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The brat couldn't keep running forever.
For months, this kid had been intruding on Philippe's territory, undercutting his business and bothering his grunts. Philippe had tried to give him a warning, but the kid had escaped him at every turn. He knew what he was doing, and had successfully been running from the consequences.
But today, Philippe had the good luck to spot the brat openly walking through the streets of the Magenta District.
The kid noticed Philippe immediately, recalled his Venipede, and bolted.
“Skarmory! Follow the kid from above!” Philippe sent out his partner and gave chase. He knew this kid liked to take advantage of twisting alleys and blind corners, but as long as he followed Skarmory and his vantage point, he shouldn't lose track of him. Eventually, Philippe cornered the kid, getting a good look at him for the first time.
The kid was smaller than he thought. Not just short, but scrawny, with sunken cheeks. Behind his round glasses, his bright golden eyes had a manic energy to them.
“I don't believe we've formally met. My name is Philippe, leader of the Rust Syndicate. And you?”
“Corbeau,” the kid said. “What do you want?”
“I just wanted to talk,” Philippe said, cracking his knuckles. “You've been giving me and my people a lot of trouble lately. Do you know how I deal with troublemakers?”
Without a word, Corbeau sent out his Venipede.
“Not what I had in mind, but who am I to turn down a challenge?” Philippe gestured to his Skarmory, who took down Venipede in one strike.
Philippe grabbed Corbeau around the neck, easily driving him to the ground, pinned his chest with one foot, and gave him a backhand slap across the face, knocking his glasses askew.
“Since you're just a kid, I'll let you off easy today,” Philippe said. “But next time I catch you trying to do business in our territory, I will beat you until you stop twitching, and then let my grunts take turns venting their frustrations on you as well.”
Corbeau straightened his glasses. “I'll be more careful not to get caught, then.”
Maybe Philippe needed to get a little rougher to get the message across. He grabbed Corbeau's right hand, and squeezed until he felt the bones cracking against his palm. A pathetic sound escaped the boy’s mouth.
“You'd best fix that attitude,” Philippe said as he released Corbeau. “There are people in this world you shouldn't cross.”
————
If that thug Philippe thought Corbeau was going to back down, he was a real idiot.
For one thing, he quite literally couldn't afford to. Some of his most reliable clients were within Rust Syndicate territory, probably former or potential Rust Syndicate clients, and he would be risking his business if he dropped a single one. His ventures weren't stable yet. The food stall in the Jaune District failing was a blow he had yet to recover from.
All that Philippe had really accomplished with that violent stunt was to mark himself as a real rival to Corbeau. In the past, the Rust Syndicate had just been another obstacle to avoid, another variable to consider. Now Corbeau knew that if he wanted to succeed, he'd have to get the better of them.
Corbeau was distracted from his musings by a stab of pain when he idly moved the fingers of his right hand. Venipede buzzed and nuzzled him when he flinched.
“It's okay, buddy,” he said, stroking Venipede’s head. “It's just healing pains.”
Dealing with Philippe through Pokémon battles was out of the question. Philippe was unquestionably the stronger trainer between the two of them, and Corbeau was in no position to try catching up. He couldn't even afford to take care of another Pokémon.
“If we can't be stronger, we'll just have to be smarter, eh?” He rested his head against a cardboard box and huddled deeper into his nest of crumpled newspapers. “And judging by how worked up he was about our little ventures, we're on the right track for that.”
————
It had been a little over a year since Corbeau's run-in with Philippe. In that time, his businesses had flourished, he rented himself an office, and he even added three Pokémon to his team – an Ekans, a Budew, and a Magikarp.
Now, most of the money he made went right back into his businesses. He still slept on a futon in his office rather than separately renting an apartment, but he made it work. His employees were comfortable, his clients were satisfied, Lysandre was paid back, and he and his Pokémon were eating well.
The Rust Syndicate were still a constant thorn in his side, though. More than once, he’d needed to run away from a pursuing thug, and he had his couriers remove their identifying caps when making deliveries in Rust Syndicate territory.
Corbeau was getting ready to close up his office for the day when one of his phones rang. The one for the courier service. One day he'd hire a secretary and some customer service reps to deal with all the phone calls involved with running multiple businesses, but not yet. He answered the phone.
“You've reached Rollout Delivery Services. How can I help you?”
“Hey, I was wondering how much it would cost to deliver a package,” a man’s voice responded from the other end.
“Well that depends on the size of the package, and the distance of the delivery. How much does your package weigh?”
“Oh, about forty kilos.”
