Mindful Scheming

“Do you think they’re mad, Thomas?”

The Servine perked up his head, eyes widening as they fell upon Andrew. “Hm?”

“Y’know, the Resistance. Do you think they’re mad that I got Leo?” Andrew asked. 

The two Pokemon sat in their kitchen, illuminated only by dwindling candlelight. The moon had dwindled, deciding not to come out that night, a cruel reminder for Andrew just how quickly the time had flown since the capture of the Resistance’s leader. 

They each sat at opposite ends of the table. Glass mugs filled with steaming tea perched in front of them, with Andrew blowing at his to cool it down.

Thomas took a small sip of his, brandishing his signature warm smile. “Andrew, it doesn’t matter whether or not the Resistance is… mad. What matters is that you’re here right now, safe and sound with me.”

“Everett, you remember Everett, right?” he held up his mug, poking his tongue out at the tea. He touched it, causing a tiny burning sensation at his tongue’s tip and forcing it to recoil.

Thomas leaned his head to the side. “The name sounds familiar. Gholdengo, right?”

“Yes,” Andrew slumped forward, placing the mug down. “That’s him. He told me that the police picked up some intelligence. The guy claimed that the Resistance are all super pissed over us arresting Leo and their planning to do something in retaliation.”

“Did he provide any evidence?” questioned Thomas.

“Evidence?”

The Servine hummed. “Yes, Andrew. You can’t publish a story, or make such a brazen claim without some sort of evidence. Any good journalist like myself knows that.”

“I guess you’re right,” he sighed.

“Well?” Thomas said in a smug tone with a smile. “Did he provide any such evidence?”

He shook his head. “No. Nothing I saw.”

“Then you can’t say for certain that the Resistance is plotting anything. It could very well be heresy, you know how gossip spreads around this city? Faster than a raging wildfire! I was friends with a Litten when I was younger, so I can attest to it.” Thomas humphed, downing a larger gulp of tea..

“Are you particularly involved with Grandeport gossip?” Andrew laughed.

Thomas winked, letting out a chuckle of his own. “I’ll have you know I’m quite the gossiper at the office. I can tell you all about Cheryl’s unfaithful ex, Robert’s uncle who’s currently in jail for… attempted murder, I think? And don’t even get me started with Ivan!” 

“Heh,” the Marshtomp trailed off. “But have you heard anything about the Resistance trying to get vengeance on me?”

Thomas tapped his chin. “No, I can’t say that I have. We generally try to avoid politics, but I’d still probably catch wind of something as severe as that. All the more reason you have nothing to worry about.”

“Or all the more reason he did give me real intelligence.”

Thomas gave no response.

Andrew took a sip of his tea, allowing it to flow down his throat without a single burning sensation. 

“Andrew…” Thomas sighed. “I know the Resistance—I know I was wrong about them in the past. Look, I’m scared. I’m scared for you Andrew, what if they hurt you? What if they hurt us? And I feel horrible because of what happened to you!” 

“Thomas it’s—”

He interrupted. “No! I can’t live in fear. I won’t let myself believe that whoever is running the Resistance is going to try and hurt you. If I let myself believe that I’ll never leave the house again, and I sure am not letting you leave either!”

The Servine’s chest began to heave. A quiver had not crept but brazenly forced itself into Thomas’ voice. His nose sniffled. A gloss shining over his eyes, it was clear that he was on the verge of tears.

Goddamnit, no! Thomas, don’t cry!

Andrew scrambled out from his chair and ran over to Thomas. He wrapped his flippers around the Servine, tightly squeezing him from behind the chair.

“Thomas, it’s okay. We’re safe! N-Nobody is going to hurt us, it’s going to be okay!”

Tears had started streaming in lengths from Thomas’ eyes. Full-blown cries and wails echoed through the walls of the kitchen, Andrew feeling his heart beat faster with each drop and sniffle. 

“I don’t want them to hurt you!”

Andrew continued to hold Thomas. “It-It’s alright. Nobody’s going to hurt me. M-Maybe it is just heresy? It’s not like they could really be plotting anything…”

---

Jason strutted down a hallway, tail swaying back and forth like a pendulum. Without any windows to light the way, everything was pitch black. Only a small candle floating by his side kept him on track. .

Instead of floorboards, the ground below him was made up of mud: grimy, wet, and worst of all, stuck to his paws like moths—or Mothim to a flame. The walls were coated with a similar muck of deep, slimy brown.Moldy, wooden planks were exposed beneath a long-since-corroded layer of paint and plaster.

