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Vines of Deceit	By : Manifest Destiny Category: Pokemon > General Views: 14165 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon. Pokemon is copy write by GameFreak, INC. and Nintendo. I make no money from this story, nor do I seek any.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Chapter 9: The Storm
—————
Tristan stood on the deck of the ferry as it chugged across the bay. He leaned against the railing with crossed arms, focused on the scenery above and around him. Clouds were beginning to cover the sky. Every now and then they would block out the sun, turning the sparkling blue water to a dull gray. He watched the city as it grew smaller, silently hoping that his friends’ missions would go well.
“Come on, let’s move to the front,” said a woman. She pulled her husband’s arm and dragged him to the opposite end of the boat.
Tristan took a quick glance around the platform, realizing he’d been forced to face something he’d been dreading in the back of his head: He and Draya were now alone together.
I shouldn’t be afraid of what she might do, he thought. Not here, at least. There are people here. She wouldn’t do anything that’d make her stand out.
No sooner had the thoughts left his mind that a shimmer of purple light shined in the corner of his eye. A pair of dark, furred arms slowly came around his chest, hugging him gently. Tristan could feel Draya’s warm breath on his neck. It made him shiver.
“Nice, isn’t it?” she asked him.
Whatever she was referring to, Tristan couldn’t tell. He merely gave a non-descriptive grunt in response.
“Is something wrong? Did you get enough sleep?”
“Probably not,” Tristan said, “but it’ll have to be enough.” He felt Draya nuzzle the side of his face with hers, letting out a satisfied hum. “What are you doing, Draya? There are people here, you know.”
“Look.” Draya told him. When he didn’t move, she urged him again. “I mean it, look at me.”
With reluctant movements, Tristan turned around, still wrapped in Draya’s arms. She looked the same as she had when she evolved. The same bright, cyan eyes and sharply contrasting red mane of fur accenting her body of dark brown. Draya released her hold on him, after a moment of staring into his eyes, and took a step back on the deck, spreading her arms.
“Well? What do you think?” she asked.
Tristan looked at her, trying to find what she was trying to show him. He finally shrugged when he couldn’t find anything to note.
“Look around, on the floor,” said Draya. She pointed a red claw at sparkling purple line that encircled a portion of the rear deck.
“What is that?” Tristan asked. He was sure it wasn’t there before.
“It’s me. I figured out this trick earlier while you were sleeping.” She eagerly pulled him towards her, excitement shining in her eyes. “I can do illusions on things other than myself now! That line there? That’s the border. Anyone outside of it will just see you and me, Trainer and Servine, enjoying a nice, calm, ferry ride.”
“And inside here?” Tristan asked her. “What’s going to happen in here?”
“You… and I… can do whatever we want.” Draya moved her arms up to his shoulders, gripping him tightly. She leaned forward, only needing to crane her neck slightly upward, and kissed him. She pressed herself against his body, leaning into the contact of her lips on his.
Tristan pushed back, holding his Pokémon at arm’s length. “Stop.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Just stop, Draya.” Tristan let her go, turning back to face the water.
“What did I do wrong?” she demanded. “I told you, no one will be able to see us in my illusion, so what’s the problem?”
“The problem,” Tristan said, still looking out to sea, “is that you’re acting completely selfish.”
“Excuse me?” Draya asked, acting as if she hadn’t heard him correctly.
“You know what I said.”
“No, I really don’t think I do,” she said, turning her human trainer around to face her. “Because it sounded like you called me selfish.”
“Oh good, your illusions don’t shut down your ears,” Tristan said, mocking relief. “Draya, think for one second here: when have I ever—before you evolved and kissed me—shown even the slightest romantic interest towards you?”
“You showed it all the time,” said Draya. “I thought you’ve been interested since I started talking to you.”
“What—?” Tristan gapped. “How?”
“Well, you know…” Draya looked down at her feet. “You were always very… affectionate and caring. You made it clear you weren’t interested in Bianca—who I think is very pretty—so I thought you were focusing on me, I guess.” She looked back up at him. “Plus you’re the only human I’ve ever felt close to. I can talk openly to you—not like how I’ve had to talk to Cheren or Bianca. I feel like you’re interested. Are you saying you’re not?”
