Chapter 9 – Anywhere but Here
The blades spun ceaselessly, droning and whirring as they cleaved the air. They chased one another around and around in an endless circuit around a cluster of light bulbs, whose stark rays burned into the dark, bleary eyes of the figure below.
Solonn lay listlessly there on the bed, spread-eagled, staring up at the ceiling fan above him as if mesmerized by its perpetual whirling. Through vision blurred by sheer exhaustion and an endless stream of tears shed in silence, the sight before Solonn’s eyes was that of a shimmering vortex of light and motion, one that he felt could just draw him right in to oblivion in his despair.
Hours had passed since the loss of his identity and his freedom, but he had not regarded the time as it had crept by, nor did he mark the passing moments now. Physically, he was utterly drained, but his mind was host to too many troubles to allow him any rest. He still ached all over from the telekinetic punishment he had suffered at Jal’tai’s hands. His body complained of hunger, of a need to relieve itself, of lying in the same position for a considerable while, and of many other things. But lost as he was in half-willing contemplation of his situation, Solonn cared not about his physical discomfort, for the troubles from within just seemed so petty in comparison to what – and who – now plagued him from without.
A voice from outside the suite broke the lifeless silence then, cutting into the miasma of unbidden, semi-formless miseries surrounding Solonn’s consciousness. It was the familiar voice of Jal’tai. “Are you awake? I’d like to come in and have a moment with you, if you don’t mind,” the Latios called to Solonn from the hall outside.
Solonn did not respond, not even so much as to turn towards the voice that had just addressed him, but regarded what the Dragon had just said with a weak but nonetheless present derision. Since when do you care what I do or don’t mind?…
“Prepare to receive a visitor,” announced the voice of the suite. So, the Latios was using the transport tile. It seemed strange that he should bother, considering that he could simply Teleport in whenever he pleased, with no need to warn his prisoner before entering. Solonn did not cast even the slightest glance back towards the place in the adjacent den where his visitor would materialize, remaining motionless, barely regarding anything that was going on around him.
Once inside, Jal’tai drifted silently into the bedroom. He appeared at the edge of Solonn’s vision, and the form he presented was his true form, that of the Psychic Dragon; he no longer bothered with any disguises, any pretense. The former Glalie shut his eyes, curling up and turning away from the Latios. A second later, the Dragon set himself down on the bed beside him.
“Good morning, Solonn,” he said amiably. “How are you feeling today, my boy?”
No response.
The Latios frowned; already, this was not going well. “I wanted to have a few more words with you about what lies ahead for you,” Jal’tai proceeded, his tone considerably more reserved than it had been moments ago. He drew closer to Solonn, looming over him for a moment before craning his neck downward to look right into the Human’s bloodshot eyes. “Listen,” he began, something slightly authoritative in a paternal sort of way creeping into his voice. “I know this has been quite an overwhelming experience for you, but you are going to have to adjust to things as they now are. There is much that you will have to get used to, but I know you can do it.”
He lowered a talon and gently took hold of the Human’s face, lifting and turning it towards his own. Solonn did not bother to resist the contact, his face expressionless as he stared at Jal’tai through glazed eyes. Somewhere deep within his being, a bitter, smoldering hatred was stoked at the sight of those crimson eyes, that deceptively kindly, semi-avian face, but Solonn dared not to give audience to that feeling and allow it to take over, despite knowing how wonderfully cathartic it would be to unleash his loathing upon the Dragon who deserved it. He knew how terrible Jal’tai’s displeasure could be, and was very mindful of the fact that any voiced dissent on his part would likely just invite that wrath, that pain, that very real, mortal threat upon him once again.
“You know,” Jal’tai said then as he continued to hold his would-be replacement’s gaze in a very literal sense, “there are certain positive aspects of your current situation that I don’t think you’ve taken the time to consider. Perhaps they have simply failed to cross your mind in the midst of all the activity that must surely be buzzing about in there, or perhaps you did not even know such benefits existed.”
Jal’tai paused momentarily to allow a possible query of what he was referring to, but no such question came. Managing to seem quite unfazed by Solonn’s continuing silent treatment, he resumed. “I happen to know that you have a particular aversion to consuming meat,” he said; this revelation of Jal’tai’s knowledge surprised the former Glalie, but not even the shadow of that surprise rose to visibility through his expression. “I inadvertently learned this about you at the same time that I confirmed your possession of The Speech. Knowing this about you, I did lament then and do apologize now for having to make you partake of the Specialty of the House the night before last, but the fact was that you needed it in order to have the strength to endure your transformation.
“However, you need never consume meat again if you don’t want to. Humans are omnivores, Solonn. They don’t have to feed on the flesh of others; they can obtain their protein from other sources. Good news for you, wouldn’t you say?”
The notion of never having to eat meat again might have been quite appealing to Solonn under different circumstances. But the fact remained that such a luxury was not worth the cost of his identity. Through silence, he rejected Jal’tai’s appeal.
Jal’tai let go of the bright, hopeful look in his eyes at this point, his brow and mouth setting into hard lines. “Well, Solonn,” he began, his tone quite stern now, “if you can’t see the merit in this for yourself, I certainly hope you can at least be glad for what your cooperation will help to make possible for others. After all, when it all comes down to it, this isn’t about you, or me, or this city, but rather the world, the future.”
Here, he let go of Solonn’s face and rose from the bed, hovering in place above the Human. Solonn immediately turned away once more, trying to ignore the draconic shadow that hung over him.
“The fact of the matter is that whether or not you think you’re ready to begin your new life, you must begin it nonetheless,” Jal’tai told him firmly. “I told you that I must soon be replaced as the mayor of this city, and I wasn’t fooling around about that. You have a lot to learn, Solonn, and you must begin doing so as soon as possible.”
Jal’tai left the room then, leaving Solonn alone with the swarm of thoughts infesting his mind, including the newly raised questions he had regarding what else the Latios might have “inadvertently” absorbed from his mind. He figured that Jal’tai had probably gone ahead and just opened his helpless psyche wide while he’d slept in that theatre, leaving no corner of his brain unscathed by the touch of his prying Psychic powers. Why wouldn’t the Dragon have done so, after all, when his subject was powerless to stop him?
That was the way Jal’tai liked things to be, Solonn determined without a doubt. Jal’tai liked to be in total control of any given situation, with those with whom he dealt in no position to contest his will. That was certainly the real reason why he had rendered Solonn into a powerless, elementless Human, the former Glalie reckoned: so that he couldn’t fight back.
It was not long before Jal’tai returned; Solonn, still determined not to look upon the hated Dragon if he could at all help it, did not know that Jal’tai was once more in the room with him until the Latios spoke.
“It’s time you started growing accustomed to your Humanity, Solonn, but for your sake, we’ll begin with small steps. Here,” Jal’tai said gently, and lowered something before Solonn’s face.
