#she wonders if she can be tried for double manslaughter on one man but how would they know? then rob realized she can’t testify bc

[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 27 - Spiritomb’s Revenge

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

NOTE: This is a pretty violent/brutal chapter. sorry if it upsets you. The madness of this fic reaches another level. Warnings for blood, torture, violence. 

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell​ here is the latest update

Spiritomb’s Revenge

…

…

["I suppose I should be upset, even feel violated, but I'm not. No, in fact, I think this is a friendly message, like ‘Hey, wanna play?’ And yes, I want to play. I really, really do.”

- Dexter]

…

…

Wyndon Police Station.

The station is in uproar. The lines have been ringing off the hook since early morning and have not stopped since. It is now lunchtime, but it looks like no-one will be able to grab a bite to eat.

In Postwick, roughly 11am, a man attacked a woman with her baby as she took a stroll near the Slumbering Weald. The suspect is still at large.

In Turrfield, twenty minutes later, an old couple were robbed at point-blank and subsequently beaten to death. The suspect then fled into Route 5. Searches proved ineffectual.

In Hulbury, half an hour later, a woman had reportedly jumped into the sea. Divers are still searching for her.

In Motostoke, ten minutes later, a middle-aged man fell to his death after he was pushed over the railing of the second level of the city by a young girl. The young girl has been brought into questioning but does not recall any of her actions.

In Hammerlocke, the CCTV of the vault picked up a masked individual attempting to steal the treasures within. The suspect was later apprehended but has no recollection of the incident. It was later revealed he is a kiosk worker at the stadium and he was on his lunch break.

There’s plenty more, at least five to six maximum cases of assault, robbery, suicide, manslaughter, murder or other petty crime per city and it’s doubling as the hours go pass, and Graves rubs his chin as waves upon waves of police officers report to him a startling increase of unrelated, independent events.

This is very strange. This has never happened before in Galar. This is madness. The reporters and journalists have already jumped on this, firing out Breaking News and Shocking Stories of a region overtaken by madness. They call it mass hysteria whilst some people are debating, calling it domestic terrorism.

There are worse reported crimes taking place in bigger cities like Wyndon and Hammerlocke, where concentrations of civilians are higher. Have all the criminals decided to let loose today? Is this some cult movement? Some online, social media movement?

After barking some orders to his colleagues and coordinates, Graves quickly weaves into his office and picks up his phone to call his goddaughter.

“Hello?”

He’s grateful she picked up. “It’s me.”

“What’s up?”

“What’s up? What’s up? Have you not been watching the news?”

“No, I’m outside with Jace. We’re at the airport to send Volkner off.”

He grumbles. “Goddamnit, go home when you’re done, you hear me? Stay home tonight. The whole region’s gone crazy.”

…

Wedgehurst.

The old woman knocks on the front door of the quaint little detached house with her Applin in her hand and waits. A short while later, footsteps can be heard approaching; it opens and a little boy peers through the small gap of the door.

“Hullo,” he says.

It’s Granny Smith. She lives next door and bakes him and his family plenty of apple pies.

She gives him a wide smile, the wrinkles on her face bunching together. “Hello Johnny!” she says in her soft and gentle voice, “is everything alright? I heard some very loud noises…”

The boy cocks his head to the side as she tries to sneak various peeks inside the house; he keeps blocking her, darting his head to the left as she bobs to the right and so forth.

“What loud noises?” he asks, the corners of his lips tugging upwards into a small smile.

“Just some very strange, very loud noises,” she says, “where's your mother?”

“Out.”

“Where's your father?” she asks, before she sniffs and giggles. “What a lovely smell.”

“Yes. My dad is in the kitchen, making lunch.”

“Oh, how lovely. And here I thought you were in trouble for a moment there. Have you seen the news? It’s utter chaos out there today.”

“No, as you can see…everything’s fine.”

She nods in agreement, stroking Applin’s tail. “I’ll be off then. Sorry for bothering you.”

“Goodbye,” Johnny says, then he promptly slams the door shut. It trembles violently in its doorframe with a loud ‘slam’.

“Oh," squeaks granny, a little startled.

She slips Applin into her bag and begins to shuffle out of their front lawn, throwing a glance over her shoulder; she sees him peeking at her retreating back behind the safety of the drawn blinds of their living room and when he’s caught, he ducks from sight.

When she’s away from view, Johnny leaves the lounge and into the kitchen where two chairs stand side-by-side and a man and woman are bound by plastic nylon cable ties, their arms fastened behind their backs and their ankles tied together.

Their mouths are covered by gags fastened securely around the back of their heads and as the boy approaches with a grin, they flail and shake their heads violently, their shouts for help muffled.

…

“Who was that?” Jace asks as you hang up the phone.

“Graves, he said there’s a sudden spike in crime in Galar today and told me to be careful,” you utter.

“That’s weird, I wonder what’s going on.”

You have a bad feeling about this. “Jace, let’s go.”

You are with Jace at Galar International Airport; Volkner has left Galar. He’s already boarded his flight to Sinnoh and should have taken off by now, having thanked you and Jace once again for the hospitality.

With coffees in hand, you and Jace head for the train station that will take you to Wyndon where you will get a Corviknight taxi home.

“I better give Leon a quick call,” you murmur, and Rotom quickly dials the Champion for you.

It rings for a few seconds before it’s picked up.

“Hey,” says Leon, and despite the noisy background, you can hear the excitement and affection in his voice when he greets you. You’re certain you can hear him grinning, too.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yep! Everything alright?”

“Graves said there’s a lot of crimes today, he told me to be careful.”

“I haven’t heard, I’m doing a photoshoot for Densoku right now,” he replies. “Where are you? I’ll be done soon; I can come get you when I’m finished.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, I’m with Jace right now. We’re good. I just wanted to check up on you, that’s all. I’ll check if Hop and your mum are okay when I get back to Wedgehurst.”

“Okay, thanks, that would be great."

As you continue your conversation with Leon, Jace sips his coffee quietly and you hang up. He’s still feeling lukewarm towards Leon, neutral towards your relationship with the Champion.

“Is he okay?” Jace mutters, and you nod.

Whilst you wait with tourists and commuters on the busy platform along with their pokemon, this a perfect opportunity to discuss with Jace about his new job.

“I thought about it for a long time, and I decided to go for it. I’ll be an electrician at Sunyshore gym,” he says, “Volkner’s always tried to get me a job but I didn’t complete my training in time and when I did, all the jobs were gone.”

“Oh, so…you really are going to leave Galar,” you mumble.

A brief silence occurs; Jace glances at you worryingly and you look at him with a thin, watery smile.

“I’ll come and visit you.”

“I know you will.”

Eventually, the tannoy announces the train is approaching and to stay clear from the yellow lines on the platform; the train finally arrives, chugging to a gradual stop and the doors whoosh open.

A mix of tourists, and men and women in business suits with their pokemon pour out and the travellers on the platform, including yourself and Jace, pile into the awaiting carriage. Unfortunately all the seats are swiftly taken so you’re the only unlucky folk who have no choice but to stand, so you and Jace hog a small section near one of the doors, holding onto one of the handles as the train begins to move.

The conversation continues.

“I’m sorry, chuck.”

“Don’t be sorry! You’ve been offered a job you’ve always wanted! You can’t pass up on this opportunity.”

“Y-yeah, I know...I’ll miss you,” he murmurs, and he shifts his gaze to the window, watching the peaceful Galar scenery roll by. It changes from the industrial-looking airport to a highway full of speeding vehicles. Jace says, sighing, “I’ll miss you a lot.”

“Me too, but I’m really happy for you, Jace,” you reply, following his gaze to look outside the window, at the sheep pokemon.

The train enters a tunnel with a loud fwoosh and the peaceful greenery is immediately replaced with an inky black screen; the windows go dark with your reflections and behind you, a tall and shadowy figure suddenly appears.

