Pedestal: Chapter 148

The first message was frantic.

"Nick? Nick, pick up this phone right now! Pick up, Nick! I—I know what you did—how could you do that—but please, come back here and we can talk about it! Please, Nick, please just come and talk to me! I—I just want to know why, Nick! J-Just come back and we can talk about this! I just want to know what happened! Please pick up, please call back…"

-.-.-

"Yeah mom? I'm kind of busy right now—" All around him, Pokemon were screaming and screeching at each other. Kamala had finally snapped, by the look of it, and he needed to fix that now. Everything else could wait. Lassie was back again, too. Somewhere, some part deep inside of him was glad for that. He knew he'd made a mistake in releasing her, in ordering her to do that… And now it turned out that she'd been following him all along. It was heartbreaking.

"Nick, Nick, he's dead! Your brother—Matthew's dead!" his mother, barely coherent through her crying, sobbed into the phone.

The blood in his veins froze. Nick's eyes widened slightly, and he suddenly didn't hear the fight going on around him anymore. Straining to hear better, hoping he'd been mistaken, he repeated flatly, "…What."

"There was an attack—a Pokemon attacked him—oh, Nick, Matthew's dead!" his mother continued quickly, wetly, hopelessly. There was a note in her voice he'd never heard before. Lassie following him wasn't heartbreaking; his mother's voice was heartbreaking.

"Mom—calm down, t-tell me what happened." There could be no way that was true. Something had to have happened. It had to be a mistake. Someone else was dead, anyone else was dead. Just not his brother. Maybe an attack—sure, that wasn't that uncommon these days, and no matter how terrible, people lived through them. "What happened to him…?" An attack he could live with. Death he could not.

"Nick, your brother—Matthew is dead. He was attacked by that rogue A-Abomasnow that's been in the news l-lately. H-He was trying to catch an ice Pokemon, and it killed him."

Nick hung up the phone with a click that was loud enough to be a gunshot. So it was true. Matthew was dead. He was dead. Nick had lost Pokemon before, once or twice, but never a member of his human family. Never a brother.

He felt a light, hesitant touch on his shoulder. He jumped, turning to face startled blue eyes. That boy—he had been attacked and lived. He, who was so much like Matthew, lived through the attack. Nick swallowed past the lump in his throat and turned away from him, burying his face in his hands. He took a shaking breath and tried to stop himself from completely breaking down.

Matthew was dead, Matthew was dead, Matthew was dead. Dead dead dead. Dead and gone, never coming back, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Nick stood up, nearly losing his balance. His mind swam. That Abomasnow had attacked before. It had killed before, hadn't it? Why hadn't it been taken care of before this? It had stolen two human lives and nearly more before and no one had stopped it. No one had prevented it from taking Matthew as well. "That damned Abomasnow," he moaned around grit teeth. "Why, why, that damned Abomasnow…"

No one had stopped it. No one would stop it, either, he could see that. It had taken Matthew, someone else, attacked others, and no one was stopping it.

He was outside before he realized it. Chase was curled around him, eyes searching his. Nick whistled for Serling, already knowing what he was going to do without admitting it to himself. His Staraptor appeared in her usual flurry of feathers. He climbed on, and they took to the night sky for Snowpoint.

-.-.-

The second message was sad.

"Nick, please, I'm not angry with you. I'm not, I'm really, really not. I promise I'm not mad at you. Just… Please come back. I want to talk to you again. I-I know Kostya doesn't like you, and Ike doesn't either, but I do and Des does and Carlita does and we're all here for you. We're still here for you. We don't think you're a bad guy. Please, just come back to us and talk. That's all I want. Don't you at least owe me that much?"

-.-.-

Snowpoint City was bustling with activity. Nick slid down from Serling, legs weak from so many hours in the frigid air. He was immediately shivering, missing any sort of jacket and only in his pajamas. He absently dismissed Ser and marched into the town with Chase following him.

Candice was outside, under spotlights and the falling snow, talking to a large group of people. Nick pushed past them, his Garchomp helping, until he was standing in front of the Gym leader. "Where is it," he demanded hollowly.

"Nick, I know he was—"

"Tell me where it was last seen."

"Please don't do this," she said softly.

Nick clenched and unclenched his fists. "Candice, you tell me where that Abomasnow is or this will get ugly very fast."

"What do you plan on doing after you find it?"

Nick turned away from her. He wouldn't be getting any answers. He'd just have to search the forest around the city. It wouldn't be that hard to track a giant Abomasnow. He wasn't even aware Candice was following him until he heard her boots crunch through the snow, far away from the crowd and leaving Snowpoint. He turned and glared over his shoulder, but she frowned at him.

"Nick… You need a jacket. Won't you come back and warm up in the Center? We can get you some proper clothes while we organize the capturing party—"

"Candice, shut the hell up," he snapped, continuing his march through the snow. Chase added a growl and kept protectively between them. They were now fully out of Snowpoint and entering the forest surrounding it. "Chase, see if you can't sniff it out. I'll get Kamala to—" With no small amount of surprise, Nick found that he didn't have any other Pokemon with him. He must have left them behind in Pastoria. Well, he could meet up with them again later. He didn't strictly need them for this.

