Northern Star

Remember when I said that the end of Part 1 was the end of new character introduction? Subplot! Fuck you!

Also, this chapter features one of my favorite made-up words of all time.

Also also, rough sex is the best shit ever.

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For years, Dana had been refining her skill at poffin production. She found that nothing loosened up a Drowzee like a nice poffin, and it worked fairly well for the other species as well. She was standing over a frying pan in her small kitchen, frying up a snack for Celia - the poor creature was at her apartment, having nowhere else to go now that her Trainer was dead and the lab was temporarily closed. Dana had sworn to herself she wouldn't adopt another Ralts evo, as Minerva had almost killed her before, but when she looked upon those huge, red, pleading eyes, it was hard to maintain the cold clinicality of the scientist.

She was locked in a constant battle with herself to not become attached. These creatures were vulnerable and needed medical treatment, not a weepy hovering mother-figure. However, as she walked into the living room and saw Celia's eyes light up at her arrival, she wondered if perhaps a mother was exactly what they needed. Celia was being entertained by Eric White, a research associate from her lab. The kid had just finished his master's degree and was preparing for a line of experiments in cross-species mating bonds for his doctoral candidacy. White had adopted Loki after he had discovered and resolved Loki's difficulty in socializing with other Pokemon - it had turned out that Loki was a closeted homosexual, and lived in constant fear that he would be outed and ostracized. White was able to get through to Loki because White himself had faced and defeated the same insecurity.

White had Celia on her back and was tickling her mercilessly. The little Kirlia was telekinetically hurling pillows off of the couch and striking White around the head and shoulders; when he would reach up to bat the pillows away, Celia would reach up and tickle him. The two were laughing hysterically when Dana arrived with a pair of extremely hot sweet poffins. Celia glided to her feet, still giggling, and White straightened up, smoothing his fine silk shirt. Dana made fun of him for his preening over his appearance, but was very careful about not overdoing it, for which White was silently appreciative.

Perhaps it was because he was indeed quite openly gay, but White, and even Loki to some extent, seemed to be less threatening to female Pokemon. By playing with her, White was gaining Celia's trust, and doing wonders for her psyche. With a concerted group effort, one day she might be fully healed, the horrors of her past put behind her for good. Forming a link with a strong male and female, acting as protectors and role models, would be the first step. Dana was trying to become Celia's archetype for what a human woman should be, and White was becoming her male human archetype. Loki would hopefully become her male Pokemon role model. As for a female, she had been hoping for Minerva to mentor the little girl.

But unless Minerva could get her shit together...

"Are those... for me?" Celia asked, her psychic speech still relatively basic.

"Not both of them. One's for your silly friend."

"Poffins, huh?" Eric said with a lopsided smile.

"Good for a healthy, shiny coat," Dana said, indicating White's carefully gelled, blond-tipped brown hair.

"Don't be jealous because me and Celia know how to turn heads," White countered.

Dana bit back a rather thoughtless response and set the poffins out on paper plates. "Eat 'em, kids."

"You're serious?"

Before Dana could explain that her poffins were perfectly edible to humans, a flash of light from the bedroom, followed by the characteristic thump of sudden air displacement warned Dana that Minerva was back, and probably had people with her.

White perked up, suddenly concerned. "That's Loki..."

The Kadabra in mention turned the corner of the doorway, and his normally impassive face was drawn with tension. "Dr. Redwood, with us, please."

White made to follow her, but Loki waved a hand at him. He looked meaningfully at White, then to Celia, then back to White. Don't leave her alone.

Eric stopped, and turned back to Celia. She had raised the poffin to her mouth, but had frozen in mid-bite. Her exquisite sensitivity to emotions had picked up on the black waves of strain, exhaustion, and terror emanating from a room over. This would have to be handled delicately, but he could do it. He was a professional.


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Minerva was slicked with blood and wobbling slightly, and Cypress was covered in some kind of strange body paint. They both stank of sweat and blood, and Minerva smelled slightly of sex, which gripped Dana's chest with feelings of fear and sick revulsion. She had no idea who to treat first. For the meanest of moments, she froze solid. Then her solid, dependable core took over.