The carriage grows cold, the temperature dropping and your body begins to tremble. Jace speaks but you can no longer hear him, his voice fading away into the background. In a split second, fear grips you like a vice, your heart grasped and squeezed, your chest about to pop. Your eyes promptly widen when you realise what is responsible for this, yet somehow you are able to move, to whip round to face the entity only to greeted with empty space and the carriage begins moving again, Jace's voice returning.

"-so I know I've always wanted to be an electrician but-"

His words fall on deaf ears as you frantically search the area with your gaze. There was no-one nearby; the seats are all filled with sleepy businessmen whilst a couple stands in the corner near the opposite doors playing with their Pokemon, who aren't affected.

"Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"A shadow," you utter. "There was something standing behind me the moment the train went into the tunnel."

Jace raises a brow and looks around you. "No, I've been standing beside you the entire time and didn't see anything. Are you okay?"

Unsure what to think of it, you hastily clear your throat and force a nod. "Y-yes, I'm fine. Never mind. Sorry, um...I'm probably tired; it was... probably just a trick of the eye," In an attempt to return to the conversation, you say, “You said you've always wanted to be an electrician?”

He nods. “Yeah, I’m really excited. I start in two months. That’ll give me time to get used to the region and find a place to stay. Volkner’s letting me stay with him for the first few months of course, but I should really find my own apartment…”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

He looks at you and smiles widely. “Ah, sorry! No, I am sure, it’s just…maybe I’m getting too attached to Galar. Chuck, would you…ever go back to Kalos?”

“I’m not sure. Probably not. Too many bad memories.”

“Hm, I see."

When the train emerges from the tunnel, the sunshine seeps into the train and the highway disappears, revealing bountiful green pastures full of grazing Wooloos and Dubwool.

However, you cannot shake off what you saw.

Meanwhile, the small TV screen fixed on the train’s walls blasts out news of violent crimes appearing all throughout Galar.

When the train arrives in Wyndon, you and Jace split up and you take a Corviknight taxi to Postwick where you quickly check up on Leon’s family; they are fine, deciding to stay at home due to recent news.

Returning home, Sonia greets you. “Hey, you’re back! Ezra's here!”

"Huh?” you exclaim as you enter the house, slipping off your shoes.

You glance at the conservatory where you see a familiar old man in a black duster with an Absol seated quietly on one of the white sofas. A flowery teacup and teapot sits on the table for him, but he’s left it untouched. The fragile decorum contrasts heavily with his dark, grungy appearance.

“Ezra!” you squawk as you head over. “You're here! I was worried about you, and there’s something I need to tell you-”

His eyes are closed and as you approach, he begins to cough, blood leaking out from the corner of his mouth and as you grab a tissue for him from the box, he shakes his head and wipes it away with his sleeve.

“I’m fine.”

“You need to go to hospital.”

“No, not yet; we need to stop Spiritomb,” he grunts.

“Spiritomb??”

“Yes, those crimes. They’re all Spiritomb’s doing. It’s going on a rampage.”

Sonia exchanges concerned glances between you and the old man.

“It’s possessing people…specifically those with immense evil in their hearts, and carrying out attacks before quickly leaving the host. It’s the work of the one hundred and eight spirits we sealed away,” he mutters, “they are clashing and fighting for control, with one personality taking over at one time… hence why the crimes that have been reported are so varied.”

“Got it,” you reply with a nod, and Ezra shifts to get up and off the couch. “Any leads?”

“Yes. I detected its presence in Wedgehurst. Let’s go now before it escapes.”

“Okay.”

“Wait!” Sonia intervenes at once, waving her hands in the air. “No, don’t go, this is too dangerous!”

“Don’t worry, Sonia. Ezra and I know what we’re doing,” you tell her with a smile.

It’s been a while since you and Ezra have worked together.

…

“The hate is strong in this one,” says Johnny, before he glances at the helpless couple he’s kept tied up in the kitchen, “I guess he has you to thank for that since you're the ones who raised him into such a disrespectful and vile spoiled brat. Let me give you a little taste.”

Sidling to the microwave, the two begin to cry with fear and flail against their bounds as he opens the door and pulls out the crudely sliced and half-cooked body of a Spearow, sliding the slushy, gooey red remains of the bird pokemon onto a porcelain plate before he grabs a fork and returns to the couple’s side.

“Open up,” Johnny says as he steps behind the father’s chair and pulls the gag out of his aching mouth.

His lips are crusted all over with spit, dry and wet, and the man shakes his head fiercely in a futile act of protest, hot tears streaming down his eyes as Johnny grabs a handful of the meat. Mangled flesh and deep red ooze drips over the boy’s small fist before he promptly smears the meat over the man’s mouth, his fingers and nails soaked with rancid blood.

The man fights to keep his jaws clenched tightly together in a desperate bid to refuse, but Johnny counters by gripping his chin tightly and with two fingers, roughly forces his jaw open, allowing him to stuff morsel after morsel down the man’s gullet. He chokes, gagging uncontrollably but Johnny merely picks the pieces up and rams them down his throat once more.

“Don’t waste food. There are starving children in some parts of the world,” he says.

The woman screams relentlessly at the morbid sight, squeezing her eyes shut with fright whilst jerking fiercely against her bonds, shaking and flinging her back against the chair as with as much strength as she can gather, the chair legs scraping an inch across the floor.

When the meat is all gone and the man is left rasping and panting, a few red blobs and chunks of flesh drop to the floor in messy piles, and Johnny abandons the now-empty plate in favour for a plastic bag he’s kept near the microwave, looping it over the man’s head and tying the handles firmly around the front of his neck.

Terrified, the man’s eyes dart left and right, the insides of the bag fogging over from his shaky breaths.

“Johnny! Stop!” the woman screams, and the boy briefly pauses in his actions to slap her harshly across the face with the back of his hand.

Her head snaps viciously to one side, hair strewn over her eyes. She goes silent from shock before she begins to sob, her cheek stinging.

“How dare you hit your mother!!” Johnny's father yells, his shouts muffled. With each word, each laborious breath, the flimsy and thin plastic of bag sucks into his mouth and out.

“Shut up,” snarls Johnny, taking a few steps backwards so he can stand proudly in front of his parents where they can see him properly.

Johnny’s smirk reaches all the way to his ears, his eyes crazed and maniacal. It’s a face not belonging to their son at all but a monster, and it sends them into muted shock.

“…You’re not my son,” the man spits venomously, wheezing as he struggles to breathe.

“You’re right,” says Johnny, “I’m not.”

Nonchalantly, Johnny sidles over to a canister of gasoline he had kept propped up next to the fridge and unscrews the lid, allowing a strong but pungent, sweet smell to waft in the air.

With a hand on the bottom and the handle of the canister, the couple scream and splutter as he douses them, emptying the entire contents over their heads and bodies; the woman continuously shakes her head whilst sobbing and begging. The man howls in terror.

“Now for the grand finale,” the boy says, dumping the empty can to the floor and whipping out a lighter from his pockets, flicking it on with a jerk of his thumb and a little flame springs up and dances in the air, taunting the couple.

Relishing the sound of their screams, Johnny promptly drops the lighter.

A fierce barrage of red and yellow immediately engulf the kitchen in its entirety.

The fire licks at their bodies ruthlessly, and Johnny stands, his eyes dancing with delight. The flames reach his feet yet he doesn’t flinch; lifting his arms into the air horizontally, he throws his head up and closes his eyes and basks in the heat, failing to notice the letter box on the front door squeaking open and a voice whispering, “Prohibere eum.”

A delicate, white paper crane subsequently flits inside, flapping its little wings as it bobs towards the direction of the burning kitchen.

The boy whips his head round to the doorway, eyes narrowing.

“Who’s there?!” he snarls.

Spotting the crane, he stares at it limply for a few seconds until it unfurls, revealing strange symbols painted in red. Brows furrowing, his hand shoots out and he grabs it, scrunching it up tightly under his fist.