Only part of the item hung into Solonn’s field of vision, given that his face was half-buried in the green, paisley-patterned comforter. All that he could see was a length of black, folded fabric; he could not discern what the item actually was.
Jal’tai seemed to recognize that Solonn didn’t really have the best view of what he was trying to show him. He unfolded the item and laid it down directly in front of Solonn’s face. Solonn was now able to clearly see that he had just been given a pair of boxer shorts.
“You do know how these go on, do you not?” Jal’tai questioned.
Solonn stared dispassionately at the undergarment. Yes, he did have a fair understanding of how garments of this type were supposed to be worn; the pants that Morgan had worn were fundamentally similar, albeit longer. Solonn was almost too weary in both body and spirit to bother with the undergarment…however, the events of the night prior were still fresh in his mind, and the memories of the more painful of those events shone especially vibrantly, even in the midst of the thick, swirling haze of semi-conscious thoughts, sorrows, and fears attending his psyche. He feared that if he did not do as the Latios expected of him, he would risk being subjected once more to Jal’tai’s particular, excruciating brand of Psychic punishment.
Besides which, the boxers did offer the restoration of a small aspect of his dignity, at least. Solonn tried with only scant success to focus on that point in an effort to convince himself that his next actions were motivated by more than just terror as, without a word, he stirred, shifted, and took hold of the undergarment. Rather awkwardly, he sat halfway up, staring studiously at the pants for a moment as he turned them over in his hands, trying to ascertain which end was which. Once he was sure he had it right, he put on the boxers somewhat maladroitly, slipping them over both ankles at once and wriggling clumsily the rest of the way into them.
“Hmm…I’m afraid you’ve got those on backwards, my boy,” Jal’tai said, wearing an odd expression that only partly succeeded in concealing a hint of amusement.
With the bare ghost of a sigh, Solonn removed the garment and put it back on, correctly this time.
“That’s more like it,” Jal’tai said with a smile and a nod. “Now, wearing clothing, even as little of it as you’re presently wearing, might seem strange at first, but I promise you’ll get used to it quickly enough.”
Solonn found that statement to be a little odd coming from someone who could just pretend his clothes onto himself. Besides which, the notion of covering one’s self was not one that Solonn found strange at all; as a Glalie, he had kept most of his body covered in ice at nearly all times.
“All right, then,” Jal’tai said briskly, seeming to regain the former brightness of his voice, clapping his talons once. “Why don’t we take a little tour of this lovely little place, hmm? You will be living in this suite until you are ready to take my office, and so you might as well start making yourself at home here. Also, you’ll need to get an idea of how everything works around here; this suite has everything you need in your day-to-day life, but that does you no good if you don’t know where and how to get what you need.
“Up you get,” the Latios said then. Jal’tai did not bother waiting for Solonn to get up of his own volition, certain that the former Glalie had no intention of doing any such thing anyway. For the second time that day, he employed his telekinesis to move the listless Human, lifting him off of the bed and onto his feet. He then relaxed his telekinetic hold on Solonn considerably, keeping him standing upright, but not prohibiting his independent movement otherwise.
“No need to worry, my boy; I’ll not let you fall. Now, I know that this ambulatory method is about as different as is possible from the levitation you’d used to get around prior to your Transfiguration, but still, walking on two legs shouldn’t be entirely alien to you. After all, you were born as a biped, were you not?” Jal’tai questioned.
That much was true; in fact, it had been less than three months since Solonn had last possessed legs. He had gotten around by walking for nearly two decades prior to his evolution.
You’ve done it before, Solonn reminded himself in a continuous loop as he stood there, but that mantra fell just short of successfully building and maintaining his confidence in his newly gained Human legs. They were, after all, quite different from those he had possessed as a Snorunt, seeming ridiculously long and gangly in comparison, looking incapable of supporting or moving him. So mistrustful was he of these spindly limbs that were it not for Jal’tai’s telekinesis keeping him upright, his lack of faith in them would certainly cause them to give right out from under him.
Again, though, Solonn was very mindful of the threat that lay at the end of Jal’tai’s patience. The Dragon expected him to stand, to walk, to follow wherever he was led, and Solonn knew that he had better comply if he valued his safety. Inhaling deeply, while trying but not quite succeeding to not overanalyze what he was doing, he took one short, unsteady step forward, and then another. He stopped then, standing still as he finally remembered to exhale the breath he had taken, trying to will himself to at least appear to relax and seem sure even if he couldn’t actually do these things in earnest. With an effort, he lifted his gaze from the carpet to the Dragon hovering nearby in an attempt to signal that he was good to go.
Jal’tai seemed to accept this, nodding slightly with a small smile. “Good, good. Come, then, let me show you around…”
The Latios turned to his left and drifted out of the bedroom, then cast a look over his shoulder and made a beckoning motion with a single talon. Unenthusiastically, but mindfully compliant all the same, Solonn followed. He tried to move a little quicker and surer than he had done in the first couple of steps he had taken on Human legs, but his faith in those limbs was still somewhat lacking, and it showed. Though he was successfully moving forward, keeping fairly close to Jal’tai (though the Dragon’s purposefully slow drift was mostly to credit for Solonn’s ability to keep up with him), his legs were doing nearly as much wobbling as walking. But Jal’tai kept him steady, sustaining his telekinetic hold on the Human to support him through his every step, no matter how unstable those steps might be.
He was led by the Latios into the den, where the draconic statues were at their highest proliferation, resembling a small assembly of watchful minions in service to the Psychic Dragon to whom this place and its unwilling inhabitant belonged. Solonn disliked their stone eyes upon him, smiling with their blithe expressions, oblivious to the injustice of his treatment. He was shown over to the green armchair by which he had awakened on his first morning as a Human and had witnessed the revelation of Jal’tai’s true identity.
Smiling, Jal’tai motioned for the former Glalie to come and stand beside him, while gesturing with his other talon towards one arm of the chair. Apparently, this was something that Jal’tai regarded as noteworthy, though Solonn couldn’t fathom why. He came to stand at Jal’tai’s side, trying once he did so not to shift about too conspicuously despite his unease around the Dragon.
“Have a look at this,” Jal’tai said as he laid a talon upon the arm of the chair, its plushy surface yielding slightly to his claws as he clutched it. He then pulled upward on it, doing so slowly to ensure that the Human at his side could clearly see what he was doing. The arm of the chair opened on an unseen hinge, revealing a previously hidden compartment, from which the Latios pulled out a small, flat, matte-silver object that was covered with dozens of tiny buttons.
“This is the remote control for your entertainment system,” Jal’tai told him. “In case you’ve not seen one of these in use, observe.” He pointed the device towards a large oak armoire against the wall, in which nestled a television, a DVD player, and a CD player, all surrounded by a sizeable array of speakers. “Pay close attention, now,” he instructed, and indicated first one of the remote’s buttons, and then another. He repeated this action a couple of times, seeming intent on making sure that Solonn memorized the sequence; then, he pushed the two buttons in succession. The CD player came awake with golden LED numbers, and a split-second later, a light, jazzy tune began issuing from the speakers.