The smell was hardly much better. Even though his nose had transformed to a mere, black dot on his face, Jason’s sense of smell had grown far more potent as an Espeon. It was both a curse and a blessing, but when he was surrounded by a miasma of rot and decay,  it was undoubtedly a curse.

A door appeared at the end of the hall. Jason may have been enticed to open it, if not for it also being covered in a thick layer of mold.

The Espeon shuddered before concentrating on the door. The handle glowed a bright purple. It twisted open to reveal a small, quaint room.

“Jason!” cried Ryder, the Zorua leaping up from his seat and running toward him. 

The Espeon smiled, leaning his head down to rub it against Ryder’s. “Ryder, man, it’s been too long.”

“It’s only been a week,” Ryder said softly, winking.

Jason glared up. The room was better lit than the hall, a few lone candles on the ground giving the room a somewhat intimate feel. Five wooden chairs—seemingly the only objects in the building in any sort of good condition, were arranged in a crude circle. “Would it kill you guys to have us meet somewhere else?”

The room contained two other Pokemon, a Mienshao and a Golurk, the latter speaking in a deep voice. “Jason, you must understand that the shadows may be our home for a long time, at least until the situation with Leo blows over. I believe it’s for the best that we don’t join him.”

“I’d be honored to join Leo, and you all should be too,” the Mienshao said in a smooth, feminine voice.

Jason eyed Ryder. “Would you—”

“Already on it!” He giggled before the entire room began to transform. Gone were the muddy floors and soggy walls, replaced by magnificent stonework and smooth marble. The ceiling began to extend to dizzying heights, growing impossibly tall in an instant, ending in a single, triangular point appearing hundreds of feet above the Pokemons’ head.

The entire room seemed to have grown tenfold in size. Corridors stretched from a warm, sunlit chamber. Under Ryder’s illusion, the room appeared identical to the Grandeport Guild’s main hall.

“Home sweet home,” Jason murmured as he looked up at the ceiling. “But if it feels so… erie when it’s all empty.”

Ryder shook his head back and forth like a dog, taking a deep breath. “This is my limit. If I have to add any Pokemon I’ll be unconscious in five minutes.

“This is more than enough. Thank you, Ryder,” the Meinshao responded, narrowing her eyes at Jason.

He frowned. “I’m sorry, Sherry. It’s just been hard lately with Leo’s capture and this whole Andrew thing.”

“Yes,” the Golurk said coldly. “Leo told us you didn’t enter the castle because you had a personal relationship with Andrew.”

The Espeon sighed. “We were friends some time ago. But,” he took a deep breath in. “That’s in the past now. Andrew burned his bridges with me, and I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to bring him down. He’s a tyrant.”

The Golurk made a fist with his hand. “A tyrant who is puppeteering Charles Raichu.”

“Or perhaps Charles Raichu is puppeteering him,” Sherry proposed.

Jason lowered his ears, the gem on his head flashing. “Andrew’s hardly a mastermind, at least when I knew him.”

Sherry smiled. 

“But he couldn’t be farther from being any sort of follower.”

Ryder snorted, his left-hind leg twitching as he looked up at the ceiling. “I’ll tell you what Andrew is. A dumbass. He’s a stupid piece of shit who has to make out with a Servine to get anything nice said about him in the papers.”

Sherry raised her brow. “Damn.”

Jason cleared his throat. “We have important matters to attend to. Shall we begin?”

“Aw…” Sherry spoke mockingly. “But I want to hear more of Ryder’s Marshtomp gossip. I always thought it was strange how many nice things that Servine wrote about him, but I didn’t know they were a thing.”

The Golurk stopped his leg on the ground, appearing to shake the entire, massive chamber. “Our time is limited. Begin.”

Sherry raised her arm, pointing at the empty chair. “As you know, we’ve been unable to communicate with Leo since he was sent to the new…” she sighed, cringing at her own words. “According to our president, torture prison.”

The group let out another, collective sigh.

“But, we were able to contact and make a plan with him while he was on the mainland. Jason, I believe you asked to explain?”

The Espeon nodded. The gem on his head began to glow as a purple light began to surround each Pokemon in the room. Ryder let out a deep breath as if a giant weight had been lifted off his back. 

The ceiling began to cave downward, losing its triangular shape in the process. The great, shiny walls began to move forward, corridors closing off and constricting the space. Splotches of the rotten wood began to appear and grew with each passing second. 

Mud erupted out from the marble floor, quickly coating it in its soft stickiness. The natural light went out, as candles reappeared, rising from small tin trays from the mud. After only a minute, the chamber had nearly reduced itself back to its prior state. 

However, the Pokemon would only glimpse it for a second. The purple light consumed them—transporting them elsewhere…

Jason’s voice projected from all directions, speaking in his normal, calm demeanor. “This is Western Grandeport.”

