Chapter 29: If it Ain’t Broke

“No! I refuse to accept this!”

Shimmer stomped a forehoof down on the throne room’s red carpet. His tiara refracted the spark of anger in his horn. Pink lights twinkled on the marble pillars and lilac tapestries. He stared his mother down, his bloodshot eyes reflected in the purple gemstone in the center of the bronze shield strapped to her chest.

“I demand his dismissal!” Shimmer pointed his right forehoof at Vegna, who floated beside Demerzel, Griffon, and Vortex. The dusknoir had his back turned to the assembly, slowly turning the page of his book. “He killed Benedict! I’m sure of it!”

“The investigation closed yesterday evening, Shimmer.” Isola shook her head. “Stoutland Yard found no evidence to link Vegna to the rubble. And he was with the good magister the entire time.”

Shimmer gnashed his teeth. “Th… then he… used black magic or something!”

Isola sighed. “Forensics determined no signs of Poltergeist usage or other supernatural activity.” She turned to her left. “Demerzel?”

Her mutant advisor floated up to the stairs surrounding Isola’s throne. He clasped his hands together behind his back. “Investigators traced payments to secure accounts belonging to Mr. Benedict. Sir Vegna’s accusations have merit.” Demerzel produced a scroll from his robes. “Jurist bribery. Witness tampering. It would seem he even paid off Stoutland Yard officers to interfere with investigations. They all pled guilty to misconduct and were shipped to Citadark overnight.”

Shimmer’s heart sank into his gut. He gulped. “Why? I… don’t understand.”

At this, Vegna slowly turned his head. His crimson eye glowed under his hood. “Why darkness and obscurity in all thy words and laws? That none dare eat the fruit but from the wily serpent’s jaws.” His book closed with an audible whump. “There are those who achieve power and will do whatever it takes to maintain it. Your ‘uncle’ intervened in trials involving his banking clients so he could continue to extort them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Vegna turned away, leaving Shimmer staring at his black cloak, mouth agape. Demerzel cleared his throat. “I assume that the press remains… unaware of this fact?” He turned to Vortex.

“The only outlet that even reported on Benedict’s death was the blasted Radiant Beacon.” Vortex rolled his eyes. “But we took steps to get ahead of it.”

“By having Starlene release a new single?” Demerzel narrowed his eyes. “It was all over the news yesterday.” Frowning, he turned to Isola. “Are you not concerned about public perception? The longer they remain unaware of such dealings, the worse their response will be.”

“I understand your worries.” Isola bobbed her head. “But it is a delicate tightrope. The last thing we want is to give people reason to believe in the extremist who staged a scene outside of the Crowne Court.” She turned and braced her forehooves on her throne. “We have already put the Radiant Guard on standby for this… demonstration of his in Herbrides. The fewer people attend, the easier it will be for them to arrest the extremist.”

Shimmer’s face scrunched up. They were already brushing everything aside. Even if Vegna spoke the truth, that wasn’t the Benedict he knew. The one who showered him with gifts, introduced him to oodles of celebrities, and helped him get modeling gigs and guest spots on PV shows.

They weren’t even giving Vegna so much as a slap on the wrist for any of it. He wouldn’t stand for that!

“I won’t let you ignore this!” His horn sparked once again. Shimmer’s nostrils flared. “Vegna… humiliated me. Mocked me in open court!”

There was a glint in Griffon’s dark eyes. “That’s because you made it eas— mmph!“

A pink glow squeezed the corviknight’s beak shut. He went cross-eyed trying to open it back up.

Shimmer stepped toward his mother. “He needs to be sanctioned. Or suspended. Or… or something!”

“The Ministry of Justice is short-staffed, dear.” Isola sighed. “We can seldom afford to dismiss an experienced inquisitor at a time like this.”

Shimmer’s face reddened. “Make an exception!”

“We will not.” Isola pushed herself away from her throne. Her magenta robes fluttered as she turned to face Shimmer once more. “Our darling Justine did not… endure a month of the transfer orb’s effects so we could conceive your egg… only to have you turn around and use her office as your plaything because your feelings were hurt.”