Tristan sighed, leaning back against the railing. He held his arms out, motioning for Draya to come to him.
She sheepishly stepped forward, unsure of herself. She let herself be held in his arms, finding them warm and comforting.
“I am interested and there’s no doubt in my mind that I care for you, Draya. Don’t forget that.” He stroked her long mane of red fur. “But look at it from my perspective; in the past day and a half, I learned you were a Zorua in disguise, you ran away from me, you evolved in front of my eyes, and now you’re trying your hardest to push our relationship into territory we’ve never even came close to before.”
“I’m sorry…” Draya said, quietly. “I was just—”
“I’m not done. And not all of this is your fault, either. If we were still in Nacrene right now, things would probably be different, but with Team Plasma supposedly taking action, on top of everything with you, I’m just overwhelmed. I really can’t handle so much at once and be expected to make a large change like you’re proposing.”
Draya shifted and looked up at him, sadness spread clearly on her face. “What, then? Do I just forget about… us, like that?”
“I’m not saying ‘yes’ or ‘no’ right now,” Tristan said. “You deserve an answer when I can devote my full attention to it. And right now, I can’t.”
“So, we wait?” Draya asked.
Smiling, Tristan bent down and gave Draya a quick kiss.
“That’d be perfect,” he said. “I’m sorry I called you selfish. That was unfair of me. After we kick Team Plasma’s collective asses out of the city, I promise I’ll at least try to be what you thought I’d be.”
“Good,” Draya said, grinning.
—————
Eighty-Three oh Two Majestic.
Cheren repeated the street address over and over in his head as he walked. He moved down the sidewalk, keeping an eye on the many passersby that did the same. In the few chances he’d had to look around without looking like he was looking, he didn’t see anyone that looked like they were following him. A promising sign, he thought. If he or any of his friends were wanted by Team Plasma, surely he would have drawn their attention by now.
But I am in a very crowded area. Let’s see how safe I am when I’m alone, shall we?
As Cheren neared his destination, he could see the building in question. From the front, visible by the road itself, it looked like the many buildings around it. No obvious signs or decorations could be seen. Only a single, windowless door with a mail slot and its address were visible.
He walked on by without slowing and turned onto the next road, and noticed there was an alley way that ran behind the building. With purpose, he turned down the narrow road and began counting backwards until he found his target. He stopped behind number 8302, and looked for anything suspicious. No one could be seen down either direction of the alley he was in.
A back door with a window, blinds pulled down, and a wide, metal garage door faced him. The building itself was plain brick. Nothing out of place as far as his eye could see.
None of Team Plasma’s other hideouts or warehouses had any obvious clues as to their owners’ identities. This building could easily be an innocent person’s property. Cheren hesitated as he reached for the door handle, not wanting to disappoint himself, and to perhaps bring an unwanted breaking and entering charge on him.
No. This is the address. I’m sure of it. There’s something here.
Cheren grasped the door’s handle quickly; he felt tense, almost worried that it would burn or shock him at his touch. In a two quick motions, he turned the handle and swung the door open. He made his move inside as the door still moved, Poké Ball in hand, ready to counter any resistance inside. What he found was a dark, and empty garage, with what looked like another door that led into the main part of the building. As Cheren’s eyes began to adjust to the low light in the room, he started searching for details, and hopefully something to prevent him having wasted his time.
There wasn’t much in the garage, save for a few boxes. Some of them were empty, others sparsely filled with seemingly unimportant items. However, they were all stamped with Team Plasma’s symbol. Cheren bent down to the floor behind the closed retractable metal door. Fresh tire marks could be made out in the thin layer of dust on the floor leading outside.
Damn. I was right, but they cleaned this place out already.
As Cheren turned back towards the door to leave, there was somebody standing in front of him. A man wearing a headband, a cloth mask over his mouth and nose, form fitting black clothes, and long, swept-back, white hair stood slouched and slack a foot from Cheren. His expression seemed bored, as if uninterested in everything around him.