Jal’tai allowed the music to play for a few moments, seeming to enjoy it as he listened, smiling vaguely, his eyes closed. He then shut the music off, making certain to let Solonn see how he did so.
“If you’re not in the mood for music, you could always enjoy what television has to offer,” the Latios said then, and demonstrated how to turn the television on. The screen lit up with an image of a Human in a garishly ugly suit and tie who was standing in front of a rather dull-looking brown car while shouting about being crazy and offering the lowest prices in Hoenn.
“You’ve got three hundred and fifty-one channels to choose from. These arrows here –” he indicated two more of the remote’s buttons “– will let you cycle up and down through them one at a time, or you can go straight to a channel by inputting its number with the numeral buttons. I’m sure you’ll memorize the numbers of the good ones quickly enough…” He cast a brief glance back at the television, where a different Human was pictured offering the secret to shed excess weight around the hips, thighs, and buttocks; Jal’tai regarded the commercial with an odd look before turning back to Solonn.
“I'll admit, most of those three hundred and fifty-one channels are pure rubbish around the clock,” he said, almost apologetically, “but there are also a couple of real quality stations – they’re broadcast from right here in Convergence,” he informed Solonn, his tone colored on the lattest statement with unmistakable pride. He changed the channel again, and this time, images of Pokémon rather than Humans appeared on the screen. A Ledian was seated behind a desk. Beside him, a small image of three Smeargle being led out of a building by a Medicham in a police uniform and two Houndoom with badges affixed to collars around their necks appeared.
“Police have finally apprehended the vandals responsible for defacing storefronts downtown on multiple instances,” the Ledian anchorman reported, while at the bottom of the screen, his words were displayed in subtitles for the benefit of Human viewers, rendered in their script. “Whether these individuals were actively trying to claim territory or were merely acting towards their own amusement is unclear, but the CPD has issued a statement saying that whatever their motives might have –”
Here, Jal’tai turned off the television, then replaced the remote control in its storage compartment within the arm of the chair. “There’s something else I have to show you with regards to the television, but let’s finish having our look around first, shall we?”
The Dragon departed the den, and Solonn shuffled out after him with a final glance back at the now dark and lifeless television screen. He wasn’t particularly impressed with it; he was already somewhat familiar with television, having watched it with Morgan a couple of times back when he was still small enough to be kept indoors. Even then, though the ability of that device to reproduce images and sounds even more faithfully than one’s own memory could do was certainly an incredible achievement, the manner of programming it offered fell short of quite appealing to Solonn’s tastes. Under normal circumstances, the idea of the stations this city boasted, run by Pokémon, for Pokémon, might have been fairly intriguing. But, again, these were far from normal circumstances.
Solonn was guided next into a decently sized, walk-in closet. It was fairly long, and wide enough to admit Jal’tai’s generous, rigid wingspan, albeit only just.
“Now, it was never my intent to have you running around in your underwear all the time,” the Dragon said, with yet another of his trademark chuckles. “Here, I have provided you with an exquisite collection of some of the finest menswear money can buy. I’ve spared no expense for you, my boy – why, just look at this here.” He gestured to his right, where a deep navy blue jacket hung, and brought one of its sleeves forth. “Just feel this material!” he said almost dreamily, proffering the sleeve to Solonn.
With a dull, unenthusiastic expression, Solonn reached out and gave the fabric the slightest brush of his fingers. “Hm,” he uttered with the ghost of a nod, just for the sake of giving some response to appease the Dragon. In truth, he found nothing at all special in the way it felt. He was equally unmoved by the other specimens Jal’tai showed him from what was now his wardrobe, but he gave the Latios, who was obviously quite proud of these purchases, an occasional, noncommittal noise or vague nod, feigning interest and at least moderate attention to what was being presented to him. In spirit, however, he could not be further from the closet and the expensive fashions therein, let alone any care for these things.
As there wasn’t room enough in the closet for Jal’tai to turn around, the Dragon had to Teleport in order to make his exit. He then resumed his tour, ushering Solonn into a spacious bathroom, one that had been designed with multiple, varying species in mind. It contained sinks at three different heights and four different kinds of toilets. The shower was oversized, and it possessed multiple spigots of varying shapes and sizes; in addition to the standard one that dispensed water, the extra spigots offered bathing options such as “mud”, “sand”, and “acid”, according to a large, yellow label affixed just outside the shower compartment. There were labels of this sort next to each of the fixtures, bearing instructions for their use in Human- and Unown-script. Solonn noted that there were also small, white labels, apparently handwritten, that designated certain of the fixtures for Human use.
There were also mirrors in this room: one over each sink and a tall one that stood alone against the opposite wall. It was in that solitary mirror that Solonn saw his new, Human face for the first time. The dark eyes that had become his own stared back at him from within the glass, bloodshot and glazed over with a listless despair. The expression on that face seemed to plead to be looked upon no more, as if considering itself a sight that could not be endured. As it was, the man who beheld it could indeed not stand the sight. Their features seized by anguish, both his face and its mirror image turned harshly away from one another.
Solonn did not notice at first when Jal’tai spoke next, the Dragon’s words reaching him with a delay through the fog enveloping his mind.
“This, Solonn, is where…well…” Jal’tai’s eyes swept around awkwardly, seeming curiously unable to meet Solonn’s gaze of a sudden. “…This is where you’ll attend to your…” he twiddled his talons self-consciously, with a rather flustered expression; were it not for the pale feathers covering his face, he would certainly have been seen to blush, “…er, hygienic needs…” Jal’tai cast a quick, uneasy glance over his shoulder at the toilets. “Well, er…I think, in this instance, a demonstration would most certainly not be necessary…nor would it be very prudent,” he added with an extremely awkward little laugh. He then suddenly cleared his throat loudly and needlessly. “Anyway,” he resumed with haste and difficulty, “the basic purposes of this room are…”
Short moments later, they both exited the bathroom, gratefully escaping the awkward topic of its use, as well. Jal’tai then brought Solonn to the other end of the suite, where the kitchen was located. The room itself was quite small, as were the appliances within it: The refrigerator, sink, counter, and electric range were much shorter than their counterparts in kitchens designed solely for Human use (though the refrigerator was also rather wider than the typical Human-style model, so as not to forsake any of its capacity). Cabinets, drawers, a toaster, a blender, and a microwave oven were also set up at heights that were convenient for smaller species. Yellow instruction labels like those found in the bathroom were present here, too, detailing the use of each of the appliances. There was also a modest dining area adjoined to the kitchen, containing a small, low table and a trio of cushioned wooden stools.
“Here is where you can get yourself something to eat whenever the need or desire arises, as I would imagine it surely must have by now. You must be famished, hmm?” Jal’tai queried.