Shimmer shuffled back. He envisioned the virizion’s stern, disapproving look. The same look she always wore around him… no matter how many exams he aced or awards he won.

“But… if an inquisitor can openly mock me, how can I expect to lead this country effectively?” the ponyta whispered, ears folding against the rim of his tiara.

“Try growing thicker skin, Dimmer!” Griffon cawed, only for Vegna to flick his beak. He stepped back, ducking his head under his right wing. “Peeps gonna call him way worse shit when he inevitably screws something up as king,” Griffon whispered despite Vegna’s icy glare.

“Justine agreed to withhold Vegna’s salary for the next six months,” Isola said, ignoring Griffon’s remarks. “Chancellor, I assume you are okay implementing a similar policy for his position in your employ.”

The charizard straightened his tan suit jacket and bowed. “Of course, Your Eminence.”

“Well, I want him out of the law class.” Shimmer pawed at the red carpet. “And he can’t be my Crowne Cup advisor anymore. I refuse to associate with him!”

Vortex glanced toward Isola. “Very well,” the rapidash said. “You will reassign him, Chancellor.”

“Understood. It should be simple… given one of my new hires thought he could make a fool of me by skipping out on his own classes.”

Isola stepped back and sat on her throne. “That will be all.” She waved her forehoof at the group. “Dismissed.”

Shimmer opened his mouth, but Isola’s gaze sharpened. “Dismissed, Shimmer.”

The ponyta lowered his head. “Yes, Mother.”

Vortex stepped to his side. “Come with me, Your Grace,” he whispered. “There are changes to the Crowne Cup I need to tell you about.”

Things moved quickly after Cyril deployed his smokescreen. He ushered Seifer through side streets until they reached a grimy back alley flanked by dumpsters and patches of dried ooze clinging to the onyx buildings. Seifer could only hear Cyril’s side of the X-transceiver conversation, but by the end of it he was sure things had gone… decently.

Noctum returned to Radiance, while Seifer remained stuck in the Qliphoth. That jealousy left a bitter taste in his mouth. One that wasn’t as strong as the… acrid odors given off by the dumpsters.

He had no idea how much time passed before a rift opened beside them and Gene invited them back to the Bergammula Belt. Seifer asked for directions to a shower, which Cyril offered without hesitation. He passed Valkyrie in the gray, metallic hallway. She looked noticeably less composed than when he’d last scene her. Seifer was tempted to ask if something happened, but fatigue outweighed that desire. So, off to the shower he went.

To his surprise, he found Cyril waiting outside the shower door when he finished. Seifer was tempted to duck back in and grab his towel from the linen basket, but Cyril politely turned away from the keldeo.

“What do you want?” Seifer asked. “Haven’t I been through enough already?” He just wanted to go home.

… or as close to home as he could manage. His family had probably disowned him by now.

Cyril scratched his white, scruffy mane. “We, uh, still need to fix up that horn.”

Seifer strongly doubted Cyril was capable of something like that. But it wasn’t like he knew of anything else to do in this place. So, he followed Cyril down a couple of grated corridors and through a cylindrical hallway offering a panorama of the auroras and asteroids floating in the distance.

After Cyril unlocked the room at the end with a so-called “retinal scanner,” he gestured to a worn red sofa pushed up against the wall. It had mismatched fabric patches sewn over holes and feathers poking out of the cushions. Seifer hesitantly sat down and promptly sank into it. His damp mane and tail frazzled against the couch fabric.

The walls surrounding him were lined with shelves holding a wide variety of tools. He recognized assorted wrenches, hammers, drills, and even a few welding torches. To the right of the desk on the opposite side of the room were a couple of metal aprons hanging on hooks over boxes filled with spare parts and rolled up schematics.

“Excuse the mess.” Cyril had his back to Seifer as he thumbed through one of the drawers on the left of his desk. “I swear there’s a method to this madness.”

