Chapter 88: Somebody to Lean On

TO: Grand Emperor Paradox
FROM: Cassius
SUBJECT: Update from Radiance

I looked into the situation at this “Tulpise” place. The best conclusion I can draw is that there were other interlopers who are responsible for distortion swallowing up the city. Unfortunately, none of the Medici ‘mon I sent to attack the place laid eyes on them. At the very least, it doesn’t seem like they’re resistance members.

There is some good news, though. I think the political climate in Radiance is shifting. I already mentioned how that charizard CEO was tossed into prison for high treason. But the tabloids here are reporting that the dusknoir inquisitor known as the Grim Reaper has vanished. Furthermore, Calyrex seems to be taking our instructions to heart and working with Radiance’s crown prince to undermine the current queen. While the news still trumpets her, the Medicis think public opinion toward Isola has dipped.

Do you have someone lined up to step into the Paradigm as the Lovers? If not, my recommendation is you expedite the process. I’m going to be meeting with the Medici’s leader, Don Giuseppe. He claims to have an idea about how they could cause further discord for the kingdom.

XxX

The newly-made infirmaries were simply larger outpost suites hastily converted into open rooms with several beds and a handful of cabinets on wheels. They were full of medical supplies, some of which Seifer recognized and others he didn’t.

Shiva and Ifrit’s slumbering forms occupied the two beds in the back right corner. Disheveled sheets on several other cots told him people had been here. No sign of Calcifer, though. Yiazmat must’ve taken him somewhere else to rest.

Quetzal paced across the middle of the room, watching Cid. The orbeetle’s spots gently pulsated with pink energy. A gardevoir and lucario stood by watching. Healers on loan from the monks.

“Well?” Quetzal lifted his stubby orange wings. “Anything?”

Sighing, Cid backed away from the beds. “They seem fine physically. Though I’m no doctor.” He looked at Lucario, who nodded.

“What about up here?” Quetzal tried to gesture to his head, but the orange zapdos quickly gave up. And here Seifer thought Quetzal had gotten used to the short wings and large legs.

“I don’t think I sensed anything.” Cid scratched the side of his head. “Then again, the same was true for Buzzwole.”

Quetzal resumed pacing. “So, in the end, we just have to hope they wake up?” His feathers bristled, generating orange sparks. “There’s got to be something else we can try.”

“Perhaps a purifying incense?” Gardevoir tapped her chin in thought. “I’d have to check if we have enough supplies for that.”

“Yes, please do.” Quetzal nodded at her. Gardevoir waved at Lucario and the two headed for a door on Seifer’s left. Another room, probably.

By the time the healers were through the door, Quetzal had trudged to the keldeo’s side. “If only we could get them to wake up quicker. Then we might be able to get some answers.”

Seifer’s tail bristled. “Erm.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe we shouldn’t jump straight into questioning them?”

“But Commander—”

“Seifer.” He paused, looking down. “Please stick with Seifer.” He didn’t want to admit how uncomfortable his old title was making him out loud.

Luckily, Quetzal acknowledged his request. “Right. Seifer.” The orange zapdos walked in place. “Don’t you want to get to the bottom of everything? I might not remember much of what happened, but surely they will.”

“Perhaps.” Seifer turned away from the other two birds. “But I think they should have the time to rest up before we pepper them with questions.”

Quetzal stepped in front of him. “We’re in a predicament here, though. Anything—”

“Stop.” Seifer raised a forehoof and pressed it against Quetzal’s side. “This isn’t like the Radiant Guard. We’re in a much different situation. I know you want answers. Everyone wants answers.” He sighed. “But this calls for patience.”

“Right.” Quetzal shifted his weight from one foot to another. “Sorry, sir.”

Seifer squinted.

“Uhh, I m-mean sorry?” Quetzal stiffened. “A plain ol’ sorry.” He backed away. “Nothing hierarchical about it.”

After a few more seconds, Seifer’s expression eased up. He headed for the door. “I’m heading out. If you want to stay here, you’re more than welcome.”

