Chapter 14: Broken Promise

Chapter 14: Broken Promise

No matter how many times Demurke gazed upon the ocean, she couldn’t help but marvel at it. She had spent a lot of time in Kalmwa’er, but the years had not dulled the appeal of the shimmering waves, extending out into the horizon. She could spend hours committing that image to memory, so wherever it was time to return home, she—

“Erm, Demurke? Are you listening?”

“Ah—! S-Sorry, Mr. Persian…” Demurke said. There she went, drifting off into space again. In a big group, she tended to get away with it, but when it was just her and somebody else, she’d often get caught not listening to a word the other said. It was a bad habit of hers — one of many. I can’t go disrespecting Mr. Persian like that! she chastised herself, resolving to pay more attention.

“It’s alright,” Mr. Persian said warmly, wasting no time in calmly starting over. As he relaxed in his office chair, Demurke spotted him eyeing his office’s window, too. “As I was saying…I do have to wonder how they’re going to react to Minichino’s petition. It’s certainly surprising!”

Demurke couldn’t help but agree. “I hear th-those Geodudes are…kind of bullies. Minichino is really brave for wanting t-to take them on so we can clean Misery C-Cave.”

“I don’t know if she realizes how much she’s helping those humans, doing that.” Mr. Persian shook his head, seeming to reflect. “You know, I’m really proud of her.”

“That’s a s-surprise! You’ve really…warmed u-up to Minichino.”

“I was worried when we first started out, yes. But I’ve seen that underneath all of that spunk is somebody who cares a lot about her friends and the world around her.” He leaned forward and pawed at his face. “Considering her circumstances, she’s doing better than I would, in spite of all of the pressure OCEAN is putting on her.”

“O-Oh. Yeah…” Demurke brought a wing up and played with the tip of her hat. “With wh-what happened to…her mom and dad, a-and all…”

Mr. Persian’s expression changed, and his composure tightened. “Demurke?”

“S-Sorry!” Demurke slammed her wing back onto the armrest. “I-I’m fine.” She hated when she made Mr. Persian worry about her like that. She was getting all worked up over…nothing. What am I doing?! Get it together, Demurke…!

Mr. Persian just sat there for a second, before backing down and relaxing again. “In any case, why don’t we talk about plans for the weekend?” The change in subject was welcome, so Demurke didn’t object. “I’m still waiting on that Every Star a Catcher DVD, but in the meantime, I think I’m going to run some older shows again while I deal with the never-ending paperwork stack, haha.” There wasn’t a lot of power in that laugh. “Are you going to stay here for the weekend? You can watch with me while I work.”

“Aww, I w-wish I could, Mr. Persian…” she said. “But I p-probably should go back to in Fascamile this weekend. If I s-stay too many weekends in a row, I…”

Upon hearing that, Mr. Persian’s became sullen. “Alright. I understand.”

Just as seeing him concerned, seeing Mr. Persian in despair broke Demurke’s heart. “I’m really sorry. I-I really wish I could let you c-come with me, so I could show you m-my room…and the rest of Fascamile, and—”

“No, no.” Mr. Persian raised a paw. “I wish I could, too. But I’ve gone this long with only six floors to work with.”

As Demurke left the office, that remark lingered in her head. Only six floors… It sounded so—

No, no. She couldn’t afford to linger on that. It was just how things were. As far as she knew, it was how things always were.

---

Demurke wasn’t very good at passing the time. To her left and right were two dense books – to her left, To Rule with Wrath, to Rule with Peace, by Polimagus, and to her right, The Art of War, by Sun Tzu. Both books she was supposed to be reading, and in neither had she been able to push the bookmarks any further along than they had been weeks ago. None of the other books along her dust-coated shelves were able to catch her eye, either. Many of them she had already read several times over.