"Don't do this. I know what you're planning! And don't do it!" Candice called in a high voice. Nick looked down at the snow, trying to find tracks. There—those had to be Abomasnow tracks. He and Chase silently made their way between snow-covered trees, shivering but not complaining, and Candice followed them.

It took not ten minutes to find the Abomasnow. It was huddled over in a den made out of snow, apparently sleeping. Nick and Chase stopped well away from it, half-hiding behind a tree. It was larger than he'd have thought. Candice finally caught up with them, cheeks red from running through the snow. "Chase—"

"Nick, I can't let you do this. You know that, right? I actually can't let you do this," she interrupted breathlessly. She placed a hand on his arm, but he only wrenched it away from her and continued glaring at the Abomasnow.

"Are you really going to try and stop me? Tell me I'm wrong? You know I'm not and you can't stop me." He motioned Chase forward, and the dragon slithered through the trees—until Candice once again ran forward, standing between the Abomasnow and the Garchomp with her arms spread wide. "Candice, get out of the way!" Nick barked.

Behind her, the Abomasnow lumbered up, blinking at them with bleary, pink eyes. It rubbed a blunt paw over them with a yawn. Nick noticed the dark coloring of frozen blood on the dark green of its paws. After that, he hardly remembered what happened. "Nick! Don't do this!" Candice yelled at him, glancing back at the Abomasnow warily.

"Chase, Flamethrower!"

To his credit, the fire attack didn't hit Candice and went over her head. The Abomasnow took it in the face, roaring in pain, trying to bring its arms up to defend itself. Candice screamed and turned back and forth between the Abomasnow and Chase.

When Nick was aware of himself and the situation again, Candice was at his feet, not moving. He didn't know whether she was unconscious or dead. Chase was standing over the charred corpse of the Abomasnow, staring at him levelly.

Nick sunk down into the snow, wrapping his arms around himself. It was so cold. His Garchomp sauntered over, still smelling of fire and burnt things. Nick, struggling not to cry, reached up for his starter. Chase growled reassuringly, wrapping his wings around him. What had he just done? "Chase… I'm so sorry. I-I just… snapped. I couldn't help it. Why did you listen to me?"

"You are my trainer. I will always listen to you. This is how it had to be," he said firmly, nuzzling the top of Nick's head.

"But… why? I—I'm a terrible trainer. I did this to Lassie, and now I did it to you, only this is worse, and are they both dead?" There was a note of hope, for one last chance at getting away from this, in his voice.

"It will be okay," the dragon murmured instead.

-.-.-

The third message was angry.

"Nick, pick up the phone! I don't care what you think you're doing, but unless you're in prison right now, you an-and all of your Pokemon need to get over here now and talk to me! I need to know what's going on here! What did happen, Nick? Just tell me that! Just tell me what the heck happened to my best friend!"

-.-.-

The funeral was small and quiet and sad. Too small of a body was being buried. Nick's father held his mother while she cried. Nick stood apart from them stonily, refusing to look at the gaping hole in the ground and the coffin laying in it. He didn't say any words; he couldn't.

Matthew's remaining Pokemon were left with his parents.

It was only the next day when Nick had to leave. He hadn't unpacked his bag for the funeral, since he didn't plan on staying very long. As he passed the living room, the TV was showing footage of the Abomasnow's body. They had only just found Candice's body that morning, too, and the police were trying to figure out who did it. He shut off the television and left.

His parents were both ex-trainers, so they understood when he said, "I have to leave for awhile. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I'm going to go train again." He almost smiled, too, just to make sure they wouldn't worry about him. He kissed them both goodbye and left with Serling. The rest of his team had caught up with him several days ago, so he had nothing left to do there.

His parents gave him watery, brokenhearted smiles and waved goodbye to him.

Then they watched the news that afternoon and watched their last son try to kill the Champion and her team.

-.-.-

The fourth message was painful.

"Nick, please pick up the phone. I just want to hear your voice again. I want to hear your side of the story. Won't you do this much for me? I-I just have to hear that you're not the bad guy in this. I know you aren't, but I need to hear it from you, please. Th-The news is saying you're a villain, and I know you're not, but just come out and prove it to them. For me? …Won't you do that much for me, Nick? Or are you just leaving me behind like Lassie?"

-.-.-

"Vasudeva, Teleport!" Nick screamed, lunging at his Magmar. He had managed to return Chase and Harlan, and he and Jules, his Mothim, hit Vasudeva just as he vanished. They reappeared far from the Elite Four and broken Champion in a heap, panting and hurting.

He had had to leave Kamala and Patru behind.

Kamala had been obviously dead, but he hadn't been sure about his Aerodactyl. He had gone down, though, and hadn't gotten back up.

And he had left them behind.

