The MEETING Team (PLOT)

"Stop. You're leaving and that's the end of it."

Michael sighed and rolled his eyes at the command, making a small scratch on the window sill among a series of similar marks he had placed there on previous occasions. All of them where times that Eldes had ordered him to go since their initial argument. On the opposite side, in a much smaller grouping, was the number of times Eldes had spoken to him without being provoked beforehand. There were only five of those ticks. A depressing number if he did say so, which he did.

"How many times are you going to tell me to go?" He asked quietly, head not leaving its resting position on his hand. "Haven't we had this fight enough times already?" He couldn't look at Eldes as he spoke, too sick of seeing the hateful anger in the eyes that once held only friendly warmth. He could feel his throat already beginning to close as the tension of a brewing argument tightened around them, the atmosphere only heightened by the storm crashing outside. He didn't want to have this fight again. He didn't. But he also had to admit that sometimes he started them just to hear Eldes speak to him. it was disgusting and destructive, but it was the only human contact he could get anymore.

He looked down sadly at the tick marks he left on the window as Eldes prepared to respond and felt another shred of his heart peel away. Forty two. That's how many marks now sat upon the spongy wood. This would be their forty-second fight since Michael had shown up at this lighthouse. And old joke about the number and the meaning of life popped into his head with a bitter remorse, realizing that it almost held true for their current situation. This was the only meaning in his life now, and it didn't look like it was going to change any time soon.

"How many times are you going to tell me to go?" Eldes stared down at the boy with a cold glare, his dull green eyes noticing the tiny little mark Michael carved into the soggy wood. "Haven't we had this fight enough times already?"

Eldes' tone turned colder. "Apparently not, since you're still here." He walked to Michael's side and crossed his arms. "You're going to leave. Without me. That is final."

"Apparently not, since you're still here. You're going to leave. Without me. That is final."

Michael huffed angrily and smacked his hand on the window sill, using it to push himself up and out of the chair to match Eldes's height. The back of his legs pushed against the chair and knocked it back, the small stool loosing its balance and tipping over more dramatically than the youth had intended. His mouth was pulled into a deep frown as his eyes studied the older male's face, searching for any sign of the former affection they used to hold. When he found nothing but indifference the younger ginger finally could take it no longer and snapped. "And who exactly is going to make me, huh? You? Your brother? The six or seven scouts I've seen walking around in the rain since I got here?"

He waved his arms around them as he spoke, each time he spoke getting more aggressive and encroaching on Eldes's personal space. "You keep talking a big game but all I see out of you is the same old empty promises. Maybe it's time you man up and actually do something, otherwise just sit down, shut up, and accept that I'm not leaving without you."

Michael snapped. His hand hit the window sill that he'd just defaced, then stood so abruptly that the stool that had supported him clattered to the ground. Though Eldes looked on at the display of frustration and emotion with little other than cold disdain, he certainly understood why it was happening. A week of nothing but tension and anger would do that to anyone. Especially a child like Michael. "And who exactly is going to make me, huh? You? Your brother? The six or seven scouts I've seen walking around in the rain since I got here?"

The young man before Eldes waved his arms and flailed a bit to emphasize his point but it did little to sway Eldes' quiet fury. The older ginger steadied his stance a bit and grasped his wrist behind his back, settling into the old Cipher stance. In the face of Michael's tantrum, even as he advanced on Eldes, the latter stayed his ground and stared the boy down like a hawk glowers at a braying dog. "You keep talking a big game but all I see out of you is the same old empty promises. Maybe it's time you man up and actually do something, otherwise just sit down, shut up, and accept that I'm not leaving without you."

"Empty promises"? "Man up and actually do something"? Eldes' upper lip twitched and curled at the accusation of cowardice-- there it was again. The affirmation that Michael truly thought so insultingly little of him and likely always had. The knife buried in his soul twisted but at this point, the pain all felt the same. He let out a small scoff as his eyes narrowed, all hope of reconciliation dissipating. "Ardos was right," he muttered, turning from Michael to go back about his routine. "We should have blown you up when we had the chance."

"Ardos was right. We should have blown you up when we had the chance."

Michael froze as those words crashed over him like an avalanche, their searing cold sting plunging into the depths of his soul and burying him under a mountain of ice. Eldes was never a man to take his words lightly, even when emotional he generally meant what he said within the fullest extent of his knowledge of the situation. For him to just throw that out there-

"Ardos was right."
"Ardos was right."
"Ardos was right."

The words reverberated in his skull like a sick mantra, haunting his thoughts and leaving the youth devoid of a response. Ardos was right? How long had Eldes considered the boy a pest, a fly deserving of a swatting rather than a friend? How many of their years together had been just the other red head being naturally too polite to toss him away. Had Michael's dogged persistence been the only thing in their friendship that was actually real?

Was everything he believed just a lie Eldes kept up just to keep him from bothering him?

Tears burned hotly in his eyes as they began to crest over and spill down his cheeks. His temper had gone from 1000 to flatline with just one word from someone he had, up until now, thought was his best friend. He didn't even know how to respond to the sardonic statement, instead floundering for something to say and to find any excuse to not look at his so-called friend. "I...How-how could you say something like that?"