Indeed, Solonn was, and considerably so; he had not eaten since the evening before last, after all. But he had endured that sensation as well as a host of other physical complaints with near-total apathy since finding his reality torn asunder. Still, for the blasted Dragon’s sake, “Hm,” he responded, yet another minimal utterance, with yet another minimal nod as the sole factor indicating his reply as affirmative.
“Mmm-hmm, figured as much,” Jal’tai said with a warm smile (that the Latios had just smiled at the confirmation of his hunger was not lost on Solonn, nor did it fail to bother him). He pulled first a bowl, then a box of frosted corn flakes from the cabinets, setting both items down on top of the kitchen counter. He then fetched a quart-sized carton of milk from the refrigerator, and a Nanab berry from a bowl of fruit that sat on the dining room table, and set them down on the counter, as well. Faintly humming the jazzy tune from earlier, the Dragon dispensed a small amount of cereal and milk into the bowl, then diced up the Nanab with his claws and put the fruit into the bowl, too.
Jal’tai took a spoon out from the drawer, then brought it along with the bowl of cereal to the table and beckoned Solonn to come over. The Human complied, stopping a couple of feet from Jal’tai as the Latios pulled out a chair for him, indicating with a talon that he expected Solonn to take his seat here.
Having seen Morgan sit down before, Solonn had a sense of how it was done in Human-fashion; or, at least, he knew what the action looked like. At any rate, it was enough for him to just try it without much preamble. He moved over to the chair, trying to allow his frame to fold up and conform to it in resemblance of the image of a seated Human in his memory. He did a fairly commendable job of it, too, although he dropped himself onto the stool a little too hard, resulting in a fairly nasty shock to his tailbone despite the chair’s cushioning.
“I certainly hope you like this,” Jal’tai said pleasantly as he hovered beside Solonn. “It’s something for which I confess to have developed something of an addiction,” he chuckled. “Plus, it’s something that’s very easy to whip up; I’m sure that you can do it yourself, anytime, now that you’ve seen me do it. Now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that this is the sort of thing you should ought to be living on, but as far as more advanced meal preparation goes…well, no one becomes a master chef in a day, now do they?” He laughed again, then turned an expectant gaze straight into Solonn’s eyes. “Well, have at it, then!” he pressed cheerfully.
Solonn turned his gaze downward, devoid of interest as he stared into his cereal. He was not particularly moved to eat, despite his body’s genuine need for him to do so…but with that Dragon hanging around like a second shadow, he reckoned that he’d better just get it over and done. Almost robotically, he began to lower his hand towards the bowl – but it was caught short of descending into the cereal by the swift action of a blue, three-clawed talon.
“Whoops!” Jal’tai exclaimed, laughing. “I can’t believe I could be so forgetful…here…” He lifted the spoon from where it sat beside the bowl. “Use this; it’s proper Human etiquette, not to mention much neater. You just scoop it up like this,” he said, miming the action a couple of times in demonstration before handing the spoon to Solonn.
Solonn did fairly well with the spoon, especially given that it was his first time using one; he only spilled a couple of spoonfuls. The sweet flavor of the cereal and berries was not unpleasant, but failed to pique Solonn’s interest. His apathy towards eating made it somewhat difficult to finish his breakfast, but finish it he did, earning a pleased smile from the draconic face that had been hovering beside him in order to ensure that the Human accepted the food he was given.
“There, now wasn’t that nice?” Jal’tai asked, earning himself another of the former Glalie’s vague responses. He took a small roll of paper towels from the cabinets, tearing one off to clean up the spilled cereal, then disposed of the used tissue and put the used bowl into the sink. Once he was finished tidying up, he motioned for Solonn to rise and follow him once more, and the Human did so without a word, allowing himself to be led back into the den.
Once there, Jal’tai immediately took the remote from its compartment in the arm of the green chair and turned on the television, bringing the image of a rather tone-deaf, singing Meowth to life on the screen. “You’ll recall that I mentioned having something else to show you over here, correct?” the Latios said as he made his way over to the armoire, opening the cabinet under the television and producing from it a DVD jewel case. Solonn gave even less of a response than he had been giving, impossible though such seemed, but Jal’tai didn’t seem to mind, being slightly preoccupied at the time as he was.
The Dragon looked over his shoulder and saw Solonn just standing there beside the armchair. “Go ahead and have a seat in that chair,” he instructed the Human, while carefully prying the DVD out of its case with his claws. “Watch me carefully, now,” he said once he saw that Solonn had taken his seat in the green chair. He turned on the DVD player, inserted the disc into it, and then drifted over to hover right beside Solonn.
“This is just one of a series of videos I made specially for the benefit of my successor in the event that said successor would come to me in the form of a Pokémon,” Jal’tai said as the video started, bringing up a simple menu in Unown-script onto the screen. The menu bore only two options: “Setup”, and “Play”. “Now, to begin the video, you simply press these –” he highlighted the “Play” option and pressed the “ENTER” button, making certain that his actions were performed in clear view of his pupil, and not too quickly to be followed, “– this will pause it if you need to take a break while viewing; this one will go back and replay certain parts if you feel you need to review them or if you miss something; and this one will stop it when you’ve finished watching it,” he explained, indicating the “PAUSE”, “REVERSE”, and “STOP” buttons, respectively. “Then, just take the disc out and put it back where it belongs – the ‘OPEN’ button is right there on the device; you’ll also find ‘POWER’ buttons on all the devices there to turn them off when you’re done using them.”
Meanwhile, the video began to play. Loud, tacky synthesizer music blared forth, and the title “Humanity and You” appeared on the screen in bright, gaudy letters.
Jal’tai grinned and chuckled excitedly. “I think you’ll enjoy these, Solonn; they really turned out quite nicely, in my opinion. These videos will help you learn the basic habits and skills of living as a Human. Once you’ve watched this volume, you can just pop in another one and watch it. Mind you, they are numbered, and you’d do well to watch them in numerical order – some of the later ones might be a bit confusing if you don’t,” he advised Solonn, chuckling yet again.
Jal’tai placed the remote in Solonn’s hand, then drifted over to the wall that separated the suite from the hall outside. “I’ll check in on you again sometime soon,” he said. “Oops…I fear you might have missed some of the beginning of that video due to my talking,” he added, sounding mildly embarrassed and apologetic. “You might want to back that up, then. Well, anyway, I’ll be seeing you!” With that, the Dragon departed, once again foregoing the keypad and transport tile and Teleporting out instead.
Solonn stared dully at the television screen, not really absorbing anything occurring there, and not bothering to restart the video from the beginning as per Jal’tai’s advice, either. His mind was still on the Latios, even though the Dragon had gone. He had borne his loathing for Jal’tai deep within his psyche whilst in his presence, silently detached from it through a sort of numb, temporary resign born of self-preservation. But now, with the Latios no longer shadowing him, all the offense, hatred, and bitter indignation that Jal’tai had inspired within him dared to come forth.
