat now sir?”

“No, I’m getting seconds.”

Luane slumped into her chair as she watched him fill up his plate again and begin eating once more. Her own plate was cold by the time he was finished, and finally allowed her to eat breakfast at 7:15. The gardevoir scarfed down her food as the mess hall’s last patrons got up and left. Not five minutes later would she join her trainer in the command center. They were expecting an assault on the fort any day now, as the front had reached them. After shadowing Mr. Vihks for the rest of the day.

The fort itself was massive, spanning 3 square acres and complete with a barbed wire fence and several guard towers. Taking it would be more than a challenge for the ILA, but the Republic made sure to stock up anyway.

Before dinner, Brad took his daily walk around the site to survey the condition of it. Luane followed close behind. Almost halfway through, they heard the screeching of oncoming jets as the guard towers scrambled their searchlights. 3 ILA fighter-bombers peppered the fort with bombs, most of which dealing superficial damage. One however, sent a small rock flying towards Mr. Vihks. Luane was a second too late in putting up a psychic barrier and it pelted her trainer in the back of the head.

She froze. Her eyes widened as he turned around, his fists clenched and face flushed. Brad opened one hand and grabbed onto a fin on the right side of her head. He yanked it and began dragging her back inside.

“GODDAMMIT WHAT DO I KEEP YOU AROUND FOR?!”

“YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO STOP THAT!”

He pulled harder on Luane’s fin as he walked towards her room. After making it there, Mr. Vihks threw her inside.

“CAN YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT?!” He stomped on her stomach, sending all the air out of her lungs.

“BY THE TIME THOSE RAT BASTARDS COME HERE, YOU'LL BE THE FIRST THING THEY SEE. THEN MAYBE YOU WILL LEARN HOW TO PROTECT IN A TIMELY FASHION.”

He slammed the door shut and left Luane in her room. She gasped for air as she reached to feel where her fin was pulled. Her hand came back into view covered in blood as she nearly ripped off her uniform. She didn’t even bother getting into bed and settled for sleeping on the floor. It felt like that’s what she deserved, she had been told this was her job, and she failed. Luane was unsure what to do. And among all of the thoughts bounding around her head she thought: “Are we really doing the right thing?” It had rarely occurred to her that the “good guys” would act so cruel to their Pokemon. She was conflicted on whether this was just the military way, or some sick twisted imitation of a righteous government. She didn’t feel the need to question her trainer, as he wouldn’t lie to her about something like that………..Right?

(Day 89)

Luane had been on high alert the past few days. Not only was the ILA encroaching, but Mr. Vihks had been getting impossibly irritable. Though not as bad as a few weeks ago, he had been lashing out more often. Today, Luane felt someone shake her awake. Even though she usually woke up to her alarm, which was yet to go off for another hour. She rolled over to see who it was, only to find her sim room empty. She sat up, then another shake, and another a few seconds later. The fort itself was being rocked. Luane bolted up and threw on her uniform, and raced to a room with windows. As she ran, sirens blared over her head in the hallways and lights flickered.

Upon reaching the window, she saw a group of resistance tanks and infantry vehicles battering the fort. Its walls were nearly dust and she could see a swarm of foot soldiers emerging from trenches and foxholes. The guard towers began spitting hot metal from their machine guns at the advancing men, but only did so much. Before Luane could fully take in the scene, Brad grabbed her by the neck and shoulder and threw her aside.

“GET DOWN THERE!” He bellowed. As he pushed her again towards the nearest exit. Luane timidly walked out on the emergency exit of the third floor. The ILA still had a good 400 or so meters before they would be met with the fort. As she made her way down the ladder, she heard the building crackle like a fire log with the bullets staining the concrete. Republic guardsmen and soldiers rushed to set up makeshift sniper’s nests and machine gun foxholes out of rubble and now useless office rooms. Nearing the bottom, she saw a window not 4 feet from her get smashed open with the barrel of a light machine gun and immediately begin firing. Finally stepping foot on the ground, she carefully navigated the site, getting mud and dirt smudged into her uniform from flying debris and crawling to be out of sight.