“Who are you…?” he said to Cheren.
The man’s sudden appearance made Cheren yelp in fear. As he threw back his right arm to release his Pokémon, the man rushed forward, grabbing him by the wrist.
“No fighting…” the man spoke at a whisper. His green eyes looked lazily into Cheren’s. “Only words now.”
“Who are you?”
“My identity doesn’t matter. What does is my question: Who? Are? You?” the man repeated, slowly and concise.
Before Cheren could say anything, another man of similar appearance and height made himself known. He stepped forward into the light from the open door. His white hair was wild and unkempt.
“He is one of the three,” the newcomer said. Cheren could see red eyes shining in the light. “One of the young men.”
“But not the one our Lord encountered. Master Zinzolin mentioned this one.”
A third man tore Cheren’s attention away from the first two, appearing to his left. His appearance differed with cool, blue eyes, and white hair that flowed neatly down the right side of his face.
Cheren tried desperately to move his right arm, but he found he couldn’t budge from the green-eyed man’s grasp.
Noticing his attempts at escape, the masked man tightened his grip on Cheren’s arm until it began to crack, causing the young trainer to cry out in pain. Cheren’s Poké Ball fell harmlessly on the floor.
“No fighting,” the man said, flatly.
“The girl isn’t here,” the blue-eyed man said. “Nor is the one Lord Ghetsis met with.”
“If this one is here—now—then surely the rest are in the city,” the red-eyed man added. “On today, no less.”
“Perhaps something should be done about that?” they said in unison, staring Cheren in the face with wide, terrifying eyes.
“Don’t you dare hurt my friends! You hear me!?” Cheren growled at the three. “Who are you? You mentioned Zinzolin and Ghetsis— so you’re Team Plasma, aren’t you?”
The three men continued to stare at Cheren for a moment, then turned to each other. Losing their fierce expressions, they looked back at Cheren and spoke at once:
“We are the Shadow of Team Plasma. Of our King. Three we were, and so a Triad was formed. The Shadow Triad we are called.”
The three leaned in closer to Cheren.
“Remember that you three children are not a threat to our King—not alone—but together, you and your accomplices pose certain problems that our Masters and Lord have run out of patience for. If you value your life, you will stand down. You will give up. You will not interfere.”
The green eyed man shoved Cheren backwards sending him tumbling into the empty boxes.
Cheren cried out in pain as he foolishly tried bracing his fall with his right arm—which he suspected now had a broken wrist. By the time he could recover and look back up, he found himself alone in the garage. The three men were nowhere to be seen. They hadn’t even left any footprints in the dirt that covered the floor.
Cheren scrambled to his feet, grabbing his dropped Poké Ball as he moved. As he ran outside, he came face to face with a little girl. Her dark skin and large bounds of dark hair on her head stood in contrast to the light, over-sized clothes she wore. Her expression quickly turned from surprise at Cheren’s sudden arrival, to one of intense determination.
“Stop right there, Team Plasma!” she yelled at Cheren, throwing down a Poké Ball of her own. A large, green and gray dragon with wide, sword-like tusks stood between Cheren and his way out. “Fraxure, keep him pinned; I’m calling the police.”
—————
“I’m just saying,” Bianca said, trying her best to be persuasive, “that maybe you shouldn’t have the rally today. Or at all.”
The entry-level member of Team Plasma finally looked away from the large speaker system he was setting up for a moment, after having ignored the annoying girl’s please for the better part of five minutes.
“Sorry, trainer,” he said, glancing at the Pignite that stood by her side. “I’m not the one you’d need to convince to call off our presentation today. Even if I was, I don’t think you realize how important Team Plasma is to the future of Unova.”
“I don’t think you know how dangerous and awful your organization is,” Bianca huffed.
The Team Plasma member paid her little mind and turned back to his work.
Bianca turned on the spot and marched angrily off into the slowly gathering crowd.