Unraveling his clenched knuckles, his palm is coated in patches of the strange red ink and before his very eyes, the ink blots merge together to form the symbols which promptly disappears into his skin like a dampened tissue.

“What?!” he yells in shock and confusion; the symbols soon make their presences known once again, this time, stretching all over his arm.

His body suddenly feels itchy all over. He dares to take a peek at a mirror magnet on the refrigerator to see the red symbols have appeared all over his face.

It’s too late; the exorcists are coming for him – and the boy immediately collapses over the floor, eyes closed.

His mouth is eased open and a purple transparent bubble slinks between the gap of his lips and continues to crawl out. It grows in size until it begins to form a distinct, ragged spherical shape, followed by a stone. A smooth, brown stone with a fissure in the middle. The creature crawls out of the boy’s mouth and slips over the floor in a puddle, just as the front door is abruptly kicked open and you step inside with Ezra.

“Sequimini eum!” Ezra yells, as Spiritomb attempts to make its frantic escape.

The pokemon is heading for the window – Gengar emerges from a shadow and fires a Shadow Ball at it – the attack misses and Spiritomb phases through the glass, vanishing outside.

“It got away!” you curse, but Ezra shakes his head.

“No, not this time. I’ll go after it,” he says, before he casts his dull gaze to the bodies on the floor. "Stay here and call an ambulance and the fire brigade.”

“Understood,” you reply, and Ezra abruptly leaves the house with Absol. “Gengar, follow Ezra, then come back to get me, okay?”

Your pokemon nods and merges with Ezra’s retreating shadow.

Water-type pokemon would be handy here but you do not have any so you hastily grab a blanket from one of their sofas, and with your pokemon’s help, you each grab a corner, soak it under the taps of the kitchen sink and throw it over the burning bodies.

The fire is extinguished at once, smoke fizzing out and into the atmosphere in thick wisps; the unmistakable stench of burnt flesh hangs heavy in the air.

Whilst you call for an ambulance, Mimikyu checks the fire alarm of the house which shows signs of being sabotaged, most likely Spiritomb’s doing. Vulpix slides a paw under the blanket to check the damage and shudders once she’s had a look, she settles the blanket back over their bodies.

Once the ambulance and firefighters are called, you leave the house.

Spiritomb is the most dangerous pokemon you’ve ever encountered.

It’s time to rejoin Ezra.

…

Meanwhile, Graves slows the car to a stop and pulls up at a gas pump outside Turrfield, Route 5. It’s been a crazy, hectic day and he’s on his way back to the police station when his car has run out of gas.

He rolls up his sleeves, pulling open the flap and feeding the nozzle inside. As the car fills up with petrol, Graves stands, whistling, looking around casually when he hears a woman’s earsplitting scream in the distance.

“What the hell…”

He eases the pump out, placing it into the holster and steps out, squinting his eyes at the horizon; a middle-aged woman comes running towards his direction, dishevelled and petrified beyond belief, the expression on her face full of nothing but terror. A short distance away, a familiar old man is limping after her along with an Absol.

It’s the homeless man called Ezra, whom his goddaughter is acquainted with. The ex-convict. The man who was jailed for murdering his wife and kid.

The woman he is chasing is screaming for her life, and when she spots Graves who rushes over, she heads for his direction and clings onto his arm. Her eyes are wide and panicky as she pants heavily, gesturing wildly to the pursuing Ezra.

“Help me, please! That madman is after me!!!” she shrieks. “He's trying to kill me!”

“Absol, attack!” Ezra commands, and the pokemon dashes towards them but Graves immediately reaches a hand behind his waist and pulls out Arcanine’s pokeball, tossing it into the air and releasing the canine pokemon.

“Stop! Take one more step or I’ll command Arcanine to attack!” Graves snaps, as Arcanine readies itself into an offensive stance, growling at Absol threateningly.

Immediately, passerby’s scream and begin rushing for cover, whilst the customers of the gas station run inside the gas station to hide.

Absol comes to a skidding halt, her paws kicking up dirt, but she snarls loudly at Graves and his pokemon and begins to pace back and forth as though ready to pounce at any time should her master willed it.

Ezra growls with frustration as the woman hides behind the Chief Inspector. “Inspector Graves. That woman has been possessed by an extremely dangerous pokemon,” Ezra barks, pointing to the woman. “A Spiritomb. It’s the culprit behind the recent crimes.”

Graves turns to the woman who throw her horror-stricken glance up to him. She blinks at him with widened eyes and shakes her head wildly. “He’s crazy!! Help me, please!”

“Arceus, you’re insane,” Graves utters under his breath, “ma’am, I’ll take you to the station where you can get help. Ezra, stay right where you are. Arcanine, watch over him and make sure he doesn’t move.”

“You’re making a damn mistake!” Ezra growls.

The old man takes a step forwards and abruptly stops, bowling over with a hand clutching his chest. Absol returns to his side, yowling loudly with concern as he enters a harsh coughing fit; his chest is on fire, his lungs pierced by a sharp, throbbing pain. As Ezra splutters and chokes, he drops on one knee, slapping a hand over his mouth in a futile attempt to prevent the uncontrollable rush of blood that’s spilling out.

Viscous red lines seeps through the gaps of his fingers, spilling over the concrete in little splotches. Absol wails with fright at the sight of her suffering master who inevitably collapses over the ground on his front, motionless.

"Ezra!" Graves yells, but he's effectively halted when the frightened woman tugs on his elbow.

“Oh, thank you,” she says, “thank you so much.”

“Ma’am, stay here.” He instructs. Graves isn't on bad terms with the priest though he doesn't trust him in any way, but he cannot leave Ezra like this so he recalls Arcanine, dips a hand to grab his Rotom phone to call an ambulance only to emit a cry of pain; the device falls out of his hand but luckily, the pokemon bobs back up before it completely meets the ground

“Sir, what’s wrong?” Rotom asks, only to witness the woman dropping to the ground as a purple swirl emerges from her mouth which has latched itself to Graves’ back; a purple mist encases his body and seeps into his chest as a purple tendril begins crawling towards his mouth. Horrified, the phone flits in the air helplessly. “Bzzzzrt! Zzztop! Zztop thizzz at once! Oh, Mazzzter, Mazzter Gravezzz! Zzomeone, help!!”

The creature vanishes and Graves’ eyes snaps open, now a bizarre shade of lime green; Rotom stares in horror as the entity grins and pats at his chest and looks at his arms before spotting the bridge that overlooks the Wild Area, connecting Turrfield and Hulbury together.

….

Gengar returns to tell you Ezra is in Turrfield, so you make your way over as quickly as you can and the shadow pokemon leads you to a gas station which is in chaos. Several vans belonging to various TV stations are parked outside along with their TV anchors standing and delivering live news and interviewing witnesses. A few locals stand behind the tape, pointing and whispering, whilst a puddle of blood has been outlined with a yellow chalk.

You manage to overhear the following:

“Yeah, so I saw this woman rushing up to this middle-aged dude, and then this old dude with an Absol came and the middle-aged dude pulled an Arcanine on him. Sick move, man.”

It’s utter pandemonium. Beside one of the gas pumps, you recognize Graves’ car from the license plate and head over, peering through the windows. It’s empty.

An ambulance is also parked closeby where you see Absol outside, howling mournfully with her head raised to the air.

“Absol!!!” you rush over, squatting in front of her. “What happened???! Are you okay? Where’s Ezra?”

Absol stops yowling for a moment to regard you before a voice worms inside your mind: "My father is inside. He’s unconscious."

“…..Cassie?” you breathe out in shock.

Absol blinks at you with her bright blue eyes before she continues howling once more. The doors to the ambulance subsequently open and you’re greeted with a paramedic who jumps out and you briefly see Ezra inside, lying on a stretcher with a breathing mask.

“Ezra!” you yell, “Can I go in? I know him.”

“His condition is stable, you can go in.”

“Thank you!” you climb inside the vehicle and the paramedics within are helping set up heart monitors and IV drips around him. “Ezra, I’m here.”