Luane felt an odd sensation in her head, and almost instinctively threw her hand out, making a force field. The gardevoir looked to see a line of bullets stopped in their tracks. Releasing them, they fell to the ground like lifeless insects. By now the invaders were about 200 meters out. The open fields around the fort were swarmed with men sprinting like dogs at it. A sound of distant explosions rocked Luane’s head, as she saw the first waves of soldiers enter the mined surroundings of the fort. The ground shook as if it was about to split open as the mix of mines turning soldiers to a bloody pile of flesh and armor clashed with the tank rounds punching the fort. She clung to a stack of sandbags that made up a small barricade. A group of men readied an anti tank gun behind it and didn’t even seem to notice her. Luane peeped over the top to see the distant void of an ILA tank barrel. 

As she was preparing to throw all her energy into another force field, the anti tank crew struck the machine between the turret and chassis. The tank turret shot up into the air in a plume of fire before crashing like a meteor into the ground. The tankers clambered out of their decommissioned machine burnt and scarred. They did not make it far before a sniper picked off one, and the other three succumbed to a nearby mine. Luane was unsure what to do, and froze behind the bags. Then she looked up, and saw Mr. Vihks staring daggers down at her from an upper floor. She knew what he wanted, and began to advance alone.

Luane slowly made her way from the makeshift fortifications to the crumbled walls. The two forces were nearing a head, as the ILA was nearing 80 meters to their target. As she got closer, she could hear the screams of the oncoming men. One spotted her peering behind the debris and shouted: “GET THAT GARDEVOIR” and pointed at a nearby Pokémon. She found it odd that a Pokémon would fight for the resistance, but she had no time to think as the Urshifu sprinted through the field towards her. 

~~~

Luane tried to run, but was not nearly as fast. She saw a distant patch of bushes, hoping to hide there before the Urshifu closed the distance. As she prepared to leap into the brush, the bear tackled her, sending the two into the leaves.

Luane thrashed around and blindly threw out psychic attacks. Waiting for her body to be ripped apart, she desperately cried out, before having a cold metal bottle shoved in her face.

“Drink.”

“W-huh?” She looked up, she was intact, and the Urshifu had sat her up against a small tree stump.

“Water. Drink it.” Luane drank. And stared at the Pokémon.

“What are you trying to pull?”

“I’m trying to stop you from getting shot.”

“But I’m…” she pointed at her hat, realizing that it may not be the best idea. The Urshifu looked confused, then mad.

“What did they do to you?” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “WHAT LIES DID THEY TELL YOU?”

“They don’t lie….they jus-“ he shook her.

“YOU BASTARDS KILLED MY FAMILY.”

“N..I didnt…” hot tears started streaming down her face as her world fell around her. “They said….” She curled up into a ball and began to sob, drowning out the chaos around the two. The Urshifu held her head up by the chin.

“Now is not the time. You either fight for the right thing or die knowing you lived a lie.” 

Luane wiped her tears away and stood up. She stomped her hat into the ground and ripped her uniform off. She felt her freedom and anger combine. The gardevoir began sprinting towards the fort. Her former comrades didn’t take shots at Mr. Vihks’ prized partner. Luane burst through the door, going from room to room, looking for Brad. After nearly twenty minutes, she saw him, loading a pistol and preparing to do himself in. The ILA had wiped out the majority of the Republic soldiers and were making their final push. Filled with hatred, over the years of mistreatment finally flooding her mind, she stuck out her hand. Mr. Vihks dropped the gun and began lifting off the floor. She turned him around and between seething breaths said:

“ YOU. YOU MADE ME FOLLOW YOUR FANTASY FOR TOO LONG. IF ANYONE IS ENDING THIS. IT'S ME.”

She clenched her hand, Mr. Vihks’ chest collapsed on itself. His lungs had the air shot out of them as his heart imploded. His body fell limp as Luane left him on the floor to die.

As she walked away, she felt a pain in her chest. Gardevoirs were not supposed to let their trainers die, nevermind kill them. The pain centered in her heart crystal and began to get worse. Luane had to stop to rest for a moment. Upon trying to take a few deep breaths, it felt like her crystal was splitting her open. She fell to the ground in pain. She looked down, the crystal was now a deep blood maroon. Vein-like markings formed on it as the anguish grew impossibly worse. Luane tried to scream, call for help, something, anything to get some sort of help. She felt her head go light as the sound around her became muffled and her vision blurred. After what seemed to be hours, she saw the same Urshifu make his way to her floor and begin searching rooms with a small group of soldiers.

Luane tried to get their attention, but they were too focused on clearing the fort to notice her. All she managed after desperately trying to say something was a pathetic whimper. The Urshifu, appearing to have heard it, poked around a corner to see her.