Seifer looked down. The floor was transparent, with rows of gears turning underneath it. There were also several metal boxes sitting between the gears. It was such a strange workspace. Nothing like the mechanic shops back in Radiance. Or, at least, the ones the Radiant Guard worked with.

“The way I see it, we can do things one of two ways.” Cyril turned around. His right paw held a white tube and the left held a power sander. “Either I can try and make a mold of the breakage site and use that as a base for the prosthetic… or I can smooth the breakage with this.” He squeezed the trigger on the power sander. It revved to life with a surprisingly loud whirr.

Seifer’s ears flattened. “I think… I’d rather take my chances with the mold.”

The white-furred zoroark looked at his power sander with disappointment. “I figured as much. This would’ve been easier for me, but I can’t think of anyone too fond of having a horn grinded down… broken or not.” He set the sander on his desk with a sigh. “Usually, I’d charge extra for this. The molding material ain’t cheap. But since you helped with the mission, it’s on the house.”

As Cyril walked to his left and pressed a keypad in the wall, Seifer whispered, “I didn’t even do anything.”

Hearing himself say it out loud made it sting even more. He was supposed to be the one people turned to for help. Not some random Aeon charizard. And, on top of that, he sat by and watched while Cyril had perpetrated a crime! What if this archbishop character could actually offer him help?

… no, not just Seifer. What if Paradox could help all of Radiance? His disposal of Benedict could hardly be considered a bad thing.

Seifer grit his teeth. The keldeo was a good soldier. One of the best. He’d done everything Her Eminence had asked. And yet… here he was. Stuck in an alien world. Abetting hardened criminals.

Where had he gone wrong? How had he fallen so far so fast?

“Eternabuck for your thoughts?”

Seifer jolted. He looked up to find Cyril standing beside a strange metal chair. There was a padded square that seemed meant for him to rest his head on.

Shaking his head, Seifer got to his feet. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” He walked up to the chair. It was made with quadrupeds in mind. And it must’ve sprouted out from the floor, as there were wires and cables anchoring it in place that connected to some of the gears under Seifer’s hooves.

“Why’s that?” Cyril grabbed a black drape off his desk.

“Because you—” Seifer paused. How could he phrase it delicately?

Ah, to hell with it.

“You’re a two-bit, criminal arms dealer.” Seifer took a seat on the chair and lay his head on the cushion. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand what it’s like to have your whole life ripped out from under you.”

For a moment, there was genuine hurt in Cyril’s lone, visible eye. The white zoroark quickly hid the yellow eye behind his hair. “… yeah. Right.” He approached Cyril, unfolding the tarp. “Real nice thing to say to a guy offering to patch you up.”

Seifer shifted uneasily. “W… what’s with the tarp?” He noticed a hole in the center of it.

“It’s to cover your head and torso,” Cyril stoically replied. “The mold’s a right pain to get out of your pelt.”

“Oh.” Seifer’s gaze fell moments before the tarp blanketed him. It was surprisingly soft. Silk, perhaps? He couldn’t put his hoof on it.

“I guess the stuff I said before the mission doesn’t matter,” Cyril continued. Seifer heard the scraping of metal against glass. The tarp was too dark to see through, but he spotted stool legs in the small gap between the edge of the tarp and the floor.

“What stuff?”

“My life got pulled out from under me, too,” Cyril said. “Y’know… used to be an ice ninetales? Stripped of my form and powers?”

“Ah, yes. That.” The keldeo bit his lip. “I guess I just thought—”

“—that it happened so long ago, it doesn’t matter anymore?” Cyril interrupted. Something soft gripped Seifer’s broken horn. Cyril’s paws? His grip was… gentle. Delicate, even. Two claws danced along the jagged ridges of the broken horn while a plastic instrument pressed against the tarp and, by extension, Seifer’s forehead.

“I suppose,” Seifer whispered.

Cyril tapped a claw against Seifer’s horn. “Are all you Radiant Guardsmon so… emotionally stunted?”