“Oh, wait, there is one thing!”

Seifer stopped beside the cots closest to the door. “Yes?”

“It’s about Gene.” Quetzal’s feathers puffed out slightly. “I saw Gene use this weird attack against Ifrit.”

A weird attack? That hardly gave Seifer anything to go off. “Weird in what way?”

He didn’t get an immediate response, so he turned to find Quetzal’s head tilted in thought. “How can I describe it?” The orange zapdos tapped a talon against the gray carpet. “It was a big beam. But it was a mix of purple, black, and red.”

“Like a… Dark Pulse?” Seifer wondered. Quetzal’s description didn’t sound that wild.

“No. I’ve seen enough Dark Pulses to know that definitely wasn’t one,” Quetzal huffed. “I’m not sure what type it was.” His beak crinkled a bit. “Or if it even was a type.”

Now it sure sounded like Quetzal was talking crazy. “Every attack needs a type,” Seifer said.

“I know that.” Quetzal looked offended. “But this beam, it…” His voice trailed off. Was he struggling to find the words? “Just feeling the heat from the beam filled my chest with this… this suffocating dread. I think it made me more panicked than I already was.” His eyes darted around nervously. “It was almost like… like something was trying to pull my insides out of me!”

“That so?” Seifer’s brow furrowed. Hadn’t they called Gene out for some… disturbing behavior back on Planet Bogdan?

He blinked a few times. “That crystal in his shoulder is full of Malice, isn’t it? Perhaps the attack was Malice-based?”

Quetzal stiffened. “That could be it.”

Frankly, Seifer found these different energy types too confusing. “I’d rather let the others figure it out. If he’s not turning the attack on us, then it’s not my problem.”

He imagined Quetzal would protest that, but Seifer was too tired to hear him out any further. Especially when he wasn’t part of the Wyndon team. The keldeo headed for the door and nudged it open. “I’ll keep them in my thoughts.” He pointed a hoof back toward where the articuno and moltres slept. Then he stepped through the door, took a right, and walked down the metal hallway.

Thankfully, Quetzal didn’t call out for him. So it was easy for Seifer to push that nagging guilt out of his head.

XxX

“… Just so confusing. Like, was it wrong of me to step away like that?”

Seifer lay on a red couch. Orange sunlight drifted over him from a window. All artificial, of course. But the light was still nice against his freshly showered pelt.

“Eh. You’re fine.”

Cyril’s voice carried through an open door from the corner of the room beside the couch. Seifer watched the yellow light for signs the cosmic zoroark was coming, but found nothing. Whatever he was doing in that kitchenette, he was really into it.

“Are you just saying that because we’re together?” Seifer crossed one forehoof over the other.

A laugh came from the kitchenette. “Sheesh. Someone’s determined to make himself the bad guy in this situation.”

“I’m being serious.” Seifer frowned, though it wasn’t like Cyril could see that.

“Of course you are.” A blobby shadow finally blotted out the yellow light. “And here I thought I’d established myself a straight shooter.”

Seifer opened his mouth, then Cyril added, “Well, straight when it comes to telling people stuff.”

The keldeo shut his mouth. He covered his head with his forelegs, groaning.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help it.”

Footsteps grew louder. Seifer picked his head up and saw Cyril approaching with a plate in one hand and a bowl of berries in the other. Steam wafted off the former, but the cosmic zoroark set the latter down beside Seifer. Then he sat on the other side of the couch.

“Ah, finally. Dinner.” Cyril grabbed the spoon on the edge of the plate with his left hand.

“Is that… curry?” Seifer’s nostrils twitched.

“Oh, did you want some?” Cyril twirled the spoon around in his yellow claws. “I make it spicy, so I figured you wouldn’t be interested.”

He was right. “It’s not that.” Seifer shook his head. “More that you, uh, never struck me as the type for curry.”

“Wasn’t aware curry had a type.” Cyril ate a spoonful of his dinner.