There were very few other ways she could entertain herself. Everyone else in Town Hall was always hard at work, and she had learned a long time ago that Fascamile itself didn’t have much to offer. So, she had gotten into the habit of simply laying back and watching the hours tick by. I’m supposed to be a productive, contributing person! I can’t always be lounging around like this! she would often remind herself, but it didn’t change much.

Demurke really wished she stayed and watched those DVDs.

Eventually the monotony was broken by a visitor: a familiar brown-furred yungoos, pushing open the door while carefully avoiding turning the lock with his claws. Demurke was eager for the company. “Oh! Hi Y-Yungoos! How…are you?”

“I’m fine,” Yungoos said so curtly that it made Demurke realize he wasn’t here for conversation. “Your dad wants you to come to his office. He seemed pretty eager, so I’d hurry.” And just as quickly as he arrived, Yungoos left.

Demurke stretched against her nest, hopped up, and made for her father’s office. It was a trip she had made many, many times, so it went by in the blur. The next time she was really thinking, she was already before the blue-toned pidgeot’s desk.

“Demoike!” he exclaimed, talons almost leaping off the bar. It wasn’t an intentional bungling of her name — he had picked up a rather thick accent over the years. “How’s your books going?”

“They’re g-good, Dad.” She had long since learned that any other answer would lead to a very tense interrogation from him. There was a pang of guilt in not voicing that she found her reread of them rather boring, but she swallowed it down.

Dit was approving of the response. “Dat Polimagus and dat…Son Soo. With how many times you’ve read dose, you’re bound to learn a thing or two.”

The guilt re-surged, and Demurke swallowed it again. “Anyways, w-what did you…need me for, Dad?”

Dit flipped back to grab a sealed envelope from below and drop it onto the desk. “I need a guy to deliver dis baby.” He slid it toward Demurke.

Demurke picked it up and studied it. “…What is this f-for?”

“Remember dat mission from the minccino you gave me? We’ve gots to make an…addendum to it. Dis is to let Mr. Persian know.”

Demurke was confused. “An addendum? Wh-what are we—?”

“Demoike,” Dit said sternly. “Mr. Persian can tell you after he gets the letter. Going and asking me’s making that process go less quick.” The pidgeot pulled up a blank sheet of paper, dipped the tip of his wing in a nearby ink vial, and began writing on it. With his free wing, he shooed her off.

“R-right. Sorry.” Gah, how could I forget that? she thought. Dad doesn’t like me wasting his time. I’m gonna make him mad, just standing around… She wasted no time in leaving her father to his work.

Still, it was difficult for her to ignore the oddness of all this. It wasn’t unusual for her dad to have a say in the businesses, but there was usually an important reason for it, like that order to increase security around the Rimek circus after what happened there… But this was just a simple trip to a mystery dungeon. What would her father want to change about Minichino’s idea?

As Demurke made her way through the halls, the curiosity ate her up more and more. Eventually, it reached a point where a question sprung to mind: Would it be a good idea to check what’s in the letter first before giving it to Mr. Persian?

I have to respect privacy, she thought on reflex, but something else occurred to her. If she was expected to helm the Fascamile Town Council, she needed to learn how to responsibly handle delivering information, right? If she saw what this addendum was supposed to be first, she would know how to best share it with Mr. Persian. Besides, if anybody would be okay with receiving a envelope that had already been opened by her, it would be Mr. Persian.

That settled it. Demurke waited until the hall she was in was clear of passerby and then used her wing to carefully unseal the envelope. She unfolded the sheet of paper tucked inside.

OFFICIAL ORDER OF THE ORGANIZED COMMITTEE FOR THE ERASURE OF ARCEUS’ NEGLIGENCE

Proposition for the Isolation and Confrontation of Problematic Individuals

Wh…what…?