She stepped forward and carefully laid Minerva down on her bed. She instructed Loki to fetch her equipment from her closet, and in the mean time inspected Dominic for injuries. He seemed perfectly fine, except for his frightening lack of response to stimulus. Loki returned and she staunched Minerva's bleeding while getting a reading on her blood pressure to determine how much had been lost. Minerva was trembling slightly and trying to talk, but Dana hushed her. The tip of her fin had been raggedly cut, not in a battle of any kind but rather with a dull knife. That, combined with the scraping injuries on her wrists and ankles told Dana of some sort of ritual torture - something that should not have been possible, given Minerva's powers. Stabilizing Minerva, she turned to Cypress, whom Loki had levitated onto the bed next to Minerva. She shined a flashlight into Dominic's eyes, evoking no response. There was no dried blood around his nose or ears, so a brain injury was unlikely. Drug overdose, probably. But Dominic was no junkie. What the hell? She grabbed a nalorphine syrette from her bag and administered it into his wrist before going back to check Minerva again. Minerva's bleeding appeared to have mostly stopped, as the injury had been clotting for some time before her arrival. Her blood pressure was steady but her lips were slightly blue - she might need a transfusion.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched gasping from Cypress. She rushed over as his entire body went extremely rigid, then began to shake violently. She broke out in a cold sweat. She grabbed a metal probe and stuck it between his teeth as a massive brain seizure set in. Cypress' eyes were suddenly responsive, and he looked at her in terror as his entire body shook violently. His groans sounded like a man screaming into a cloth, and Dana worked to steady the rough shaking in her own hands as she kept him from rolling off the bed. A wet stain began to spread across Cypress' trousers.

"It's gonna be okay," she choked out, trying to fight back the sobs of fear. "It's what I thought, you were full of some kind of dope. The nalorphine is washing it out. It will all be over soon, I promise." The bed began to squeak and shudder roughly, and Cypress' stifled screams intensified. Nalorphine was an opiate antagonist. In normal people, it had no effect at all. In those with opiate addiction, or any amount of the chemicals in their bodies, it could immediately cure an overdose or an addiction. The problem was that in a person whose body contained any amount of morphine or other opiate, the drug was essentially the anti-morphine, causing immediate and crippling pain. The patient experienced weeks worth of painful withdrawal symptoms in a matter of minutes. By addicts who had been treated with it, it was said to elevate pain to an art form.

Tears streamed from Cypress' eyes. He was now a minute in, and in the throes of a catastrophic seizure. She had been steadily talking to him, but he was becoming exhausted, and as she spoke his eyes glassed over and rolled up into his head. Foam began to leak from the corners of his mouth, and his groans ceased, replaced by soft gurgling.

"Oh, God, Dominic! You're gonna be okay! Please hear me, Dom, please hear me!" Dana sobbed. "When this ends, we're gonna take a day off, I swear! We'll sit around, you and me and the girls, and do nothing at all, and we'll watch TV, and no one will fucking attack us, we'll be safe and sound and together... Please, Dom, just hang on!"

The shaking lessened.

Dana wiped her eyes and gripped Cypress' hand, which had been balled tightly into a fist but was falling slack. His eyes unlocked and slid back into place, and he looked at her for the briefest moment before closing them. The metal probe fell slack in his mouth and Dana removed it. Cypress took a deep gasping breath of air, and fell still.

Dana pulled the sheet up to his chest and stood up, hugging herself and trembling hard for a moment. She took a deep breath of her own, and went to Minerva. She was already so tired, but there could be no rest. Minerva's fin injury had been carefully dressed by Loki, and he was in the middle of providing her with a bit of his own blood. He must have teleported away to get the hardware for it while Cypress was undergoing the seizure. Why would he try to treat her here, instead of at the Center?

"Minerva," Dana said. "Wake up, girl, we can't do this here. You two are going back to the hospital."

"No!" Minerva exclaimed, shooting upright and startling Dana and Loki. "No! We cannot leave this apartment! Not until we get the paint off of Dominic!"

"Why, exactly?"

"I think he may have killed a police officer."

The words echoed strangely in Dana's head, and for a moment her canny mind simply slowed down. "What?"

"He... he hit me, and carried me back to the gas station, and... and..." Minerva shook her head. "The cop that was guarding the door of your lab. I think Dominic attacked him."

"You're not thinking, Minerva, you're confused," Dana said soothingly.

"I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" Minerva shrieked, flexing reality and cracking the ceiling in anger. A bit of drywall dust rained down on their heads, and Loki spoke quietly.

"I can corroborate this, Dr. Redwood. They must be kept here, and hidden, until we can clean Cypress and prepare some sort of story. Grog is on his way. When he arrives, he will fill me in, and we can start to suss out what happened here. For the time being, our friends need rest and protection."

"This doesn't make any sense," Dana said, still slightly stunned.