~~~

Luane was scooped up and felt a shooting pain as he touched her crystal.

“What happened?” No answer. She tried to move but felt like she was paralyzed with pain. The bear called over a man who appeared to be a medic who stuck her with a small needle attached to an ampule of morphine. A few seconds later, she felt much better. A bit loopy, but better.

“We found the head of this shithole. Someone got him first.” Luane pointed to herself.

“Atta-girl!” Shouted one of the soldiers. The medic unpacked his bag and checked Luane’s body.

“He wouldn’t have happened to be your trainer? Would he?”

“Yeaaahhh” The slightly woozy gardevoir said.

“Ah, that explains your crystal.” Luane and the Urshifu gave him a strange look. The medic cleared his throat.

“I taught biology before this.” The bear nodded.

“Get her to a transport, she’ll be fine in a few days. Cant say about the long run though.” The medic gave the Urshifu a backup ampule and another water canteen.

“You’re very soffft.” Luane, now very loopy, rubbed against the Urshifu’s fur, before falling unconscious in his arms. Despite his stoic and stone faced demeanor, the compliment did make him smile a bit. He cradled her all the way to the transport. Garrison felt a sliver of empathy for her. She had been hurt similarly to him. Though it wasn’t his job nor specialty, he felt the need to help her through having her world being turned inside out. Yes, he would help a similarly calloused soul.

(Day 90)

Unsure what to do, he went to the hospital with the unconscious gardevoir. Lying next to him, Luane began to leave her euphoric morphine-induced nap.

“Thanks again mister…..”

“Garrison.” He said.

“Garrison. Thatsss a nice name.” She gave a tired smile, still not all there. She stuck out her hand.

“Luane.” They shook.

“How do you feel?”

“My chest feels sore.” She said, starting to come to.

“Hmm.”

“Now what? Do I go to a torture room?”

“Hm?”

“They said you took prisoners and tortured them all until we spilled all of our knowledge.”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Were you hoping that was true?”

“No no, I just….I’m sorry it’s a lot to take in after yesterday.”

“I understand.”

“So. Am I free to leave?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Are you going to leave and pretend like you never knew the Republic? Live a life with that knowledge pushed into your subconscious. Or finish your unfinished business with them?”

“Fair point.” She conceded. “I’ll fight.”

“Good. I like girls who have some grit to them.”

“You mean you-“

“No. Nothing like that.”

Suddenly, Hailey, Locke, and Mina burst in.

“Heyyyyy!” Mina announced.

“Hello.” Locke said, with a timid Hailey behind him giving a slight wave.

“These are your friends?” Luane asked.

“No.”

“Aw.” Mina looked downcast.

“We are ...acquaintances of Garrison.” Locke shook her hand. “I’m Locke, that’s Mina.” He pointed to the Primarina beside him. “And this is Hailey.” He stepped aside so she was in view.

“Hello to you all. I’m Luane.”

“We heard you were at the battle with Garrison?” Locke asked.

“Yes. I was….uh”

“She was a prisoner being kept there. She was forced to kill her trainer to escape her cell. We found her and brought her home.” Garrison interjected.

“I see.” Locke said, buying the white lie.

A nurse stepped into the room. “Luane? I have someone for you to meet. Hopefully he can keep you company during recovery.” Not a second later, a small yellow and black creature waddled into the room. His big and pointy ears perked up as he looked around at the room’s inhabitants. Jumping on the bed, the Pichu waved both arms in the air and excitedly introduced himself.

“Hello! I’m Albert!”

(Day 90)

“Eh….hello.” Luane waved back. Not a second later Mina snatched him from the bed and began hugging him.

“Omigosh you are the cutest thing ever !” She wrapped both flippers around him and swung side to side.

“Hi! I’m Albert. What’s your name?”

“I’m Mina.”

“Hi Mina! Can you be my friend?”

“Of course! You are so adorable!” 

She kept gushing over the Pichu while everyone, including the nurse, stared.

“The Pichu is for Luane right?” Locke asked the nurse.

“Yes, but-“

“Oh no it’s fine.” Luane interrupted. “I’m not a fan of children anyway.”

“Neither am I.” Garrison added, looking over to see if he could catch the gardevoir’s approval.

“Well then.” The nurse stepped toward Albert. “Albert. It’s time to head out.”