Finally, it seemed Eldes had broken Michael. Though the thought would have horrified and disgusted him were he in a better place of mind, Eldes embraced the shattering of his former best friend with a sense of resigned peace. It seemed he'd already won the struggle between them, even if Michael was still attempting recovering from the mortal blow Eldes had just dealt. "I...How-how could you say something like that?"

Eldes glanced at Oasis, who only stared in shocked horror, before turning slightly to look back at Michael. "Easily enough, apparently," was his grim, apathetic response. He watched Michael a moment, regarding the boy's emotional outburst with a subtle sneer. Was this what it felt to be like Ardos? It was strangely refreshing. "Are you done weeping? There's enough water seeping through the cracks without your help."

The empty monotone was frightening coming from Eldes, the eerie similarity to Ardos reminding Michael that the two were in fact twins. The red head was normally so unlike his brother that it was easy to forget, to convince himself that they were in fact two different people. But for him to channel that emotionless void of a human so well...

"Are you done weeping? There's enough water seeping through the cracks without your help."

Wow. Eldes was stretching even into the realm of insults to get his point across, yet another trait that was normally not present in the ginger. Michael's pain began to morph once again into anger as the older man casually ignored his emotional distress, his fists clenching and his cheeks burning despite the still steady stream of tears. "What the hell has gotten into you? Why are you acting like this?" He couldn't keep his voice from cracking as he spoke, even with the angry inflection in his voice, but he was too upset to care anymore. He was determined to get a straight answer from Eldes this time.

"What the hell has gotten into you? Why are you acting like this?" Michael's continued distress and his inquiries was cause enough for Eldes to fully turn and face him again, the latter's hands still carefully positioned at his back. His expression didn't waver or change as he felt the words cascade from his mind; it was as if his own twin were whispering them into his ear.

"I suppose no, you aren't done soaking the floor," he grumbled flatly. He found more words in his ear and mind and didn't think to filter them. What was the point?  "I'm doing what I should have done from the beginning, Michael. I'm not coddling you anymore, since you're obviously too old and... mature for that." He quirked a brow at the emphasized word, but otherwise, he face didn't change.

"I suppose no, you aren't done soaking the floor," The almost bored response was practically foreign coming from Eldes, but it still did the trick. Michael was close to the point of being unable to argue rationally any longer. "I'm doing what I should have done from the beginning, Michael. I'm not coddling you anymore, since you're obviously too old and... mature for that." That did it.

At hearing his worst fears practically dripping venomously from his friend's, sorry, former friend's lips the final tether linking the two men finally snapped. "I am too mature for you, you're right," Michael spat out angrily, clenching his fists so tightly that his nails began to draw blood from his palms. "Because it seems out of the two of us I am the only one capable of letting the fuck go. You win Eldes. I'm fucking leaving. Because why in the hell should I waste my time on someone who would rather sit in a corner pissing and moaning about how his life never works out? I guess it never occurred to you that all the reasons your life sucks have one common denominator. You."

Eldes saw the last tendril of their friendship snap in the younger man, but... he didn't care. For a moment, he was slightly alarmed that he felt nothing more than an emotional abyss, but the concern once more dissipated as Michael continued to rant. "I am too mature for you, you're right," the younger man spat out as he clenched his fists. The comment caused Eldes' inclined brow to arch a little higher. Michael thought he was the higher road here? Was there even a higher road at this point? Did Eldes care?

He could answer that one, at least. No. No, he did not care.

"Because it seems out of the two of us I am the only one capable of letting the fuck go. You win Eldes. I'm fucking leaving. Because why in the hell should I waste my time on someone who would rather sit in a corner pissing and moaning about how his life never works out? I guess it never occurred to you that all the reasons your life sucks have one common denominator. You."

It was like Michael was stabbing his corpse. Eldes knew the jabs were there, that the metal was biting into his flesh and cutting him, but he felt nothing. Nothing more than a sort of apathetic amusement for the irony in Michael's words. A small mirthless chuckle escaped him as he stared down the younger man with dead eyes. "No, Michael. My life truly went awry when I listened to you." He took a step forward, his heavy boot punctuating his words as he further closed the gap between them. "You and your never-ending optimism and worship of justice and righteousness landed me here. While I was miserable before, the life you offered was far more torturous than anything I'd ever endured."

He stepped to the side and began to circle Michael, much as Ardos had done to him weeks ago. Habit, he supposed, that they shared. "I don't put all blame on you-- after all, I am the grown man that decided to listen to some snot-nosed prepubescent brat over my own family but let's face it; none of this would have happened if I'd let Ardos kill you." He paused in front of Michael and glanced at him through his peripherals. "Let's take one more look at that math you just did there, genius. Of course all my problems have something to do with me-- they're my problems. Brilliant deduction there, Sherlock. We're all very proud. No wonder you sped through school."

Eldes broke his orbit around Michael to stand closer to the door, nodding toward it. "Go, then. Or are you just talk, too?"