"Of course it doesn't. We must allow them to rest. All will become clear soon." He turned and set his hand on Minerva's shoulder. "You are stable. All that remains is sleep."

Dana and Loki recoiled as Grog drifted right up through the bed like vapor, resolidifying and sitting next to Minerva. She didn't move, though, and surprised them by reaching forward and stroking his ears. Grog purred softly, and Minerva smiled.

"Thanks, Grog. We owe you everything."

"Grog good servant."

"Grog's a good friend."

Grog, Loki, and Dana bade Minerva rest, and left the room to try to piece together events. Minerva couldn't sleep, though, and instead drew her legs up to her chest.

The man she wanted so desperately had tried to kill her. What was she supposed to do?


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"So you and Minerva arrived here last night, and Dom was still at the lab?" Dana said.

Grog nodded, and so did Loki. "We leave Boss at lab. Boss look hard at ring of power. Minerva and Grog come back here. Minerva fall asleep, Grog watch Minerva."

Loki translated, and posed a question. "Ring of power, Grog?"

"Ring of power borne by man who beat Loki," he said.

"Right. The black head appliance, Dr. Redwood, the one worn by that man, Young. It is not unique."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Not at all. There are at least four, all carried by a group of psychopaths."

"Jirachi."

"Believe me, as a psychic, I don't like it any more than you do."

"So where did you see these additional circlets?"

"Grog and Minerva come to Boss' mating ground," Grog said.

"They, er, came to your lab this morning, alone."

"Minerva tell Grog to wait at distance. Minerva talk to shield man. Grog saw. Shield man negative, Minerva angry."

Minerva told him to wait while she spoke to a police officer," Loki said, "but he turned her away."

"Minerva go to alley, maybe forget she is not ghost."

"I don't follow."

"Minerva want in. Maybe Minerva forget she is not ghost."

"Ah. He says Minerva tried to sneak in," Loki said.

"Then, Grog feel Boss! Grog so happy. Boss blacker than ever!"

"Cypress arrived, and there was something different about him, something that made Grog feel good."

"Grog call out to Boss, but Boss mind so black," Grog said, rocking back and forth, "Grog call out, but Boss no hear."

"He tried to communicate with Cypress. Cypress was unresponsive."

"Grog watch Boss strike down shield man and friend," he said.

"Cypress attacked the police officer."

"Wait," Dana cut in. There was a cop and a Growlithe there when we left, remember? Let's think. They told us to go home, but never gave a reason. Why were they still guarding the place after we left? And shouldn't we have passed by Minerva and Grog on the way back here this morning?"

"We were in a police cruiser, we may have just not noticed them," White said.

"I should have noticed Minerva a mile away," Dana said. "Something's not adding up here."

"She was with Grog. Interference?"

"I don't know. Something doesn't seem right." Celia squirmed in White's arms, and he dropped her out of his lap. She glided over to the window and looked out.

"So then what, Grog?" White asked.

"Grog call to Boss, he still no answer. Boss run into alley, snatch Minerva. Just like back home."

"He says Cypress 'snatched' Minerva. And what do you mean, just like back home?"

"Man hunters, they take Dark-types on Psychic hunts. Man-hunter and Dark-type catch Psychic. Always alive."

Loki shuddered. "Grog is referring to Seviian Psychic-type hunts. A tribal warrior and a Dark-type Pokemon will hunt and catch a Psychic type, so that they can be ritually devoured."

Dana and White twitched, but Grog nodded enthusiastically. "Just like back home."

"Anyway," Loki said, trying to clear his mind of the subject, "what happened next?"

"Grog follow Boss. Boss bring Minerva back to old gas station, Darkrai there wait for him."

"Darkrai was there?" Loki said, bewildered.

"No, only priest. Priest very important for old-style ritual."

"He says a priest of Darkrai was there. Was the priest a human or a Pokemon?"

"Man. Angry, angry man. Tell Boss what to do. Grog upset."

"Okay. Cypress brought Minerva back to a gas station, where a man wearing Seviian death-priest garb received them. He took them inside?"

Grog nodded. "Darkrai man bring them in, Grog come back double quick. Grog runs fast," he said, throwing his chest out proudly.

"You run very fast, Grog," Loki nodded, "but we need to know what happened."

"Grog go to mating ground, find only shield people."

"He went to the lab. The police were still there."

"What the hell were they up to?" Dana wondered. "None of us were there."

"One of theirs had just been attacked, remember?" White said.