His eyelids open weakly and he mutters deliriously, “….Spiritomb….it’s taken your godfather…It took the guise of a woman…your godfather thought she needed help…Don’t mind me, go after the fool before he gets himself killed…he was heading for route five…”

“But-“

“Go,” Ezra urges, “I’ll be fine…..”

“O-okay. Take care.”

You nod reluctantly and leave.

…

You find your godfather in Route 5 as Ezra had mentioned, standing precariously on the ledge of the fifty-feet high bridge, overlooking the scenery of the Wild Area below. He’s barefoot and missing his suit, his hair messy, tie undone, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows and looking very unkempt.

None of the TV crew have arrived yet, which you’re grateful for because you do not want the media to get involved with this fiasco.

However, it’s unavoidable that some people and their pokemon have gathered around, standing at a safe distance several feet away. Whilst some individuals are recording this scene on their phone, others are trying to talk him down but to no avail. Some are actively asking if there are any trainers with ice-type pokemon that can freeze him (no-one has any, unfortunately). Ultimately, no-one seems to know what to do.

“Let me through! I know him, I’m his goddaughter!” you yell, pushing your way through the crowd and making your way to the very front. “Graves!! Graves – urgh, I mean, Uncle Chris! Don’t do it!”

Graves whips round yet you do not see his features, only a grinning mass of purple with green flecks. It’s Spiritomb, who grins maliciously at you.

“Get out of his body!” you growl angrily, gritting your teeth with rage.

“No, I like this body very much. The misery, the regret, the loneliness. He misses Ellen very much, he wants to be with her,” says Spiritomb, “and he misses your family, your father. He regrets not doing enough. You’re sad all the time because of him. He can’t do anything. He’s useless. He wants to die.”

The crowd go quiet, watching your interaction, though a kind-looking woman holds you back.

“Be careful, it’s best not to get too close because he’s very agitated right now. It’s best not to aggravate him or make sudden movements," she mutters.

You can hardly hear what she’s saying, the sheer panic and distress that you normally don’t experience during uncertain and dangerous times like these has suddenly kickstarted in your system.

“No!!!” you yelp in a desperate bid to get through to your godfather, “Stop it! Stop thinking like that!! I’m still here, I survived!!! You didn’t fail!! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re useless. You’re not! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I’ll enroll in the police academy, okay? I won't make you worry for me anymore. I'm sorry!”

And Graves falters slightly, grumbling incoherently under his breath. Spiritomb's visage briefly vanishes as your godfather’s brows scrunch with confusion.

“You’re the only family I have left and I can’t lose you too! Please, Uncle Chris, snap out of it!”

Graves grumbles and groans in response to your pleas, his eye twitching.

You throw a sideways glance to Gengar; he’s lurking in your shadow and giving you a nod, silently travels over towards Graves’ direction.

And Spiritomb snaps, “Shut up!”

Then he turns and jumps, just seconds before Gengar leaps out from the shadow to grab him. Missed.

People scream, whilst a few trainers release their bird pokemon and direct them to go after the fallen man and Gengar buries himself into the shadows once more.

You throw yourself to the ledge, peering over where you see Graves plummeting helplessly in the air. “No!!”

Your pokemon bursts out forth from Graves’ falling shadow but he is not close enough. His eyes glowing, Gengar’s eyes and claws turns red before he spins in the air and throws his arms up, forcibly extracting a purple blob out of Graves body – it’s Spiritomb, whom he’s now trapped in a glowing red forcefield. Spiritomb growls and resists, shooting several Shadow Balls against its confines to no effect. The attack hits the walls of the forcefield akin to cork bouncing against a brick wall.

However, Graves is still hurtling towards the ground despite Gengar’s attempts, and the bird pokemon swooping towards him aren’t quick enough either.

“Wait, what’s that in the air?!!!” someone cries, pointing to the sky.

Everyone follows the direction of his finger and you see a familiar flame pokemon heading for your group. It’s Charizard; he’s zooming towards your way and the crowd begins to cheer.

“It’s Charizard!!! The Champion is here!!!”

“YES!”

“Go, Leon!!!”

Charizard swoops past and dives, folding his wings close to his body to reduce the resistance of the air, allowing himself to barrel towards your godfather's direction in seconds; in his wake, he leaves a gust of wind billowing that blows the majority of the crowd off their feet and to the ground including yourself; as you sit up, slightly dazed, you look around frantically for Leon and there he is, sprinting towards you from the direction of Motostoke.

“Leon!!!” you cry with relief, scrabbling up to stand.

Charizard returns with a massive flap of his wings, shooting up and into the air before he lands on the ground, clutching an unconscious Graves in his arms.

“Charizard!!” you exclaim, “Thank you!!”

The pokemon snorts loudly and gives you a toothy grin as he lays the unconscious man on the ground in front of you as carefully as he can so you can inspect him. You breathe a sigh of relief; Graves is unharmed.

People begin cheering as Leon finally arrives whereas Gengar returns to the bridge with Spiritomb who is still stuck in the forcefield. When the flying pokemon return, the trainers all turn to the trapped pokemon and proceed to divert their fury towards it, using a wide range of fairy-type moves and others to attack it.

You hear Spiritomb croaking out in pain whilst the other flying type pokemon join in, whaling blows and pecking at the pokemon whilst their trainers cheer and pump fists in the air.

With half of the crowd focused on and bemused with attacking Spiritomb, the remaining crowd part ways to let Leon through and you look up at him as he moves to crouch beside you on one knee.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asks gently, but you are so shocked you merely throw your arms around him with gratitude.

“Thank you, Leon…”

He bundles you up in his arms, stroking the back of your head. “It’s okay, everything’s alright. I’m here….” He mutters soothingly in your ear, “I’m here.”

…

#jeralee #fanfic #fic #reader #reader insert #leon x reader #leon #Leon x you #dande #pkmn #pokemon #pokemonsword #pokemonshield #pokemonswordandshield #pokemonshieldsword #pokemonshieldandsword #Comfort in Despair #archive of our own

[ak47stylegirl]

Life Changes: Chapter 16

Chapter 16 is done! wooohoo! XD 

This fic is dedicated to @gumnut-logic (also thanks Nutty for letting me use Jack XD) 

The rest of the chapters can be found here. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! XD

----

Virgil pov

He rolled over in bed, staring blankly out at the city skyline; the sun having risen long ago. Three days have passed since that dreadful night, and Alan still hasn't woken up. 

Their baby brother had fallen in to a coma. 

The doctors had started to suspect that Alan could have suffered undetected brain damage, ordering brain scans to be performed. And as it became clear that Alan wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, the hospital had moved him to a more secure, more permanent room in the ICU.

Where they could visit him freely and without restrictions on how many of them could see him at a time. Kayo had also doubled their security immensely in the last couple of days, doing background checks on all of the hospital staff. 

And it was no surprise to any of them that Dr Jim Smith was on the list of ‘don’t come ten feet near Alan or you die’ list. Kayo had been very insistent on that. As well as background checks, Kayo had also (somehow?!) compiled a team of vetted and trained security guards for them.  

There were three guards standing watch outside their hotel room right now, along with two more guarding Alan’s hospital room. Plus Kayo, who insisted on protecting Alan personally and not even hell freezing over would change her mind. 

And in a sense, Kayo was also guarding Scott, who had barely left Alan’s side; only leaving to eat, sleep and take bathroom breaks. Even Grandma couldn’t get him to leave on the threat of home cooking…

Which wasn’t a threat that you take lightly, she would actually follow up on it but even that time old trick has lost its magic in the last few days. Their world was falling apart, and a little bit of burnt food didn’t scare them like it used to. 

The hospital was encouraging them to talk to Alan like he was awake and could hear them, that hearing their voices could help him regain consciousness. 

But he couldn’t even step foot in the hospital after seeing Alan laid out on that hospital bed; Neck in a brace, unable to breathe on his own, almost lifeless in his stillness. 