The shift in atmosphere was almost instantaneous as the two began to berate one another, each offering their own viewpoint on what had led them to this disastrous conclusion. While he wanted to take everything he said back, to apologize and tell Eldes the truth, the empty stare and disdainful tone of his former friend forced him to reconsider. "No, Michael. My life truly went awry when I listened to you."

"Excuse me?" He couldn't help but respond to the bait, rising the the challenge just as he knew Eldes would want. "You and your never-ending optimism and worship of justice and righteousness landed me here. While I was miserable before, the life you offered was far more torturous than anything I'd ever endured."

"I don't put all blame on you-- after all, I am the grown man that decided to listen to some snot-nosed prepubescent brat over my own family but let's face it; none of this would have happened if I'd let Ardos kill you." Eldes encroached on his personal space and began circling him like a vulture, or a rogue lion intent on taking the pride for his own. But despite the clearly dominant show of aggression Michael scoffed and brushed aside his words with a wave of his hand.

"That's because you didn't listen, dumbass. You kept insisting on fixing everything yourself when you knew you couldn't, just like now. That's why you got the shit kicked out of you in prison, that's why you were made a target, because like now you didn't want me to get my hands dirty trying to help. And look what happened. You finally let me help, and guess what? You got the fuck out of jail. Wasn't that so much easier?"

"Let's take one more look at that math you just did there, genius. Of course all my problems have something to do with me-- they're my problems. Brilliant deduction there, Sherlock. We're all very proud. No wonder you sped through school." Michael waited for a gap in Eldes's circling and slipped through, whirling around to not keep his back to the man as he counter-maneuvered to match. "They wouldn't be just your problems if you would get that stick out of your ass and listen to someone once in a while. But nooooo. Eldes is too righteous. Eldes is too selfless. How dare anyone try to help you when you are so damn insistent on making yourself a martyr. You keep acting like you are trying to protect people but really you just want more fucking attention! God you and your brother are disgustingly alike, the hell is wrong with your family?"

It seemed as though the entire world went still when Eldes stopped circling, stopping before the doorway to gesture Michael out. "Go, then. Or are you just talk, too?" Shaking with a strange mix of anger and despair Michael paused for a moment, looking back and forth between his escape and the man he had originally come to rescue. If he walked out that door it would mean he was saying goodbye to years of friendship and trust, goodbye to anything they might have shared in the future, so he had to know if that was something he was really ready to commit to. Even if it seemed Eldes already had.

Though he had just invited Michael to leave once more, he mulled over Michael's last tirade. "They wouldn't be just your problems if you would get that stick out of your ass and listen to someone once in a while. But nooooo. Eldes is too righteous. Eldes is too selfless. How dare anyone try to help you when you are so damn insistent on making yourself a martyr. You keep acting like you are trying to protect people but really you just want more fucking attention! God you and your brother are disgustingly alike, the hell is wrong with your family?"

More stabs and yet still nothing stirred in his chest. Another chuckle escaped him as he patiently waited for Michael to finally leave. "No, Michael. If I were truly like Ardos, you'd be dead by now."

"No, Michael. If I were truly like Ardos, you'd be dead by now."

Breathing in deeply through his nose the younger ginger collected himself, trying to calm down as best he could. Those words…coming from Eldes…they were too much for him to take. He couldn’t do this anymore. Michael could practically feel Eldes's stare burning a hole into his head as he looked at the floor, trying in vain to not meet the hateful gaze and jump back into the fight. This...this was it. If he left now there was no going back. "Fine..." he finally uttered through gritted teeth. He bit his lip to try and stave off another flow of tears as he brushed past his friend and began gathering his few things into his bag, snapping his fingers for Lucky to come to heel.

The Espeon had been watching the exchange from the fireside, shaking his head and shooting the occasional glare to Oasis for letting it get this far, but for the most part had remained silent. The damage had been done the first night they were together, and because neither had reconciled the wound festered rather than healed and was now beyond repair. The only salvation for either man was complete amputation of the infection which in this case meant their entire friendship. It would be hard on Michael, that much was certain, for with no support group he would very likely revert once again into a socially awkward hermit too focused on the black and white to see the grey. But they no longer had any choice.

Taking up position beside Michael the pair headed for the door, the red head offering quick goodbyes to Eldes's pokemon and a final thank you to the Torterra and Azumarill who had saved his life that day before opening the door. He paused before stepping outside, body stiff, and without turning back tried to offer one last goodbye to his former friend. "Take care Eldes. I hope you are happy in the life you have chosen." And without another word stepped off into the storm and closed the door behind him. Neither man noticed, in their final moments together, the head of green hair slipping back down past the window and heading for the docks.

The storm outside was quieter, but still very much alive. More like they were nearing the eye of the storm than the storm actually moving on and it was making leaving the lighthouse almost as difficult as it was getting in. But thankfully the winds were not stirring the waves as badly and the pair were able to make their way across the bridge without incident. Michael took one last look back after making it to the other side to see if Eldes was watching him from a window or something, but he couldn’t make out anyone. Broken hearted he turned away from the lighthouse to try and peer across the ocean to where he knew Citadark Isle lay, and as he strained to see a darkened silhouette cross the clouded night sky.