"Grog no talk to shield people. Whenever shield people get hurt, blame Grog."

"Understandable. Was the man dead?"

"No, him and servant just shaken."

"Good. He says the cop survived. So where did you go next?"

"Grog come here, find Loki."

"He came here and found me," Loki said. Grog had found him while he was in the shower. That was an experience to be scrapbooked.

"Grog bring Loki back. Grog tell Loki hide, Loki's power no good there. Grog go inside."

"Right, right. He brought me to the gas station and told me to wait outside and hide."

White shook his head. "I can't believe I never noticed you were gone."

"It's neither here nor there," Loki said evenly. "And then?"

"Grog go inside, find Darkrai man and two others. Also Boss and Minerva. Ritual going ahead just fine. Grog no understand, though. Darkrai man supposed to be ritual boss, but fat man boss instead."

"He went in and found Cypress and Minerva with three others, including the priest. Ritual, Grog?"

"Rite of New Moon."

Loki gasped. "Sweet mercy... that's been illegal for so long, I had no idea it was still performed at all, much less anywhere outside of Sevii."

"What is it?" White asked.

"You don't want to know."

"We need to," Dana said curtly.

"They... it's a Seviian thing. Do you remember that book that came out a few years ago insisting that Seviians had never been cannibals, and that it was all just racism?" They nodded. "It was complete rubbish. Seviians have always engaged in rites that involved ritual cannibalism and consumption of live victims. Some tribes believe that when they eat someone, they gain that person's power, or at least some measure of protection against it. They were going to eat Cypress."

White shook all over, and Dana's mouth became so dry that she almost retched.

Grog spoke up. "Not just Boss. First they eat Minerva."

Loki swore, uncharacteristic for him. "They were going to eat Minerva too. That's actually rather common. They fear psychic types, and believe that by eating us they gain immunity to our power."

Grog had still more to add. "Extra-extra old style ritual. Minerva fight, make men angry. Boss man want to eat Minerva alive."

"Please, Grog! No more!"

"What?" Dana said, remembering Minerva's smell. "What else did they do?"

"It is no longer of consequence."

Dana grabbed Loki and roughly shook him, startling both him and White. "What did they do!"

"They- they were going to eat her alive," he stammered.

Dana sat back and put her head into her hands, both relieved and disgusted.

"So... what next?" she muttered.

"Grog not sure he could fight all men," he said sombrely, looking down at the floor. "Grog want to fight. But Grog just not sure. What if men hurt Boss or Minerva?" Grog was looking at the floor as he said this.

"It's alright, Grog, you did the right thing by choosing not to fight them," Loki said paternally. "What did you do, though?" You must have convinced them to leave."

Grog looked up and smiled evilly. "Grog make men leave, yes. Grog find box of blowtatoes."

"Er...what?"

"Blowtatoes."

"What on earth do you mean?"

"Potatoes, green, all lumpy. Potatoes with shiny key. Flick key, potatoes blow. Blowtatoes. Lots of blowtatoes in Sevii."

"I'm still not following. Some kind of Seviian plant?"

"Blowtatoes no grow in ground, silly."

It clicked. "You found a cache of hand grenades."

"Blowtatoes! Boom!" Grog said, cackling. "Grog act stupid, start nibble on key. Men think Grog going to blow them up!"

Grog was rolling on the floor laughing, and Loki began to laugh heartily as well. At their companion's blank stares, Loki said, "He's quite the little terrorist. He found a hand grenade and showed himself to the men. He chewed on the pin. He made them think he was going to set it off!" Dana smiled uneasily, and White stared at Grog. The little creature wasn't intelligent in the traditional sense, but he had a low cunning that made them all nervous.

"So then the men ran away?"

Grog nodded. "Stupid men. They take costumes off, run away. Grog wait, and flick key on blowtato, blow up. Now men think Boss and Minerva and Grog all dead. Not come back."

Once again, Loki was impressed by Grog's shrewdness. "He set off the grenade to make the tribesmen think they were all dead, so they won't come back."

"Then we come up stairs. Loki and Minerva take Boss back here, Grog run, run, run."

"That was when the men came upstairs. I saw them. All Seviian, all rough-looking, and all wearing those damned crowns."

Dana frowned. "Did Dom give any indication that he knew any of them?" Grog shook his head.

"So what remains is what are they doing here in Saffron, and why did they go after Dominic?" White mused.

"Grog knows."

"What?"

"Grog knows why men want Boss," the little creature insisted.

"Why?" Loki said.