To be carried out by: Dit Squad 6; Jermy Shock; Demurke, Murkrow IV of Fascamile

No…

Targets: Meowth II of Kalmwa’er; Minichino I of Scolton; Politoed XXII of Mithlline; Breloom IV of Mithlline

This has to be a mistake. Demurke’s eyes stared wide as she scanned over the details of the plan, stunned by what she was reading. The army and business divisions wouldn’t do this, not so soon after the Club was founded. They couldn’t. When they started out, it was agreed—

Acknowledgement: Previous agreements identified Meowth II of Kalmwa’er and Minichino I of Scolton as protected individuals in spite of their threat levels. However, the terms of this protection were breached by recent actions taken by the two that caused them to obtain compromised information. They can no longer be deemed trustworthy. For the purpose of protecting the best interests of the organization, this component of the agreement is now rendered void. We thank you for your compliance.

—Military and Business Division Management Team

Oh.

It was a good thing she opened the letter before delivering it. She was left standing there, too stunned by every new word to say anything aloud. Continuing the trudge to Mr. Persian’s office with her father’s revisions was like wading through wet cement. Already her headspace was being jabbed with horrible visions of Mr. Persian’s reaction.

A part of her wanted to stop right there and cry. This was awful. But… This was supposed to be normal. They had had to confront a lot of people over the years – it wasn’t a big deal. Why was she feeling this way now?

I have to be an adult and suck it up.

Everything OCEAN was hoping to achieve could be on the line if they didn’t take any action. It had to be done. It had to be done. It just had to…

Demurke made her way back through the portal and towards the elevator. She gave her everything into maintaining her composure, making her back as straight as a sudowoodo. But when the elevator opened up to let her in, it was hard to stay that way.

Behind the luster of the door was a dark interior. The light was flickering, making the brightness of the car flicker with it. The lack of light in the car intimidated her, but she pushed through anyway. She was a dark type. She could handle it.

Once the doors shut, Demurke’s world became much darker. She’d been in this car more times than she could count, but even still, standing alone in this big, empty space was discomforting. It was much easier when she had somebody coming along, like Jermy or—

RATTLE RATTLE RATTLE

Demurke screamed, falling on her rear as the elevator car shook and shook. The envelope fell out of her wings, but she hardly cared. The car was falling, it was falling and now it was her turn to—

“Gaaahahahaha!”

The car stopped shaking and settled as a cackle erupted above Demurke. The murkrow panted, the panic slowly subsiding for confusion and irritation.

A body phased through the ceiling of the elevator and landed down on the floor in front of her. The dark purple pokémon’s bright red eyes, similar to her own, stared her down through the dark. He was still laughing. “Oh, the look on your face… Sorry, Demurke, but I just had to.”

“Genji…” Demurke stumbled to her feet, clutching the envelope tightly in her wing. She opened her mouth to — No, Demurke. I can’t be raising my voice against every little thing… “What a-are you doing here? Why aren’t you at…Emmons Labs?” she inquired, stifling her protests at the mean joke.

“Maintenance,” the gengar answered. “Apparently one of the new recruits short-circuited her electricity while she was in the elevator, and the old owl wanted me to come make sure it wasn’t gonna collapse on us or anything.”

“W-Well… Will it?”

Genji looked at her, annoyed. “Come on, you think I’d let you get on the elevator if it was dangerous? Of course it’s safe. Barely even has any dents in it, no thanks to the other guy whacking that thing against all the walls trying to calm her down…” he grumbled. The two of them were quiet for a moment, but clearly irritated by the silence, he continued, planting himself against the wall. “You know, messing with you did wonders for curing my boredom. Maintenance on this thing is really something else.”

Demurke looked up at the ceiling. “Is the…work boring, o-or…?”

“Nah, not boring, just tedious,” Genji said. “It’s clearly an Earth-style elevator. Not pushed by wind, or the mind, or ghostly essence, but by a set of powerful pulleys only magic-less humans could need to design.” The gengar paced around the elevator in front of her. “So difficult to work with, but useful all the same… I find their ability to take advantage of the mundane fascinating. Don’t you agree, Demurke?”