As if Jal’tai hadn’t done enough to him, the Latios had chosen to add insult to injury by coming in this day with the old, merry façade he’d worn when they’d first met, smiling and acting cheerful as though nothing strange had happened here, as though there weren’t anything wrong done when in fact, there was, committed by his own hand. The damned Dragon had talked to him as though he was looking after him with care and affection, as though he was a friend – how dare he.
Solonn very briefly allowed his attention to light upon the video. Almost immediately, he shut the doors of his mind to it once more. He found himself harboring a dislike for the program, for it was, after all, the handiwork of that lying Latios, just another element of his scheme. Closing his eyes, Solonn retreated into a dark, bitter niche of his mind. As far as he was concerned, it would be perfectly fine to stay in that darkened place indefinitely, and perhaps never have to lay eyes on that loathed Dragon or anything of his making again.
* * *
Solonn continued to feign compliance during Jal’tai’s next visit, two days later: looking at whatever he was shown, doing whatever he was told to do, and showing no outward sign of resentment or indignation. As soon as the Dragon left, however, that veneer fell away, leaving behind the bitter, despondent reality of his being to languish emptily through the hours. He barely slept, his mind too besieged by thoughts of what was and what could never be to allow him any peace. Despair held him fast with its own, unique sort of gravity, so that he was virtually immovable through much of this time, without spirit enough to look after himself beyond the absolute bare minimum needed just to keep himself alive. He did not bathe or groom himself in any way, nor did he bother to further his assimilation into his forced humanity by watching any of the Latios’s training videos. He ate only when Jal’tai was actually present to monitor him and make sure that he did.
The self-neglect began to take quite a toll on the former Glalie – developments that did not go unnoticed by the Latios, as Solonn learned the very next evening, on Jal’tai’s third visit.
Jal’tai materialized in the room, and Solonn met his eye at once from where he sat in that green armchair. From the moment the Dragon appeared, Solonn knew that this visit would not be like the others. Gone was the friendly, jovial countenance the Latios had worn during his previous visits – his face was a hard-lined mask, the expression not quite readable but certainly not a sign of a pleased Dragon.
Lowering his head slightly and folding his arms in front of his chest, Jal’tai brought himself to hover right in front of Solonn. His feathered brows drew together as if wincing in pain, allowing some evidence of concern to show through his features. He held the Human’s dark, flat stare for a long moment, then shook his head pityingly.
“Look at you…” the Dragon said quietly. He moved even closer to Solonn, his pointed, crimson-irised gaze burning on the former Glalie’s inanimate, unshaven face from only a inches away now. “Solonn,” he said, his tone heavy, “I know that you’ve been neglecting yourself and your lessons. This won’t do, my boy. This won’t do at all.”
Though his slackened, expressionless features showed no sign of it, a spark of fear stirred deep within Solonn’s psyche, something not quite conscious, something primal. The Dragon knew that he wasn’t getting what he wanted from his would-be successor, and such disappointment might beget suffering on Solonn’s part. And perhaps it would not be like the time before – perhaps, this time, the Latios would simply give up on ever getting what he wanted from Solonn, and would decide to cut his losses.
Solonn awaited the fuchsia blaze in the Dragon’s eyes, and the agony that would follow, but no such things came. At least, not yet.
“I told you, emphatically, that you must find it in yourself to make peace with this life,” Jal’tai said soberly, “for it is something which you cannot change. I told you this for a very good reason, Solonn: You cannot live a life that you do not accept. You’re wasting away in the name of your resistance…I cannot allow that, Solonn. There is too much at stake. I will not see the future of my city, my mission, simply fade out like this.”
He ascended higher into the air, stopping just short of scraping the ceiling with his wingtips. From this height, his scarlet eyes bore down imperiously upon Solonn, the intensity of their gaze stoking the former Glalie’s certainty that he was about to meet a terrible demise. Yet still, the Latios made no move to harm him.
“For the sake of your destiny, as well as that of Convergence and the most noble cause for which it stands, serenity will be instilled in you,” he told Solonn firmly. “Fortunately, I have come across someone who should be of a tremendous benefit to that end. Her name is Neleng, and you will be having your first session with her tonight. She ought to be arriving in less than an hour.
“I dearly hope to see improvement in you, Solonn. There’s no need for you to make things harder for yourself than you already have.” With those words, Jal’tai made his exit in his usual fashion, vanishing in a burst of golden light.
Solonn’s eyes lingered for a while upon the empty space where Jal’tai had just been, resenting the Dragon’s ability to simply be gone from this place in a flash – he wished that he could do the same. The ease with which Jal’tai could come and go as he pleased only seemed to rub Solonn’s nose into the fact that he was stuck in here, unable to leave. Solonn wondered if perhaps this wasn’t the precise reason why Jal’tai always chose to depart in such a fashion.
As the minutes passed, Solonn merely sat there, doing nothing. He wasn’t really anticipating Neleng’s arrival; he had been too preoccupied with the notion that he was going to be punished and possibly killed to pay much attention to what Jal’tai had been saying during his visit. The matter of the impending arrival of another visitor had been shunted to the back of his mind.
At length, the computerized voice of the suite announced an incoming arrival; Solonn, expecting it to be Jal’tai again, was vaguely surprised to find someone and something very different appearing within the suite, something small and round, pearly white with splashes and stripes of a violent red standing out vividly on her face and at the end of her long, ribbonlike tail. He was a bit confused by the newly arrived guest at first, until the memory of Jal’tai’s mention of a visitor surfaced within his mind. Someone with an “N” name, as far as he recalled, though he couldn’t remember the name exactly.
The visitor made her way into the den at once, her tail trailing from beneath her as she drifted through the air by some indiscernible means of levitation. She stopped before Solonn and smiled, her iridescent, pale yellow eyes twinkling.
“Good evening,” she greeted him, her voice airy and melodic. “My name is Neleng,” she introduced, “and I’m here to help clear you mind. Are you ready to begin?”
Solonn didn’t respond, gazing upon the Chimecho with uncertainty. He had no idea of what this creature was planning to do and therefore could not be ready for it in any way.
Neleng, however, seemed to have been prepared to proceed regardless of any answer or lack thereof that she might receive. She beamed at him as brightly as if he had just agreed with the utmost enthusiasm to whatever she was about to do. “Very well, then,” she said. She rose upward until the golden suction disc on the top of her head met the ceiling and took hold of it, clinging tightly, yet effortlessly.
The Chimecho gave a few languid ripples of her tail as she hung there, smiling serenely down upon Solonn. “Just relax…Float away on a breeze of music…” she said dreamily. She began swaying there where she hung, very slowly, very gracefully. And then, she began to sing.
From sheer silence, the song took flight. A single voice, a single current of delicate, chiming tones traced fine, intricate lines through the air. Like an unraveling thread, it unfolded into a chorus of many, one voice at a time. Harmonies and countermelodies gracefully intertwined, weaving in and out amongst one another, merging, diverging, and reuniting in cycles as they all soared on a swirling breeze of ethereal, incomparable music.