He had stumbled out of the ICU and into Scott’s arms, sobbing his heart out on his big brother’s shoulder. Repeating over and over again that he was to blame, that it was all his fault!

Scott had pushed him away slightly, his hands placed firmly on his shoulders with an almost furious look in his eyes. “It is not your fault, Virgil!” His brother had snapped, blue eyes ablaze with emotions. 

“There nothing-” Scott’s voice cracked, wavering slightly, “-you could have done, so please stop this…” 

He had been so startled by...well the fact that Scott had been pleading with him, begging him to stop blaming himself, that he had just nodded mindlessly. He was just so tired at that point, that he just wasn’t going to fight Scott on it.

That first night, he was in such a state of distress that the only way he was even able to fall asleep was because Grandma had chosen to sit by his bedside until he fell asleep; effectively comforting him enough that he was able to finally fall into a much needed deep sleep.

He was a complete wreck of his normal self. All while falling asleep that first night, all he could think about was how much of a failure he was. And he still was thinking that, because he couldn’t even muster up the will to get out of bed. 

It was like his mind and body had just shut down completely. Before he was feeling too many emotions; now, he was struggling to feel anything. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat…

Every time he closed his eyes, he would see his baby brother bleeding out on that gala floor or on that hospital bed, so still, so lifeless…

And with every day that passed with no sign of Alan waking, his nightmares got worse and worse. He knew John and Gordon had noticed, how could they possibly not have? They were sleeping just a bed or two across from him.

He hated that he was worrying his brothers, because why else would they be here with him when they could be at Alan’s bedside instead? He thought with a sigh, looking over at his brothers, who were sitting on the bed across from him. 

John was sitting in the corner of the bed, legs crossed as he furiously typed away at his tablet.  All while ignoring Gordon, who was spread lengthways across the bed, half-heartedly strolling through his phone. 

The room was filled with an anxious boredom as they waited for Grandma or Scott to call them with some form of news on the results of Alan’s brain scans. 

But the nearly endless wait was driving them stir-crazy…

When will they hear some news? And would they like what they may hear? If he was being honest, he was dreading that phone call. Because what if the results came back positive? 

Hasn’t Alan suffered enough? 

“Honestly!?” Gordon yelled, causing him to jump and look over at his brother, who was glaring at his phone. “you would think they would have better things to report on then our family!” 

“Unfortunately” John lowered his tablet with a weary sigh. “Anything happening to our family is front-page news to those people..”

Gordon scowled, throwing his phone down on the bed; missing John by a thin margin. “Well, I don’t care if it's front-page news or whatever, why can’t they just say out of it?!” 

Gordon’s face crumbled slightly as he moved into a sitting portion, hugging his knees. “His face is plastered all over the interwebs John…” Gordon whispered, his voice losing its anger and in its place was an immense sadness. 

“Along with those grainy photos of Virg-” Gordon frozen, suddenly realising that he was, in fact, awake and looking right at him “Um, I mean-”   

He sighed deeply, forcing himself to sit up, “You mean those cellphone photos of me desperately trying to keep Alan from bleeding to death?” He answered almost emotionlessly as he rubbed at his face tiredly. “I have seen them already, Gords..”

He couldn’t even turn the TV on or go on his phone without getting blasted with reminders of what happened. And even then the news networks would be blasting it from the tallest skyscrapers. 

It was like it was haunting him everywhere he went... 

He frowned slightly, moving so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He could feel John’s eyes on him, scrutinising him like he was a complex math problem John was trying to figure out. He didn’t like it...

“Um...yeah, those photos…” Gordon mumbled, rubbing his arm nervously, his eyes flickering between looking at him and not looking at him; Gordon’s reddish-brown eyes filled with barely masked concern.  

Everybody has been giving him that look lately…

Gordon looked over at John, “Can’t you or Jack do anything about it? Like maybe get them taken down?”  Jack was their lawyer and a pretty good one at that. 

John sighed again, shaking his head. “Jack is already flat out busy with making sure the people responsible for all of this get life in prison..” John explained, his frustration and fury at the people responsible for hurting their little brother clear in his voice. “Doesn’t help that the GDF is being difficult…”

“Difficult?” He wondered softly; his curiosity peaked, “how so? I thought It would be clear and easy?” 

They attempted to kill Allie; the GDF should easily see that they deserved to get life in prison? 

John’s eyes flashed to him again with that same masked concern in them as Gordon’s eyes had. “You would think so, but the higher-ups of GDF are thinking of treating this as an attempted robbery gone wrong, rather than attempted manslaughter because, well-” John hesitated, avoiding their eyes. 

“Because?” Gordon questioned. 

John sighed wearily, looking up at them with a deadly serious expression, “-Because apparently to them there isn’t enough proof to prove that Alan getting shot was intentional...” 

His eyes widened in horror. 

What?!

“What?!” Gordon exclaimed, jumping up from the bed in outrage “Not enough proof?! Alan is in a coma and paralysed because of that asshole!” Angry tears had gathered in Gordon’s eyes. “Maybe even brain-damaged! How is there not enough proof?!” 

He stood up and walked over to the window, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and keep some kind of control over himself; what happened to not feeling anything?

Deep breaths Virgil, deep breaths... 

“What about all of the witnesses?” he questioned, facing away from his brothers as he glared out the window. “Everybody saw it, you…” his voice shook “you couldn’t miss it if you tried..” 

Alan’s terrified eyes, a flash and a loud bang. Allie on the floor, blood everywhere; baby brother crying in pain. That man laughing...

He gripped the windowsill tightly, glaring out at the skyline, “Everybody knew why, it wasn’t an accident, it wasn’t a stray bullet…” He took a shaky deep breath, feeling his eyes fill with moisture, “He looked right at me and said ‘International rescue couldn’t save my sister from being paralysed, so now I’ll return the favour!’” 

He turned to face his brothers, both their faces bleached pale; Gordon’s more than John’s. This was the first time he has spoken in detail about what transpired that night to his brothers. “There's no way that wasn’t intentional..”

“They’re going to get what they deserve Virg, Jack and Lady Penelope are confident of that…” John spoke, his voice taking on a gentler tone, the tone he uses when he’s talking to distressed and panicked rescuees. 

He hated the fact that John felt the need to use that voice on them, on him...

“It may not seem like it but…” John’s shoulders dropped, his brother’s eyes filled with exhaustion. “But it only has been three days since that night; court cases take time...”  

“Feels way longer than just three days…” Gordon muttered softly, scuffing the sole of his shoe into the carpet. “Especially with Allie not..” Gordon dropped back down on the bed next to John, wrapping his arms around himself tightly, “you know, waking up..” 

Every single one of big brother instincts was screaming at him to go and comfort his brother, but he hesitated, and in that time, John had beat him to it.

“I know Gordy...” John sighed sadly, pulling Gordon in a loose one-armed hug; their little brother collapsing like a rag doll against John's chest with a little sniffle. 

His already broken heart seemed to break even more at the sight of their mischievous and fun-loving little brother looking so down; so drained of happiness and hope. 

Sometimes he forgot that Alan wasn’t just Gordon’s little brother but his best friend as well. How didn’t he noticed that he wasn’t the only one that wasn’t dealing well with Alan's injury?

The self-hatred he was feeling towards himself seemed to double at that thought. 

“They’re not going to get away with this Virgil; I promise you that..” John promised, aqua blue eyes looking right at him, voice leaving no room for argument. “Jack, Colonel Casey, Penny and I are going to make sure of that..”

“I know…” He sighed, running his hand through his ungelled hair, turning to look out the window again; just being able to make out the hospital in the distance. “I’m going to have to testify, ain’t I?” 

“If you’re willing and that is what you want to do, of course, you can..” John explained with an odd, almost worried tone to his voice. “but Scott, Grandma and I were talking, and we think it’s a better idea if you don’t..” 

“What?” He turned around in astoundment. Even Gordon looked confused, looking up at John with a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean, don’t testify?” His fist clenched slightly as anger started bubbling in his stomach. “If I don’t, they’ll get away-I..”