It was hard to sit still at that. “Excuse me?” Seifer settled for puffing up his cheeks.

“Forget it,” the white zoroark said. The stool pulled away. “I’m not exactly sure why you’re saying your whole life got ripped out from under you. You’re still alive. Healthy.”

There was another word at the end, but Seifer couldn’t make it out. “Like I said, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” Cyril said.

The stool returned while Seifer pondered how to respond to Cyril’s request. He was about to start talking when something warm touched his broken horn. The fur on the back of Seifer’s neck prickled. He took a sharp breath. The keldeo had to keep his composure. Offers to help or not, he wouldn’t let this criminal get the better of him.

Seifer managed to recollect his thoughts when more warmth pooled in his horn. “Being in the Radiant Guard was my life.” His voice cracked. He was glad he had the tarp to hide the embarrassment on his face.

“Generations of keldeo have protected and served the kingdom,” Seifer continued. “My family estate has a whole area dedicated to it. Medals of commendation, uniforms, and the like. The family record was spotless for generations… until now.”

Silence, then a single, “That’s rough, buddy.”

Seifer blinked. Cyril didn’t sound sarcastic, but what was he supposed to say to that? And after the ghoulish zoroark had the nerve to call him emotionally stunted, no less! What a total hypocrite!

“Wanna know what I think?” Cyril asked. Seifer was ready to say no, but the warmth spreading down his horn stub to his face took the fight out of him.

“What?” Seifer whispered.

“I think this is a blessing in disguise.”

Seifer’s response was a bitter laugh.

“No, I’m serious,” Cyril insisted. His paws gently wrapped around Seifer’s horn. The tingle in his neck returned, only now it was moving down his back.

“Look, maybe I don’t know that much about you, but it sounds to me like you’ve lived the life you were told to live,” Cyril continued. “Maybe you were happy leading the Radiant Guard, but I think that happiness was… manufactured.”

“Huh?”

“Dude, you’ve lived your entire life in a bubble.” Cyril claws needed Seifer’s horn. The keldeo sucked in a sharp breath, attention split between the conversation and… whatever Cyril was doing to his broken horn. “You were surrounded by people walking paths that were laid out for them from the days they hatched. Of course you’d think everything’s fine and dandy, because that’s what everyone around you thought, too.”

Seifer blinked once. Twice. Why was he having so much trouble focusing?

“You sound as if… I was brainwashed,” he scoffed. “I wasn’t in some bubble. I fought day in and day out against Radiance’s seedy underbelly. Charged into the distortion to help those without the means to help themselves.” Now he was getting worked up. “I liked my life because it was fulfilling! I was… making a difference in the world.”

Silence. Cyril removed his paws and the warmth had faded from Seifer’s horn.

Then, in a barely audible whisper, the white-furred zoroark asked, “If you were really making such a profound difference, why did Isola fire you?”

The tarp came off the moment Seifer’s jaw slackened. Cyril draped it over his shoulder. He held what looked to be a white replica of Seifer’s broken horn. “All set.” Cyril set the replica on the desk.

“That’s it?” Seifer did his best to regain his composure, but he struggled to lift his head off the cushion. His muscles had turned to putty. What had this crook done to him?

“That’s it… for the moment.” Cyril sat on the stool. “Now I get to work on your new horn.”

“… oh.” Seifer’s eyes darted around. So, this was where they were leaving things? Seifer wasn’t sure if he was relieved, ashamed, or guilty after what just happened. Perhaps some combination? All he could do was stare at the gears turning underneath him.

Cyril cleared his throat. “You don’t have to stay. This room’s far from comfy.”

“Yeah.” The keldeo turned toward the door. “I guess I’ll… try and find the others.”

When he headed for the door, Cyril said, “Oh, by the way, Boss Kitty called me while we were working. It looks like I’m going to Venish to pick up the uPhone. Chiaki’s doing the handoff so Zardy can spend some time with that dreepy he looks after.”