And there was Solonn, right in the very heart of it. The music surrounded him, absorbing his mind as it swirled around him. While he had always possessed a strong affinity towards music, one that allowed him to easily lose himself within its complex and wondrous structures, the song of the Chimecho affected him in this way on a far grander scale than any other music, for it was, indeed, like no other music on Earth. Neleng sang not only with her true voice, but with the multitude of Psychic voices with which all her kind were blessed.
Under the mindsong’s spell, everything within the scope of Solonn’s consciousness was washed away, so that all the world around him was comprised solely of the swirling currents of melody. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. There was only Solonn, and the music that loved him.
He didn’t notice at first when the song finally ended, some twenty minutes later. Once he did, he began looking about somewhat dazedly for the source of the music, seeming for the moment not to remember what had happened. Then, the last of the swirling Psychic residue that the Chimecho’s song had left within his mind cleared…and with it, he realized slowly, the swarming hordes of miseries that had engulfed his mind these past few days had faded out, as well.
Not that he had been truly and entirely purged of his ills; undeniable anguish and bitterness remained within him, and would continue to do so as long as did their source: the unwanted body and the suite that both imprisoned him. But by the preternatural qualities of Neleng’s song, all those thoughts and feelings, though no more pleasant, were now tamed, to a degree. They were now, in a sense, organized; not perfectly, but well enough so that they no longer smothered him with their weight. His spirit was freed to begin to rise back up through the fog of despondency, awakening as if from a long and muddling trance.
Solonn’s memory realigned with his awareness; he recalled the sequence of the most recent events as they had occurred. Jal’tai had shown up, saying that Solonn would have a visitor; Neleng had arrived, and she had begun to sing. After that point, his memory was indistinct; he knew not what had happened between the start of the Chimecho’s song and its end.
He turned his sights up to where Neleng still hung, still swaying slightly, seeming to be slowly emerging from a meditative state. She did something to me, Solonn knew, something Psychic…Exactly what she had done, he couldn’t be sure. He hoped it hadn’t been anything harmful, but he was inclined to have a dark feeling about it. This creature was sent here by Jal’tai, after all; her motives were likely tied right into his.
The Chimecho finally fell still, sighing softly as her shimmering yellow eyes slowly opened. She detached from the ceiling, smiling gently as she descended once more.
“I will see you again tomorrow,” she said in her melodious voice. “Drift free until then…”
Neleng floated away then, and Solonn’s gaze followed her as she made her way back to the wall between the suite and the hall outside. She stopped before the lens that was set into the wall and brought the end of her tail up to reach the keypad beside it, folding its prehensile tip and using it to input a sequence of eight numbers. The transport tile below her levitating form awakened with green light, and she lowered herself down onto it. The lens awakened and scanned her, and a second later, she was gone in a green flash.
Solonn’s eyes lingered for a long moment in that direction, looking upon the lens and keypad with a twinge of envy towards the Chimecho who had just used them to leave the suite. If only he could do the same…but that same system that had offered an open gateway to Neleng also created the barrier that held him here, for it would only admit those who possessed the codes, the key to open the way in or out.
Jal’tai had shared the codes with Neleng. He had not shared them with Solonn, and likely had no intention of doing so anytime soon, or possibly ever. Jal’tai was intent on keeping him trapped here, while the Latios and those whom he employed to aid him could just come and go as they pleased with those codes. And of course, Jal’tai himself didn’t even need them; he had the option of Teleporting, and he made use of it, too. In fact, he never even bothered with the keypad and tile to get out…
Something clicked into place in Solonn’s brain, and clicked hard.
Jal’tai never used the transport tile to get out, but he always used it to get in…why? Solonn found himself locked into puzzling over the matter at once; this habit of Jal’tai’s was peculiar in a distinctly nagging way, one that clearly marked itself as significant. He at first chiefly wondered why the Latios bothered with the tile at all; couldn’t he just instantly, easily enter in the same way as he exited? Why the Dragon did not Teleport into the suite was a matter that Solonn couldn’t seem to figure out…but when his mind inverted the question, wondering why Jal’tai did Teleport to get out…
The obvious answer was simply because he could. But another possible angle occurred to Solonn a beat later: Perhaps Jal’tai did not use the keypad code to leave the suite on the chance that his captive might pick up the code from seeing him use it. To Solonn’s mind, it made sense. Jal’tai was just being cautious.
A second later, a powerful realization struck him like a stone, as his mind was thrown back to what he had just witnessed mere moments earlier.
Jal’tai was being cautious.
Neleng, however, was not…
There was a feeling like a sudden, sharp blow to his chest, seizing his heart in an almost painful thrill. Incredible though it seemed, after all the work and planning that he had clearly put into his endeavor to prepare his replacement, Jal’tai had made a mistake in giving the codes to that Chimecho, one whose implications had the potential to severely undermine his plans – at least, where Solonn was concerned.
All of a sudden, the way from here seemed almost absurdly clear. Neleng held the means for him to escape – he needed only to observe her closely on her departure. He could possibly obtain the code that would allow him to leave the suite by watching her use it.
Of course, getting out was one thing…but then what? No longer being the Glalie he once was, and with no real way to prove such, he could no longer return to the places he had once called home and the people he had called friends and family…so where could he go?
Anywhere but here will do, Solonn determined resolutely then, anywhere where he isn’t. Solonn could not reclaim the life he had once known…but, at least, he could make his life his own again, taking it out of that hated Dragon’s taloned hands. He knew not what sort of future could possibly lie ahead of him now, but at least now, there was a chance that it could be his future, his choice.
With a deep breath, Solonn rose from the chair, shakily but determinedly. He would walk on his own, without Jal’tai, starting now. His legs immediately threatened to give out from under him as they took his weight; with an effort, he forced himself to ignore them, to stop thinking about standing up and simply trust that he could do it. Even then, he shook and teetered a bit on the spot, but still managed to stay on his feet. He leveled a hard, resolute stare at that wall, that barrier separating him from the way to freedom. Soon, he would surpass that barrier. Soon, he would take back his life.
* * *
From the moment he discovered the way by which he would escape, Solonn carried on in a very different manner than he had done in the days prior. He knew that he would have to prepare himself for the life he would have to forge once he was free – a Human life.
So it was that not long after Neleng had left him, he had sat down and watched one of Jal’tai’s training videos. Though not fond of the notion of partaking of something that Jal’tai had made, he’d determined that he would just have to bite back his resentment of the Dragon in this matter. The videos were a source of valuable information and demonstration, offering knowledge he would need in his new life, and so, he had decided that he would watch as many of them as he could before the time came when he would finally succeed in obtaining the code that would get him out of there.