“That's an awfully big package. It could be subject to delays as we wait for an appropriate carrier to be available. And where are you delivering to?”
“Near Magenta Plaza in Lumiose.”
“That should put you around… fifty five hundred.”
“That's a lot of money for a delivery within the city.”
“Your package is above the weight limit that most couriers will accept. I hope you understand.”
“Yeah I get it… anyway, that's all I needed.”
“Are you sure you wouldn't like to set up your delivery?”
“Nah, I'll deliver it myself.”
“Got it. Thanks for considering us!”
The man on the other end hung up. Corbeau always hated it when the last phone call of the day led nowhere, but there was nothing to be done for it. That man wanted to deliver a package that weighed almost as much as him!
Corbeau locked up his office, closed the blinds, changed into his T-shirt and sweatpants, and let all his Pokémon out.
After dinner, playtime, and just a bit more paperwork, he rolled out his futon in front of his desk and settled in for the night, Venipede and Ekans cuddling up next to him for warmth.
Something slammed against Corbeau's door in the middle of the night, jerking him awake. A second slam came as he fumbled for his glasses. And as he recalled Budew and Magikarp, the door burst open, revealing Philippe, flanked by four of his grunts.
“It must be my lucky day,” Philippe purred. “Here I thought we were just going to smash up the brat’s office, but here he is in the flesh for the taking.”
“Ekans! Venipede! Bite him!” Corbeau shouted as he kicked off his blanket and jumped to his feet.
Philippe kicked Venipede away like a football, getting a miserable whine, but Ekans successfully sank his fangs into the thug’s ankle. Philippe shouted at the sting.
“Great job!” Corbeau recalled his remaining Pokémon, shoved all their balls into his pockets, and bolted for the fire escape.
“After him!” Philippe yelled.
Corbeau put some good distance between him and the thugs by jumping right off the fire escape, rolling as he hit the ground to disperse the energy of the impact.
He took off through the alleyways, occasionally throwing a glance over his shoulder, the rocky asphalt painful against his bare feet. He lost sight of Philippe and two of the extra thugs pretty quickly, but the remaining two kept a steady distance behind him. He'd have to pull off some unexpected maneuvers…
He turned a corner and ran right into one of the thugs he thought he'd lost. He made a quick pivot, but out of the alley he was about to turn into, the last thug appeared. They had him pinned. He grabbed for Venipede's ball, but before he could send his Pokémon out, the thugs drove him to the ground, knocking off his glasses in the process.
“Boss! We got him!” Corbeau recognized the voice of the thug who called out as the same man who called him about a forty kilo package.
Soon enough, Philippe appeared, limping slightly. “Good work boys,” he said. “Now. Let's take this somewhere a little more private.” With practically no apparent effort, Philippe threw Corbeau over his shoulder and set off.
In the dim light of the city and without his glasses, Corbeau couldn't see where they were going. He beat his fists against Philippe's back, jabbed at his head with his elbow, and even tried to sink his teeth into his back, but Philippe didn't flinch. Just kept walking.
Eventually, they came into what seemed to be a warehouse.
“Jacques, pull up one of those chairs,” Philippe said. “Emmanuel, get the tape.”
After the grunts completed their orders, Philippe tossed Corbeau into a folding chair, and the grunts set upon him. One held each ankle against the legs of the chair, while the third held his wrists together behind his back. The fourth one – Emmanuel, presumably – set about duct taping his limbs in their positions.
Once Corbeau was secured, Philippe stepped forward.
“You should have listened to my first warning, brat.” Philippe gave Corbeau another backhand across the face, leaving a horrible sting. “I warned you that I would beat you until you stopped twitching.” A kick in the stomach, knocking over the chair. Corbeau felt the skin of his forehead split when he hit the ground.
While the grunts righted the chair, Philippe picked up… something. Corbeau couldn't see clearly with the blood dripping into his eyes, but it could have been a metal bat or a pipe wrench. Whatever it was, Philippe swung it at Corbeau, and it connected with his left upper arm with a deafening crack and a burning flash of pain that almost made him throw up.
Philippe was getting ready for a second swing when Corbeau was saved by the ringing of the thug's phone.
Philippe sighed and answered the call. “I'm busy. What do you need?”
“Boss, we're being raided!” a voice from the other end yelled.
Philippe lowered his weapon. “Police?”
“I don't know, they sent in their Pokémon first, and — mmph!”
“Eduarde? Eduarde!”
No answer.
Philippe put away his phone. “We're needed at base, boys. This brat will be good stress relief once we've sorted it out. Emmanuel, you stay and make sure he doesn't give us the slip.”
