Shrouded by an icy mist, the Garchomp approached with her talons spread, the Crest symbol on her scarf shining bright as a star. Several other Soldiers had her back, one with a fire shining on the end of their tail.

“Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be…” she growled. ”Don’t try and fight your way out. Don’t break that flute… and most important of all, get your hands off that Dewott.”

George stepped backwards. “…what the hell do you want from me, already? Do you want me dead that bad?!”

Yellow eyes glowing in the snow, Gareda raised her chin. She wore a much thicker scarf than usual, enough to block the cold from seeping in her scales.

“Do yourself a favour, Othersider. Stop believing this nonsense. Would we be having this conversation if I wanted you dead? You’re standing among liars. Liars who’ll drop you at the right moment…”

She glared towards Terez, who couldn’t return the gesture. Instead she stared into the snow, clenching a fist. It almost resembled a blanket. Almost.

“You talk a lot for a thug,” the Gardevoir mused. “Have you ever taken a long, hard look at yourself in the mirror? A lake? At all? No amount of decoration that disgusting serpent lops onto you makes a difference. You’re nothing more than a brute. A merc. A killer for hire.”

Her words were colder than the snow under their feet, the figures behind Gareda looking towards the Garchomp for guidance. She wore a stressed look on her snout the second Terez branded her as a killer. George felt her mood change straight away. She must’ve known there was no dying it.

“You’re not stopping any of us,” the Dewott cried out. “You’ll have to get this off my dead body!” ‘And I won’t let anything get the better of me!’

To this, the Garchomp grimaced, before letting out a sigh.

“George… I-”

She’d barely started before lunar energy rushed past George and the steel types, soaring like a spear aimed straight at Gareda’s heart. She leapt out of the way, a growl escaping her throat as she dove for cover. The Magmar behind rushed in and unleashed a massive blast of fire in the shape of a star, exploding into shrapnel the moment it connected with the lunar sphere. Gareda rose back to her feet.

“AFTER THEM! I’ll handle the Dewott!”

The Soldiers roared out a battle cry, then charged through the snow. George unsheathed his scalchop, his brow furrowed. He’d been saving his energy for a long, long time.

‘Bring it…’

* * *

Glass crashed and scatterded all over the street as a black-scarved Granbull smashed into a storefront, his comrades long pacified. Soldiers closed in around him, and anyone else left loitering outside. The civilians had long taken shelter; troublemakers alone were left.

Horns and roars sounded the retreat, and whoever could get out made a break for it. Among the ‘fortunate’, Blitzer followed a ragtag group of Pokemon to the east, away from the Entivesi river, away from Allora. Pain took hold of his chest at the thought of leaving her behind. George’s mentor, their watchful overseer, Chronos’ wife… How could he live with leaving her to fate? Literally?

‘Chronos is going to kill me if he finds out… b-but she asked me to… no…’

Pained as the thought left him, the situation left little room to change his mind, or curl up crying in a gutter over what he’d decided on. Coerced into. Followed. It didn’t matter. His scarf felt tight enough around his neck with the amount of Soldiers on his tail. He didn’t dare look. But their footsteps weren’t far behind. One set overpowered the rest. A Kangaskhan’s.

“HALT!”

“No!” he squeaked out. All the adrenaline wasn’t making him feel any stronger, somehow.

“You’re all going to pay for what you’ve done!! TERRORISTS!”

Blitzer ran and ran and ran, as fast as his feet would go. It was Nera chasing him for leaving a mess around the house, times a thousand. This time, the consequences went far beyond a knock on the head, the threat of a Poison Sting and being grounded. And it wasn’t something worth finding out.

Tail bobbing up and down, Blitzer rushed around a building, narrowly dodging a pile of snow. The group he chased after was in dire straits. Enemy forces closed in on them like ferals, blocking them in street by street. Someone had to act if they wanted to escape, and seeing no one else stepping up to the plate, Blitzer felt obliged to do it himself. It was cold. It was snowing. Yet the streets had been swept.

‘Long shot, buuut…’

Tapping a claw on his chin, then grimacing at the ground, he decided to jump around. Kangaskhan and all the other Soldiers with her weren’t far behind, having just turned the corner. Blitzer breathed in deep, then felt fire surge to the back of his throat. He threw his jaws open, and breathed a blanket of flames onto the stony floor. Unsurprisingly, the joy was short-lived.