He had also regained the strength of spirit to take care of himself again, fueled by the hope of impending freedom. He tried to get at least a couple of hours of sleep each night, and bothered to feed himself whenever he hungered, for he knew that he would need his strength for his upcoming egress. From the videos, as well as from the next couple of visits by Jal’tai, he learned how to prepare a small variety of meals, but was still not quite courageous enough to try and make anything that required actual cooking, for it just seemed too easy to ruin such dishes – it wouldn’t do for him to burn more food than he ate, after all.
The videos also illustrated the importance of good hygiene and dressing well in Human society, lessons which motivated Solonn to begin practicing Human hygienic rituals. Though his first attempt at a bath resulted in minor scalding, and his first attempt at shaving left his face bleeding in no fewer than six places, he generally did a fairly competent job in keeping himself tidy, and assured himself that he would improve in these skills with time and practice. He also began fully dressing himself rather than just lounging about in his underwear, for he knew from his time with the Yorkes that Humans generally covered most of their bodies at all times. This was what would be expected of him in the world outside, he knew, and thereby acknowledged that he’d better get used to it.
During his visits over the course of those days, Jal’tai noticed the improvements in Solonn’s well-being, and as a result, the Latios’s demeanor around him was even more lively and jovial than ever, with no signs of stern displeasure, for it seemed that his would-be successor was finally accepting and growing into the role that had been chosen for him.
Though Solonn’s temperament was definitely improving, Jal’tai still sent Neleng over each night to perform her mindsong therapy; perhaps the Dragon had figured that these sessions might as well continue, since they were clearly doing Solonn some good. Indeed, they were, but not only in the way that the Latios had intended – Neleng’s sessions helped to keep Solonn’s mind clear, allowing him to stay focused and determined to achieve his goal of escape.
The Chimecho was fulfilling her role in Solonn’s endeavor most obligingly: At the end of each of her visits, she let herself out by means of the transport tile. From that green armchair, he had watched her out of the corner of his eye on the evening of her second visit, trying not to be overtly conspicuous about it, but had found that this did not provide the best angle from which to get a good look at precisely what she was doing.
But shortly thereafter, he had thought to shift that chair just ever so slightly towards the wall that bore the lens and keypad, just enough to hopefully give him a somewhat better view of that area without it being too obvious that he had moved the chair. Sure enough, as he had learned the following evening when Neleng returned once more, this new angle did make it rather easier to see what the Chimecho was doing. Hence, from that point forward, he had been able to watch Neleng without being too conspicuous about it, trying each time as he did so to discern and memorize the code she used to exit the room.
It was following the eighth session with Neleng, eleven days after the morning when he had first awakened as a Human, that Solonn was ready at last to make his move. After repeatedly, carefully watching the Chimecho input that code, he was quite certain now that he had successfully picked it up himself.
Jal’tai had visited earlier that day, and Neleng had just left an hour or so ago, so Solonn wasn’t expecting either of them anywhere near his suite anytime soon. If ever there was an optimal time to make a break for it, this was it.
He stood there before the keypad, his breath shallow as his chest tightened with anxiety. This was it…he could soon be free from here, assuming he had discerned the code correctly. He raised a trembling, sweating hand to the keys, and one by one, his shaking index finger found each of the code’s eight digits as his mind recalled them in sequence:
7…3…4…9…0…4…6…2…
The next second felt eternal, a seemingly indefinite moment of wondering if he had succeeded and fearing that he had not. Then, that second passed, and to Solonn’s immeasurable relief, the tile below his feet blossomed into verdant luminescence. The lens before him opened its glowing, ochre eye to him, sweeping its scanning gaze over him.
The tile flashed. The tingling sensation over the surface of his skin that he’d experienced the last time he had used the transport tile came, seeming curiously stronger this time. Then, he was rushed swiftly through a state of physical nonexistence, emerging from it to rematerialize on the other side of the wall.
His eyes met the scene of the corridor around him, and a giddy sort of disbelief dispersed through his nerves in a shiver. A beat later, he dared to believe what the sight surrounding him signified. He had done it. He was out, and could now make his bid for freedom.
His mind reviewed the events that had taken place in this corridor the last time he had been here, replaying them in reverse to recall how he had gotten from the part of this building where the exit lay to where he now stood. It was difficult to extract much detail from his memory regarding those events, for at the time when they had occurred, he had been under the influence of the drugs Jal’tai had slipped into his food, which had greatly hampered his perception. He managed to remember the elevator, however…and if he recalled correctly, it was closeby…Sure enough, he soon spotted it.
The steel elevator doors before Solonn were shut tightly. There was a button beside the doors, set somewhat low in the wall; as Solonn’s eyes fell upon it, he remembered that Jal’tai had pushed a button to enter the elevator. He stooped down slightly and pushed the button, but for a few moments, nothing seemed to happen, giving Solonn another surge of fear that his escape would fail. But then, thankfully, the doors opened, and Solonn passed through them without a second’s hesitation.
The doors closed then. Solonn tried to ignore the bland, synthetic music that was playing in the elevator as he waited for those doors to open again and release him into the lobby. Moments on end passed, but no such thing happened. Solonn was first confused by this, then worried…and then, he noticed the line of buttons next to the doors, above which was a label reading “Please Select Your Desired Floor”. The elevator was not moving because he had not yet told it where he wanted it to go.
You idiot…he reprimanded himself mentally as he looked over the buttons. They were numbered from one to seven; each one, apparently, corresponded to a different level of the building. Solonn reckoned at once that the button marked “1”, bearing the lowermost number, represented the lowermost floor, where the doors that led out of the building were. That was the floor he wanted.
He pressed the “1” button; a breath later, a funny little plummeting sensation in his stomach signified the elevator’s descent. Soon after the descent had begun, it was over. The steel doors slid open, revealing a view of the spacious lobby…and the exit beyond.
The lobby was currently relatively quiet, with no one present except for the Swampert receptionist and a solitary Primeape off in the corner, who was staring with a rather dull expression at a television on which a cartoon was playing. Solonn was very conscious of their presence and quite nervous around them, but knew that he should try to act nonchalant so as not to draw too much attention to himself. As far as these people were concerned, he was just another guy like any other, no one particularly worthy of notice, with no reason why he should not be in this lobby or heading out those doors. And he intended to leave them in that mindset.
Without a word, he crossed the room to the exit. Those last doors, that last barrier separating him from the way out of this city, slid silently out of his way, and he stepped out into a starless, overcast night.
He cast one last look behind him at the towering structure of the Serenity Inn, the place where his identity had died, the place that had been his prison for nearly two weeks. He averted his gaze from it almost immediately and began moving away from it at a brisk pace, with the desire to never have to behold that hated place again.
Solonn was forced to stop at the next corner, where cars sped up and down the street in his way. He shivered as he stood there; the grey silk shirt and simple black slacks he had chosen to wear that day offered little protection against the chilly, late-September wind that whipped at him. Not terribly far away, he could make out the dark line of trees that signified the border between Convergence and its surrounding woods – that was his goal. The vehicles rushing by were barring his path…but seconds later, the flow of traffic in his way ceased. He took advantage of this at once, hurriedly crossing the street while the way was clear.