“When did you develop a taste for it?” Seifer wondered.

“When I was taking jobs for the—”

Cyril stopped himself. Seifer raised a brow. The cosmic zoroark looked between Seifer and his meal, then shoved a spoonful in his mouth. “Point taken.”

Between more bites of curry, Cyril said, “But, seriously, does what happened with Quetzal bother you that much?”

Nodding, Seifer reached for one of the berries in the bowl. He took a few bites, then properly responded, “It wasn’t right. I should’ve done more for him, but instead I excused myself. Simply because I was tired.”

Cyril fiddled with the spoon still in his mouth. “And that’s bad because?”

“Because, even if we’re not in the Radiant Guard anymore, people should support their teammates when they’re hurting.” Seifer decided to let that statement hang in the air and reached for another berry. He figured Cyril would chew on that for a while.

Instead, the cosmic zoroark ate more of the curry, then tapped his spoon against his plate. “Eh. I guess.” His ears swiveled. “At the same time, though, if you’re not in the headspace for it, how good a job can you really do supporting someone?”

The keldeo’s mouthful of berry nearly went down the wrong pipe. He swallowed hard, straightening up his neck. “E-Excuse me?”

“You gotta take care of yourself before taking care of others,” Cyril continued. He pointed the spoon at Seifer. “Whether it’s stuff like this… or in the heat of battle.”

Seifer frowned. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, should I have put on my serious face?” Cyril swallowed another spoonful of curry. Then his expression hardened. “How’s this?”

“It’s n-not funny.” Seifer shuffled back a bit on the couch.

“It’s kinda funny.” Cyril chuckled.

Seifer’s cheeks flushed as a grin tried fighting its way onto his face. He let the cosmic zoroark mess with him again.

To his surprise, Cyril sighed as he took another spoonful of curry. “Nah, I get it. Maybe it’s some of my cynicism bubbling up.” He eyed the curry, then ate the spoonful. “But I figured, now that we’ve been in this situation for a little while, it was sinking in for you.”

“What was sinking in?” Seifer raised a brow.

“That anything goes when you’re fighting with your back against the wall.”

Cyril silently polished off his plate, then set it on a small table next to the couch. All the while, Seifer tried and failed to piece together a proper response. There were a lot of layers to unpack. Was Cyril talking about the different sides of the conflict? The resources they had compared to the resistance? Or just the sheer scope that came with a looming dimensional cataclysm?

“I’m losing you, aren’t I?” Cyril held his hands up. “The point I’m trying to make is that this fight isn’t like anything you did in the Radiant Guard. It’s unpredictable. Constantly shifting.” He put his hands together and spun them around one another. “Yes, it’s important that we try and help each other out. But when things are in flux like this, there’s no shame in keeping yourself safe so you can live to fight another day.”

That explanation hardly satisfied Seifer. “You’re right. You do sound cynical.”

Ears flattening, Cyril turned away slightly. “Figures.” His mane dimmed. “Just answer me one thing.”

“Okay.”

He glanced at the keldeo. “When you were in the Radiant Guard, did you ever face down an extended conflict?”

Seifer stiffened. “Are you talking about a war?”

“Not necessarily.” Cyril eyed Seifer. “I mean, I’m pretty sure the war between Aeon and Radiance had gone cold by the time you’d joined the Guard’s ranks”

He guessed right. Seifer nodded slowly. “Then what do you mean by extended conflict?”

“Something that stretches beyond a single battle,” Cyril said, waving his right arm around. “Cuz, like, if all you ever did was fight one-off battles with Phantoms or raid yakuza hideouts, then you’ve never had to deal with prolonged fighting.” His mane dimmed again. “And the toll it can take on you up here.” He tapped his forehead with a yellow claw.

“I—”

Seifer stopped. His gaze fell to the shaggy blue carpet on the floor. Had he done anything beyond what Cyril described? Couldn’t some of the yakuza clans count? But if that was the case, they’d have launched counterattacks against us. Which never happened. It was always the Guard launching small, coordinated strikes. And they weren’t even the ones responsible for gathering the intel. That usually fell to Stoutland Yard.