Nick clutched Vasudeva for dear life, struggling to get his heart rate under control and ignoring the Magmar's burning skin. Vasudeva tolerated him and stared off into space. If anything, he was ignoring his trainer right then. Jules flitted around both of them, making incoherent, high-pitched squeaks.

"Trainer is hurt?" he asked nervously, alighting on Nick's hair.

"I'm fine. Are you two okay?"

The Mothim giggled uncertainly and didn't reply. Vasudeva just nodded. Nick reluctantly let him go, but only because he obviously wanted him to. The Magmar bobbed his head again and stepped away from him.

Nick had withdrawn all of his cash, items, and Pokemon prior to it. His backpack was full of stuff. It was illegal to carry more than six Pokemon with him, but it wasn't as if he gave a damn right then. It was the least of his legal problems.

Still, he wouldn't drag this out more than need be. He dug around in his backpack and started taking out the pokeballs, great balls, ultra balls, and various others. He knew not all of them would like what he did. And realistically, he couldn't keep all of them.

Nick returned Vasudeva and Jules, and started releasing others one by one. He talked to them, explaining the situation, asking them what they wanted to do. They could be released, kept, deposited again (where they would undoubtedly become the police's Pokemon, perhaps to be adopted at a later time). He left the decision entirely up to his Pokemon. He told them that they would not be harmed, since they were not part of the onslaught against the Champion. They would be safe, no matter what they did.

Four wanted to be released into the wild.

Nine wanted to be deposited and be handed over to the state to take care of.

The rest of them wanted to stay.

Nick found himself crying, heartbroken, and grinning up at the large team that would not abandon him. He had lost fifteen Pokemon. The rest had stayed with him. He would not catch any more; he would not subject any Pokemon in the world to be a criminal's Pokemon.

They all held a funeral for Kamala, Patru, and Lassie. No one objected Lassie being included. No one commented on the lack of bodies. Vasudeva was the one to speak, since he had known the three the longest. Nick presided mutely over the ceremony.

Before they all settled in for the night in that dark forest, alone and separated from the world, Nick spoke. "I'm so sorry, guys."

No one replied.

-.-.-

The final message was broken.

"…Nick. Please, please pick up. Please answer me. Please call back."

-.-.-

Nick made himself listen to every single message everyone left on his phone. His parents, the police, the Champion herself a couple times, his friends, everyone. Each one hurt worse than the last. It was only after the shortest, most defeated one of all that he snapped his phone in half and tossed it off a cliff.

The months passed quickly. He withdrew from the world and lived off of the land—which, really, wasn't something he was unused to doing. He stuck to thick forests and dark caverns, never going near cities or trainer paths or other human beings. It was alarmingly easy to avoid pursuers.

His items ran out. He had no more Revives, or Potions, or anything else. Two more Pokemon left to become wild. Both of these events were fine with him. He didn't need anything but what he had.

That was until Chase broke his leg.

"How did this happen?"

Of course, everyone that had witnessed it spoke up at once. Nick raised his hands for silence and made his way to his starter, checking the wound. There was a gash as long as his arm down Chase's leg, and the bone gleaming out was obviously broken. This could not be healed properly with time and Berries.

"It was a Rhydon. I'll be fine," Chase growled softly, struggling to get back onto his feet.

"I-I'm sorry, he w-was trying to p-protect m-me!" Harlan squeaked, wringing her tail. The Smeargle skittered around them, rapidly nearing tears.

"Harlan, calm down. Chase, you are not fine and we're going to find a way to fix this." Nick started returning his Pokemon until only Chase and Vasudeva were left out. He glanced over his shoulder at the Magmar. "I'm going to need you to Teleport us close to Hearthome. Then, you're going to have to come with me."

Nick, Chase, and Vasudeva left the rest of the extended team (in their balls) with Who. He had orders to Teleport them both far, far away if anyone came across them. Nick reluctantly returned his Magmar, since it would look weird to have him out, and pulled his hood over his head. It had been a year since he attacked the Champion. By letting his hair grow and not shaving for awhile, he hoped that he'd have enough of a disguise to sneak into the Center and get his Garchomp healed.

Nick made it all the way to the Nurse Joy without mishap. She informed him that his Garchomp would need stitches and a cast, and the procedure would take a little over an hour. Nick thanked her quietly and snuck out of the Center. He hoped she estimated well; he would be back in an hour.

Nick did not expect to find Hanna, of all people, leaning outside the Center. She was busily texting away on a phone, a thoughtful frown on her face. She had grown, but he still recognized her easily. The Shiny Leafeon by her feet didn't hurt. She glanced up at him and then back down at her phone.

She didn't look back up at him until the Leafeon started hissing and growling at him. Hanna's frown deepened and she looked down at her Pokemon, then back up at Nick. Too late to stop it, he saw the recollection spark in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but he took a step forward and clamped his hand over her mouth. There was now terror in her eyes. He looked around himself and dragged her into the nearest dark alley, praying that they weren't noticed.