“Yes boss!”
Philippe and three of the grunts left the warehouse.
Corbeau's mind raced, but he couldn't act too fast. He had to let the main group get out of earshot, and his guard get comfortable.
The pain made him impatient, but he had to wait.
Wait.
Wait.
His guard yawned. He waited long enough.
“Venipede! Ekans! Budew! Magikarp!” The Pokémon burst from his pockets at the sound of their names. He couldn't point at his target, so he just had to trust his team. “All out on the guy behind me!”
The man's cursing was cut off by the distinctive wet slap of Magikarp hitting him right in the face. Corbeau looked over his shoulder as best he could, but his guard was already on the ground, succumbing to the attacks of four angry, well loved Pokémon, three of whom were poison type.
“Good job guys!” Corbeau said when his Pokémon came back in front of him. “Now it's time to get out of here!”
Venipede set about chewing through the duct tape around his ankles, while Budew went at the tape around his wrists with a sharp leaf.
When he was cut free, Corbeau only spared a glance at the unconscious man behind the chair. Not enough time to see if he was still alive, and it didn't matter anyway. He ran for freedom, his Pokémon close behind.
When he left the warehouse, he ran into one of his employees. A security guard.
“Nicole?”
“Oh, Mr. Corbeau, thank Arceus you're safe!” She pulled out her phone and made a call. “Justine, I got the boss. Call off the backup and withdraw.”
“Care to explain this?” Corbeau asked once Nicole hung up.
“Of course sir,” Nicole said. “But can you walk as I explain? I don't want to risk anyone finding us.”
“Sure.”
So Nicole explained while they walked. “I was walking home from a late shift when I saw Philippe and a few of his goons from a distance, something moving slung over his shoulder. I couldn't get close enough to get a good look without them realizing I was following them, so I called Pierre to check on you, and he found your office door broken down and you missing. My suspicions basically confirmed, I called Justine, and she rallied every one of your employees who would answer their phone to raid the Rust Syndicate headquarters, hoping to lure your kidnappers away. All the while, I shadowed Philippe all the way here. When only four men left the building, I called in backup to help me get you out, but you appeared before they arrived.”
“So where are we going now? I can't return to my office now that Philippe knows where it is and won't hesitate to kidnap me from it.”
“First, we're getting you to a hospital. After that… I'm sure plenty of your employees, myself included, would be willing to lend you a couch. Or if you'd rather stay at a hotel until things are sorted out, there's an obscure one in the Vert District that looks nice enough.”
“You lot didn't have to do all this for me. Running a raid on the Rust Syndicate is dangerous business.”
“Well, we couldn't just do nothing when you were in danger, and we didn't trust the police to act fast enough.”
————
Once Corbeau recovered from the initial shock of being kidnapped, his fear turned into burning rage. The Rust Syndicate had crossed the line. They had to be stopped. Even if he tried to put his anger aside, now it wasn't only him in danger, but every one of his employees who carried out the raid.
Pictures from the raid were satisfying to look at – thugs wrapped up in Spinarak webs, Bellsprout acid burning through tables, Roselia leaves lodged in everything from walls to faces – but they also served as a reminder that the two organizations were now at war. And Corbeau refused to be on the losing side.
Breaking his lease and paying for repairs on his old office made for a nasty financial hit, but nothing he couldn't recover from. As for new glasses, Lysandre had been willing to foot the bill. His broken dominant arm made some aspects of work go a little more slowly, but again, it was nothing vital.
Renting a separate office and apartment remained a personal expense Corbeau couldn't afford, so he opted to rent a studio apartment, where he would also do his paperwork, assign customer call duty to his employees, and go back to arranging his meetings at secondary locations. It wasn't perfect, but he refused to have a public phone number that led to where he slept.
For the time being, Corbeau had to make sure that no one who participated in the raid was assigned to business in Rust Syndicate territory. He wasn't risking his employees’ lives.
He knew he didn't have the power to destroy the Rust Syndicate — not yet anyway — but surely he could come up with some way to get them to leave him and his businesses alone…
The plan that Corbeau eventually came up with was a risky one, but vengeance was too sweet to pass up.
First, he had to choose his team for the project. He'd have to stick to people who were comfortable doing dirty work. The security guards who regularly worked at shifty bars, the couriers who had figured out that their deliveries sometimes contained drugs, the like.
He settled on a small team. Security guards Paula and Frederick and their respective Spinarak, Justine, who dealt with difficult clients and her Weepinbell, and courier Hugo and his Ekans.