Its color was barely distinctive against the storm’s backdrop but Michael was sure he saw something. He stopped walking and tried tracking it across the skies until a familiar purple shape emerged from the clouds in the direction of the hidden island, a shape that struck Michael to the core. Shadow Lugia. But…it couldn’t be, could it? He had purified the poor creature and set him free, the last time he saw Lugia the Legendary bird was heading back home. But when he saw it again emerge from the clouds he knew there was no mistaking it. That was Lugia, and he was as sickly purple as he was the last time Michael had seen him.

Knowing that leaving a Shadow on the loose during the apocalypse was a bad idea, especially one as powerful as Lugia, Michael quickly decided to head back to Pokemon HQ Labs to try and salvage what he could of the purification chambers, it was the only chance he had. He needed a plan and he needed one fast, because his gut told him that every moment Lugia was left in that state was a moment closer to doom.

((Leaving post. DAMN YOU SIL FOR MAKING ME CRY TODAY.))

"Fine..."

Eldes breathed a small sigh of relief. Finally. All posturing was gone and set aside. Michael snapped his Espeon to his side and began to gather his things around the room. Each of Eldes' own pokemon had watched in silent horror, unsure of how to stop the fight from escalating. In truth, Oasis had been too petrified by the likeness her trainer had taken to his ruthless twin. The hateful, pointed stares from Lucky hadn't helped, but she knew that no amount of apologizing would have aided Eldes the night Michael had arrived.

Michael bid the other pokemon a quiet farewell as he prepared to leave, each unable to really respond out of sheer shock and sadness. Eldes followed the boy with his eyes, silently urging the Michael out the door as he paused in the threshold. "Take care Eldes. I hope you are happy in the life you have chosen." And with that, he left.

Michael was out of his life.

"I'm uh..." Banny began awkwardly, shrinking a little under the cold, emotionless gaze. "I'm going to uh... keep lookout for a bit." Koikoi quietly agreed, following the Azumarill up the stairs. The tension, it seemed, hadn't lifted as Oasis and Atticus drew closer to their trainer.

"Did you really want that to happen?" Atticus began, his voice even, level and rational. The large dog eyed the void that had consumed his trainer, carefully picking out a tactic to retrieve the man he loved and respected from its depths. "Eldes?"

"For Michael to leave?" he snapped back, finally breaking from his stance at the door to the desk Michael had been busy mutilating. "Yes. That's exactly what I wanted."

"Eldes--"

"Atticus, no. I've had enough fighting. I'm done arguing." The ginger stopped in front of the Arcanine, his stare narrow and dangerous. "Drop it."

Atticus remained unfazed by Eldes' anger, as he had fully expected it. "I followed and believed in you, Eldes, because I knew you were nothing like the man you had left behind in Cipher," Atticus quietly began. "The cruelty that was the legacy of your family was a stain on your soul, to be sure, but nothing your determination and decency could overcome. I thoroughly believed, as did everyone else here, that you were better than that. Better than your despicable father and far more level-headed than your wayward brother."

The mention of Ardos in such a foul light shockingly didn't improve Eldes' mood. "We're TWINS, Atticus!" Eldes roared, earning a flinch from the other pokemon in the room aside from the stoic fire-type. "Stop talking about Ardos like he's a plague! He's my BROTHER!"

"That doesn't give you an excuse to lower your own standards to fit his," Atticus deftly replied. "You wouldn't have been happy if you had stayed by his side. You know that. Lamenting over it might give you enough justification to spurn Michael but deep down, you know you wouldn't have ever been able to fully agree to Ardos' dogma. You spent years feeling guilt for doing what you did in Cipher, you've spent years feeling guilt even after paying for those crimes. If you had truly abandoned your moral compass, you would have sought out those scouts and found a way back to Citadark. Or just left them to kill Michael on their own."

Eldes' face twitched as Atticus reached and attacked the one final thing that would cause a reaction. He was... right. As much as he lamented not choosing to stay with his brother, he knew deep down that it was all for naught anyway. No matter what, he wouldn't have been happy continuing Father's work, even at Ardos' side. No matter what, he wouldn't have been happy at all.

He could never be happy...

The realization and admittance hit him like a bag of bricks. His chest collapsed and his legs buckled, the lack of sleep and mental stability finally taking its toll as the emotionless void of his soul was suddenly filled to the brim. He had been damned the moment he'd left Cipher, doomed to be persecuted, loathed and tortured by most of the other people he'd met. With Ardos, he would have been a fugitive and... it would have happened anyway. Their relationship would have been strained as Eldes would have been forced more and more to abandon his morals and ethics and he would have come to resent his brother likely almost as much as he resented their shared father. He would have been alone, just like he was now. He was just... doomed to be miserable.

A gentle pressure on his back told him otherwise, though; he squeezed his eyes shut to block out Oasis' terrified expression. She had been the only pokemon to stay with him through everything, even when his Ninjask had opted to leave. His pokemon had been ardently and aggressively protective of him, even at his worst moments... and he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised now.