Seifer looked back at Cyril, who scratched the back of his unkept mane. “I know you want to get back to Radiance. So, uh, come with me, okay?”

The keldeo’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Now that’s something I can agree to.”

Cyril’s mane made it hard to tell, but Seifer swore he saw a twinge of sadness in the white zoroark’s expression.

The grass was much less green in the valleys surrounding Venish. Not that Yuna could easily tell. Things were moving too fast outside the train windows. Fast enough to make her queasy. The milotic — Artemis, apparently — said they were on a “light-speed rail.” It was certainly faster than the trains to Hebrides and the Crowne Court.

“So, um.” Perched atop Noctum’s head, Yuna batted her gills in thought. “What do you make of Vortex’s announcement? Y’know, the whole ‘experiential learning’ stuff? That’s, like, learning by doing, right?”

Across from her, Nikki yawned into her right hand. “He’s blowing smoke out his ass. Crowne Cup challenges have always been, like, little samples of things the kingdom’s cities are known for.” She glanced at Artemis, who sat coiled on the chair to her left. “If you ask me, I think he’s covering up the fact that he knows something’s wrong with the distortion and that crazy mutt who kidnapped me.”

“Xeromus,” Yuna whispered, suppressing a shudder. He had mentioned going to Herbrides and Artemis had suggested that might’ve been the reason the class was going to Venish for the Cup’s first leg.

“I really hope he’s the one blowing smoke,” Reshiram whimpered. “If we’re in a faraway city, there’s nothing we can do to intervene if he tries any funny business.”

“Why not simply delay the Crowne Cup if things are unsafe?” Noctum wondered, fidgeting nervously with the pockets of a pink apron with a floral pattern. Baraz offered it in an attempt to hide the crystal sitting in his gut. “Or just, y’know, cancel it all together?”

“Pride.”

Artemis’ terse response made Noctum jump. Yuna’s ectoplasmic body wriggled and she gripped his left horn to keep from sliding off. The milotic noticed and his ribbons curled. “I don’t know if the decision’s coming from Vortex, Queen Isola, or both. But if I learned one thing about the folks in charge at Horizon, it’s that they refuse to let anything get in the way of their own aspirations.”

Yuna frowned. “But, like, isn’t the Crowne Cup supposed to be for our benefit?” She gestured to Nikki and herself.

“… ha!” Artemis coughed into a grimy ribbon. “Please. Do you have any idea how much revenue the Cup generates?”

“Uhh… no?” Yuna shifted uneasily on Noctum’s head.

The charizard must’ve picked up on it because he added, “We’re foreigners, remember? We barely understand the rules to this thing.”

“Right, right.” Artemis slouched against the window. “They sell tickets for every event. And broadcast the whole thing on a variety of PV stations. Companies trip over one another to buy ad space for these things.”

“Ad space?” Yuna tilted her head. “Like… posters and flyers?”

“Well, yeah, they do those, too.” Nikki’s brow furrowed. “But we’re talking about commercials. Y’know, the things that interrupt PV shows?”

It finally clicked for Yuna. “Oh, right.” She did find it weird that those were a thing. It would be like some shop owner running up onstage during a theater performance to hock their wares to the audience.

“If Vortex delays or cancels the Crowne Cup, his company loses out on a ton of revenue,” Artemis continued. “So, he’s pushing forward with it. Even if it’s dangerous.”

“The school… is willing to risk thine safety for money?” Rayquaza growled. “Heavens preserve me, these administrators could do with some discipline themselves!”

“I mean… participation is, technically, voluntary.” Nikki shrugged. “Ya just get pressured into taking part by everyone around you.”

Reshiram hummed in Yuna’s head. “Well, couldn’t the reverse hold true?” He tapped his ethereal claws together. “If we tell enough of the other students about what’s going on, maybe we can convince them all to boycott the Crowne Cup?”

Yuna repeated the idea out loud. Artemis rolled his eyes and Nikki waved her off. “Please. Good luck getting any of the others to believe you. They all see the Cup as their ticket to fame and fortune.”