They could not see themselves, or Jason. Instead, a bird’s-eye view of Grandeport was projected directly into their minds, replacing any sort of eyesight.

It was as if they were watching a movie. Buildings hugged tight to each other, rows upon rows of them. The streets were not made of their usual cobblestone. In stark contrast to the rest of the city, light brown dirt—with small patches of plants growing from it, lined the spaces in between buildings.

“Where are we?” questioned Sherry.

“We are inside my mind,” boomed Jason’s voice. “ Physically, we are all still in the hideout. This is a mental projection I’ve created with a combination of memory and some filling in the blank. It’s nearly identical to the real thing.”

They began to get lower, floating toward a Typhlosion standing on a street corner. As they turned around, the group recoiled back.

It had no face, only a blank, emotionless void.

“What is this? Why is that Typhlosion… facially impaired?” the Golurk asked with a great deal of concern in his voice.

Eyes, nostrils, and a mouth materialized on the Typhlosion, giving it a semblance of a face. “As you can see, Oliver, my memory isn’t perfect. This is the face I think the Typhlosion had, but I can’t be one hundred percent sure. Keep this in mind.”

They floated back up. The buildings had become more detailed, some of them a bit more space up to allow for narrow alleyways. Their general state had also degraded. The walls had become more beaten, with crooked planks and jagged edges. 

The windows had become almost translucent when they weren’t cracked or broken. It seemed a cloud of dread had fallen over the area, with it becoming physically darker. Smoke now rose from chimneys creating a thin layer of smog.

“Most members of the Resistance come from this part of town. As you can see the living conditions here are… less than ideal,” Jason said as he brought the group down one of the dirt roads.

Ryder groaned. “I grew up here. It can tell ya, it’s rough. My mom got mugged at least three times when I was younger.”

“The poverty of Western Grandeport has been an issue for as long as I’ve been… an Espeon. Mirage neglected it, and so has Andrew. They have failed this part of the city.”

Oliver grumbled. “Why are you showing us this? I thought they were keeping Leo on an island.”

They accelerated, going down the street and flying past Pokemon. They arrived at a clearing between the buildings. Four roads intersected in a circular plaza, widening enough to relieve the claustrophobia of the neighborhood.

In the center of the plaza stood a great, menacing structure. It was made of bricks in stark contrast to the other buildings in the city. It looked to be four or five stories tall, with an overhang held up by four large, white pillars.

The roof arched upward into a dome, coated in a shiny blue. Sunlight—what little of it Jason allowed—bounced off the roof in a spectacular display. The windows of the building were transparent and intact. In fact, there was not a single imperfection or flaw to be found on the building.

They began focusing on the entrance. They drifted up to the top of the pillars which sat beneath a large, white slab. Larger letters were engraved in gold. They proudly spelled: “WESTERN GRANDEPORT POLICE HEADQUARTERS.”

“This is the largest police station in all of Grandeport. It’s their main base of operations, however…”

Jason brought them around the building, focusing on windows. Offices, meeting rooms, and halls all remained empty. Dust gathered on furniture and windowsills. The building was in a state of total peace.

“Most of the time it’s nearly empty with all the officers forced to patrol the streets.”
 

Their view turned to the base of the plaza. Seemingly out of nowhere: Jason, followed by Ryder, Sherry, and Oliver all appeared in their physical bodies.

Sherry stared at her paws, before scanning the area. “Woah.”

“This some sort of illusion, Jason?” Ryder joked.

The Espeon nodded. “Sort of. We’re still in my mind, but now I’m giving you the ability to look through this memory independently,” his tongue fell from his mouth, as he  shook his head. “Guess I know how you feel, Ryder.”

Oliver turned to the side. Several, crudely erected tents had appeared in the plaza. They had uneven patchwork being built with seemingly randomly shaped and colored textiles. The tents were propped up by jagged, pointy sticks.

“What’s this?” the Golurk asked Jason.

He grumbled. “Western Grandeport tends to be where the homeless congregate.”

Ryder smiled, speaking in a bodacious tone. “My mom used to be homeless.” 

“Not something to be proud of, kid,” Sherry said, narrowing her eyes.

Their bodies froze in place. Their line of sight began to rise, exiting their bodies to give the Pokemon views of themselves from the third person. They continued to soar higher and higher, finally stopping at the point where their bodies were mere dots among the crowd.

“Trippy,” whispered Ryder.

Jason laughed nervously. “Sorry about that, but I have to explain some more things from this perspective.”

“Uh-huh, get on with it,” Oliver demanded.