"Because Boss is Shadow Warrior."

"That's a myth, Grog."

Grog became slightly agitated. "Grog knows about Shadow. Not Grog's fault psychics no see what right in front of them."

"What's he saying, Loki?"

"Prattling on about a myth."

Dana, White, and Grog all took umbrage with this. "We need to know everything!" Dana snapped.

Loki looked slightly abashed, and carried on. "He insists that Dr. Cypress is a Shadow Warrior. It's part of the old Arcean mythos. Supposedly, every length of time - some versions say a hundred years, some say a thousand - a human emerges, always a man, who commands the elemental power of darkness, and is immune to psychic power. It's all nonsense, of course-"

"These guys have faggy little tiaras that inhibit psychic power! Are you really going to insist upon what is and isn't possible!" Dana exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air. Loki and White stared at her, and her own words caught up to her.

"I- I'm..."

"Never mind," White snapped.

"Really, I'm-"

"We know," Loki said flatly.

White turned to Loki. "So Grog thinks Dom is a... what?"

"What amounts to a Dark-type human being," he said. "A person who embodies pure malevolence. It became ritual for priests to identify these individuals and send them on missions to slay Psychic-types. They would partake of the flesh, and it would bring great power and fortune upon the tribe lucky enough to have one. Then, on his twenty-first birthday, the whole tribe would kill and eat the Warrior, absorbing his powers."

"Someone's here," came a small voice.

They all turned. Celia was standing at the window, looking over their shoulder. Dana grabbed for her knife but remembered it was locked up as evidence, so she threw her fists up instead. Loki levitated a chair into the air, ready to cast it at the door. White ran to Celia and snatched her up, carrying her behind the group, ready to shield her with his own body. Grog bristled and bore his teeth.

"It's a... what do I call them?" Celia said quietly.

"Hush, sweetie," White cooed.

"It's a... button person."

"Button person?"

"One of the people with round hats. They wore shiny, shiny buttons."

White froze. "A policeman?"

"Yes. Police... woman. Only no buttons."

"Grog!" White said urgently. "Make yourself scarce!"

They dropped their fists and tried to look natural as a knock sounded on the door.


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"Minerva! Get in the shower with Cypress! Wash him off!" Loki's urgent thought came through to her. She had been on the verge of sleep, and jerked roughly from her stupor.

"What's going on?"

"The police are here! They're probably looking for him!"

Minerva shot awake, tension gnawing in her stomach. "He attacked one of them..."

"Get him in the shower right now!"

She heard the door open, and muffled voices. She hurriedly levitated Cypress off the bed, sending a psychic shock through his mind to wake him up. He gasped and coughed slightly.

"Quiet, Dom! Listen, the cops are here, probably for you. We have to get this paint off!"

Cypress nodded, and Minerva set him down. He followed her into the bathroom, and she used her power to rapidly disrobe him.

"Hey!"

"Quiet, I said!" She shoved him into the shower cubicle, turned on the water, and followed him in, shutting the door behind her. The initial stream was icy, and Cypress and Minerva grabbed each other close. It quickly began to warm up, and steam started to build in the room.


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Detective Elena Rojas glared through the doorway and into the room, observing a smartly-dressed man sitting on a couch. Next to him were a nearly-mature Kirlia and an adult Kadabra, playing some sort of levitating card game. She saw this past the shoulder of Dana Redwood, the woman she had already met.

Redwood remembered Rojas. She was barely five six but looked tough, competent, and meaner than a wild Houndoom. Her straight black hair was perpetually in a no-nonsense bun, and she had tattoos bearing some words in the Almian language running out of the sleeves of her brown trenchcoat and onto her browner hands. Dana heard the shower spring to life and she slightly widened her fake smile.

Rojas saw through it like glass. "Dr. Redwood," she said crisply, "you don't seem to be otherwise engaged, so I wondered if I might have a word with you." She ignored Dana's half-formulated response and stepped into the apartment, looking around. She walked into the middle of the living room, appraising her surroundings. She looked down at the psychic Pokemon, who had been looking at her but immediately averted their gazes when she locked eyes with them. The man on the couch was pretending to watch the Pokemon, and looked up at her innocently when she neared him. She turned, and saw Redwood still standing next to the door.

"Perhaps we could speak in privacy? Your bedroom seems empty," she said, keeping her face blank. Dana's eyes widened.

"Eh, my... my Gardevoir is showering."

"Ah, yes. Minerva." She began to slowly walk around the room again, examining the minutiae of decoration, never looking directly at Dana. She plucked a picture from the end table, one of Redwood and Cypress.