The second his hand left her mouth she spat, "You!"

"Be quiet," he commanded, narrowing his eyes. He didn't know what to do now. He'd been recognized, and he still had an hour before he could get Chase out of the Center. He would not leave his starter behind, which meant he had to stay in or near Hearthome until then.

Which would be very, very hard, thanks to the teenage girl glaring daggers at him.

Hanna then said something that surprised him. "He's still looking for you, you know." Of all the things in the world she could have done—scream for help, kick him, swear at him—and she had to go and do that. Nick didn't need to ask who she was referring to.

He ran a hand over his chin, feeling the scratchy stubble. Some disguise. "…Call your Leafeon off. We can talk this out like civilized people."

"Alexander, return. Nick, you are an idiot. He's still looking for you. He's disappeared from society as much as you have, and he's not even challenging the Champion until you and he sort this out."

"Sort what out?" he snapped, shoving his hands in his hoodie's pocket. Chase's empty pokeball and Vasudeva's filled one were both there, minimized. "There's nothing to sort out. Nothing at all." He carefully slipped Vasudeva's ball into his sleeve, then withdrew his hands from his pocket.

"He—We—Everyone is worried sick over you!" Her voice was rising. That wasn't good.

"Yeah, because they're worried I'll try again," he muttered with a scowl aimed at his shoes.

"Well, yeah! You did a terrible thing, Nick Sayre, and those followers you got are just as bad—"

"Followers?"

"Yes! Those horrible people who are killing the trainers with you! Just because they 'don't deserve them'—what crap! Training isn't about who deserves it and who doesn't—"

"Keep your voice down!" he hissed. He tried to process what information she'd just given him. This had gotten all out of control. He hadn't meant to be some sort of martyr or idol for others to flock to him—and who the hell was flocking to him, anyway? What sort of twisted souls agreed with what he'd done?

"I can do what I want!" Hanna snorted, crossing her arms. "And unless you promise to go see him, I'm going to start screaming."

"What—Why?"

"Because unless he gets some closure, he's not going to do anything ever again! He's gotten all eight badges, you know. He could have tried the Champion, but no, you had to go and ruin that! I could have known the Champion! An-And now he's only going to keep following you around until someone finds him and kills him to stop him!"

That stopped Nick cold. "…Why would they kill him? I don't want him dead. If—If anything, he's more deserving of a team than the rest of us."

"Because he's going after you, their hero. Just go and talk to him so he'll stop being such a kicked Growlithe about the entire thing!" she demanded.

"I… can't do that."

"Why not? Or—Are you going to kill him too to put him out of his misery? I'm going to start screaming unless you start giving me some answers!" Hanna stood on the tips of her toes to glare up in his face, forcing Nick a step back.

"Stop asking so many then!" He was still stuck on the fact that he had homicidal followers. Were they actually killing other trainers? He hadn't meant for any of this to happen… He had to get the younger boy to stop following him, then. If he continued, it sounded like he'd get killed. "…Where is he now? Here?"

"He hasn't been to a city since you left," she replied scathingly. "Do you know how messed up you made him?"

"Tell him to stop following me. Call him and tell him."

"He won't answer the phone anymore. We only text each other."

"Then text him and tell him to stop it!"

"He wouldn't listen to me! Just go see him!"

Nick paused, thinking. If she was right and he wouldn't give up come hell or high water (well, the water might actually stop him…), then he had to get a message to him somehow. People were dying. Trainers were dying. He had to shock him into stopping. He could attack him—no. No, no, no. Nick shook his head. He didn't have that in him. Not his friend. Not the only one who was still trying to find him. Not the one who reminded him so much of his brother.

He looked down at Hanna. She and he were still in contact, they were still friends. She wasn't a trainer. She just kept her Pokemon as pets. She wasn't a real trainer, she never had been.

She might just be the one to get him to stop, after all.

-.-.-

"I'm turning into a monster," Nick moaned, holding his head in his hands. Several of his Pokemon made comforting sounds, but none of them reached out to try to comfort him physically. They didn't know what to do or say. "I killed again. I'll only kill again, won't I? And—And there are those damn fools holding me up on some sort of sick and twisted pedestal… I wonder if they realize that their hero is such a monster."

"Calm down. This is not the end of the world," Chase said gruffly.

"I can't kill him, but I'm killing others to try to warn him off. How isn't this the end of the world? Pretty soon, I'll only be half-sane and I'll really start killing. I'll go completely insane and turn into a serial killer. Th-There was that book I read, the one about Pokemon killers. It said that once you kill, it's likely that you'll kill again. Doesn't that mean that I'm practically guaranteed to keep killing by this point—?"

"Trainer, shut up." It was not Chase, but Vasudeva who spoke. Nick turned his head over to stare at him, eyes hooded. "You are worried about killing more, yes? Then simply leave. Don't give yourself the opportunity to kill more. It's really that simple."