“What I’ve been trying to get at by showing you all of this is that Western Grandeport is not a nice place. Meaning, it is the best place for us to enact change. What I’m about to tell you was Leo’s final plan before we lost contact. But just a heads up, it’s a bit… Farfetch’d.”

A red arrow appeared above the street, covering it entirely, the arrowhead stood by the entrance of the police station. More arrows appeared from the other three streets. The shading and material of Western Grandeport changed. Gone were the Pokemon, and the three-dimensional nature of the buildings. Instead, the entire city had transformed into a giant map.

“Western Grandeport has been failed by the government. There’s plenty of former guild members and support for the Resistance. If we could somehow occupy the police station, we could maybe, somehow, occupy the rest of the neighborhood. In which we’d then be able to become the de-facto government.”

The red lines disappeared. Their perspectives began to descend, faster and faster. The world—or the one in Jason’s mind, began to blur. The buildings again rose and took physical form.. Another second later, the Pokemon found themselves back in their bodies in the plaza.

“Now then,” the Espeon took a gasp for air. “Let’s be clear. I only showed that to you because Leo wanted me to. We absolutely should not try to do any siege of Western Grandeport.”

Sherry crossed her arms. “Why not?”

“Because it’s insane! Just like that stupid idea to go inside of Graneport Castle which got him thrown in jail! I respect Leo, but I don’t think this is the right move.”

Oliver put his hand to his hips, leaning down to look over Jason. “If I may ask, respectfully, who was it that put you in charge? Is Leo not still our leader?”

“Leo’s in jail…” Jason murmured. “And it’s a dumb idea. Right, Ryder?”

The Zorua look into Jason’s eyes, then Sherry’s, and Oliver’s. “I-I—I don’t know. Leo’s in jail, but what else are we supposed to do?”

“We’ve tried violence. Two hundred eighteen of our members got arrested for it, and we’ll be lucky if half of them live to see the end of winter.” Jason sighed, putting his head down. 

Sherry stepped forward, pointing a finger at the Espeon. “I agree with Ryder. What other choice do we have? Eventually, the police will find us. They declared us terrorists.”

“That was a setback,” Jason said while growing quieter. “But we’ll make it work. Leo is a great leader, but there’s a reason I’m the strategizer.”

Oliver’s eyes flared up, growing a brighter yellow. “The audacity you have! Our leader’s in prison and you want to sit and wait?! Coward!”

“Jason, I’m sorry. But Andrew’s evil! You can’t wait to fight against evil people. Maybe this plan is kinda crazy, so what? We’ve got to do this. For him,” the Zorua stated proudly.

His ears lowered, the Espeon let out a groan. “I will help you plan this, but I will not participate when the time comes. Neither will Ryder.”

“What?! No fair!” he cried.

Jason stomped his paw. “For your own good. I’ve already lost one friend to Andrew. I’m not losing another.”

The Golurk turned away, choosing to gaze up at the building. “He really is a coward.”

“Oliver,” Sherry hissed. “Now is not the time to get all high and mighty. We have to stay united if we want to stand a chance.”

Suddenly, there was another perspective shift. Without any warning the Pokemon again found themselves all locked into a view they could not control. They overlooked an alley. Three Pokemon materialized, a Monferno, a Zoroark, and a Buizel.

Continuing his narration, Jason droned. “Let’s say these are some Resistance members. They’re not even heading to the police station, just keeping guard of this area.”

The Pokemon began to pace around. They each possessed the same, repetitive walking motion, circling the alley with stiff steps and unblinking eyes.

“When suddenly—oh no! The police are here!”

Three shadowy figures appeared. They didn’t look at all like Pokemon, they were tall, bipedal, with pitch-black skin with some sort of smoke coming off of it, as if they were some sort of spirits. They had piercing yellow eyes and green bandannas wrapped around their necks.

The three shadows simultaneously lunged at the Resistance. The Resistance members dodged in tandem. The shadows once more went in for another blow. Again, all of their fists connected with the Pokemon at the same time. They paused for a moment. All was still until the Monferno, a Zoroark, and Buizel all disappeared into puffs of smoke.

Sherry let out a loud groan. “What even was that?”

“Several members of the Resistance being beaten by the police,” Jason remained monotone. “Which is our first issue. We only need forty or so people to overwhelm the police station and take it over. However, we need to be able to control every street corner.”

The shadows and Resistance reappeared. The police again lunged at the Pokemon, but instead of dodging, the three Pokemon all held out their fists. The shadows collided. Their eyes turned dark before they disappeared into wisps of smoke.

“We have experienced fighters, but they have greater numbers.”

The Pokemon appeared in the center of the alley. This time, they were surrounded by a dozen of the shadowy figures.