"Minerva's very well-behaved, isn't she?" Rojas said lightly. "During the incident a few days ago, she simply interposed herself in the fight. It's a bit odd." She looked up and fixed Redwood in a penetrating stare. "I've never heard of a Gardevoir that didn't fight back to protect its master. And... forgive me, I believe your name is Loki?" Loki nodded but did not speak. "Loki there didn't fight back, either, preferring to simply interpose himself. Unusual." She silently examined the photograph for a few seconds, creating a thick, tense silence, waiting for one of them to talk.

"We are well-trained, law-abiding Pokemon," Loki said finally.

"Exceptionally well-trained," Rojas agreed without looking at him, and was apparently quite unimpressed by his ability to talk. "I find certain circumstances very odd, though."

"Like what?" White said. Rojas fixed him with a leer, and he shrank onto the couch.

"There were bits of skin missing from Roger Young's face. I looked all around the scene, searching for those pieces, but they were nowhere to be found. So imagine my surprise when I get a call from your Gardevoir's trauma surgeon, telling me that he had found the very same bits of skin stuck in her talons."

The room was deadly silent, save the hissing of the shower.

"So she did fight back, only with her nails. Gardevoir are pitifully weak hand-to-hand. We know it, and so do they. Why wouldn't she use her powers? Perhaps she was afraid of hurting him seriously, but I've taken a Psychic attack off of a level sixty Clefable and limped away."

She stood silently, rebuilding the tension in the room. Finally, she let it drop: "Where is Domingo Cypress?"

"We call him Dominic," Dana said quickly.

"That's nice. But his criminal record calls him Domingo."

Four jaws dropped simultaneously, and Rojas smirked. "What? He didn't tell you? He's walked the straight and narrow while he's been here, but back in Sevii he made a bit of a name for himself. He got started early."

"He moved here when he was thirteen-"

"This I know. What I want to know are his current whereabouts."

"I- I haven't seen him in a couple days."

"Really? You said your Gardevoir was here?"

"Yes."

"As I remember, you were all confined to the laboratory when she was discharged. Who signed the papers to get her out of the Pokemon Center?"

Rojas had started leering again. She already knows, thought Dana.


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The steam was growing thick, and Minerva's garments were clinging to her. She attacked Cypress with a loofah, making the water run thick with paint and exposing the reddish-brown skin beneath. Her task was almost finished, and Cypress had almost come completely around. His head bowed under the water stream, and Minerva did what she could with her psychic powers to do away with the residual pain of the seizure and the nalorphine. Finished with the paint, she set to cleaning his entire body using a soft sponge. Cypress was slightly surprised, but did not complain.

Her sponge slid toward his crotch, and he snapped to. "What's the big idea?"

"You pissed yourself, stupid."

"God," he muttered, embarassed.

"Not like it was your fault. I couldn't lift my head at the moment, but what was going on really scared the hell out of me."

"I don't remember it all."

"You had a grand mal seizure. It lasted a few minutes. We were all scared." Her sponge reached his penis, and he couldn't help but enjoy it. Minerva smirked at the look on his face.

"Men..."

Too soon had the sponge moved on, and Cypress leaned against the shower wall. Minerva finished and stood up. She traded the sponge again for the rough loofah and began to viciously scrub herself.

"Take it easy, would you?" Cypress said.

"Those assholes... touched me. All over. It was disgusting," she said, shuddering.

Cypress shook his head. "I can't remember a bit of it."

This made Minerva feel a bit better. He hadn't been himself when he struck her. Whatever had been done to him was over, and he was himself. He was Cypress again - kind, a little too hardworking, quick to chuckle but slow to really laugh, someone who could always be counted on when things got tough, someone who would never hurt her if he could help it. His eyes met hers, and the breath rushed out of her chest. A warmth emerged in her stomach and rushed up and down, reaching her heart and womb at the same time. Her pupils dilated, and her lips fell just slightly open.

Cypress carefully removed the hard scrubber from her grip and took the sponge in his hand, running it across Minerva's shoulders. She shuddered slightly but did not break eye contact. They were so close as to be touching now, and Minerva drew her willowy arms up and around Cypress' shoulders. He realized with a start that he had pinned her against the shower wall, and for a moment he froze. Then he leaned in and kissed her very gently, nibbling slightly on her lower lip. She responded earnestly, and as they leaned into each other they felt that though their lives had been disrupted so foully, perhaps there was such a thing as a good loss of the status quo.