“There has to be more to it than that,” Yuna retorted.

Nikki slumped in her seat. “Look, I’d be down, but with the whole Needle business, we need to be in the Cup to travel like this, right? It’s a catch twenty-two.”

“… I guess.” Yuna deflated, almost sliding down the back of Noctum’s neck. The charizard nudged her back up with his right arm.

“Is there a Needle in Venish?” Noctum whispered.

Nikki shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

“There is.” Artemis flicked a ribbon nonchalantly. “It’s out at sea, though. Several kilometers east of the city. Used to see it back in my fishery days.”

“Sheesh.” Nikki scratched her left horn. “You never got creeped out by that?”

“The Needle?” Artemis raised a brow.

“No, dumbass.” Nikki shoved Artemis’ coiled torso. “Being a fish who wrangled other fish for people to eat.”

Artemis shrugged. “You grow numb to it after a while.”

“Well, that’s not morbid at all,” Reshiram squeaked. “Still, ‘mons have to eat, I suppose.”

“Thou w’re a carnivore in thine heyday,” Rayquaza said. “As was I.”

Thank you, both. Now be quiet, Yuna mentally hissed. Both dragons’ presences retreated. The dreepy desperately wanted to change the subject. “So, um, what do you think the first leg will be about?”

“Beats me.” Nikki stretched her arms up. Tiny sparks jumped off her mane as it brushed her insulated seat. “Far as I’m concerned, you go to Venish for three things: the food, the wine, and the kooky buildings.”

“I think she means the architecture,” Noctum said. He pulled a pamphlet out of an apron pocket. “I grabbed this from the train station before we boarded.” The black charizard opened up the pamphlet and held it up. “Look at that amphitheater. It’s so big!” He pointed to the large picture in the center showing rows of concentric gray arches projecting a rainbow of colors. “Wonder how they get half a dome to stay up like that.”

At the very least, Yuna was glad to see Noctum’s Qliphoth trip hadn’t dampened his spirits. His enthusiasm filled her gut with warmth.

… or maybe that was just his natural fire-type warmth. Still, it was nice.

“Oh, yeah, I guess, like, the theater scene is big or whatever.” Nikki yawned into the neck of her coat. “But the seafood and pasta dishes are a way bigger deal!” She smacked her lips. “If we get an eating challenge, we’re solid, time delay or not!”

Artemis smirked. “Maybe the food’s a big deal to you, but most students here can get those kinds of meals whenever they want. Besides, a performance would be more… lucrative for the school.”

Nikki frowned. “I swear, if they make us do some campy theater shit, I’m out.” She waved her arms in front of her head. “Didn’t sign up for that.”

At that, Yuna couldn’t help but giggle. “But you are a musician. That’s a performance art.”

Nikki blanched. “Well, I— that is—”

She slumped down even further in her seat, scowling. “Just because you’re correct doesn’t mean you’re right.”

Four chimes went off overhead. Yuna looked up to a speaker bolted to the luggage rack.

“Attention, passengers. We’re pulling into Venish Central Station. Please collect your belongings and mind the gaps as you exit the train. Thank you for using Polaris Light-Speed Rail. It was a pleasure serving you today.”

Noctum stood up with Yuna wrapping her arms around his horns to hang on. “We’re supposed to meet everyone at the front of the station, right?”

“Yup.” Nikki stood up, stretching her arms out once again. She slowly turned her head around to stretch her neck. “Still not sure why Twiggy needed an earlier train than us.”

“Isn’t it to give Cyril the uPhone?” Yuna said.

“Pssht. Sure.” The toxtricity stepped out onto the carpeted aisle. “You gotta get better at reading between the lines. Why do you think he was pushing to go to Venish before we knew about the Crowne Cup leg? Guy’s obviously got something going on here.”

Baraz and Noctum followed after her so Artemis had enough room to uncoil and slither out.

“If that’s the case, we have to trust he’ll be back by tomorrow morning,” the milotic said.