“I just don’t see any way we’re able to maintain street control. The only way this will work is if every member of the Resistance is willing to take part in defending Western Grandeport.”

Everything went black.

They re-emerged at the plaza. 

“How’d you like the fadeout? Should I—”

Oliver interrupted. “Get on with it. We don’t have all day.”

“Yes, sorry.” Jason laughed. “Anyways…”

The plaza became packed with various Pokemon, several hundred of them surrounding the police station. They began to rush toward the entrance. However, after only a second, it quickly became clear they were doing so in a straight, orderly line.

“We can occupy the police station with relative ease. If we can hold that down, and somehow maintain street control, we could, in theory, enact policies to help the people of Western Grandeport.”

“Sounds reasonable enough,” Ryder remarked.

“Heh,” the world went dark. “You’d think so.”

The group found themselves in their own bodies. The ground beneath them was made up of cobblestone, not unlike the wealthier streets of Grandeport. It stretched infinitely with no end in sight. No buildings, other Pokemon, or objects of any kind were there to obstruct it. 

The sky was the magnificent bright blue of a summer day, without a cloud—or the sun, in sight. The air felt tinged with a pleasant warmth. 

Jason stepped forward. “There is still a part of this I haven’t mentioned.”

“And what might that be?” Sherry raised her brow.

Jason pointed his snout to the side. In front of them appeared a small, wooden structure. Two rungs fifteen feet high suspended a white blade. It shined, its sharpness practically being felt by the group by simply looking at it. At its base was a slab of wood with a circular cutout just large enough to fit a head.

The Pokemon had only a moment to stare at it before—like everything else—something materialized out of thin air. The head of none other than Andrew Marshtomp. 

It was motionless, with a blank expression and dead, unblinking eyes.

The Espeon trotted over to it, raising his paw as if to show off the creature. “After we’re able to maintain power over Western Grandeport, and turn into the wealthiest, most prosperous part of the city—”

The structure let out a groan, the blade shaking.

“…The people will turn against Andrew.”

It creaked.

“They will realize the legitimacy of the Resistance.”

The blade fell.

“And in the words of the Quilava himself,” Jason said in a total deadpan voice. “‘Kill that damn Marshtomp.’”

The blade rushed down, connecting with Andrew’s neck with a quiet slicing noise. The bang of it smashing against the wood echoed through the infinite landscape.

And mere a moment later… off came Andrew’s head.

It rolled onto the ground, expression unchanging. 

Ryder ran up to it. His eyes narrowed, he kicked the decapitated head like a ball. It bounced forward a few feet before disappearing into smoke.

However, the smoke did not dissipate into the air. The cloud grew larger and larger, wisps reaching toward the sky in a smoke serenade. The Pokemon did not resist as it consumed them all, blanketing the surroundings in a fresh layer of inky darkness.

---

Jason’s eyes opened. The smell of rotten wood assaulted his nostrils, and imprints remained in the mud below him where he had last left them. The candles emitted barely any light; they were hardly any more than an inch tall.

Ryder rubbed his eyes blinking a few times before eyeing Jason. Sherry wiped her face, running her fingers across a whisker. Oliver simply sat. He did not move—it was as if he were still in a trance.

The Espeon stood up from the chair, his paws sinking into the soft mud below. “I should get going now. Let me know when our next meeting is, I’ll be on the lookout.”

“Yeah, my wife will be worried if I’m out too late. See you guys next time, hopefully in the Western Grandeport police station instead of this crappy place,” the Mienshao hopped up from her seat, feet tapping against the mud and toward the exit. She paused right before she reached the door. “Wait, we forgot something.”

A deep laugh came from Oliver. “Oh my! You’re right Sherry, shall I do the honors?” 

Breathing through his mouth while minimizing the amount of time each of his paws lay in the mud, Jason sneered. “Saying that justifies whatever crazy thoughts Andrew thinks about us.”

“But it’s so fun!” Rhyer whined. “Pleeeease, Jason?”

The Espeon’s head drooped down. “Long live the Resistance…”

“Long live the Resistance!” Sherry yelled, pumping her fist.

Oliver clasped his hands together. A strong vibration was felt through the room as he proudly stated: “Long live the Resistance.”

Ryder leaped up into the air, his front legs raising above his hinds ones as gravity pulled him back to the ground. A ripple of mud erupted from his feet that shot up and spewed bits of the wet dirt from Sherry near the door, to Oliver on the far side of the room. A fair amount hitting Jason’s behind—much to his dismay.

And with a toothy grin, and the signature hint of youth of his voice, Ryder yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Long live the Resistance!”