He bit his bottom lip, glancing out the window as anxiety flooded him again at the thought of those people being able to walk free. “I…I have to testify, or else they’re...they’re..”

“Virgil..” John’s voice cut through his panic, sounding incredibly sad as well as concerned.  “With how many witnesses there were, you don’t necessarily have to testify for there to be enough proof to prove them guilty..” 

“But…” He glanced back at his brothers, and the first thing that hits him is just how concerned they looked, both of them; even Gordon. They weren't even trying to hide it from him anymore. 

His fists clenched as he turned his face away from his brothers. They did think he was broken, didn’t they? Why else would they be acting like this? 

“We just don’t want to push you too far by forcing you to relive that night, Virg” John explained gently, “you have been through a lot these last couple of days after all..” 

Understatement of the year, he thought with a scoff. 

John continued, “and we don’t want to see you get hurt any more than you have been..” 

His eyebrows furrowed, the anger starting to bubble in his stomach again. He wasn’t the one that was hurt, what was John going on about?! Alan was the one that was hurt! 

Not him! He thought as he gripped the window sill tightly, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to push his anger down. He didn’t understand why he was getting so angry at his brothers; they were worried about him because they cared.

But maybe he wasn’t really angry at them but more at himself? Because deep down, he didn’t feel like he deserved their worry; he was the one that had let their baby brother get shot after all. They should hate him...

Like he hated himself...

“That’s why we think testifying in front of all those people, including the guys responsible for this, isn’t such a good idea..” John explained, his voice filled with brotherly concern; which just seemed infuriated him more. “Especially when you don’t necessarily have too..”

Things went silent for a moment; like his brothers were waiting for him to say something, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk, he didn’t trust himself not to start shouting if he did.  

John sighed, sounding slightly disheartened “Scott wanted to be the one to talk to you about this, he thought you’ll probably take it better from him than anyone else..”

He rolled his eyes, looking out at the skyline. Of course, Scott would want to be the one to talk to him. That was typical Scott, always wanting to be the one to shoulder the burden. 

But that meant that even Scott, his best friend, though he was..was broken? He realised with a shaky gasp, a feeling of betrayal missing into the anger he was feeling. Sure John had mentioned Scott being a part of this before, but the meaning of it all was only just hitting him now...

“I’m not made of glass…” He whispered tensely as he turned to face his brothers, anger seasoning his voice like a strong chili, hot and burning. “So will you please stop acting like it?!” 

His voice had raised to a shout, like he feared it would; but right now, he didn’t care. John’s eyes hardened a touch, but they were still filled with that same concern that filled him with rage. 

Gordon flinched, brown eyes wide with startled fear and concern, “Virg, John was only saying-”

“I know what he was saying, Gordon!” He snapped at Gordon and instantly regretted it as Gordon’s eyes filled with hurt. “Gordon I-”

“Forget it..” Gordon muttered as he got up from his position on the bed, “I’m going to take a bath; closest thing I'm going to get to a swimming pool for a while..” 

The shared bathroom door slammed shut. 

“We're just trying to look out for you, Virgil..” 

Just as fast as his anger appeared, it disappeared just as fast; maybe even quicker, leaving him feeling empty and hollow once again. He turned to look at John, feeling horribly lost. 

“I..i know, I just-” Suddenly being stuck in a room with the people he had just yelled at, was too much for him to take. “I’m going for a walk, call me when you hear news…” 

Then he ran, only stopping long enough to put his boots on and grab his phone before he was out the door; not looking back. 

He was getting really good at running away it seemed...

#thunderbirds are go #alan tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Life Changes

[avidbeader]

Voltron fic: “Scattered” Ch. 22

Rated T. Genfic/no ships. S2 AU. You can begin at the beginning here or read it on FF-Net and AO3 when I get it posted there, probably in the morning. FEEDBACK IS WELCOME.

<> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <>

After helping one another to unload their troves of Earth supplies in the kitchens or their rooms, Shiro directed everyone to suit up and report to the command deck. They had let the Garrison and Earthforce stew for over thirty-six hours and they were ready to present their demands.

Leave our families in peace. Contact us immediately if you have any alien activity in the solar system. Here’s some shiny tech to help monitor that.

And punish Darzi for his actions.

Shiro hoped it would be that simple.

Allura entered the command deck first after Shiro arrived. She was wearing one of her gowns, navy with pink trim, but her hair was pulled up, surrounded by a gleaming tiara. “Do you think this will be impressive enough?”

Shiro nodded. “You look beautiful and terrifying.” Behind her, Coran looked up from his console with an amused look for Shiro’s words.

She smiled. “Good.” She moved to stand beside him. “Shiro, there is another option to the issue of prosecuting that man.”

“Another option besides a joint tribunal here on the ship? Because I’m not sure we can persuade Earthforce to go along with that. They’ll protest having any Altean representation among the judge advocates, since there’s a grand total of six of us to choose from and we all have a huge conflict of interest in the proceedings.”

Allura’s expression hardened. “If they expect to be recognized—”

“Princess, they may not care. Earth is still decentralized. We’re a bunch of sovereign states, not a unified planetary government. The closest thing to that is the United Nations, and their authority is limited. Earthforce may be a combined effort at international peacekeeping, but any country can pull its soldiers and arsenals out at any time.”

She huffed. “Well, that’s a silly way to do things!”

“Not as advanced as you, remember?”

Allura sighed. “So primitive. I’m amazed this planet produced the five of you.”

“Anyway, what is the alternative?”

“You need to talk with the Black Lion about it. In the past, the lions could be asked to measure the conscience of the accused and confirm guilt or innocence.”

Shiro’s eyebrows shot up. “They can do that?”

“How else do you think they select their paladins?”

He gulped a little at that. He remembered a feeling of being assessed as the other lions roared, welcoming Black. Weighed and judged and found worthy.

But how did that square with the knowledge that the first Black Paladin had done something that had ended his Red Paladin?

Black growled in his mind, sounding almost petulant. He changed. Besides, everyone should be allowed one mistake.

Shiro shoved his tongue between his teeth, trying to hold in a sudden impulse to laugh.

 <> <> <> <> <>

 Keith met Pidge en route to the command deck. She moved in and put one arm around him. He tensed for an instant before making himself relax and return the gesture. He had been relaxed about his personal space with Shiro’s parents; Pidge should be no different.

Leading him down the hall, Pidge looked up and asked, “Do you think you’ll be able to do it? Record the memory of the attack? Hunk’s point was really good—it’ll be so much easier on you in the long run. It removes the need for testimony and cross-examination.”

“I don’t know. What’s to prevent them from saying it’s faked?”

Pidge frowned at that, thinking. “True. But if you provide another memory, something that they can confirm independently, that might convince them. Or we can make one of them test it.”

Red’s presence in his head surged as she offered an inspiration. Keith was suddenly immersed in the memory of stepping out of her, extending a hand to Iverson to shake, only to have a medtech make him stand still long enough for snipers to hit him with tranqs. Iverson could corroborate that event and it would be one more piece of evidence against Darzi, who had ordered it.

“Red’s got an idea. That might work. I just…”

Pidge tightened her hold on him. “I’ll be there if you want. We all will.”

They entered the command deck and saw Shiro and Allura. Keith noticed that Shiro was trying very hard not to smile and wondered what was going on. Allura turned to them.

“Keith, have you thought about my suggestion? If it will truly be too painful, I won’t ask you to do it.”

“No, I think I can. Hunk was right, if they will accept that they’re seeing true memories, then there’s nothing they have to ask me.”

Shiro’s expression darkened at that. “How are we going to convince them?”

“Pidge had a good idea. I can record another memory or two that they can verify independently so they’ll know for sure.”

Allura smiled, pleased that her plan was coming together. “Excellent.”

Lance and Hunk entered together and Lance looked around. “Are we ready to do this?”

“We are. Hunk, can you repeat what you did before to connect us?”