The first real step was to figure out where Philippe lived. That turned out to be no problem for Paula and her interest in data security and how it can be violated. He lived in a surprisingly modest apartment along South Boulevard.
Next, get a sense for his routine. This too fell to Paula tracking his phone. Activity usually ended around ten PM. Best leave a couple hours for him to settle in and go to sleep.
Eventually, it was time to act.
The crew set out at one AM.
When they reached Philippe's apartment, it was the job of Hugo, a former thief, to silently pick the lock.
The place was tidier than Corbeau had expected. Hugo listened at the bedroom door for a few seconds before signalling for the rest of them to follow him in.
As an extra precaution, Justine had her Weepinbell release paralyzing spores over the figure on the bed. The crew held their breath, but Philippe obliviously inhaled the mist of spores.
Time for the most dangerous part. At Corbeau's signal, Paula and Frederick sent their Spinarak to wrap Philippe up in their webs. Philippe's breath audibly caught as the Pokémon turned him over, but he didn't make a move. Whether because he was still asleep or because of the stun spore, Corbeau couldn't say.
Over the course of a few minutes, the Spinarak had the Rust Syndicate leader’s entire body wrapped up in webbing, with just his head exposed. At the sight of Philippe's open eyes, Corbeau's heart raced. The spores were starting to wear off. He wasted no time in gagging the thug with a few scraps of cloth.
Frederick and Justine took the burden of carrying their captive out of the building, dumping him on Hugo’s cart, and pulling him to their next stop.
The warehouse was a recent acquisition. Rollout Delivery Services had needed a bit more space, but hadn't filled it up yet.
After a few leppa berries, the Spinarak were ready to get back to work. Soon, they had spun a great web from the rafters to the floor, and twisted Philippe, grunting and squirming in protest, into the middle.
Frederick took out his video camera and turned it on Philippe. If they needed any proof of these dealings, they would have it.
Corbeau couldn't resist gloating a bit before getting into the bargaining. “Comfortable?” He asked.
Philippe glared silently in response.
“Oh, of course, where are my manners?” Corbeau looked to Paula and Frederick. “Would you two have your Pokémon let our guest speak?”
At their trainers’ instructions, the Spinarak removed Philippe's gag. “You bastard,” Philippe spat. “You Grimer spawn.”
Corbeau took an exaggerated gasp. “You wound me! I only wanted to return the hospitality that you showed me.” He gestured to his left arm, still in a cast.
“So what now?” Philippe demanded. “You have me in your filthy coils. What do you plan to do with me?”
“Impatient, are we? Don't you worry, I won't hurt you unless I have to.”
Philippe said nothing in reply, so Corbeau kept talking. “See, you're quite the valuable prize. One that could fetch an excellent price. I'd hate to throw you out or damage you needlessly.”
“And who would you sell me to?”
Corbeau smiled. This was just too fun! “Why, yourself! And your little grunge syndicate.”
Philippe went still, but said nothing.
“I'm willing to cut you a deal,” Corbeau went on. “I'll let you go free, unharmed, back to your gang. All I ask for in return is that you not interfere with my life or my ventures. No more chasing me through the streets, harassing my employees, none of that. As far as you and your people are concerned, I don't exist.”
“You think I'll agree to that?”
Corbeau shrugged. “Your other option is to stay in that web. Do you think I'm stupid enough to let an active threat to my life keep running around unchecked?”
“You can't keep me forever.”
“True. But we don't have to. Only until you get desperate enough to agree to whatever I ask of you. Best not let that take long enough for me to think up harsher terms, eh?” A truly disgusting thought occurred to Corbeau. “By the way, you should consider the fact that I can't exactly let you out for bathroom breaks.”
Philippe went pale. “The Rust Syndicate will find me.” A note of desperation was creeping into his voice.
“And how do you figure they'll do that? They don't even know you're missing yet, they don't know who owns what warehouses, and we left anything they might be tracking us on at home.”
“They'll search the whole city.”
“That's an awful lot of ground to cover. How long do you suppose it will take? Of course, first we have to wait for them to wake up, come in for work, realize something's wrong, organize a search effort… that's a long time before they even get started.”
Philippe said nothing.
Corbeau pulled up a folding chair and let out his Pokémon. “I'm willing to wait. The rest of you, go home and get some sleep. But Hugo, before you go home, would you bring me a coffee? It looks like I've got a long one ahead of me.”
“Of course, boss.” The rest of the crew left the building, Frederick leaving behind his camera so Corbeau could record any agreements.