Chase growled at the Magmar, lip curling. They both knew that Nick, once upon a time, had tried to track down Giratina. He had been interested in Giratina's world. They both knew where he'd turn to in order to get away.

Nick broke out into a wide, if slightly disturbing, grin. "…That's a good idea. It really is that simple, isn't it? It always has been. Let's go back to Sendoff Spring."

And so they went back to Sendoff Spring. Naturally, the wild Pokemon of the area didn't like this and attacked at every chance they got. Chase kept nearly all of them away single-handedly. Nick knew his Garchomp was strong, but sometimes, he awed even his own trainer.

"Chase, keep them all away, okay? We need to find Giratina. Harlan still needs its Shadow Force!" Nick called, picking his way through the rocky shore to the opening of the temple.

He was almost happy. He was finally getting away. He wouldn't have to worry about anyone else's safety, he wouldn't have to worry about killing more, he wouldn't have to worry about hiding anymore. He could be alone and free and only with his team. It didn't even occur to him how dangerous of a plan this might be, how suicidal it would be to go after a legendary.

It didn't even occur to him that he was steadily losing his sanity.

Nick barely made it to the entrance before large, gray hands shot out and held him up by the neck. He smiled politely down into the single, red eye of an angry Dusclops. "You are not welcome here," it told him.

"I don't care. We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

The Dusclops narrowed its eye and tightened its grip on his throat. "You have been warned."

"So have you. Chase, Crunch!" Nick wheezed. His Garchomp stopped his fight with a Golduck on the shore and shot over to them, sinking his jaws into the Dusclops' side.

The two fought their way through the temple, until they found a massive room. It was devoid of ghosts—and of legendaries. The stone pillar in the middle had a mirror on it, however, and Nick peered into it. There was only his reflection staring back at him blankly. Giratina was not here.

They fought their way back out, this time much more violently. He was furious that Giratina wasn't here, wasn't paying attention to the temple, wasn't roaring angrily at them that very second. The ghosts had been guarding an empty treasure chest. They probably knew it, too. "Tell me where Giratina is!" he demanded of one of the injured Dusclops.

"…You are a foolish human," it responded wryly before collapsing.

"Chase, kill it."

It was then, when Chase was ripping into a Dusclops at the edge of the temple's entrance, that the water behind them burst open. One of the largest Pokemon either of them had ever seen erupted out of the lake's surface, raging and bellowing and waving its wings at them. Nick turned in awe and enchantment to finally see Giratina.

"Chase, we need that Shadow Force."

The fight didn't last very long. Neither did Nick's state of mind. Giratina vanished, but as he was digging around for Harlan's pokeball, he saw Chase carrying something back to shore. And when he dropped the stunned boy on the shore, Nick's sanity came crashing back down around him.

He kept his guard up, as best he could, and tried not to make much eye contact. He hadn't shaken him off his trail. If anything, killing Hanna's pets had made it worse. He tried to keep himself detached, keep himself the bad guy he knew he was, and kept the younger trainer at emotional arm's length. He had to be the villain there; he was one, after all. He'd just killed how many more in order to get away to stop himself from killing? Something definitely wasn't right with him. And he had to stop himself from doing something to the boy who reminded him so much of his brother.

Nick threatened him, tried to keep him away from him. He scared him. He did everything possible short of punching him in the face to keep him away.

And yet it was still Nicholas Sayre who ran from that encounter.

-.-.-

"I'm getting worse." And he was. He was completely indifferent to killing now, be it Pokemon or human. He had found one of his followers—or maybe it was the follower who found him—and naturally, Nick wouldn't stand for someone so hopeless and cruel to announce to him that he had killed two undeserving trainers and teams, expecting approval.

Some days, he found himself daydreaming about being alone in Giratina's world, or any other world, just him and his team and no one else to worry about.

Some days, it was just him, in that black world that reminded him too much of death.

The Shadow Force hadn't worked as planned. Only Harlan would disappear into that world, no matter how tightly he held onto her, and she always had to come back. The longest she would stay there was a couple minutes. No one in the team could figure out how to make it work for Nick as well, and it hurt him to find out that his hunt for an escape route was nothing but a waste.

It was awhile after that before he noticed a curious trend. He was an expert at hiding himself, but occasionally, he'd venture close to trainer paths. He had noticed long ago that the trainer population seemed to be shrinking, and there were not a lot of friendly battles out in the open anymore. There were more groups of two, but rarely any groups of three. There were a lot traveling in the direction of the nearest city. A lot.

It took him a little while before he figured out that this was some sort of mass exodus. Trainers were gathering—for what? He felt a little left out, if he was being honest with himself. He was a trainer too, wasn't he? He was the one who had so many supporters, so many who believed in him, so many trusting him and his ideals about training. Right?

So why didn't he know what the other trainers were up to?

He knew it was stupid and petty and cruel to think all of those things, and he tried to ignore those feelings, but it was hard to. Nick, whatever wrongs he'd done, was still a trainer. That's all he was now. So why couldn't he at least be that, at least know what was going on in the world?