“All this stuff about honor and virtue…” Cyril slowly twirled his right hand in a circle, until he draped his right arm over the couch cushion. “It’s coming from your parents, isn’t it? Making sure you’d be the perfect little soldier, just like they were.”

That look in Cyril’s eyes went right through Seifer. He’d read the keldeo again. Heck, his parents had warned him about zoroark. Hard to interrogate because the tricksters knew how to get under people’s skin. Find their vulnerable spots and pounce.

A hand on his shoulder nearly made Seifer jump. The berry bowl wobbled, but Cyril stopped it with his left hand. Seifer looked at Cyril’s right hand on his shoulder. His cheeks flushed.

“I, uh—” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Sorry. It’s always, um, surprising. That you can guess what’s going on so easily.”

Cyril gently squeezed Seifer’s shoulder. “You can talk about it, y’know.”

“I know. It’s just—” Seifer stopped. He followed the right arm back toward Cyril’s torso and the puffy, stellar chest fluff. Seifer could’ve stared at it for hours. But he forced himself to squeeze his eyes shut. “All this fessing up and stuff. Makes it feel more like you’re my therapist and not my boyfriend.”

Seifer wasn’t expecting a squeak. He poked an eye open. Cyril actually looked flummoxed. He grabbed an iapapa berry and shoved it in his mouth… only to promptly turn and spit it onto his plate. “Blech!” He rubbed his snout. “Iapapa? What was I thinking? That shit wasn’t even ripe yet.”

“Not a fan?”

Cyril set the bowl down. “Hardly.” He ran a yellow claw across his even yellower tongue. Seifer wondered if he should quip about berries coating his tongue enough to make it stop glowing in the dark.

Instead, he seized on the zoroark’s bizarre reaction. “I actually got a rise out of you for once.”

“Yeah.” Cyril leaned back on the couch. He took a few deep breaths. “Wasn’t expecting something like that, but maybe you have a point.” Cyril crossed his right leg over his left. “All right. I’ll even out the scales a bit.”

Seifer straightened his posture on the couch. What did Cyril mean by that? “You, um, want me to be your therapist?”

The instant Seifer finished, Cyril leaned over and flicked the keldeo’s prosthetic horn. “H-Hey!” Seifer did his best to stay poised. “What else am I meant to take from ‘even out the scales?'”

“That I’d say something super personal to you.” Chuckling, Cyril shook his head. “Unless you want me to grab a clip-on tie and fake glasses for you.” He leaned over. “Is Doctor Seifer entering the building?”

Oh, stars, his horn was flickering, wasn’t it? Seifer swallowed hard. “Just go with what you meant from the start, please.”

“I was joshing you.” Cyril playfully nudged Seifer’s side. The smirk left his face as he leaned over. “Y’know that stuff Yuna said about other lives? Think it applies to me, too.”

Seifer pushed himself off his belly. Sitting on this couch was awkward with four legs, but he managed it well enough to scooch beside the cosmic zoroark. “Don’t tell me you’ve had visions.”

“Dreams, actually.” Cyril rubbedthe gems in his legs. “Occasionally. Since Leo gave me some of his power.”

Then there was a chance it was just Leo’s stuff Cyril was seeing, right? Except the look on Cyril’s face said otherwise. Hesitantly, Seifer asked, “What are they like?”

“I’m a zoroark.” Cyril’s whole body flashed blue. His old, dark-type zoroark disguise took its place, complete with his pink accessories littered with white hearts. “Live in some cave lit up by glimmering crystals. I go forage for treasures in a nearby mystery dungeon, then sell ’em to some traveling kecleon merchant. And there’s this midnight lycanroc who I end up the rebound for after a dusk lycanroc turns him down.”

He shrugged. “It’s a pretty ho-hum life.”

Seifer played the explanation back in his head while scrutinizing Cyril’s illusion. “You don’t think… you turning into a zoroark was, like, fate or something, do you?”