"Eldes..." she began gently, though the fear was still evident in her trembling voice. "You aren't Ardos. You never have been. If you were capable of being like him, I..." The pressure of her hand eased; she was backing away. Eldes flinched; was she leaving him now, too? "Would you turn me?" The question was so far-fetched, Eldes opened his reddened eyes to stare at her. "If it... meant that you could go back to Ardos now and... and be with him and the Isle, would... ?" She swallowed and shook her head. "If you were willing to do that, it would show that you were ready to really commit again to Cipher. Ardos... might really take you back. Especially since his scouts have probably seen Michael leave... alone. Would you...?"

Eldes sat back on his feet, his expression exhausted confusion. Was she offering, or was she just... asking to see if he would actually go through with it? Of course, his instinct was no. He couldn't turn his most loyal companions and friends into mindless monsters. He may as well just let them get infected. She did make a decent point, though he doubted Ardos would really want him to do such a thing; he had only exiled Eldes to keep from having to kill him. "...No..." was his soft answer. "...Of course not... Why would you ask me that...?"

Oasis' large orange eyes moistened and her mouth twitched with effort to keep from crying. She had always been a strong dragon, one with sass and spunk and personality. She had an emotional stability Eldes envied, as she rarely ever cried. But now... "I-I just..." she stammered, "I just... wanted t-to make sure you w-were st-st-still yo-ou.." She couldn't keep the sobs at bay any longer and broke down weeping. Watching his oldest companion shatter into incoherent tears wasn't something Eldes was prepared for in the least. "I-I thought that-that-that Gree-eevil had finally... gotten... That-- he'd--"

Eldes couldn't stand it anymore and basically threw himself onto her, wrapping his arms around the dusk-painted dragon's slight frame. "Wh-why did you say those hor-horrible things?!" she cried. "You're better than that! You've always been better than that!"

He honestly didn't have an answer for her. "I--"

"GUYS!" The alarmingly loud cry from above caught all of them off guard, temporarily stifling Oasis' tears. Banny bounced down the stairs, Koikoi close on his heels. They were both practically white with fear. "OUTSIDE! OUTSIDE NOW!" With no other real choice other than to follow, they obeyed and met the two pokemon outside.

The storm cloaked the horizon on all sides-- they were in the eye, it seemed. Sparse moonlight filtered through the breaks and thinner sheets of clouds to reveal something moving through them. Eldes squinted to see something... bird-like...? It drew a little closer and then let out a chilling bellow from its maw-- a bellow Eldes knew too well.

Lugia.

Stunned into silence and stillness, Eldes watched in horror as the moon revealed the dark, abyssal feathers that stained the otherwise white Legendary. The dragon-like Legend let out another hateful cry and turned toward Ardos' fortress. "That... can't be--"

"Shadow Lugia," Eldes breathed.

"That's... impossible," Oasis muttered as she sat by her trainer. "Michael purified him. He told you himself." Eldes could only dumbly nod.

"Ardos will capture him," Atticus stated, urgency tinting his otherwise stoic voice. "We can't allow Ardos to have Shadow Lugia as a weapon again. That gives him the mobility and firepower to attack those Resistance groups he and Michael spoke about."

He was right. Shadow Lugia had been a faithful soldier to Father, going so far as plucking a cruise ship from the ocean. Would the modifications that Lovrina had put into the beast have held through all this time? How was he even a Shadow again? This wouldn't have been Ardos' doing-- he would have gloated when Eldes was last there. Could it have been Ein? Too many questions ran through Eldes' head as his pokemon demanded action around him.

Claws grabbed his collar and strong, lithe arms pulled him to face Oasis, her expression urgent. "Eldes, we have to do something." She leaned closer and dropped her voice a little. "I know Michael hurt you. I know you're in so much pain right now. But we can't sit idly by while Ardos and his cult get Lugia back. If you can't do it as an IPF officer, then do it for the pokemon we helped destroy. We owe it to that Legend to get him out of that hell. We HAVE to!"

Eldes couldn't argue with that logic, but he shook his head nonetheless. "If Michael's method didn't work, I'm not sure what will," he admitted. "I don't remember anything about the purification process."

"Then FUCK purification!" Banny cried, his voice cracking a little from the strain. "We can just focus on getting him away from Ardos! That's step one anyway!"

Eldes turned back to watch as the dark splotch against the storming sky revealed the Legend being fired upon with... something. The Legend's angry cries echoed even past their pier; there was no way he could stop them now, nor was there anything he could do to free Lugia on his own. But... Oasis was right. If there was anything he owed to anyone, it was that Legend's freedom. He breathed in a small huff to steady himself and nodded.

"....You're right."

It took the rest of the night to pack the things they'd hoarded in the lighthouse. The rain had begun to pick up again, but no one was about to let that keep them from moving. With the pokemon packed, Eldes chose Oasis as his mount. He knew he only had a small window of opportunity to disappear from Ardos' scouts while they were busy with Lugia's capture and he needed to leave as fast as possible without leaving a trail. Giving the sturdy sanctuary one last look, he spurred the Flygon on into the sky, rocketing above the clouds and beyond. He had no real want to leave, but... for once, Michael would have been right.

He needed help.