Several times, he almost went into a city to find out. He was nervous, though. Last time, he'd seen Hanna. This time who would he see? A Gym leader? With that many trainers in one area, the odds of someone recognizing him skyrocketed. He didn't feel comfortable trying to sneak into a town just for some scrap of news.

Many of his Pokemon were too recognizable. Chase, Vasudeva, Jules, and Harlan had all been with him when he'd attacked the Champion. He had challenged the Elite Four with even more. There were very few Pokemon he could trust to go into a city alone and find out what was happening.

Eventually, he ended up sending Who. The Hypno could Teleport out of trouble if need be, and while he wasn't exactly a common Pokemon, he wasn't synonymous with the name Nick Sayre.

Who came back with grave news. "There is some sort of tournament. Trainers are organizing it. Trainers who are following your example."

"What does that mean?" Chase grumbled with a roll of his eyes.

"I'm not sure of it myself. The two on the television merely say that they are following Nicholas Sayre's example."

"What else did they say?" Nick asked, feeling rather cold. He shoved his hands in his pockets and ignored the feeling, concentrating instead on his Hypno.

"It's going to be held in Jubilife. There was some rule about the rounds and Pokemon in one's team, but I didn't understand it. They are stopping others from interfering because they have one of the Gym leaders held hostage."

"Wh-What sort of rule was it?" Harlan asked curiously. The Hypno looked at her irritably.

"Did I not just say I didn't understand it? It was something about earning a Pokemon every round a trainer won, or something to that effect."

"Earning one? That… doesn't make sense."

They packed up and left, heading to Jubilife. This sounded suspicious—but exciting. Nick had participated in a couple of tournaments before, but never one this massive. With the influx of trainers, it actually wasn't that hard to get into Jubilife. He tied a bandana around the lower half of his face, pulled his hood up over his head, and blended in with the crowds easily.

The televisions were all playing the same thing. The first round of the tournament was underway, or finishing up, by the look of it. There were a lot of tears from the losers. Sure, there were bound to be tears when winning and losing were involved—but this was excessive. Nick doubted he saw a single dry eye from the three battles he watched. Even one of the winners cried and apologized. Something was off about this tournament.

"…And that wraps up the first round! We hope everyone had a great time watching such great battles!" a disheveled blonde told the camera, looking a little worn out. Had she participated as well? "We'll get on with loser's ceremony after a short break."

"Loser's ceremony?" Nick asked aloud without realizing he'd spoken.

"Yes. Now they kill the losers' teams. No one's quite sure how they're going to go about it, especially with half of Sinnoh having just lost, but no one can stop them until it gets underway and they get Byron out of there, can they?" He jumped and turned to see a girl standing beside him, calmly watching the television. She turned to him with a polite incline of her head. He stepped away from her, mentally frowning at the solid black she was wearing.

Then he realized what she'd said.

"Wait—kill! They're killing teams?"

"Oh yes. They've been saying that quite a lot recently, haven't they?" the girl said, turning back to the sheet of glass separating them from the wall of televisions. Something about her seemed faintly familiar, or perhaps faintly off. He wasn't sure which. "They're figuring out who deserves teams and who doesn't… I admit, a tournament-style selection process wasn't very smart of them. There could be quite a number of simply unlucky ones they're going to off."

"They're—really? They're thinking they don't deserve their teams?" That was not what he had planned. Not at all. He had only meant to punish Cynthia for not doing anything, for letting so many get hurt and killed by that Abomasnow, for sitting back and relaxing while trainers suffered around her. He hadn't meant to get others thinking that way—especially about other trainers!

Sure, there were some trainers he'd met who really didn't deserve their Pokemon, but there was no reason to kill them over it!

This had gotten too far out of hand.

"Byron is being held in the TV station building. No one's strong enough to try to rescue him, since he'd undoubtedly get killed in that process. Of course, all it takes is the proper high-level trainer…" the girl remarked.

Nick turned and ran. The station—it was down this street, wasn't it? He didn't see the girl release a Xatu, and he didn't see them both watch him leave. Half of Sinnoh was about to lose their teams. Half of the trainers in the region would lose their Pokemon. What sort of sick freaks thought this was a good idea?

Killing was suddenly wrong again. He hadn't meant to inspire others to do the same thing he had, to make the same mistake. He didn't want to let others think that they had power over others just because they were stronger. Trainers were trainers, regardless of how strong they were. Everyone deserved the chance to have their own Pokemon, didn't they? Why were these people thinking they didn't? Who was stupid enough to think he had done something great enough to mimic?

Nick pulled the bandana down so that it was around his neck; he needed to be able to breathe while running. No one noticed another panicked trainer sprinting down the street. Half way there, he ran out of breath, stopped, and released Who. "T-Teleport…" he gasped out. Before he knew it, they were both on the second floor of the station.

He looked around him in confusion, trying to get his bearings. Something squawked immediately to his left. Who had it pinned up against the wall with a Psychic before Nick realized what was going on. He was trying to find Byron.