Cyril shrugged again.

“A-And did you, um, accessorize like that in your dreams?”

“Yep.”

Seifer’s tail bristled. “Then the bandana and leggings—”

“Thigh-highs.”

The keldeo blanked. “Err, yes, they’re leggings that go up to your th—”

Cyril pressed a yellow claw to Seifer’s snout. “No, they’re called thigh-highs.”

Seifer rolled his eyes. Such a trivial detail to split hairs over. “Whatever. Point is… you got them for yourself here, too, didn’t you?”

“I did.” Cyril tiptoed his claws up Seifer’s snout. “Did you want me to start wearing them again? I thought the starry markings and leg gems were a nice replacement.”

This time Seifer “fought” back, lightly whacking Cyril’s left leg. The illusion faded. “I’m serious, Cyril,” Seifer said. “Aren’t you a little concerned about the similarities? What if all your past memories come flooding in and overwhelm you?”

The cosmic zoroark responded with a long sigh. “That’s what I was asking myself when we were all together listening to Yuna.” He leaned back, looking across the room. “I’m conflicted, Seif.”

Seif? Why did that give the keldeo beautifly in his stomach?

“I have powers.” Cyril snapped his yellow claws. A few tiny embers dissolved around them. “I can fight again, after ages of sitting on the sidelines fiddling with machines.” He tilted his head left, smiling at Seifer. “I fought with you. And, yeah, it was scary staring down Halvus up close. But being there with you… made me feel more alive than I can remember.”

Now Seifer definitely had beautifly in his stomach. Yet part of him knew Cyril was putting on a brave face. “There’s more to it, right?” he whispered.

“It’s great. But I fear there’s a price.” Cyril held his hands up and turned them over. “Exactly what you said. Those memories are going to come racing back, aren’t they? And then what’ll happen? How do I stay grounded? Reconcile past from present?”

His ears folded. “How do I stop myself from degrading into a Whisper?”

Seifer’s eyes slowly widened. Cyril had mentioned concerns about eroding. Back when they’d first met, if Seifer remembered correctly. “I see.” He scooted closer. “I didn’t realize.”

“I didn’t tell you.” Cyril slouched forward.

For once, Seifer was the one with the verbal opening. “Y’know, you could’ve mentioned that before.” He leaned forward. “Looks like you’ve got as much reason to lean on me as I do to lean on you.”

“Heh.” Cyril rubbed the bridge of his snout. “Suppose so.” He turned slightly, eyeing the keldeo. “You wanted to have me for support.” Cyril twirled a lock of his hair. “I thought I could keep that stuff buried down and be your big, strong supportive shoulder.” A dry laugh followed. “And I’m the one who hinted that these things are a two-way street. Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“It’s kind of relieving, in a way,” Seifer admitted, earning a quirked brow from Cyril. “W-Well, y’know…” He shifted in place, laughing nervously. “From a reliability standpoint.” He gestured out with his left foreleg. Not that there was anything worth pointing at beyond an old EV screen and a bunch of electronic boxes on the shelves underneath.

“It tells me that we’ve both got things to help each other work on,” Seifer continued. “Because that’s what partners do. Right?”

After a few seconds, a fluffy arm draped over Seifer’s shoulder. “Look at you.” Cyril leaned over, tickling Seifer’s chin with a yellow claw. “Sounding all wise and philosophical.” He grinned at the keldeo. “I knew I made a good choice with you.”

Seifer shrank to his belly and covered his head with his forelegs.

“All right. Enough of the doom and gloom.”

There was a creak, followed by the cushions next to Seifer puffing up slightly. He pulled his forelegs away to find Cyril walking across the room, arching his back. The cosmic zoroark swung open a small metal door, revealing shelves stocked with small plastic containers.

“What are you doing?” Seifer slid back up into a sitting position.

Cyril bent over — unnaturally, clearly trying to fluster the keldeo — and grabbed three of the covers. He pivoted, leaning against the doorframe, and dangled the cases for Seifer to see.

