Chapter Text
"Philippe, I'll be back in a while," Corbeau says, adjusting his tie as he heads towards the elevator out of his office.
Philippe takes a few steps forward to follow but suddenly stops. "Are you sure you don't wish for me to come as well?"
Corbeau looks over his shoulder, lips pressed in a thin line. "I'm sure. I just need to clear my head. Keep watch while I'm gone if you would be so kind."
"Yes sir." Philippe steps away, arms folding behind his back.
Corbeau hums and heads up to the main floor. Grunts come running as usual to line the path towards the door, hands on their knees as a sign of respect. The man's black dress shoes click on the floor and echoes off the walls as he leaves without a single word.
Outside, the stars shine so brightly against the eternal darkness of space. The lights from Lumiose Tower are thankfully too dull to wash out the beauty that is the sky above. On his walk, the cold air is filled with the screams and cheers of the battle royals. The faint smell of smoke from fire Pokémon and the toxic venom from poison drenched so deep into the cities smell it might as well be a stain. Not that he minds it though, in a way that smell is what home is to him.
It's bittersweet to see so many smiling faces all around him. On one hand, he loves this city and by proxy the people in it as well. On the other hand, this city has brought him great pain. The duality has never been lost on him, but he tries to push it away into the back depths of his mind as much as possible. It's easier that way.
Growing board of his walk around the city, Corbeau turns heel to head back home. However, halfway there, his always searching ears catch the faint sound of small feet scattering away in quite the haste. A Riolu perhaps? Maybe even a Machop? No. It's far too heavy of a run to either. Hm. What parent allows their child to be out so late?
Following the noise, he starts to hear faint whimpers attached to those pesky fleeing feet. Sigh. This little shit is going to make him do physical labor, aren't they? How lovely.
With a deep sigh, the man takes off ahead, scanning from side to side to make sure he's not missing the little thing. Whatever it is, the damn thing is pretty quick for what sounds like rather small feet. Being brought into one of the many dead ends, Corbeau's patience is wearing thin. Veins start to show on the sides of his head, foot tapping against the ground with tense arms crossed over his chest.
"I know you're hiding somewhere in here. Just come out already. I'm done with this running stuff."
"Go away," a small voice comes from behind a stack of boxes.
"Hm?" Corbeau's shoulder relax. "Why are you out here so late kid? Shouldn't you be in bed?"
The little one whines, their stomach almost louder than their voice. "No bed, no home. Go away."
The man takes a deep breath out the mouth, watching the frozen partials slip away into the night above. "What's wrong, are you a scaredy Meowth? Can't come out and face little ol' me?"
"I am NOT a scaredy Meowth!" they protest, foot stomping.
"Well then Mr./Miss. Braviary, why not come out and face me then?"
"Dundun head." the kid mumbles, stepping out from the boxes with their arms crossed.
Corbeau smiles at the sight of the little boy coming out from behind the boxes, but it doesn't last. The kid is in rags, cool-toned white skin rail thin, black hair a tangled mess of dirt and knots. His dull purple eyes might as well be closed already from how heavy he's blinking. Just as he goes to get closer, the boy steps away and an equally frazzled Houndour jumps out in front of him, growling with embers emitting from its mouth.
"Woah," Corbeau hops back pretending to be scared, hands up as a sign of peace, "call off your guard. I mean you no harm."
"Why should I believe you?" he asks, tensing his muscles in sync with his Pokémon.
"Is this kid trying to die?" the syndicate leader's eye twitches.
"Look, I truly mean you no harm. What do you want me to do to prove it?"
The little boy stares into Corbeau's eyes with such intensity it almost sends a little shiver down the man's spine. So much hatred wrapped into one little kid is both impressive as it is depressive. Houndour relaxes its stance, walking in circles around its trainer while glaring in Corbeau's general direction.
"Food." The kid finally says.
"Food?" Corbeau blinks, crossing his arms. "You want some food? Sure, let's go. There's plenty of places around the city to eat. Take your pick."
"No."
"What do you mean 'no'? You just asked for food."
The boy crosses his arms, mimicking Corbeau's scowl. "No place in city. No people."
"Great, the prince has strict standards. Yay." Corbeau rolls his eyes, tossing out his Scolipede. "Scolipede, make this kid and his pet shut up for a bit, will ya?"
The poor boy doesn't even have time to react as before the man has finished his order Scolipede is already on the two in an instant. One second, he's cowering in a dead end and the next he wakes up lying on a couch with a blanket draped over him and covered in bandages. Houndour lies asleep next to him on the coffee table covered in bandages as well, his breathing the most leveled it's been that night.
Across the room at his desk, Corbeau takes a puff of his cigarette, leaning back in his seat. His eyes lazily fall over to him. "Morning. Sleep well I presume?"
"Where?" the boy asks, sitting up.
"Someplace far safer then outside in the rain." He takes on last puff before extinguishing the flame. "Do you have a name, or do I need to come up with one for you."
"Lucien."
"Well Lucien, I'm Corbeau. The leader of the Rust Syndicate. As you can clearly see, I had my grunts take care of you and your little pet." Corbeau chuckles, folding his arms over his legs. "They gave you the full package even; a nice warm bath, new clothes, brushed out all those knots and even bandaged you up. Aren't they just the sweetest?"
"Why?"
"Do you know how to speak more than one to two words at a time?" Corbeau asks, shaking his head. "And they helped you because I told them too. It's easier to get you back in shape when you can't bite anyone coming near you."
Lucien looks down at his bandaged arms and legs; the new fabric is so soft and smells faintly sweet like a poison meant to draw others in. For the first time, his shoulders relax on their own, his still tired gaze a little more trusting.
"You hurt me?"
"No. Do as I say and you won't get hurt. I'll make sure of it."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Lucien slowly slinks himself off the couch and walks over to Corbeau grabbing the man's pant leg tightly. "Promise, promise?"
Corbeau freezes.
The little one's hand barely feels like anything against his pant leg, yet to see his knuckles turn white from the grip stirs something deep within the man's heart. It's as if he's being held so the world stops its decent into distortion realm.
"Easy there," Corbeau takes Lucien's hand. "I promise, promise. Happy now?"
Lucien nods, crawling into Corbeau's lap completely uninvited.
A vein pulses at the side of Corbeau's head, under eye twitching. Who does this brat think he is? Who just crawls onto someone's lap like it's there's for the taking?!
"Get. Off."
"No." Lucien pouts, digging his head into Corbeau's shoulder.
Corbeau sighs, wrapping his arms around his waist. "How old are you anyway?"
"4."
Nearly choking on air, the syndicate's boss tightens his grip around the kid. Who is adopting who again?