[[Leaving post. HOLY CRAP ELDES IS FINALLY LEAVING.]]

By the blood... the waiting. The cursed waiting!

Yveltal was used to biding his time; waiting for the right opportunity to strike and ensure that he was victorious. When that didn't work, he'd simply obliterate whatever obstacle was in his way. It was all to pave the way to his dominance, the dawn of his age.

Except this time, he could not do that.

He'd lost count the amount of times he'd blasted that idiotic human to pieces, only for him to regenerate within a matter of minutes.

Xerneas. His claws itched to slice into the flesh of his nemesis. One day, somewhere in the future, Yveltal would destroy that prancing, over-colored deer and take his rightful place in the world as its ruler.

But he could do nothing of the sort while he was trapped underground like a common Sandshrew.

Lysandre had tried to dig them out for a long time. Day by day he was getting closer to the surface. Yveltal himself waited in silence, the gigantic avian perched upon a metal beam near the top of their prison. His head was tucked into the feathers on his chest, his wings folded against his sides. Most of the time he slept, if only to help pass the time until he could spread his wings once more, but occasionally peeked open one glowing azure eye to spy on Lysandre's progress.

It was better this way; the chamber was too small for Yveltal to move about freely, and whenever he tried to he often ended up blasting his fellow prisoner to smithereens just to vent his frustrations. Even though he regenerated, watching him explode into chunks of flesh always brought a grin to the Destruction Pokemon's face.

As tedious and insufferably boring as it was to just sit there and stare into darkness, Yveltal could do it for a little longer. One day, the first trace of sunlight he had seen in a long time would burst forth, and his power would finish the rest. He would be free at last. He would show the world what truest terror looked like.

My time is here... The world will belong to me.

Lysandre was convinced he was in Hell.

His efforts in Team Flare, years of work, had led to the climax of him unleashing the Ultimate Weapon's power onto the world. Instead, because of that brat Calem's meddling, his plan literally backfired. The blast buried himself and the Death Bird beneath the twisted, burnt rubble of his base and everyone left them for dead.

He should have been dead. He had to have been dead. Who survives a blast like that? No one. In fact, many times he thought he died here, in the ruins of his former base, from hunger or Yveltal blasting him apart from boredom. And yet, every time the blackness consumed him, it spat Lysandre right back out into the blackened, stale pit he was trapped in. He wouldn't believe any of it were real if it weren't for the stench of old blood -his own blood saturating the air. He would think Yveltal's taunting and presence were something in his own imagination, designed to explain his madness. The only light in the thick dark were the bird's terrifying eyes... Shining beacons in the suffocating blanket of shadow, they nearly blinded him now to look into them directly-- they had become his sun.

It was a bleak thought, but those stunningly blue orbs were the only source of light he'd had for months. Was it months? Had it been years? Time was a luxury now, something he'd had no need to keep track of, nor even a way to keep track of it. It may as well have not existed anymore. Lysandre wasn't even sure it did; after all, if he was trapped in an eternal hellscape, time was no longer a factor. His hand paused in its rhythmic strokes against the bedrock as his mind began to fall apart again.

He closed his eyes -not that it made much of a difference- and felt the tunnel around him. He could feel the marked progress throughout the days, each commemorated with a small piece of metal above him. Those markers meant he was indeed moving through the dirt, even if it was minuscule. He inhaled in another sharp breath and forced his arms to continue digging. He was not mining the same bit of tunnel. There was progress. He was moving. There was still hope that there would be an end to this.

To say that being trapped underground with likely the most evil and hateful of Pokemon in existence had tested his patience and sanity would be the understatement of the history of mankind. Often, he had found himself weeping in despair only to be silenced by Yveltal's wrath or even dying of heart attacks or strokes induced by panic. They were far more common in the earlier times, which now mostly blended together. When your world was nothing but blackness and suffering, your mind tended to treat it with little affection. Still, Lysandre found a path to trudge through it, at least partially. The small markers told him of his progress. The rich smell of the earth was growing damper, meaning that he had to be getting closer to the surface... or an underground river. Flooding their pit wouldn't likely be the best solution, but maybe the damned bird would be more inclined to do something other than sleep if his slumber were suddenly accompanied by thousands of gallons of water.

He dug and dug, his arms moving easily in their routine motions as they had millions of times before. However, Lysandre paused when, after a small clump of rock and dirt fell, something hit him.

A cool breeze. The fragrance of... of grass...? Could.... could it...

His lungs suddenly burned as if they'd not drawn breath for as long as he'd been trapped. They shuddered as he let out a wail, his hands desperately clawing and scraping to widen the hole, but he found his limbs far too weak. "No--NO! NO!" His voice cracked and shrieked from lack of use and his heart pounded in his throat. As the tunnel he'd been digging was on an incline, he slipped and slid down, tumbling back down to its entrance what had to be at least several dozen feet. He landed with a hard grunt, tears in his eyes. He couldn't-- there was fresh air. There was fresh air!