Demurke stalled for a moment. Truthfully, she knew much less about Earth than Genji seemed to. She had only ever heard stories about the dangerous climate but great technology the world offered, but she had never been there herself. A lot of them were from Jermy, too, so they were definitely out of date. “I-I don’t know…” she said.

Genji rolled his eyes. “I’m not surprised.”

“What’s…that supposed to m-mean?”

“Well, you just happen to say that a lot. About a lot of things.” Genji squinted at her. “You’d think after ten years of us all working together, you would have more to say. Or are you just gonna keep delivering your parents’ messages around without an extra word?” He pointed to the envelope still in her wing.

Demurke flinched back at the accusation. It was distressing, but she knew it was impossible to refute. “…S-Sorry.”

As the elevator reached the ground floor, Genji just shook his head. “Whatever. You can go on ahead. I’ve got more work to do here.” The doors opened, pouring light into the dark elevator car, and he remarked, “Thanks for the entertainment, at least.”

Wordlessly, Demurke drifted out of the elevator. She could still feel Genji’s eyes on her back while the doors shut. He had always been one of the smarter workers in Fascamile’s Town Council, before OCEAN started. But why did he have to be so…?

Click. Without a second thought, Demurke locked the door in the Fitness Room and put the key back on her tail’s band. She kept walking, and walking, and walking…and then she paused.

Why did she get off on ground floor?

Demurke, Demurke, Demurke! Mr. Persian’s office was a short walk from the elevator on the sixth floor. She knew that! She’d been coming here for years! How could she make such a stupid…

Demurke had been able to calm herself before getting on that elevator, but Genji’s prank had really messed her up. She almost whirled right around so she could get back on, but at this point, the murkrow could see her wings trembling, carrying the envelope. To be a good leader, I have to be strong. I can’t go to Mr. Persian like this!

Well, now that she was on the ground floor of the resort…there was somewhere she could go before making for Mr. Persian’s office. A place that tended to help with this sort of thing. Demurke made for the big door at the back of the resort and pushed through.

The Kalmwa’er Resort pool was of fairly impressive size for what little recreation it got. To her right was an open-air traditional pool area; to her left, a loop of a lazy river. Mr. Persian had made sure, to the best of his ability, that the pool area could accommodate most everyone — the pool was as deep as an arbok was tall, and the lazy river was as wide as a dragonair. It was no Waregle pool, but it didn’t need to be.

Flotation devices of all sorts were available on demand for pokémon her size. Demurke, however, had long since discarded the need for floats, able to swim on her own just fine. As she set the envelope down on an unoccupied table, she recalled hearing that birds on Earth were incapable of swimming at all. What a tragedy that was — her heart broke for them.

For a Saturday afternoon, the crowd seemed to be quite tame, and most people had elected to spend their time in a proper pool over a lazy river. That made it perfect for Demurke. After wading into the water, pushing out, and turning onto her back, she would go undisturbed.

This was where she came to every once in a while, when tensions ran so high that she couldn’t even think straight anymore. It left her in a blissful, tranquil state where she had no reason to think about any of her ailments. The coursing water made her bob as it gently funneled her around this endless, repeating path. Each time she was here, Demurke would stay in it for so long that she would forget how many times she had been around, all of the past loops washed away by the passing of time.

As she laid there, a few memories came to the surface of her mind. She was drawn to a conversation she had had with Jermy a few years ago, when she was thirteen. Something…very important had happened recently, and she was checking in with him to see if he was okay. Demurke didn’t remember a lot of the actual words exchanged, but she did remember what he first showed her.

“I call it the Observational Recreation Buddy!” Jermy had presented to her an unfinished robot, along with a sketch of what it’d look like when it was done. “It’s gonna be a super smart computer AI with a wit that can’t be beat.”

“W-Wow, Jermy!” Demurke had exclaimed. “That’s…really nice. And working on it so soon after…” The rest of the sentence was muddy in her head.

Jermy’s expression had sunken then. “Yeah. But hey, the world isn’t gonna stop for me.” His expression had perked up again. “That’s why I’ve gotta keep working, no matter what!”