“Piece of cake. Come on, Pidge, let me show you what we did.”

 <> <> <> <> <>

 It had been over thirty-six hours of tension and misery. Iverson and Benítez took turns monitoring the communications center, sleeping in an office down the hall. The media blitz had shifted from reporting on the proof of aliens to either trying to get more information about the five Garrison members or submitting open records requests for more information about Earthforce’s actions during the crisis.

Iverson rubbed a hand over the two days’ worth of stubble on his chin. He had managed a quick shower and a fresh uniform during his last rest period, but coffee was no longer doing its job in keeping him alert.

As he looked around for the aide to ask about the possibility of something stronger, the main viewscreen jumped to life.

Iverson straightened at seeing his Kerberos pilot and the alien woman again. This time she was dressed like a fairy-tale princess, but it didn’t fool him. This person was a force to be reckoned with.

“Commander Iverson. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s understandable, Shiro…Captain Shirogane. I’ll summon the general.” He waved at the aide, who took off. Iverson scrubbed at his face, trying to bring himself back to full alertness.

He watched as his former Kerberos pilot gestured, bringing forth the other members of the team. This time Katie Holt was there as well, in the same armor as the others with green accents. Iverson relaxed a bit at seeing Kogane, looking fit and healthy in the red armor. He tried to control his expression, knowing that the general would be there any minute to reopen negotiations. Then Kogane tilted his head slightly, a quizzical look on his face.

Iverson blinked and Kogane broke into a slightly disbelieving smile. “Guys, have you ever seen him look so…I don’t even know what to call it. Relieved? Pleased? Almost happy?”

“Given that the last time I saw you, you were in a coma that we weren’t sure you’d survive, I think I’m allowed.”

McClain let out one bark of laughter before stifling it with his hand. The others looked like they were fighting back smiles, but the woman frowned and spoke with an icy tone.

“Commander, I need to know where things stand with the prosecution of Darzi.”

Iverson nodded. “General Benítez is the convening authority for the court martial. She has entered and preferred the charges, along with General Caplan as the judge advocate assigned to the proceedings. We expect Darzi to prefer the charges and enter his pleas sometime before the end of the day. He’s hired a personal lawyer instead of allowing someone to be appointed.”

“Pleas?” Shiro zeroed in on the unexpected bit of information, just as Iverson had hoped. “What are the exact charges?”

“Unlawful imprisonment, assault, and attempted manslaughter.”

“Manslaughter? What does that mean?” The woman’s voice broke in sharply.

Shiro put a hand on her shoulder. “It means that they don’t think Darzi went in there intending to kill. In our terms, murder includes planning and intent.”

“Exactly…your highness. We can’t prove intent, so we’re going for the strongest charges we can make stick.”

The woman’s brilliant blue eyes narrowed at him.

“And it’s going to be tough. I’ve been ordered to convene it as a special court martial, not a general one.” Benítez sat down beside him, running her hands through her hair.

Iverson turned to her. “No!”

“What does that mean?” Fury was rising on the woman’s face.

“It means that any punishments would be less severe,” Shiro answered and she whirled on him.

“I knew it, Shiro! I knew—”

Shiro brought his other hand up and held her in place. Iverson was fascinated at the clashing dynamics. On the one hand they were supposed to be a ruler and her…commandant? General? But right now it looked like two friends arguing, one trying to calm the other down.

“They’re doing what they have to in order to get a guilty verdict. If Darzi is declared innocent, then he can’t be tried for it again.”

She jerked back sharply. “Not even if new evidence is found?”

Shiro shook his head. “It’s called double jeopardy and most of our court systems don’t allow it to happen.”

“This will not stand! I—”

“Princess!” The others had moved closer and Kogane reached out, turning her to face him. “Princess, it doesn’t matter. We’ve done what we wanted to do here, we can just leave.”

That got protests from the others, including a fierce “Hell, no!” from Katie Holt. Again, Iverson felt he was looking at a tightly-knit group of friends, almost a family, instead of a squadron of pilots and a royal personage. Shiro and the princess stared at one another briefly, an entire conversation happening in minute expression changes. Then Shiro nodded at her.

The Princess turned to them. “I am invoking the Interstellar Charter of Cooperation, an alliance of over a hundred planetary governments. Any proceedings will be held where I dictate, with witnesses of my choosing to observe your proceedings. You will hold them on board my ship, as the only piece of Altean territory that is readily available to you. We will land near your Garrison.”

Benítez’ mouth had dropped open at this sudden tirade. “I don’t know if—”

“Yes,” Iverson interrupted her. “Yes, General. They deserve concessions to balance everything that has been done to undermine this case.” He heard several people react to his blatant declaration, but he didn’t care. He would push as hard as necessary to try and get justice out of this for Keith.

 <> <> <> <> <>

 They agreed to schedule the hearing for the next day. Somewhat unexpectedly, Darzi entered a guilty plea for the assault charge, but not guilty for the others. If he had hoped to soothe Allura’s temper by partially capitulating, he had misjudged badly. She was more determined than ever to punish him.

After changing back to their regular clothes and grabbing a meal, Allura had taken Hunk and Lance with her somewhere, leaving Coran to help Keith with the memory device. Shiro and Pidge tagged along without comment. Coran explained the process as he settled Keith in a chair and set a metal headband in place.

“It’s quite simple, really. Concentrate on the memory. Once you’ve got it front and center, touch this control to start recording. Do the same thing to stop it.” He guided Keith’s hand to a place on the headband. “Now, it’s up to you, but you can choose to record privately or you can go ahead and project it for us to see.”

“Projecting means we can make sure it’s working,” Pidge offered.

Keith felt Shiro lay a hand on his shoulder. He nodded, even though he was still unhappy with the entire thing. “Okay, projection it is, Coran.”

He felt Pidge’s hand on his other shoulder and drew a deep breath. He shut his eyes and concentrated on the first memory he wanted, one that would easily prove to Iverson that the machine was doing what it claimed.

 <> <> <> <> <>

 He sat in the simulator, directing the flight with an easy grace. The asteroid belt had been a breeze and his engineer, a competent girl with a snarky attitude that he enjoyed, had been able to fix the stabilizers problem in under a minute. All that was left was a successful reentry and they’d be done.

“Recon Flight Three India Four Eight Zulu, requesting clearance to land.” The boy on comms spoke with a hint of excitement in his voice. Keith ignored it, noticing something off in the controls. Something was affecting his steering. He started adjusting for it.

“Recon flight, you are advised to continue to White Sands. Canaveral is experiencing strong gale-force winds in the upper atmosphere.”

So that was it. Keith hit a few controls and addressed the boy. “Upper atmosphere, but not lower?”

The comms officer relayed the question.

“Confirmed.”

“Is ground control aware that we may not have enough fuel to get to White Sands?”

“Reserves should handle it.”

Keith continued to correct for the growing winds. The turbulence was minimal at the moment. He looked at the other two.

“I say we land here. Once we get through the winds, it’ll be an easy landing.”

The engineer stared at him. “Are you sure? Can you adjust your lift in that?”

“Yes, if you can keep everything wide open for me. Can you?”

She bit her lip, glanced at the comms officer, and nodded.

“Let’s do this, then. Comms, advise ground control.”

The boy did, the excitement in his voice increasing as the sim warned against the decision and he overrode it. He and the engineer tightened their seat belts and Keith started the reentry path.

He focused like he never had before, letting his instincts guide him as he used the winds buffeting them to add to the drag, adjusting the trajectory constantly. He could hear the gasps from his teammates as the craft shifted sharply to the left once and then dipped. He rode the turbulence like waves, knowing he was in his element.

And with one final terrifying shudder that had the engineer’s hands scrambling across the controls to check for any damage, they were in the clear and descending smoothly toward the runway.

The instant the screen changed to “simulation completed”, the comms officer jumped out of his seat and ran for the door.

“We did it, didn’t we? Did we do it?”