“Movie night!” Cyril walked toward the shelves full of electronics. “I said I’d show you Space Wars, So, we’re watching Space Wars.” He knelt down by one of the metal boxes. “The good ones, at least. Like I said, the other six are trash. But if you ever want to get shitfaced and laugh at ’em, maybe I can be tempted.”

Seifer was so transfixed on the “movie night” part, the rest of the cosmic zoroark’s rambling went right over his head. So, he nodded along dumbly.

“Whatever you say.”

XxX

Sticky hovered around the giant glass tank. He went from eyeing the readouts on the monitor to looking at the bars and lines fluctuating on his tablet. The naganadel leaned over and tapped the glass. The gray ooze inside wriggled.

“Well, Sticky?”

He finished his lap around the tank, staring at his tablet. “There’s definitely some magnetic resonance. Not enough to reproduce what was on Iron Enforcer’s recording. But it’s progress compared to the previous weeks.”

“What did I tell you?”

Wincing, Sticky looked up to see a sylveon sauntering in front of Paradox. He had no idea why the deoxys didn’t just smite that imbecile on the spot. Or, if he didn’t want to dirty his tentacles, give Iron Enforcer the order. No, instead the type: full sat in the corner, plugged into a charging station.

“That the little meltan creatures could combine into a titan,” Paradox said. His tentacles twisted into arms he folded behind his back. “Two weeks of testing and we’ve yet to verify these claims, Whatsyourface.”

“Xander, Your Excellency.” The sylveon bowed, extending his ribbons. “And I told you they could. I didn’t say how.” He gestured to Sticky. “But you heard your secretary—”

“Executive assistant,” Sticky interjected. He wanted so badly to smear Xander’s face with toxins from his large needle. But the emperor must’ve brought him down for a reason.

“Right, right.” Xander waved him off with two ribbons. “Point is, my intel was primo. I told you tipping off that overgrown vegetable would get you assets… and it did!” He pointed a ribbon at the tank. “Sure, it may take some time. But while we have them like this, why not try adding your own little spin on it? Make ’em even better than what they were in the recording?”

Sticky was ready to jump in when he noticed the curious gleam in Paradox’s eyes. “You think the titan can be improved?” Paradox wondered.

“I’m sure you can come up with something.” Xander’s eyes sparkled and his stubby tail wagged.

Paradox blipped right past Xander, appearing at Sticky’s side. The naganadel stiffened. “Sir?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, boy.” Paradox flicked his right hand dismissively. “I know a brown-nosing clout chaser when I see one. A real useful asset would take initiative.” He put his hand on Sticky’s back. “Even, perhaps, take quite the risk.”

The deoxys leaned over and pointed to the recharging Iron Enforcer unit. “In case it’s not clear, if I catch even the slightest whiff of deception from your new toy…” His right hand uncoiled. Paradox traced a tentacle across Sticky’s neck. “… I’ll build a fireplace in my office just to mount your head over it.”

Sticky swallowed hard. “Understood, sir.” But there was nothing to fear. Iron Enforcer was purely a machine. Maybe that gave it less potential than W1-DG3T had, but in return, it would show steadfast loyalty to the emperor.

“Good. Now, where was I?” Paradox recoiled his right tentacles into an arm. “Ah, yes. Our clout chaser.”

He teleported into the middle of the charcoal gray lab. “I do appreciate a good kiss-up.” Paradox’s gem flickered. A pink glow surrounded Xander, who shrank back slightly. “And stringing the outsiders’ prince along so you’d get a taste of real political power? That kind of initiative deserves proper credit. Don’t you think, Sticky?”

No. The sylveon threw himself at Paradox first out of any of his classmates. If things somehow took a turn in the ongoing conflict, Xander would be first to jump ship. Sticky was sure of it. The guy was a certified, grade A coward only loyal to himself.

Paradox cleared his throat. Sticky stiffened. “Of course, sir.”