But the Soldiers chasing stopped regardless, countering the mini inferno with whatever rock and water-attacks they had. Time was of the essence. And though the fire gave just a few extra seconds, he intended to make the most of them.

“Don’t leave-” he gulped. ‘I shouldn’t shout right now!’

* * *

“GRAAAAAHHH!!”

Sparks flew as George leapt past Gareda, swinging his scalchops at her. One scraped past her scales, the other bounced right off. She attempted to elbow him, missing by a hair, and George landed with two feet in the snow, wind rushing through his fur, still holding both scalchops. He spun around, panting. Their eyes met.

“Do you really want to take it this far?” the Garchomp growled at him.

George’s grip on his scalchops tightened. “You’re trying to KILL me!!” he growled back, his voice nowhere near as deep or vicious, but the thought meant a million words.

Gareda’s pupils sharpened into narrow slits. “Look at you… straight for my damn neck. You’re one cocky little son of a bitch, you know that right?” She stomped a foot straight through the snow, the ground deep under cracking with explosive force. “I’ll fix that for you…”

“NGH!” George coughed as the very air he breathed choked his lungs. A blue flash went through his eye. Psychism at his fingertips, he picked up a nearby rock then sent it flying at the start on Gareda’s head. She smashed it with a single strike of a talon, then shielded her face as a wave of snow followed.

Slowly she moved closer, as George backed up. They were duelists in a wide open arena, drifting further and further away from the others. George saw the steel types brawling from the corner of his eye. It was brief, but clear.

It didn’t last. Gareda slammed her talons into the ground, ripping the earth apart. She yanked an enormous boulder up above her head, then tore it apart into a dozen, each blunt and heavy. She flung the rocks over her head, raining them onto George like shrapnel, snow spattering on each.

George gasped, his heart flaring red hot. He dropped onto his belly, covered his head, and winced as he felt the rush of the rocks flying past him. He peeked after a few seconds. Gareda charged. She was closing the gap rapidly. Terrified, he got up, hastily flinging the shards of the now broken rocks back at her. She smashed through each, her fins doing most of the work.

“TEREZ!”

He ran away. Moments after, fire geysered past him, blocking the path towards Terez and the others, the distant sounds of battle drowned out over the crackling flames. The cold was blasted out of fur in an instant.

“Don’t call for help now! Show me what they taught you. SHOW ME!” Gareda roared at him.

George staggered backwards, shielding his eyes, ears flat against his head. His heart pounded against the walls of his chest. He hyperventilated, trying to shed the fear pumping through his veins, to no avail. Gareda was once again on the move, her muscles tense as if they were resisting a force. A psychic force.

‘Terez…’

The embrace of the Garchomp’s talons wasn’t an option. George had come too far to die. And as bleak as life had been… it was worth living. It wasn’t worth losing. Nor was it worth giving up for all those he met. Not for Blitzer. Not for Terez. Nero. Nera. Speedy. The children of Greenfield. Minos. Allora. Porov. Skal. Even Hein, creepy as he was.

George screamed it all out as he shoved his hands forward, kicking up an icy wind while water surged into his mouth. He spat a jet of water into the line of fire, dousing it at the source. His scalchops flew into his hand, then he flung them forward like boomerangs, hitting Gareda in her elbows. The Garchomp flinched, then looked at him with utter disgust. George clenched his fists.

‘Feeling’s mutual…’

Scalchops reattached to his hip, he jumped into the melted snow, then jettisoned backwards with a mix of water and psychic. He hadn’t practised Aqua Jet well, but the telekinesis kept his feet straight. How he ever managed to stay alive without it had become unfathomable.

Too bad that Gareda was far from done, even with the distance between them now. She spread her arms, then soared into the sky.

Anticipating her swooping past, George’s throat turned as cold as the icy wastes they battled in. The icy wastes he hoped to make her tomb. A beam shot out his mouth. Gareda angled her arms and danced around his attacks, circled around, then took off towards him with a burst of speed. George missed. And missed. And missed…!

Once again he fell on his back. And by the time he was up, still he hadn’t been injured. But the distance he’d gained on Gareda was gone with the wind.