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"Well?" Rojas said curtly.

"Dom did," Dana said quietly.

"Is that so?" Rojas said, feigning surprise in a way that put them all on edge. She strolled slowly to the coat rack by the door and plucked a rough brown bomber jacket from the hook. She held it up for the room to see.

"This is a little big for you, Redwood," she said softly, "and Mister High Fashion over there wouldn't be caught dead wearing this thing." She paused, and narrowed her eyes at Dana. "Cypress is here."

"No!" Dana said a little too quickly. "We're close friends. He visits often. He leaves things here."

"He gives himself a reason to come back," Rojas said. "He must like you. Are you two involved?"

"Not.. not at the moment," Dana said uneasily.

Rojas smiled slightly and set the jacket back on the hook. "Your Gardevoir must be quite clean by now."


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Cypress was exploring Minerva's collarbone with his tongue and lips, and Minerva had wrapped her arms around his head, resting her chin atop his crown and sighing softly. She drew her legs up and gripped him around the waist, and he pressed her harder into the wall. He noticed that her fin had stiffened and drawn itself closer to her chest, allowing him to come closer to her. He was quite erect and was rubbing against her pubic bone, enjoying the slickness that was leaking all over him. His head ran past her clitoris, tweaking it with every pass, and the sensation made her whole body heat up and quiver. She abruptly pulled her hips up above his cock and rested her opening on the tip.

"Dominic. No more teasing me," she said softly. "This happens now."

Perhaps he was so tired that he was confusing one type of love for another. Or perhaps he was finally thinking straight.

He pinned her to the wall and pushed, encountering significant resistance. With one hand, he reached down and swirled his dick around in her flesh, spreading her fluid and a bit of his own around the area. He then pressed again, and was rewarded when the tip abruptly slid inside. The warmth and texture that could not be experienced through a condom lit a fire in the base of his mind, and he pinned her tighter and pressed harder, making it about one more inch before encountering a dead stop.

He looked at her questioningly, and she nodded at him with a resolute look. He kept pushing, but seemed to make no progress. He looked at her again, and she bore her teeth.

"Push hard!"

He obliged, and Minerva twitched, wincing in apparent pain. She nodded at him, and he pushed very hard this time, sinking most of his cock in but eliciting a small, pained cry from Minerva.

"What was that all about?" he said, and looked down. He was shocked to see blood.

"Minerva, you're... what the hell?"

"No talking," she said flatly, and with a serious, concentrating look, she gripped him and pushed herself all the way on. A tear emerged from each eye. "You're... a little bigger than what I'm built for," she gasped.

Cypress hesitated. "Minerva, are you sure-"

"God, Dominic, please," she said, exasperated but smiling. "I've waited for this since the day I met you. Please make love to me."

Cypress was happy to oblige, grasping her hips and pressing himself deep. He withdrew until the head of his dick was barely in, and pushed again, reveling in the tightness. She was so tight it was almost uncomfortable, but that only spurred Cypress to push harder and faster.

"Yes," Minerva hissed through gritted teeth, reveling in the pain of it as much as the pleasure. "More. I'm yours."

He pushed harder and harder, slowing down only once more tears appeared in Minerva's eyes. He briefly thought back to his first time ever, which had been with Dana. He found it a little amusing how gentle and cautious he had been, and wondered where that virginal caution was now. He held her hips in an iron grip, banging her buttocks against the wall as he paved his path.

He also wondered where the feelings of love had gone. With Dana, it had been dulcet and caring, but not with Minerva. She locked eyes with him, and her crimson gaze bore all the same terrible feelings that were raging within him. Where a connection between lover's hearts should have been, there was a foul link between twin black storms of pain and fear and powerful, all-consuming hate, with each one feeding the other. She gasped and bore her razor-sharp, deliciously feral canines at him, and he leaned forward and bit her hard on the throat, making her cry out in surprise and pain and a form of unholy pleasure that was too raw to be borne of love.

Cypress pulled away from the wall and dropped to his knees, pulling Minerva off. He forcefully turned her over, his heartbeat loud and blood thrumming in his veins, and cast her to her hands and knees. He flipped up her wet dress and roughly slapped her inner thighs, compelling her to spread her legs. She turned her head around to look at him, and when they locked eyes, Minerva spread her legs even wider and lowered her head and shoulders, slowly waving her ass at him.

"Take it."