Desperate, he clambered to his feet and rushed to where Yveltal was sleeping. Surely he would do something now that Lysandre was almost through. The metal digging shaft in his hand flew at the obsidian figure, his desperation overriding his overwhelming fear of the demonic bird. "YVELTAL!" he roared, his voice already hoarse. "The tunnel-- I- I got... There's air! Fresh air! I can't-- I can't break through, you need... You need to..." His body shuddered again and he collapsed before the Dark avian. "You have to get-get through..."

Yveltal was happily drifting in a chaotic, blood-soaked daydream about his upcoming reign when that annoying little man suddenly let out a howl. The avian's talons tapped ominously on the beam he was resting on, his head tucked into the feathers on his chest.

Shut up, he barked without opening his eyes. Or would you like me to disembowel you again?

But something felt...different about their stone prison. Yveltal inhaled; the air felt cleaner, purer, than it ever had before. It was so faint he thought he might be imagining it, but he was certain he had felt a breeze upon his crimson feathers.

Yveltal opened his eyes and immediately snapped them shut again. That light! It blazed in across the chamber like the sun itself was trying to force its way in.

Had he done it? Had Lysandre finally been useful for something other than to satisfy Yveltal's sadistic cravings?

"YVELTAL!" the human bellowed, and the legendary squinted his adjusting eyes to see him barreling towards him, waving that little piece of metal around. What he didn't expect was for Lysandre to suddenly hurl it at him. He shielded his face with his wing, glowering down at his cellmate. Watch it, he growled.

"The tunnel-- I- I got... There's air! Fresh air! I can't-- I can't break through, you need... You need to..." Lysandre collapsed in front of him, his exhaustion finally taking over. Yveltal glowered down at him, enjoying his suffering. "You have to get-get through..."

It was time. The moment Yveltal had been waiting for had finally arrived. Move, the Destruction Pokemon snarled as he surged straight over Lysandre's head to the beam of sunlight. Opening his beak, he summoned a Focus Blast, the attack exploding out of his throat and completely obliterating what was left of the rock. Incinerated chunks of stone were blasted into the air, leaving a huge hole in the earth with a blinding view of the blue sky.

There was no time to waste. With a lunge and a screech that could've split the mountains, Yveltal soared up and out into the open air.

Move.


The very walls trembled as the Destruction pokemon rose and effortlessly flew through the stagnant air, nearly knocking down Lysandre in the process. The man watched with wide eyes as Yveltal went to the stray weak beam of light and shattered the rock around it with a single attack. Who knew how much faster they could have escaped if the bird had bothered to do anything but sleep, but Lysandre couldn't be angry now. Not when the concussive sound of shattering rock engulfed him and the warmth of sunlight blinded him.

Though he couldn't see, he climbed over the debris to escape his prison. He had to escape. Had to. Fresh air swallowed him, kissed his filthy, sweaty skin and matted hair and light embraced him once more. His exhausted limbs collapsed as he finally touched the soft carpet of grass and without warning, he burst into a weeping fit.

His gnarled, calloused hands gripped the lush grass beneath them. How he'd dreamed of this day. How he had longed, years and years, and despaired that he'd never feel the sun's warmth ever again. But here he was. Starving, exhausted, but... free. Finally free.

Lysandre couldn't see the great bird he'd unwittingly released along with himself, but he could hear his grand wings beat against the air. He hadn't expected Yveltal to reciprocate anything in gratitude. A small "thanks for digging your hands to literal nubs for the past however many years" would have still been appreciated. Not that he would actually voice that.

A small, weakened sigh escaped Lysandre as he continued to shut his eyes against the daylight. Even the protection his eyelids provided didn't take away all the pain, but there was no way he was going to crawl back into the cave. But his relief was so great and matched by his exhaustion, he slipped into a deep sleep then and there.

He was free.

It took a moment for Yveltal's eyes to adjust to the sunlight that was blazing into his face, but when they did, he beheld his future kingdom. Mountains and valleys zigzagged the landscape below him, and to the north he could see the sparkling blue waters of the ocean.

All of it would be his.

He inhaled, savoring the sweet, fresh air. How good it felt to spread his wings again after so long.

He looked down at what appeared to be a small settlement of humans nearby. They were pointing up at the gigantic bird that had blasted up out of the earth, some of them running off into their little houses and others reaching uncertainly into their pockets for Poke Balls.

Yveltal sneered. Did they think they had a chance of defeating him? How...cute.

But he did owe some gratitude to the one who had gotten them out of their stony prison in the first place. Yveltal turned to look at Lysandre and saw that the man had collapsed on the grass, his eyes closed. The avian regarded him for a moment. They had been through so much together...surely just one more game wouldn't hurt. After all, thanks to Xerneas, he was going to get over it pretty quickly.

With great glee, Yveltal dove out of the air and snatched Lysandre up in his talons. His huge wings pummeled the land as he flew upwards, higher and higher into the sky. The wind was howling around them as Yveltal stopped and hovered, easily about a thousand feet above the ground, and sneered down at the man in his claws.

I should thank you, little human. This world has no idea just what I have in store for it. And all of it is possible because of you. His talons tapped Lysandre's sides thoughtfully. I would suppose this is farewell, but...once more, don't you think? For old times sake.