“Do what?” the engineer asked.

“We beat the record! Kogane beat out Shirogane’s record!”

The door opened, revealing Commander Iverson and Professor Harris. Harris had a huge grin on his face. Iverson looked dumbfounded.

“Cadet Kogane, what the hell were you thinking?”

Keith shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”

 <> <> <> <> <>

 He reached up and stopped the recording, opening his eyes. Pidge’s mouth was hanging open while Shiro’s expression was delighted. Their expressions helped shake the mildly uneasy feeling of being pushed through the memory, unable to break away from it without disconnecting the device.

“Good choice. Just about everyone from the Garrison can confirm that really happened.” Shiro squeezed Keith’s shoulder. “I did tell you how proud I was of you, right?”

Keith nodded, still a little embarrassed at Pidge’s reaction. She drew in a breath. “That was…incredible. I remember Matt talking about it at the time, but to see it like that… God, Keith, that was amazing.”

He shrugged, unaware that he was repeating the exact reaction from the memory. “I just wanted to be done.”

Coran finished fiddling with the controls and looked up. “All right, that’s one memory recorded and ready. I enjoyed seeing that, Number Four. You and the Red Lion are a natural fit.”

Shiro ruffled Keith’s hair at his neck, careful not to dislodge the headband. “Ready to get it over with?”

“Almost. It was Red’s idea to show this one.” Keith drew a deep breath and closed his eyes again.

 <> <> <> <> <>

 Keith walked down the ramp from Red’s mouth and paused, seeing Commander Iverson and someone in a hazmat suit standing near the gates that led to the main hangars. He removed his helmet, squared his shoulders, and stepped out of his Lion.

 He went through Red’s force field. Shoving his helmet under his left arm, he held out his right hand to shake with the Commander. The faceless medtech got in the way, waving a scanner. “Hold still, we need to check you over for any dangerous pathogens.”

 Keith’s tone was impatient. “I feel perfectly fine. None of us have gotten sick at all. I could…” His voice faded as if something had occurred to him.

 “Just another minute while these readings come through…”

 Keith’s view snapped to one side and he gasped “Ow!” He stumbled a little. “What the hell?” His fingers scrabbled along his neck and brought something into view. A tranquilizer dart.

 The view wobbled as Keith tried to draw his bayard and move back far enough to get inside the force field again, to get his helmet on. But the darts kept coming and finally Keith was reeling forward and losing consciousness.

 Iverson was there to catch him. “They pulled rank, son. I’m sorry.”

 <> <> <> <> <>

 Keith fumbled for the control to stop the recording and felt Coran do it instead. He scrubbed at his face with his hands, trying to shake off the feelings from the memory: the sudden alarm from the attack followed by the panicked attempt to retreat and the helplessness as he lost control of his body to the tranqs.

Shiro knelt in front of him. “It’s okay, it’s over. That’s a smart choice. It gives us a bit more evidence against Darzi. Iverson can verify it.”

Pidge moved behind him, clasping his shoulders. He dragged his hands from his face and reached out, taking her hand and Shiro’s hand.

“That was harder than I expected.”

Shiro put his other hand on top of Keith’s. “Do we need to wait before doing the last one?”

“No, I need to get it over with.”

“Okay, we’re right here. Just remember, it’s over and you survived.”

Keith closed his eyes and touched the control once more.

 <> <> <> <> <>

 The view was of a dimly lit room, looking up at the ceiling. He looked around, noting the straps holding him down. Beeps punctuated the stillness. He continued to look around, seeing his helmet and armor to one side—

 And a woman sprawled on the floor near the door, unconscious.

The beeping accelerated with his pulse, triggering an alarm. The door to the room opened, showing Darzi and Perkins. The smile on Darzi’s face was anything but friendly.

 “Now we can talk, Kogane. Just you and me and the right balance of amotrazephine and adrenaline.”

 The view shook as Keith struggled against his bonds and shouted. “Guard! Hey, somebody! I need help!”

 Darzi moved across and hands came down, sealing off his air. “Now, now. None of that. Just give Perkins here a minute to set up the drip and everything will be all right.”

 The view jerked as Keith tried to shake off the hands, but the pressure increased. He tried to get the medtech’s attention but he could produce no more than a rasp in his throat.

 His blood was pounding through him, roaring like rapids in his ears. His eyesight was dimming, dark spots blooming in his view. And Darzi stared at him with a maniacal gleam, watching eagerly as Keith fought to breathe.

 “Sir, let go!” Perkins grabbed Darzi’s arm, breaking his hold just enough for a trickle of precious oxygen to make it through. Perkins pulled at Darzi again. Finally, finally a hint of sanity emerged and he removed one hand, keeping the other across Keith’s mouth.

 “Do it now!”

 <> <> <> <> <>

 As his memory and the projection of it dissolved into Red’s scarlet aura, Keith groped frantically for the control to stop it, gasping for air. Cool metal fingers deactivated the band and lifted it from his head. He heard a murmur as Shiro passed the device to Coran. Then with a gentle tug, he pulled Keith forward into his arms.

“Breathe, Keith. Slowly. We’ve got you.”

Keith felt Pidge slip into the chair behind him and slide her arms above Shiro’s to hug him, pressing her face between his shoulder blades. Their warmth radiated through him and steadied him. You can breathe. You can breathe.

Coran’s voice interrupted, in a low volume so he wouldn’t startle them. “All right, it’s done and the memories are transferred. I’m going to keep the equipment for recording nearby tomorrow, just in case we need it.”

“Thank you, Coran,” Shiro replied, not moving from his position. He worked his left hand free and ran it through Pidge’s hair, drawing a contented sound from her.

Keith chuckled at that and twisted so he could get one arm around her. “All right, guys. I think I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Pidge snuggled into his side. “Because I can stay here, no problem. Group hugs are great.”

“Won’t feel so great on my knees in a few minutes,” Shiro replied. He gave Keith one more squeeze, ruffled his hair, and stood, pulling both Keith and Pidge with him.

Good cubs, Red rumbled. Much better this time around.

And what’s that supposed to mean?

But Red ignored his question.

 <> <> <> <> <>

 “You agreed to what?” Darzi surged to his feet, both hands planted on the table in front of him. His lawyer nervously grabbed at one arm to tug him back into his chair.

Neither Iverson or Benítez batted an eye. She looked sidelong at General Caplan, the appointed judge advocate, who raised his eyebrows at the outburst.

“Lieutenant General, you have managed to act in a detrimental manner against a representative of a foreign government, an alien government—”

“So you’re admitting Kogane’s an alien!”

The lawyer almost facepalmed. Caplan looked even more confused.

“As my granddaughter would say, care to share what you’re smoking? No one is saying any such thing. Kogane and the other four have clearly been accepted into this alien society, trusted to fly these ships. And according to the charges preferred by all parties here, you detained him illegally, conducted illegal assisted interrogations against him, assaulted him, and nearly killed him. You should be grateful that we’re being allowed to conduct this proceeding ourselves, no matter where it’s held. If that princess gets wind of our United Nations, she could very well turn this into a global incident and demand that you be tried in her courts.”

Darzi’s face reddened in fury, but it appeared that the message was finally getting through. The lawyer quickly jumped in.

“What is the proposed plan?”

Benítez replied, “We will meet here at 0800 hours tomorrow morning, along with medtechs Perkins and Desai as witnesses. The Alteans are going to land their ship twenty miles south of us, on Garrison property but far enough away not to disturb the compound. We will drive out and be shown to the facilities they have. We will be given the chance to ask them questions. Proceedings will open at 0900. Is that all understood?”

Iverson thought he could hear Darzi’s teeth grinding together, but the only answer came from the lawyer. “We’ll be here.”

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More to come! In the meantime, I tossed in a couple of Easter-egg references. One’s a nod to one of my favorite Voltron fanfics and the other is an (anachronistic) reference to another fandom. Any guesses?

#voltron #scattered by avidbeader #fanfic: voltron #voltron fanfic