“Awwww. Ok” the mouse sulked away from Mina and towards the door.

“What?! No….” Mina looked as though she had two days to live. “B-but, we were having so much fun.” Her lip quivered as her mirror-like eyes began to well up in tears.

“It’s alright, we can have other suppor-“

“Nooooo! I want Albert!” The primarina pouted.

“Pardon?”

“I’ve made up my mind. We’re adopting him.”

The room gave a whole assortment of confused expressions. Albert immediately ran back into Mina.

“Yay!”

“Excuse me miss but support Pokemon are not up for adoption.” Mina wiped her fading tears away and put Albert aside.

“May we discuss something outside?”

“Certainly ma’am.”

The nurse and Mina closed the door behind them in the hallway. Hailey and Locke put the sides of their heads against the door. 

“Pleaaaaase pleasepleaseplease please let me keep him! I’ll take care of him and walk him and feed him and-“

“Once again miss, he isn’t up for adoption.”

“Can I pay you? I’m an organ donor if you need a kidney. I’m blind so you can take my eyes if you need to.”

“Ma’am, please.”

Neither of the two could see, but Mina-despite having no use for her eyes-was giving the nurse her most innocent puppy-eyes look possible, on the verge of tears, flippers pressed together.

“You know what? I’m not in charge of this, take him, he’s too much for us to handle anyways.”

Without a second to spare, Mina burst through the door, almost smacking Locke and Hailey.

“Albert’s our little brother!”

“What?” Garrison asked in annoyance.

“We adopted him! Now we’re all his aunts and uncles!”

Luane tried to interject “That’s not how aunts and uncles wor-“

“Albert. This is Uncle Locke.”

“Hi uncle Luke!” She brought him around the room holding him in front of each member of his new family.

“This is aunt Hailey.”

“Hi auntie Hailey!”

“That’s aunt Luane.”

“Hi auntie Anne!”

“That’s uncle Garrison.”

“No, I’m not this kid’s-“

“Hello uncle Gary!”

“What? No, Garrison. Garri-son.”

“Ohhhhhhh. So your dad is Gary?”

“ No he…oh forget it.”

Lastly, she turned Albert around.

“And now I’m your Auntie Mina!”

“Hooray!”

Locke and Hailey were exchanging equally confused looks as Luane and Garrison were uncomfortable to the highest degree as Albert and Mina sat on the foot of the bed playing.

“Did we just adopt a child in a war?” Hailey whispered to Locke.

“Yes. Yes we did.”

(Day 93)

Luane’s condition was almost normal by now. She had been given a prescription to kill any nerve pain radiating from her crystal (a slowly increasing dose of Gabapentin that would eventually reach 3000 milligrams per day). The group had stayed with her while she recovered and was able to sustain herself. She still had the dark, veiny crystal protruding from her chest, but it no longer caused her pain all the time. On occasion, she would have spells of dizziness and nerve pain, but regular doses of medication had her under control. Luane, being a newly enlisted member of the ILA, would join Garrison on his ground missions.

The ILA, recognizing the importance and strength of trainers and Pokémon on the front, posed a new initiative. The Team-Together program would situate recognized teams together under one roof in order to encourage extra training among them, as well as stronger connections and morale. Each member would still be in their respective branches, and pulled out for service when needed. Locke, being the only human, applied immediately as the trainer of Garrison (as much as he hated it), Hailey, Mina, Luane, Albert, and Jocelyn.

Albert stuck close to Mina. She told him about her blindness, and through childhood curiosity and innocence, didn’t judge nor prejudice against her. Garrison remained close to his gardevoir friend (though he wouldn’t admit it). Hailey, ever the odd one out, tried to remain as distant as possible. Locke seemed unusually preoccupied, often buried in “something he has to get done soon”.

Locke was increasingly absent, even during meals. The group would seldom see him during those times, and even then frantically scribbling in a notebook with a laptop next to it. Whenever approached, he would briskly close the two and place one hand on each of them to say: “don’t touch”. Upon increasing intrigue from everyone, he would only concede that what he was working on was: “Something that will change a lot of things not long after it is done”.

Hailey went to check on him one night. He had fallen asleep on a chair with his laptop, notebook, and a communications radio. She didn’t bother him or try to snoop around, and left him there for the night. Though not long after she was out of earshot of the radio, a voice came from it.