Once again, she was rapidly approaching.

“We’re only getting started here…”

* * *

Today would be remembered for all the wrong reasons. Blitzer could feel the thought burning deep within his stomach, but it wasn’t until he’d managed to escape Tirasford proper that the true scale of the disaster hit him.

Plumes of smoke rose all throughout Tirasford, with flying Pokemon soaring and swooping down. Blitzer had run too far to identify their species, or their purpose. Whether to kill or save, Arceus alone would’ve known from this distance. Blitzer winced every time he saw the city cry behind him. The smoke might as well have been tears.

‘We’ve… what have we done?’

Stragglers filled the main road connecting Tirasford and Snowviary, a handful of other Pokemon fleeing through the villages to the south east of the city. Though green-collared Soldiers awaited the tired black scarves and Smaugusfolk, the escapees had strength in numbers on their side. For now. There was no telling how long it would be before reinforcements would arrive.

Other than that, the confusion was its own smokescreen. Civilians were among those fleeing Tirasford. No one knew how far they’d go, but the sight of a black scarf sent many scurrying away into the snowdrift.

Given the lack of black around his neck, Blitzer managed to attract company. A Froslass popped up beside him, her arms shivering despite the relative warmth.

“H-hey… do you what’s going on? Why is the city being attacked?” she whispered to him. Her voice sounded soft, innocent. Someone who wouldn’t harm a Cutiefly if it got into their house.

Blitzer shook his head, quickly burying the contempt on his face. “I… I know about as much as you do. I think it’s the Smaugus, though…” he whispered back. “A-and… maybe they’ve got help?” ‘What do I even tell her? I can’t just say I was with them…’

Froslass put her hands on top of one another as she walked, keeping close contact with the Charmeleon while hurrying to get away from Tirasford.

“T-this is terrible… why are they doing this to us?” she muttered. “Maybe… we should’ve known. We should’ve known the Smaugus were up to no good, if they’re really behind this. Gods… G-gods… Kyurem, oh Kyurem… Articuno almighty, they were a strange bunch from the start! Creepy recluses…”

Blitzer nodded along, claws clicking against one another. “Y-yeah. That they are. All their weird rules and lack of contact…”

“Have you heard the rumours? That they were forcing people off their land in the countryside?” Froslass asked. “I didn’t believe that at first either, but… we should’ve paid more attention to what was going on. Look at the degradation around here. No one wants to talk to anyone, we don’t trust each other… it’s like every ‘mon for himself has become the norm. Back to the feral ages.”

“Uh huh?” Blitzer hummed back. He didn’t know what else to say. He’d give himself away if he did.

“We should work together better… work to fix Whitiara.”

“...What can we do, though?” Blitzer asked. “I mean… would you join the Crest?”

Froslass let out a cold sigh, a shine flickering through the icy crystals embedded in her head. “I don’t know. But here’s the thing. Imperfect as they are, and though I don’t always agree with Governor Dritch’s policies? They’re the best we’ve got. They’re the ones keeping this land afloat. Else, it would’ve been total anarchy. Could you imagine them gone? The Smaugus would run this place.”

Blitzer gulped, his blood running cold faster than the temperature dropped. “I… I don’t necessarily agree,” he muttered, “but I get where you’re coming from?” he said. Froslass had backed him into a corner, and she didn’t even know it. As a foreigner, his options were limited. His accent had a slight drawl that the Whitiarans lacked, yet Froslass hadn’t picked up on that yet. “This is all so weird… I… we uh… excuse me for asking, but who are you?”

She slowly turned her head, her eyes heavy in their sockets. “I’m Autriss. I study Organisation here… that’s about it, really. Who are you?”

He shrugged. “Blitzer. Uh. I moved here not too long ago with… my parents.” He blinked. ‘If only.’

Autriss sighed again. “I wish you’d come in a more peaceful time. You seem nice.”

“Thanks,” Blitzer replied, resisting the urge to grimace. “You too, by the way.” ‘If only she knew how right she was about everything.’

They ended up in a massive gathering of Pokemon on a hill overlooking Tirasford. It resembled a refugee camp; many here were shivering and destitute. By some miracle, Blitzer managed to lose Autriss in the crowd. She had been friendly enough, and he would’ve loved to know regular Whitiarans more.