Someone had noticed the bird's cry, though, because as he was exiting the room, he heard shouting. He headed in that direction, pulling out Chase's pokeball, hardly aware of Who following him. He kicked down the door and found a scene straight out of a mafia movie. Byron was tied up and leaning against the far wall. A boy and a Scyther were on either side of him, the Scyther's blade pressed against the Gym leader's neck.

Nick then noticed the dozen or so other people and Pokemon in the room.

"Take another step, and we'll kill Byron," someone said coldly.

"'Bout time someone else made it this far, though."

There were ten Pokemon in total in the room, at least as far as Nick could tell. Three humans, not counting himself and Byron. He was very much outnumbered—but they were outclassed. "Who—"

Before he could say anything more than his Hypno's name, a Mightyena snarled and leapt at him. It had Who pinned, jaws at his throat. Nick swore and returned Who before the dark dog could bite down. With his other hand, he threw Chase's pokeball out and the Garchomp appeared with a roar. The Mightyena backed up towards the wall, eyes narrowed and ears laid back.

The Scyther pressed its blade against Byron's neck until there was a thin trickle of blood running down it. Byron's lip curled and he glared sideways at the bug Pokemon. He then locked eyes with Nick again. Nick stepped back; Byron had immediately recognized him. Chase curled around his trainer, growling and snapping at all of the Pokemon, who were trying to advance.

"Back out now and we won't kill you or Byron," a muscular man next to a Hariyama said. "Return your Garchomp before we attack. Why is a winner attacking now, anyway?"

Byron spoke. Everyone unwittingly turned to him, surprised by the move; he hadn't spoken the whole time up until that point. "…If you are half the trainer you once were, go and rescue those lives they're about to destroy."

"What are you talking about, old man?" the burly man snapped.

Byron stared steadily at Nick, ignoring the bleeding. "You shouldn't care what happens to another Gym leader, should you? Instead, go save those trainers who deserve their teams."

This time, it was Nick who snapped at him. "Don't lecture me on that! You have no idea—!" He didn't even see the other trainers suddenly look at him in a new light. Chase hissed at them and bared his teeth at the other Pokemon, who suddenly weren't too keen on challenging the Garchomp any more.

"Yeah, well, if you don't get the hell out of here and do something, you and I will both have no idea what it's like to lose an entire team of Pokemon," Byron said evenly. "Unlike those trainers who are about to find that out. Get out of here, Sayre. Go save someone worth saving."

With a snick, the Scyther slit his throat.

The boy standing beside him, hand raised as a motion to the Scyther, stepped forward. Eyes shining with admiration, he peered at Nick curiously. Nick didn't even notice him, instead watching, horrified, as Byron's body fell over and he started coughing weakly. "You… You really are Sayre, aren't you?" the boy asked, jarring Nick out of his shock.

"What do you think you're doing here?" he snarled, turning on him. The boy looked intimidated, but delighted at the same time.

He grinned uncertainly up at the older trainer. "W-We're just following your example. It was about time someone decided to set a standard for Pokemon training, and we're just so—"

The boy was pinned up against the wall before he could finish. Nick held him with one hand at his throat, the other reaching down to where Byron's shovel was leaning against the wall. He picked it up and held the flat side against the boy's cheek. "Do you know what this is?"

"B-Byron's shovel?"

"Yes. It is. He's hit me twice with it. He also nearly knocked out Chase when we challenged him. Byron was very animated with this shovel of his. And you know what?"

"What…?" the boy squeaked.

"He will never be able to do that again, will he? Byron will never be able to lift his shovel again and smack sense into younger trainers. He won't be able to hand out badges. He won't be able to give advice on continuing on with a training journey. He won't be able to admire the up-and-coming young trainers. He won't be able to challenge the next generation. He won't be able to test trainers to see if they deserve their Pokemon. Are you seeing what I'm getting at here?"

The boy only stared at him, eyes rolling in terror.

"You, who are using Pokemon to bully others—no, it's not even that tame anymore is it? You are all using your own Pokemon to kill others! Do you know how stupid that is? You don't do that! You don't have the right to pass judgment on anyone! You are the ones who don't deserve the Pokemon that follow you!" Nick roared, dropping the boy and turning to the room. He swung Byron's shovel against the nearest window, shattering it. Glass rained over the fallen Gym leader's body. "You all claim to be my followers, right? So you should know what's coming next!"

Nick grinned at them all, arms spread, waiting for someone to answer him. The other two trainers in the room didn't dare speak, and the Pokemon cowered before him. Nick stomped over to them, still swinging the shovel beside him, and beamed at them all.

"You don't deserve these Pokemon, so that's why I'm going to take them away from you! Chase, Flamethrower."