With the shower water rushing over him, he gasped a deep breath through his mouth, throwing water off of his head. He grasped her hips in another vicelike grip and slammed his bloodied cock inside, causing Minerva to wince in pain again. He reached up and roughly grabbed her hair, pulling her face up to meet his.

"Whose are you?" he snarled.

"Yours," she gasped.

"Again."

"Yours."

"Again!"

"YOURS!"

He grabbed her by the throat and pulled her upper body up to his, then grasped her by the fin, swirling his fingers around its surface. With the other hand he reached down and began to roughly stimulate her clitoris, feeling her flesh shift with every thrust.

His mind began to fill with a numbing rage borne of lust. Never again would she presume to force herself on him, because it was HIS prerogative to force, his right alone to do with her as he chose. Thoughts he would consider aberrant in his right mind raced through. With the rage came great relief. No longer were things so multilayered or complex as they had been. She was his property, his territory, and his mate, and he would simply kill anyone who argued. It kept things simple. This was simple. There was no more caring, no more concern, no more fear, no more of his difficult and murky life, just a wild drive for pleasure.

At the same time he loved the simplicity of being in her thrall, and for a few bizarre moments he felt as though she was the master and he was the slave. He felt as though he was here ramming her because she wanted it, and no other reason, that he was being allowed pleasure because it suited her. The thought both enraged him and turned him on even more. Was the anger making him more excited, or was it the thought of being her slave? It didn't matter, because either way the pleasure was perverse and pure and perfect.

Minerva wanted to bite and scratch him, to tear his skin, to leave marks on every square inch, clear warnings that he was hers, and to stay the fuck back! His dick was in her because it belonged to her, just like every other part of him, just like Cypress' mind and body and heart. If he needed someone to hold, it would be her. If he needed someone to talk to, it would be her. If he needed a friend, it would be her.

What he needed right now was a warm body, and by Arceus, it would be hers!

For a few moments, Minerva thought back a couple days on the way he had disrupted her power without wearing a crown. What if he could do it again? What if she asked him to stop right now? Would he be able? Would she be able to stop him? The thought flared up a brief moment of fear, which only fanned the flames of the growing firestorm. He could and would do whatever he wanted with her, and there was no stopping him. The fright and disgust that this thought aroused only served to corrupt her thoughts even more. Not wanting it made her want it more than she could have imagined.

The tug of an incoming orgasm struck him, only this time it was so heavy it was almost painful. Minerva whimpered softly. "Please, Dom," she gasped, "inside..."

He bit her hard on the neck and cast her back down, returning his hands to her hips. His thrusts became jerky and mechanical as the beast took him over. Five thrusts, four, three, two, one, and there it was, an orgasm so violent that he thought he might break Minerva's hips.

His seed gushed forth into her womb, coating her, as his continued mechanical thrusts produced a fine spray of blood and seminal fluid that ran down the drain. As he came, all the pent up feelings of hate and fear and pain left him, leaving him feeling only what remained: love.

He regained his mind and carefully removed himself from her body, sitting in the corner of the shower and gently pulling her to him. He held her in his lap, holding her head and arms close to him. She mewled slightly and buried her head in his chest, and for a few holy moments, the two of them were at peace.


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"I would be most interested in having a word with her," Rojas breathed.

Dana dropped the hammer. "Unless you have a warrant, she's not interested in having a word with you," she said flatly.

Rojas turned slowly and fixed her stare on Celia, making the little Kirlia squirm slightly. "Tell me, Redwood," she said, not breaking her gaze, "is that Young's Kirlia?"

"Yes," she said, not wanting to know where Rojas was going with it.

"Not anymore," Rojas said. "Her Trainer is no more, her Pokeball is no longer intact, and you failed to register her as a test subject property of UK Saffron Pokemon Psychology Department. You are harboring a stray."

"She's delicate! She can't be left alone right now! You people forced us to leave the lab-" Dana exclaimed, but Rojas raised a finger and fixed her with a deadly stare.

"You could certainly beat any charges I could level at you in this case. You've acted to the best of your ability, and in the best interest of your subject. But you can be held under suspicion for forty-eight hours until habeas corpus comes into effect. Those are two days in which I can do whatever I need to get to the bottom of this. I will ask you one last time. Where is Domingo Cypress?"

"I don't know," Dana said.

For a moment, a flicker of anger passed over Rojas' face. Then she regained her cool mask. She walked over to Dana and whipped a hand out, smirking when Dana recoiled. When Dana saw that she was presenting a business card, she took it warily.

"I'll be in touch," Rojas said, and sidled out the door.



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