But he’d lied and destroyed more than enough as was today. The last thing he wanted to add to that list was the Froslass’ belief in him.

* * *

Each attack had been a knife, violently disfiguring the land until it had turned into a wasteland, the cold dirt underneath laying exposed and torn, rocks shattered and scattered like litter. George struggled to keep his footing while desperately dodging Gareda’s restless assault. Even the slightest slip of his feet could get them stuck in a crack, or trip him over a rock.

“Ngh!”

He grimaced while diving out of the way of her talons, the draconic energy sizzling past his face. Without the time to wipe the snow off his face, he struggled himself back to his feet.

A second later, Gareda slashed at him, missing by the skin of her teeth. In a panic, George spat water at her neck. Brave as his attempt ws, the Garchomp pushed through without the slightest struggle, then raised her leg.

“Agh!!”

The air was forced out of George’s lungs, as he doubled over backwards from a kick to the chest, coming to a rest on a bed of dirt. The flute piece clung to his neck by a thread, one which George was in no position to protect. Not anymore. He lay coughing and sputtering, his limbs aching and his head throbbing, exhaustion settling deep within his bones.

No matter how hard he fought, Gareda fought harder. Moved faster. Outwitted his every move. And the little support he did get was short lived; the others in the Alliance were struggling all the same.

He tried to sit up straight, right at the moment where the footsteps heading towards him stopped. But his back cried out in pain, and he couldn’t open his eyes to much more than a sliver. Gareda had stopped before him. She didn’t budge. Didn’t finish him off. Only stared.

“You fight well for someone who’s only been a Pokemon for a few months. Has anyone ever told you that?”

George gritted his teeth while overcoming the pain in his back. “Nnggghh…” was all he answered with, cold winds blowing into his face. An earthy smell entered his nose, one which vaguely resembled the way Blitzer smelled. Always getting himself covered in dirt stains. Always needing a wash…

George’s eyes went wide in an instant. ‘Not like this…. Not like this!’

“But you’re spent,” the dragon growled at him as he managed to sit up. “This is not where either of us want to be… come. Please.”

‘Blitzer…!’ “Never! I’ll-”

As his fingers slipped to the Azure Flute, Gareda abandoned her siren-like attempt to win George over, alluring as it might be. A heavenly promise of warmth wasn’t going to erase all Gareda had done… and all she was going to do. With that one, defiant slip of George’s fingers, Gareda dropped all pretensions, and kicked him in the shoulder. Back he rolled, the flute piece scattering into the snow, by some miracle towards the others in the distance.

George cried out in desperation, the pain sinking into his body. “TEREZ! ANYONE! TAKE IT!” his screams echoed over the snowy plains, as he pointed towards the bit of azure metal jutting out in the darkness. “FAST!!”

Terez had been watching for a while, and she and the others had beaten back the Soldiers. As Gareda’s feet approached once again, George couldn’t shove the flute piece away. The energy for telekinesis had left him long ago. It was up to Terez now, as Gareda moved in, presumably for the kill. George closed his eyes.

“Blitzer, I’m sorry.”

Expecting to plunge into the darkness, George felt a psychic energy overtake him. It wasn’t his.

“Wait, no…”

“Son of a-”

George’s body soared over the plains, the flute piece remaining behind. It vaguely resembled teleporting, except the elements impacted his body at full force. Nevertheless, cold and beaten as he might’ve been, he soon found himself in Terez’ grasp. Her rosy smell wavered around him. He looked over his shoulder. In the distance, Gareda scowled his way, all while she scooped up the final piece of the Azure Flute. Their objective.

He dragged his eyes towards the Gardevoir holding him, horrified yet confused. “...Why?”

Terez closed her eyes. “Because you’re worth more than that flute, George.”

“...We failed,” George said as the Soldiers retreated in the snow, their footfalls crunching in the snow. No one stopped them.

“Don’t declare defeat so easily,” Terez said, shaking her head. “We’ll manage. This might even have been for the better.”

George frowned, a sneeze spilling out of his mouth moments later. “Do you think lying to yourself will help?”

Terez’s hair wavered in the wind. “It’s complicated… trust me.”