And his talons opened, sending Lysandre plummeting towards the earth.

Yveltal was not finished yet. Sparks of energy were starting to flicker around his claw-like wingtips, travelling in red veins towards his chest. He grinned down at the small town below, and at the group of bandits that were darting around, shouting things at each other. Oh yes, they knew exactly who he was, and now the rest of the world would as well.

The giant avian screeched again, pressing his wings together. The Oblivion Wing shot out from between his wingtips, completely obliterating the land in its way with a massive, red explosion. The bandits were scattering in terror, and Yveltal could hear their screams even from where he was. Their echoes drifted to him on the wind. It was like...music.

Again and again he struck, soaring and diving over the settlement as fires blazed all around him. Soon, Geosenge Town resembled nothing more than a smoldering wasteland. Smoke rose in huge black columns from where the flames disintegrated what was left of the buildings. It was empty, it was dead and it was destroyed; it was exactly how Yveltal liked it.

Satisfied with his rampage, Yveltal beat his great wings and soared off over the mountains. Geosenge's destruction was only the beginning; a message to the world of what was to come.

Yveltal was not hungry. He wasn't even starving.

He was ravenous.

Lysandre had almost immediately passed out in the warmth of the sun, but of course, Fate was not done toying with him. As his body drifted into a much-needed lull and rest, the too familiar sharpness of talons ripped him from slumber and back into the blinding light of reality. The speed of the wind whipping past him caused him to struggle for air, his arms pathetically grasped onto the leathery digits that held him in place. His eyes teared, as even in the shadow of the great bird, it was still far too bright.

I should thank you, little human. This world has no idea just what I have in store for it. And all of it is possible because of you. Lysandre couldn't help but emit some small gasps and whimpers of fear and pain as the talons that held him captive tapped playfully against his side. I would suppose this is farewell, but...once more, don't you think? For old times sake.

"NO!" It was his instinct to shout but even as the word left his mouth, he knew it was useless. The talons opened and Lysandre felt nothing but air at his back.

The fall was surreal, especially since he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the horrific sun. But his arms and legs flailed in the open darkness-- after so long of being trapped and enclosed in nothing but hard rock, it was jarring to feel nothing but air around you. His stomach and heart went into his throat as the ground continued to rush up at him until, of course, he added another number to his resurrection tally.

God, he hated that bird.

[[Leaving post.]]

It had all gone so horribly wrong.

Just hours after his escape, Yveltal had made a horrifying discovery: somebody had decided to destroy his world without his permission.

He looked down in disgust and fury at the undead Pokemon that were lumbering about, and blasted any that dared to come near him to smithereens. Who had dared to do this? Reducing the world to ruin was his job.

But not all was lost, as Yveltal discovered one evening. He was sat upon a cliff overlooking a forest he had obliterated in a fit of rage, when a small horde of the undead beasts surrounded him. He rose into the air, hovering just out of their reach, snarling down at the little fiends. Honestly, whoever was responsible for this would die a very long and agonising death. Yveltal could hardly wait for it.

But as his eyes met those of a particularly disgusting Zangoose, Yveltal felt something change within him. It was as though a broken chain had been reforged in an instant. The Destruction Pokemon had no idea why he did it, or even how he knew to do it in the first place, but as the horde advanced on him, snarling and shrieking, he barked in a loud voice, Stop! Stop at once!

And they did.

Yveltal's beak dropped open as the undead all halted to a stop in front of him, lowering their bodies submissively. None of them moved, or barely made a sound. They just sat there, waiting, their blood-red eyes glaring at the ground.

The giant avian was amazed. Had they just obeyed an order from him? He had to experiment more to be certain. A wide grin formed on his face as he looked at the Zangoose, hissing to itself, and then over to the rest of the horde.

Zangoose, he said, and the mammalian Pokemon looked up, fully alert. Kill the others.

Without a second to waste the Zangoose flew into a fury, its huge claws quickly rendering the flesh of its comrades. Rotten-scented, dark blood splattered across the smoldering clearing. When it was done, and the Zangoose stood in the shredded remains of the others, swaying a little on its feet, Yveltal was so excited he could've burst into fits of laughter.

Yes, my little minion, he said, landing back on the cliff and lowering his head down to his undead comrade. Come closer. Greet your new overlord.

This...this was going to change everything.

It did not matter that somebody had stolen his purpose from him. Not anymore. Now that Yveltal had risen, whoever it was had inadvertently signed their own death certificate.  

It was not over. He could still rule...and he could use his own enemies to do it.

His talons tapped thoughtfully at the rock as he sneered down at the Zangoose, drooling and swaying on its feet below him. Stupid as they were, clearly they still possessed basic instincts as demonstrated by their insatiable desire to feed. Maybe all it took was a push...a gentle reminder, and Yveltal could achieve his victory.

Zangoose, he said again, and his new friend snapped its head up to look at him. Yveltal stood up tall, stretching his gigantic wings. He was ready, and would fly forever if he had to. Now was his time; his time to reclaim his rightful rule over the world.

And, hopefully, the time for his newest enemy to realize what a deadly mistake he had made.

Zangoose...I want you to lead me to your master.