He didn't kill anyone himself until he found the burning warehouse with thousands of lives trapped inside and two starry-eyed girls responsible for it. For the first time, it wasn't his Pokemon doing the dirty work; Nick still had Byron's shovel, and was beating their faces in until the blood soaked the ground around them. They deserved it. They deserved it so much and so much more for doing what they were doing. They were killing not only innocents, but all in the name of their twisted judgment call on all of Sinnoh. They were trying to imitate him and decide who deserved what—so he just gave them a hand with a shovel and a parting Flamethrower just to make sure they got the message.

So what if he was screaming at them, too. "You don't do that! You don't attack other trainers, you're stupid for trying to follow me! You're as bad as I am! Why are you doing this? Why did you try this? Why, why?"

-.-.-

Nick had no more perception of time. He'd either lost it or was ignoring it. Time might've passed, or it might've been just yesterday he had broken down and murdered yet again. Byron was dead. Candice was dead. Trainers were dead, dying. They were all dying. It was some sort of large scale battle royale in which the higher-ups would win just because they had a head start and had enough of life.

"You're acting like a mother," he told Chase.

"Someone has to," he replied simply, raising his head. Nick sighed and nestled back down against his Garchomp's side.

Jules flitted up to them. Nick blinked at him, unaware he'd even left. The Mothim had a curious expression on his face; he looked ready to cry, perhaps, or like he was expecting some sort of abuse. "Trainer, I have bad news."

"News?"

"I-I went to the city. Chase and Who—they told me to. They told me to keep an eye on humans. On the news. They want to stop that from happening again—we don't want you to go through that again." Go through what? Nick had no concept whatsoever of what had happened. He just felt strangely empty and tired all of the time, and for some reason, he couldn't get the taste of blood out of his mouth. "The news. It's bad news. Someone decided to—retaliate against you. They—your parents—They have—"

"My parents?" Nick asked blankly. He hadn't seen his parents in over a year. He missed them, sometimes, but he hadn't seen them or talked to them in so long. What about his parents was so bad?

"Trainer, someone says they will kill your parents if you don't give yourself up to them," Jules said solemnly, blinking his big eyes rapidly.

Nick stared up at his Mothim, blinking just as often. His parents. Someone was going to kill them? Killing was bad—killing meant death—killing was what had happened to his brother. He stood up, looking wordlessly back at Chase. His Garchomp stood up as well. Jules flitted nervously out of the way with a squeak. Nick grabbed his backpack and started returning his Pokemon. It was one thing to run from society and kill murdering 'followers'. It was quite another to ignore his parents' plight. He didn't have the chance to save his brother, but now he had the chance to save the rest of his family.

What would happen if he lost them, too, didn't even cross his mind.

"Who, I need you to Teleport me to my parent's place."

His Hypno twirled his charm around his finger, looking away, almost guiltily. "Trainer, this is not the wisest of decisions—"

"Who."

"…Fine."

"I agree with Who. You'll only get in trouble if you go—"

"Chase, kindly shut up. I love you and you're my starter and I value that, but you're not my mother, no matter how much you act like her sometimes. If I lose my real one, I will not be happy." He was hardly conscious of what he was saying anymore. He didn't know how long it took for him to return everyone and get ready. It might've been two minutes, it might've been two hours. Time had long since escaped him and it wasn't going to come back anytime soon.

Give himself up to save his parents? In a heartbeat. He had thought before about just giving himself up and putting himself at society's mercy, but now it wasn't even a passing thought. It was merely a fact.

Chase was returned last. Who stayed out for the necessary Teleport, but the second the surroundings changed, Nick returned him, too. He glanced around him, just once, and immediately recognized the area. There was that big oak tree he had fallen out of as a child, there was his neighbor's fence in the distance, and there, on the hill, was his house.

He hadn't been here since the funeral.

Nick shouldered his backpack, halfheartedly wondering if he should've let them go. It was too late now. The cameras swarming the yard at the base of the hill had spotted him. He ignored them and the sudden sinking sensation in his stomach, squared his shoulders, and marched up towards his house.

There was a man on the porch and a Staravia perched on the porch railing next to him. His parents were nowhere in sight. Nick stopped at the foot of the stairs, glaring up at this man, this assailant, this person who was trying to take the rest of his family away. He felt a sudden, unwanted spike of anger and the burning carcass of the Abomasnow flashed into his mind. Nick grit his teeth and bowed his head, trying to get rid of the mental image; the man on the porch must have taken that as a sign of compliance.

"Your parents are inside, safe an' sound, just 'cause you came in time. Cut it a bit close, but you still made it. And unlike you, I'm decent and I won't harm innocents."

Nick glared up at him again, opening his mouth to reply, but he noticed for the first time that the man had a gun.

In the momentary shocked silence, the man continued, "My nephew's in there with them, guardin' them with our Pokemon. Any sneaky stuff and they'll be killed. My son was in that tournament you made." It flowed together so well it took Nick a moment to figure out he had changed subjects. He tore his eyes away from the gun and glared up at the man once more. The man's expression hardened and he raised the gun.

It was now centered on his forehead and less than two feet from his head.

"My son was in that tournament you made, and because of it, he died," the man stated. The safety clicked off.