The Central Plaza Park, aptly located in the center of Castelia City, was a far reaching circular area that showed in stark contrast what the landscape would be like today if one of the largest cities in the world hadn’t sprung up around it. Gentle hills, small trees, and lush, green grass spread across the ground. The towering buildings that took over the horizon constantly reminded city-goers how much of a luxury nature can seem when it is all but absent around them.
Okay. Canceling it isn’t what I’m supposed to do. Obviously.
She looked back to the stage Team Plasma had set up. Everything she could see, as far as she understood it, looked entirely normal. The crowd was small, slowly building, and relatively quiet. There was even a calming breeze blowing through the park.
“What am I supposed to do, Chao?” Bianca asked, feeling utterly lost.
Her Pignite looked up to her and seemed to share her feeling of uselessness.
Bianca sat on the grass, smoothing out her skirt. Her Pokémon took a spot beside her.
“I’m supposed be here, just in case something happens with Team Plasma, but there’s nothing going on here.”
Chao grunted, as if asking his trainer what else she could do.
“I mean, I could try and find Cheren, or maybe help Tristan on Liberty Island, but then if something goes wrong here, I’m the one to blame…”
Bianca was left with silence as she stared on into the distance.
“What do you think I should do?” she asked, looking to her right.
Her Pignite was nowhere to be seen.
“Chao?”
Bianca stood, trying to find where her Pokémon might be.
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.
“CHAO!”
—————
“You can’t be serious,” Cheren said to the girl, looking past the bulky Dragon Pokémon in his way.
“Of course I am!” the girl said, defiant. “You’re under arrest!”
“Don’t waste my time,” said Cheren. He tried to move past the girl’s Pokémon, but the Fraxure growled at his approach, shaking its head and brandishing its tusks. “And clearly, you shouldn’t be wasting yours. Do I look like Team Plasma?”
“Well…” the girl turned her head in thought, looking Cheren down from head to toe. Her eyes seemed to linger on his now swollen wrist. “You don’t look it, but we’ve been fooled before. We’ve had this location under watch for the past few weeks because of suspicious activity. Then here you come, coming in like you own the place.”
“I was investigating this place! This is a Team Plasma hideout—or storehouse, I can’t tell—but it’s all empty! They’re gone!” Cheren yelled.
“But that’s—” the girl rushed past her Fraxure and Cheren and into the building. She spun around, looking for what Cheren assumed to be the things he’d hoped to find. Incredulous, she sat down on the dirty floor, looking defeated. “—impossible…”
Cheren moved aside as the girl’s Fraxure moved into the building and comforted its trainer. The girl looked to be on the verge of tears.
“We did have it under watch! I swear!” she said. “How could they have slipped by us?”
“Just now,” Cheren said, urgently, “literally just before I tried to leave here, did you see three men—long white hair, wearing similar outfits and masks—leave this place?”
“No! I got here just as I heard someone yell inside here. I was about to come in when you came running out.”
Looking down at the floor, Cheren tried to process all of the information he’d been given.
The Shadow Triad—those seemingly super-strong and fast ninjas—can appear and disappear at will. Otherwise this girl would’ve seen them leave, if not, at least have footage of them entering if she really does have this place under surveillance. How is that possible? Could they have a Pokémon aiding them?
And who is this girl to be investigating Team Plasma? She’s referred to her efforts as “we”. She’s not acting alone.
“Hey,” Cheren said, looking over to the sulking girl in front of him. “What’s your name?”
“Iris…” she said sadly. “My name’s Iris.” She got to her feet, bracing herself on her dragon Pokémon as she stood. “I’m sorry I almost called the police on you.”
“That’s not important right now,” said Cheren. “Why were you keeping tabs on this place and trying to arrest Team Plasma?”
“Well,” said Iris, “if you were here doing the same thing, you should already know.”
“I do. More so than most people.” Cheren winced as he raised his arm to check the time.
“Does that hurt?” Iris asked. “How did that happen?”
Cheren didn’t answer her.
Blinking on his XTransceiver was a notification for the rally that Team Plasma was holding in the center of the city. The Shadow Triad knew about him. They knew about all three of them. And now they know that Bianca and Tristan came to the city with him, and where they might be.