Noctum thumped his chest. “I think he’ll be back.”

The group walked toward the front of the train car. The door opened up to a cooling sea breeze. It felt great against Yuna’s ectoplasm.

“Right.” Yuna couldn’t help but bite her lower lip.

Bahamut, please keep Chiaki safe. The team really needs him.

“Report, Sticky.”

The naganadel looked up from his tablet. Paradox stood at the side of his large metal desk, staring at the wall of inactive monitors behind him. Three poipole worked to fit his purple and black cleric robes on and pull his tentacles through.

“Of course, sir.” Sticky saluted. “I reviewed the incident report from the flagship Flapple factory. Security camera footage is distorted. Two Brawlers and factory employees report seeing a black-scaled charizard grab a uPhone and escape through a Qliphoth rift.”

“A rebel. Typical.” Paradox shook his head. “But a charizard is most… unexpected. The factory is deep underground. That blasted mewtwo should’ve been the only one capable of reaching it.”

“The report mentions damage to one of the ventilation shafts, sir.” Sticky held up his tablet and waved it around.

“Is that so?” Paradox stepped away from the poipole, pulling his tentacles through his robes’ sleeves. The right two coiled into an arm. “Then it would seem we’d best install some aura proximity mines into their new fans. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I will order Flapple’s contractors to do that, sir.” Sticky typed away on his tablet with his free hand. “What should we do about the stolen gadget? If the rebels have their hands on—”

“Aha ha ha. Oh, you are hilarious.” Paradox flicked his right hand dismissively. It unwound back into two tentacles. “Let the rebels disassemble it. If they think they’re going to find some sort of tracking chip, they’ll be sorely disappointed.” Another chuckle echoed through the room. “Oh, to be a joltik on the wall of whatever cave they dwell in when they realize it was all for naught.

“Besides,” the deoxys continued, flicking a left tentacle, “they’re not the only ones with an eye for petty larceny.”

One of the monitors on the wall flickered on, showing a bulky Mr. Rime hand dropping a folder onto a worn mattress. A nickit popped in next to the folder and sniffed at the top paper.

“Are you freaking kidding me? This is why you skidooshed us back here?” Nickit growled. “To steal some manichino’s homework?”

“Please. This is but the opening act.” Mr. Rime’s hand grabbed the page and held it up. “The first round of bets before the flop.”

Nickit turned up his nose. “I don’t see it.”

“A good hand often goes unappreciated until the moment the river card drops,” Mr. Rime retorted. “Come along, now.”

The monitor shut off. Paradox turned around, wringing his tentacles in anticipation. “Delightful. One step closer to taking the outsiders’ perversion of our glorious benefactor and turning it upon its head. Is it not wonderful, Sticky?”

“I, uh…” He looked down at tablet. Sticky had no idea what he’d just watched. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir. I thought Cassius had planted himself within Necrozma’s ranks to get us his Red Chain fragment.”

“He had, but it appears that pathetic Phantom still has some semblance of rationality left inside it.” Paradox shook his head and tsked to himself. “Our good lieutenant reported losing psychic contact with Necrozma. It would seem the beast ditched him.”

He brought his tentacles together. They coiled around one another. “But I do so hate to waste a fresh body like that, so I simply… provided Cassius a new assignment.” The deoxys’ tentacles squeezed into two hands that he pressed together. “A pity he can’t take public credit for his work. I’d love to see the false hope drain from the Etherians’ faces when they see we’ve turned one of their vaunted Crowne Ministers against them. Aha ha ha!”

Sticky rapidly pecked away at his tablet with a claw. When the archbishop’s laughter died down, he looked up. “That sounds… wonderful, sir.”

“Of course it does.” Paradox floated past the naganadel. Four Eternatus Gunners joined Paradox from the wall opposite Sticky. “Come along, then. I have an important sermon in Noatun and I’d like you in attendance.”

“Y-Yessir!” Sticky floated after Paradox’s small procession.