“Proper credit?” Xander stood up straight. “Like, what? Will I get my own Eternatus Troopers to command or something?”

“No. I have a much better idea.” The deoxys teleported to a shut metal panel in the gray wall. He lowered his head toward a red circle.

[Retinal scan confirmed,] an electronic voice declared. [Welcome back, Grand Emperor Paradox.]

“Oh, good, you already updated my title in the systems,” Paradox said, opening the panel to reveal two racks meant for holding syringes. They were empty, save for one teeming with glowing silver fluid.

Xander wilted the moment he saw the large needle attached to the syringe. “U-Um, I already had all my shots, y’know…”

Sticky recognized the syringe immediately. When had the emperor moved it here from the Harvester? “S-Sir, you’re giving him the Lovers?”

“I am.” Paradox teleported in front of Xander. “See, one of my Paradigm lieutenants retired a while back. The first to ever do so. But like any good leader, your humble grand emperor granted his request.” The deoxys pantomimed wiping a tear. “Try as I might, however, I simply could not find a worthy replacement. That is… until now.”

The realization set in for the sylveon. That hideous stubby tail of his wagged again. “Moi, a lieutenant for you? Oh, I couldn’t think of anything better!”

He tapped a ribbon to his chin. “Well, maybe I could, but they’re not the types of things for polite conversation.”

“Sir, do I really need to be here for this?” Sticky focused squarely on his tablet as he cycled through security cam feeds and tried not to think about what he was hearing.

“You do for this part.” Paradox snapped his fingers and Sticky floated at attention. “If you accept this power, Sylveon, then you’re hereby assigned to investigate one of the spots where these strange needle-like structures from the outside appeared.” The deoxys shook his head. “The ones we had a read on have vanished suddenly and one of my army’s targets was in pursuit of them. So, you have to get to the bottom of it.”

“Perfect. Nobody gets to a bottom quite like me.” Xander winked.

Sticky looked down at his tablet again. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to “accidentally” turn on Iron Enforcer and set it to “maim.”

Paradox rolled his eyes. “Quaint. Now, while you do this, you’re free to curry favor and clout with the public to your liking. Just as long as you follow my orders and, of course, sing the praises of my benevolent, iron-fisted regime.” He levitated the needle and syringe beside Xander. “Do we have a deal?”

The sylveon nodded enthusiastically.

“Good.” Paradox’s eyes sparked and he plunged the needle into Xander’s left flank.

Xander’s screams were even more shrill, screechy, and pathetic than Sticky could’ve imagined. And they kept going as the plunger pushed all the silver fluid from the syringe into Xander’s left hind thigh.

“There we are.” Paradox turned away and his ESP withdrew the needle. “You’ll likely need a day or two to get acclimated to this. Sticky will show you to—”

A dull thud echoed through the lab the moment Xander passed out. Blood oozed from the puncture site.

Paradox sighed and shook his head. “Sticky, take him to his new quarters.”

“Me?” Why couldn’t the emperor just teleport him there? It would be much faster.

The deoxys glared at Sticky as if he’d read the naganadel’s thoughts. Sighing, Sticky floated over to the unconscious sylveon. He went to pick Xander up when a better idea came to mind.

Sticky pointed his large needle at Xander and launched a stream of paint. It splattered over Xander, before hardening to a rubbery consistency. Sticky dipped his large needle into the edge of the goo before floating forward. His makeshift net dragged Xander’s limp form behind him.

“Careful, Sticky. We don’t want to damage our merchandise,” Paradox called.

The naganadel pause. “Sir, you do realize he’s going to betray us the moment someone makes him a better offer, right?”

Paradox blipped over to Sticky’s side. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

Sticky tensed. “S-Sir?”

“Relax, Sticky.” Paradox put his hand on Sticky’s shoulder. “Remember, your grand emperor is always one step ahead.”

He gestured to the door, then teleported away. Sticky stared into the empty, dimly lit hallway. He floated out of the lab, hoping Paradox wasn’t just blowing smoke.