“Hello? Ok it’s working. Uh…..if you can hear this, I’m * beep * and I don’t have much time. I managed to steal a radio from one of the guards. You need to listen. The * beep * program is currently in its testing phases, and I’m one of the subjects. They have already completed three tests. They will look for you soon. I don’t know how long but you are on their list. Please….send men to * beep *, the facility is hidden beneath the * beep *. I’m not sure how much the automatic censoring is letting me speak to you, but we need help. I’ve seen what * beep * does to people, and-“ “Hey!” “No no no it’s not what it- * bang *” “kill that radio, I don’t wan-“

* beep*

Division: Finale

Day (98)

Locke laid low in the dew-soaked brush by the tracks. The day he’d been waiting for was upon him. The train carrying his lost partner was fast approaching. From what he had gathered, in order to avoid detection, the Republic began using old steam locomotives on forgotten railroads for important transportation. About 8 cars long, the train whooshed along the overgrown tracks, spewing chunks of grass and moss aside. Locke readied himself. Once the train was near feet away from him, he threw a high power magnet he’d attached to his EOS gear at the side of the train.

Immediately, he was pulled from the ground at a breakneck pace. Locke, now stuck to the train, climbed onto the roof and cut the rope attached to the magnet. He made his way atop the train towards the caboose, where he spotted a Republic watchman staring off the back balcony. In one motion, he drew his arm blade and jumped down, piercing the man’s helmet and stabbing deep into the neck. No sound other than Locke and his victim hitting the floor was made. After dusting himself off he drew his pistol and kicked down the door. 

Three more soldiers looked up to see him and immediately reached for their weapons. Locke took a few shots at the first man, falling him instantly. The second missed his shot before being nailed in the nose by a bullet. The third, across the room from his gun, drew a combat knife and charged. Locke grabbed the hand holding the knife and twisted. The man’s arm dislocated as he tried to wrestle Locke with his remaining arm. Locke pushed him off, then drove his blade across the man’s abdomen.

By now, the whole train was alerted, and guardsmen started to converge on Locke. He quickly ran towards the next car. It was mainly empty aside from some storage, so he moved on. The next two were for dining, and had previously relaxed soldiers scrambling for their lives. Locke took potshots as they tried to flee, and took down most of them, though a few had taken cover behind tables and began to collect their guns. Locke jumped behind a table of his own, and threw a flash bang over his shoulder. After it went off, he swiftly took care of the dazed men and moved on.

There were no remaining guards, and his two targets were in the first car, waiting for him. Locke smashed through the next three empty cars before being faced with a coal car. He climbed atop it to be met with the most sickening man he’d ever met. His dad. Being a little dazed himself, Locke left an opening, where Mr. Vaughn quickly drew his pistol and clanged a few bullets off Locke’s armor, tripping him up. Swiftly realizing his pistols’ futility, Mr. Vaughn tackled Locke onto the rough coal, and began punching his helmet. Locke answered with a right hook with his fist, the arm blade grazing his fathers’ head. He fell to the side, bleeding and beginning to swell from the blow. Locke kicked him in his stomach, and proceeded to put him in a headlock. Dragging his dad’s limp body, he began to beg.

“Now son, we don’t have to settle things this way right?” Locke didn’t answer, and he threw him inside the head car, composed of a small side room and the engine controls.

“Son? Locke please! I can make it up to you! I Can get you money, power! You know I know people, c’mon!” Locke, not having any of it, threw another punch across his face. Grabbing him by the shoulders, Locke threw his dad against the controls. He fell near the engine’s furnace. In a spell of rage, the silent Locke pressed on the pedal opening the furnace. As his father realized what was about to happen, he began to desperately reason.

“Locke please! Please! I won’t do this again! I-I won’t do anything like this again ok?!”

He grabbed his son’s leg. Locke shook him off and threw his father’s head into the small furnace opening, keeping him there with his foot as he screamed. The crackle of the fire swirled in the air with the desperate gasps. After about a minute, Mr. Vaughn’s struggling stopped along with his yelling.

Locke released his hold and pulled the emergency break, lurching the train forward. Removing his helmet and retracting his blade, he carefully opened the side room door.

Inside, a trembling and crying Lopunny sat balled up in the corner. The two locked eyes, and Locke ran to her and embraced Jocelyn tightly.

“It’s ok, we’re safe now. I promise.”