Right. Whenever she got like this, she had to remember that. Just as the river does, her life was going to continue moving, always, to the same end. All she had to do was coast. Coast, and let things fall the way they were supposed to fall… She just had to deliver the letter to—

Meowth’s glare cut into her like a dagger. “Do you even realize you’re sitting where my father’s supposed to be right now?”

Demurke gasped, and suddenly she was floundering. With wing flaps, she fought for a stability that never came, desperately trying to keep herself from sinking. The best she could do was push her way to the wall, return to the stairs, and climb out.

That old memory… Demurke turned to stare at the lazy river, adjusting her hat misshapen by the water. Droplets fell from her wings — they would continue to drip away for some time, lingering on the tips of their dyed interiors. I can’t be letting random thoughts like that mess with me! It’s so…silly.

At least her wings no longer trembled when she picked the envelope back up, shooing away a janitor who was close to tossing it. This was about the calmest she was going to get here. She was ready, now.

Soon, almost faster than she could process, she found herself at the door to Mr. Persian’s office. She could hear some noise on the other side. When she pushed it open, it quickly became clear what it was — a movie the Murkrow didn’t recognize was playing on a TV set up in the corner of the room by the cat’s bed. Her employer’s desk was stacked with even more papers than it usually was, and an empty can of food stood at its corner.

When Mr. Persian’s eyes lifted from the desk and laid on her, his expression brightened quickly. “Demurke!” he exclaimed. “I thought you weren’t coming in this weekend. Did you stop by the pool on the way here? You look soaked.”

“I-I didn’t think I was gonna come back, either…” Demurke admitted.

He sprung from the desk and approached her. “Do you want me to get you a towel? I could—”

“No,” she mumbled, putting the envelope up in his face. “This…this is more important. It’s f-from Dad, about the Misery Cave mission.”

“Ah.” Mr. Persian slowly rescinded, returning to his desk. Demurke removed the letter from the envelope and set it down on his desk. “Let’s see here…”

The next three minutes were deathly silent. Demurke watched his eyes move lower and lower down the page. She slowly gravitated towards the wall, waiting for something to happen. The only sound in the room was that of the movie — some kind of old drama.

“Demurke.”

Demurke almost flinched — his voice was firm, cutting. “Y-Yes?”

“Could you turn off that TV, please?”

She turned her head towards it, eyeing the power button on the side. “Yes, s-sir.” She pressed it, and the screen went blank, overflowing the room in silence. “Is th-there anything el—”

CLANG, went the can, flying straight into the screen, daring to crack it if it had even slightly more force than it did. Mr. Persian sloppily grabbed a stack of post-it notes, prying sheet after sheet, crumpling them up, throwing them across the room. Ink was spilt all over the desk, vial knocked over without a second thought.

“M-Mr. Persian!” Demurke cried. Immediately, she ran around the desk, wrapping a wing around his back.

“They promised me, Demurke!” Mr. Persian screamed. In one swift motion, his claws tore through a stack of pages. “They promised me this wouldn’t happen!!”

“I know!” She wrapped herself around his neck, trying her best to hold him back, keep him from wrecking his desk any further.

“Nine years of this,” he yelled. “Nine years! I do everything they ask, and this is how they treat me?!” Mr. Persian thrashed about in desperation, but she refused to let go.

“I know, I-I know…” There wasn’t anything else she knew to say.

“All I wanted was a chance to see him, and…!” His flailing failed him, and he collapsed, burying his head. “They’re gonna hurt him, Demurke. They’re gonna hurt him, and Minichino, and…!” Mr. Persian’s voice wavered until he broke, blubbering through a storm of tears and anguish.

All Demurke could do was keep holding him, trying to comfort him the best she could. She desperately wished she could change everything — unbreak this promise, unmake the Pick-it Up Club, unsign all the contracts.

But this was just how things were.