His eyes fixed upon the boundary beyond which the world did not belong to that Latios…the sooner he reached it, the better. He wanted to make a dash for the trees, but having only recently become accustomed to walking on his new legs, he was somewhat wary of the notion of running.
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of doubt. If you can walk, you can run, he told himself silently. Don’t think about it; just do it! Hesitating no longer, he broke into a run with a somewhat awkward start, stumbling over the first step and nearly overcorrecting afterward, which would likely have thrown him face-first into the sidewalk.
Once Solonn managed to stabilize himself, he did not intend to stop running, not until he reached that forest. He was unused to running for any great distance, however, and exhaustion came on quite swiftly. Nonetheless, he ignored his body’s demands for him to stop and take a rest, his sights and his determination fixed on his goal. But he was forced to stop two blocks away from the Serenity Inn by another red light, another wave of rushing cars in his path.
Solonn gritted his teeth in pain as he waited anxiously for a break in the traffic, the cold, sharp wind tearing through his throat with each harsh, gasping breath that his lungs tore from the air in their need. The forest was not much further before him than the Serenity Inn was behind him…he was almost there, and the closeness to his goal made him all the more impatient to reach it.
Finally, the path before him was clear and safe again. His body was quite averse to taking off and running again, as he had not even caught his breath completely from the last dash. But with such a short way left to go before he could put this city and the Dragon to whom it belonged behind him for good, he just couldn’t wait to close that final distance.
Amber sparkles of light streaked by, rays from the streetlights that were blurred and distorted by the tears that the stinging wind brought to his eyes as he ran. His lungs seared viciously, their want for oxygen seemingly inconsolable. Tiny, shooting agonies stabbed into his ribs like driven nails, while his stomach and legs burned with acidic pain. Still he ran, desperate to escape Convergence no matter how it hurt. Living free was worth any suffering.
At nearly the verge of collapsing, with his heart hammering so violently that it seemed ready to explode at any second, he reached Convergence’s limit at last. He was seconds from crossing the boundary –
FWOOOSSSSH! Out of nowhere, blazing jets of fire surged forth from either side and leapt up before him. With a shout of alarm and surprise, he backpedaled at once from the burning line of flames in his path, nearly stumbling and falling backwards in the haste of his reaction. As he turned away from the fire, he saw its source: two Houndoom stood there, sleek, dark-furred dogs whose curved horns glinted wickedly in the light from the flames, as did the golden badges affixed to the collars they wore. Their jaws dripped with glowing embers as they stared him down, growling ominously.
“Hold it right there,” one of them snarled menacingly. “You’re not going anywhere.”
As if to emphasize the point, the blazing line suddenly advanced at either side, sweeping into a burning circle around Solonn. The flames roared as they danced madly on all sides, but they did not touch him, as if something was holding them at bay.
That something – or someone, rather – literally dropped out of the air behind Solonn, landing without a sound. Solonn had had no idea that this creature had been perched in the trees, awaiting him, and he remained unaware of her presence until he felt his arms suddenly and powerfully seized and pinned behind him.
At once, he began to struggle in her grasp, but could not break free. His head whipped around to see who had taken a hold of him, and there, at a height considerably less than his own, he saw the pale grey face of a Medicham leveling a cold, hard stare up at him. Her eyes held a fuchsia glow, a sign of the Psychic powers she was using to manipulate the two Houndoom’s flames and keep them in check.
The light in the Medicham’s eyes gave a sudden, brilliant flare, and the circle of flames surrounding her and Solonn simply and abruptly vanished. Her hold on Solonn tightened, twisting his arms painfully. He cried out and tried again to escape her grasp, kicking wildly behind him. With a single, powerful sweep of her leg, the Medicham kicked his legs out from under him even as she maintained her inescapable hold. A wordless exclamation exploded from Solonn’s throat as his knees met the ground with a sharp jolt.
The two Houndoom stepped forward, bringing their muzzles close to Solonn’s face. Their hot, foul-smelling breath seared his face for a few seconds before he found himself pulled violently back to his feet by the Medicham policewoman.
“Start walking,” she commanded him coldly, her voice soft but her tone unmistakably deadly. She gave him a shove for additional motivation. Still, he struggled, but the Medicham’s grasp remained as strong and unyielding as ever, and soon, he exhausted what little strength his mad dash from the Serenity Inn had left him. Too weakened to resist any longer, Solonn could not help but allow the Medicham to drive him onward.
The cops brought him back into town, the Houndoom directing nips at his feet whenever he faltered in his steps. At length, they arrived at a very tall, brick building downtown. A brass sign hung over its entrance, lit from below by bright lights and bearing the words “CONVERGENCE TOWER”.
The Houndoom pushed the doors open, and the Medicham shoved Solonn into the building, still holding on to him tightly. He was steered into an elevator, which made a long ascent before letting the cops and their captive out into a short hallway with massive doors at its end.
The polished, auburn expanse of the wooden doors filled Solonn’s vision as his captors came to a stop before them. A speaker mounted in the wall to his left suddenly awakened with a brief crackle of static; then, the last voice in the world that Solonn wanted to hear issued forth from it.
“Bring him in,” Jal’tai instructed through the speaker. The cops responded to the order at once. The two Houndoom pushed the doors open, and held them open as the Medicham brought Solonn through them.
Solonn now stood in an enormous, richly furnished office. Seated before him at a very large and impeccably tidy desk, Jal’tai, in the guise of Rolf Whitley, leveled a stare at Solonn that was forbiddingly stern, but at the same time held an unmistakable sadness.
“That’ll do, madam, gentlemen,” Jal’tai said without inflection to the Medicham and Houndoom, dismissing them. The three cops nodded in acknowledgment, and the Medicham released her hold on Solonn before walking out of the office. The two Houndoom followed her away, and the great doors swung shut behind them.
Solonn, drained of his strength and no longer supported by that of the Fighting/Psychic-type, immediately dropped to his hands and knees, his head sinking towards the hardwood floor. A winged shadow fell over him, and a second later, a talon descended upon his head, lifting his face up to look upon its owner.
No longer wearing his Human mirage, Jal’tai glared right into Solonn’s eyes, his feathered brow heavy and his beaklike mouth downturned in distinct sorrow. “I’m very disappointed in you, my boy,” he said gravely. “I told you not to make things harder for yourself than they had to be, but you just wouldn’t listen…”
The Latios sighed heavily. His scarlet eyes shimmered with fresh tears. “I never wanted it to come to this,” he said, his voice quavering as if threatening to break, “but you’ve left me no choice. I’m afraid that I am now forced to take drastic measures to ensure your cooperation and the preservation of this city’s noble mission…”
Next time: Find out what Jal’tai means by “drastic measures”…See you then!