Damn it. Those three aren’t to be taken lightly. Bianca and Tristan are in danger!
Cheren looked at the time; it was five minutes before the rally started.
Tristan should be on the island now… there’s no way I’d make it there before anything happened.
“Listen: if you really care about stopping Team Plasma, you have to help me,” said Cheren, looking up at a concerned Iris. “Just now, I was attacked by three—I don’t know, assassins working for Plasma. They threatened to hurt me and my friends if we continue trying to stop what they’re doing in this city. But my friends don’t know that. They’re in danger.”
“Oh my god!” Iris said. “Where are they?”
“They’re split up, but my friend Bianca is the closest to us. I’ll need help if those men show up there.”
“You got it,” she said, sure of herself. “Iris of the Dragon Clan won’t let down the people who ask of her.”
Nodding, Cheren stepped outside into the alley. He pressed the button on one of his Poké Balls, releasing a large, red and blue feathered bird Pokémon. His Braviary cawed as he stretched his wings.
“Then come with me,” Cheren said as he climbed onto his bird’s back.
—————
A stiff wind blew almost constantly, sending large waves crashing loudly onto the shore of Liberty Garden Island. More clouds had moved in, turning the bright and sunny day into a gloomy afternoon.
Tristan and Draya had arrived, along with a handful of other tourists, at half past ten in the morning. Checking his XTransceiver, Tristan saw it was now almost one o’clock. They were nearing their scheduled time to depart the island, or else they would have to wait for a later ferry.
“Bianca’s rally should be starting soon,” Tristan said, leaning back on a bench. The past two hours or so had given him a much needed chance to rest easy. After Draya had agreed to at least slow her advances on him on the boat ride over, he felt like a lot of what had been keeping him so wound up was gone.
“You think she’ll run into trouble?” Draya—disguised as a Servine—asked. She was lying coiled on the bench, respectfully beside her trainer, keeping true to her word.
“Hopefully not, but you never know.” Tristan leaned back and closed his eyes.
“Hey, don’t fall asleep,” Draya stood and started smacking Tristan lightly on the cheek.
“I’m just enjoying the peace and—”
A deafening boom of thunder nearly scared Tristan out of his seat. Awake and alert, Tristan and Draya looked around, seeing the other visitors looking as frightened and surprised as they did.
“I thought the tour guide from the ferry said the weather would be nice once the clouds passed…” Tristan said.
That clearly was no longer the case, as dark clouds swirled in the sky high above Liberty Garden Island. More thunder crashes sounded down from above, making Tristan instinctively crouch down next to the bench. Draya hopped to the ground to join him.
“Oh my— Look!” she yelled over the thunder.
Tristan followed her hand to where she was pointing and blinked hard at what he was seeing. Thick clouds were descending from the sky, closing off the island’s only way back to the city. The water between the shore and the cloud barrier churned and raged; the slow moving ferry wouldn’t be leaving for some time.
Tristan stood up, looking around the length the island. An unnatural wall of clouds spiraled around the island, flashing with lightning with unsettling frequency. The wind picked up in strength, almost causing him to stumble where he stood. Straight above the island, the maelstrom enclosed the island in a dome of dark, angry clouds.
‘I guess now is the time, don’t you think?’
In the loud cacophony of wind and thunder claps, Tristan thought someone had come up next to him. As he turned around, he only saw a few other tourists running towards the visitor’s center at the north end of the island. Draya was the only one apart from Tristan on the southern shore that he could see.
‘Yeah, you’re not going crazy. You heard me. Now move, soldier!’
‘Hello?’ Tristan tried to mimic the sensation that touched his mind.
‘Oh good! You got the hang of it! Now, there’ll be time to explain later, but for now I need to hurry into the lighthouse.’
“Why?” Tristan asked aloud.
“‘Why’ what?” Draya asked, confused. “What should we do?”
“I—” Tristan started, but the mysterious voice cut him off.
‘I’m trying to be nice here Tristan, but I really do need you to hurry. Oh and there’ll be a nice married couple about twenty yards ahead of you that I need you to bring with you. They’re going to be trying to make their way to the visitor’s center, but right now they’re crouched behind a tree, waiting for a break in the storm. Their lives are in your hands now.’