Despite the coffee, by five in the morning, Corbeau was quite drowsy. He tried to keep himself awake by playing with his Pokémon, but they all decided they'd rather sleep, Venipede a comforting weight in his lap. Surely it couldn't hurt to close his eyes, just for a bit…
Corbeau woke up to Budew nudging at his leg. A glance at his watch told him it was almost eight thirty. He panicked for a second, but there were no new faces in the warehouse, and Philippe was still securely webbed up.
“The sleeping beauty awakens,” Philippe said dryly.
“Just give me a minute, Budew needs some sun,” Corbeau grumbled. His back was stiff from sleeping in a chair. He stood up, spent a minute stretching, then opened a door for Budew.
Now. Back to the project. He turned on the camera and pointed it at Philippe. “Are you ready to bargain yet?”
“You've won this round, brat. Let me go and the Rust Syndicate will never bother you or your employees again.”
“Excellent! Of course, I'll be sending this footage to your gang as proof of your word, so don't go back and pretend you didn't make any promises.”
“I would never.”
“That's nice to hear.” Corbeau put away the camera. “Budew! Come here and stun spore him!”
Budew trotted over, hopped up the web, and released a cloud of spores directly into Philippe's face. “Just a precaution,” Corbeau said. “I'm sure you understand. Good job Budew. Now. Venipede, cut him free.”
Venipede scuttled up the web and started chewing through Philippe's bindings, stopping before he fully dropped to the ground, but leaving few enough strings that he could untangle himself once he was able to move.
“Adieu, Philippe, I hope not to see you again.” Corbeau recalled Ekans and Magikarp and set off, Budew and Venipede by his side.
————
Before Corbeau's kidnapping stunt, no one had truly gotten the better of Philippe since he left his parents’ house for the last time. Now, even nearly a year later, he was still feeling the consequences of that loss.
There was the obvious consequence of the brat — he must be a man by now — getting more brazen in muscling in on the Rust Syndicate's business. Now, that wouldn't be too much of a problem if not for the fact that Corbeau seemed to simply be a better businessman than Philippe. Clients were abandoning the Rust Syndicate in favor of Corbeau's businesses in every field from security to drug trade.
But besides that, Philippe felt like his standing had taken a hit. Not only was he no longer the undefeated boss of Lumiose's underbelly, but he'd been defeated in such an undignified manner, he was harder to take seriously. Kidnapped by a bunch of kids with low-level Pokémon and threatened with being left to sit in his own filth. What a joke.
Whatever the cause, the Rust Syndicate was losing money, and with it, members. Philippe was reduced to taking out personal loans from Lysandre, and he'd seen several of his old grunts in the uniforms of his old rival.
Of course, Corbeau had done plenty well for himself. Got a fancy office, expanded his businesses, even got a signature outfit tailored for himself. Above all, he had what Philippe always wanted. Not just respect, but control. Control of the whole city’s underground. No shady deal went through without his approval. Control of his own life, freedom to do as he pleased.
Philippe had lost, Corbeau had won, and it was time to admit it.
Corbeau had set up shop in the Bleu District. Rumor had it that he had his eye on the abandoned building across the plaza from the police station. A daring, cocky move, but completely believable from Philippe's old rival.
Philippe made his way to Corbeau's office, took a deep breath, and knocked.
“Who's there?” Corbeau's voice was a bit deeper than it was before, but still nasal and on the high side.
Corbeau scowled at Philippe's entrance, the peak on the bridge of his new glasses exaggerating the effect. The Scolipede at his side let out an ominous rumble. “I thought I told you I didn't want to see you again.”
Philippe ignored the chair set up for visitors and dropped to his knees. “I've come to admit defeat.”
Corbeau straightened the papers he was holding sharply. “If it's taken you this long, you're even more idiotically stubborn than I thought.”
Philippe lowered his head and pressed on. “I offer you the Rust Syndicate, and with it, my services.”
“What could I possibly want with –” Corbeau paused. When he spoke again, his tone was dangerously soft. “Just what do you expect to get out of this offer?”
“I founded the Rust Syndicate hoping to bring some order to Lumiose's underground. I wanted to set rules that would bring safety to those who followed them. But under my leadership, the organization is crumbling. We never even made enough to secure good lives for our members, and the illusion that someday we could is falling apart around us. If there's anyone who could fulfill the dreams I once had, it's you… Corbeau.”
“Look me in the eye.” Corbeau's voice was firm without being aggressive. When Philippe obeyed, he smiled. “I think this will be an interesting partnership.”