“I…” he looked towards the lighthouse, barely managing to catch a glimpse of the man and woman the voice mentioned. Visibility was beginning to fall as the clouds began to darken further.
‘And here comes the rain.’
“Draya, I’m taking a big leap of faith here,” he said once the first raindrop hit his face. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course I do,” she said, shimmering her form to let her true eye color show.
“Then let’s go.”
Tristan broke into a run just as the rain began to fall in earnest, calling for Draya to follow him. The high winds sent the tiny droplets of water flying around at painful speeds, stinging any exposed flesh. It slowed their march to a slow walk as they fought against the storm. Looking back behind him, Tristan saw Draya’s illusion falter for a split second. She regenerated the illusory construct as quickly as it left.
Soon enough, they came upon the two people the voice had requested join him. Tristan instantly recognized them as the couple that left he and Draya alone on the back deck early that morning. The voice told him their names, and continued to provide him with suspiciously specific instructions.
“Mariah and Nathan Relmstead, you need to come with us,” Tristan said. “We’re going for shelter.”
“Who are you?” Nathan asked. “How in the hell do you know who we are?”
‘Do what you have to get them down here. Oh. “Here” is a basement, so that should get them to go with you.’
“I hope I’ll be able to explain everything,” Tristan tried to say over the loud storm, “but we need to go! Now! This lighthouse is the safest place to be during this. I can get us inside to the basement,” he urged, still unsure what could make these two ordinary people so vital.
“Come on, Nathan,” the woman said. “He has a point. He might be secret police or something. Lead the way, sir.”
“Thank you,” Tristan said, unsure how to take the sudden vote of authority. He urged them to follow as they made their way to the main walkway up to the lighthouse’s entrance. They battled the wind and rain all the way there.
“I thought tourists weren’t allowed inside,” the husband yelled up at him.
“So did I, but we’re on official business!” Tristan yelled back as he reached the door. He slammed his fists against the heavy wooden door a few times. “Hey, open up! We need to get inside!”
The door opened slightly, showing the face of an older, graying man. “No visitors allowed inside! Can’t you read your damn brochure?”
‘Of course, he’s being difficult. How original,’ the voice said. ‘Okay, just tell him this. Exactly these words…’
“Obidiah Drake!” Tristan yelled through the door. A moment later, the man returned, opening the door fully. “In the end, victory has one cost; there has to be someone who loses.”
The older man groaned, running a hand through his beard. “Come in, you folks.”
“Thank you, sir,” Mariah said to him. Her husband repeated the gratitude.
As the door closed and locked behind them, Tristan looked up at the interior of the lighthouse, wiping some rain from his forehead.
“Where’d you hear that little nugget of wisdom, son?” Obidiah asked.
“A little birdy told me,” Tristan said. “One who says to stop groping your beard when you’re judging someone.”
The old man jerked his hand down at the accusation, his expression growing more annoyed by the minute. “All of you need to go to the basement, I take it?”
“So I’m told,” said Tristan.
“Of course we do,” Nathan said, holding his wife close. “We need to be safe from the storm outside.”
Obidiah gave the married couple a bored look, and then motioned for them to follow him, taking them to another heavy door, this one made of metal. Taking off a key he wore around his neck, the old man of the lighthouse opened the door with a loud creak.
“Well go on, then,” he said. “Go play his little games.”
‘No, Obbie, you need to come too,’ the voice said. This time, the whole room seemed to hear the words. Silently, after exchanging a few startled glances, the group all proceeded down the steps.
Draya’s Servine form leapt up and clung to Tristan’s shoulders as they all walked down the concrete stairs. As they reached the bottom, she whispered in his ear, “Uh, Tristan. What was that?! I heard something in my head!”
‘I’m Victini!’ the voice called out to them all. The wide eyed, big-eared, smiling Mythical Pokémon in question floated out of the doorway to a well-lit and colorful room, ‘Nice to meet you all!’
—————
To Be Continued…
—————
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Vines of Deceit