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ollie morales might've been the first to make mention of it, but he wasn't the last. There were others, too. Some tied to loyalty, like Gunner Graves, and some tied to fear. Either way, the results were the same.
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"I'd rather hear it from you, but not many are brazen enough to be forthcoming with these types of conversations, so I thought it easier to ask."
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Hence the invitation.
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Hence the swallowing of her own discontentment.
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Hence the concealment of her motives beyond swallow retellings of information already uncovered.
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Folding her hands together over the stacks of paperwork, the councilwoman tilted her head at the ranger. No smile in sight. "So, tell me ranger Henderson: what spurs on these feelings?"
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This wasn't the frozen icelands, or dewford, or any of the battles that riddled her personalized scrapbook of agonizing defeats.
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She'd learned from the folly of resistance. And now, here in the belly of Area Zero, she knew better than to fall into the assumption that god's gift could be declawed and tamed.
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This was war. To win is to lose.
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Fingers digging into her internal wells of power, Penelope leaped from the gallows of her own execution, pulling up a shield of magma to swallow the incoming shards. At the same time, Blaziken quickly dug for SCORCHING SAND, using it to burn through the clawing briar.
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"Selfish? Do you even know of its meaning?"
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To wield such powers easily enough to mold their surroundings to his liking was a feat worthy of contempt. It was as though the blizzard was their birthright. A pre-established death that would extend far beyond this battle, tearing the foundations of justice with frigid violence.
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It warmed her blood to a boil.
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"Gunner Graves," she growled over the storm, "call if you need support!"
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Because, otherwise, she wouldn't willingly look back.
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Reaching forward, with twitching fingers, The Coveted furthered the reach of her lands, rolls of magma pushing toward the Rockets with eager intent.
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She skipped over the pleasantries and cut to the center of their conversation - good.
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It made swallowing down this time easier.
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"I heard you hold some discontentment,"
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Towards the league, she wanted to say, though, no explanation was necessary on that front. As judge and executioner to the very rulings that kept her locked behind bars, prying felt unnecessary.
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"Towards our amnesty program."
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"annalise henderson is here."
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"Send her in."
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She'd done this song and dance before. Numerous times, in fact.
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Typically, the conversations hardly differentiated themselves from one another. Deriving from argumentative positions, even without thought, the councilwoman was naturally prepared to defend against any conversation prepared for her.
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Even when coming from one her of least favorite people.
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When the door eventually opened, Penelope maintained her seat, only doing so much as glancing up from the scattered paperwork.
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"Henderson," she greeted, "glad to see you could make the trip."
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Despite herself, and the duties awaiting her attention, she leaned into the conversation. It was one of current interest, drawing on more frustrations than any of the names running down HBIC's wanted lists as of late.
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"I'll narrow it down to two culprits."
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Her hands found purchase at the set of couches near the front of the office space. Leaning into them, one leg is propped along its back, allowing the other to hang languidly, ticking along with the time.
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"There's the growing rise of sympathy for Team Rocket within our own ranks."
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She stuck up one finger, punctuationing the point with her sullen words.
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"With all of these threats coming from outside of hoenn, people are coming to forget the sins of our enemies and have begun to favor the idea of working alongside them instead."
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A second finger raised upward, taking station alongside the first, both valiant repsentation of her resentment for these individual points and the webbing disasters they've created.
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"Then there's our Rangers taking in stray after stray, absolving these murders of their crime and treating them like brothers. Who cares if someone's allied with Rocket when half your org is comprised of former terrorists."
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"convictions, sure, but earnest?" It's hard not to laugh. An earnest Rocket was an oxymoron as rare as childhood fantasies. "She's a walking contradiction."
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But that didn't change the fact of the matter, nor the dangers lurking within this new reality she has crafted for them.
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"We were never meant to become robots," she sighed, shaking her head. From their left, Oliver could be heard squaking, signaling his return from scouting out the perimeter. He made purchase of her shoulder.
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"Even if the world wants us to. Better to feel than to forget why this even matters in the first place."
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Palkia's chosen. Palkia's chosen. Palkia's chosen. Palkia's chosen. Palkia's chosen.
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"Are you sure you're not a politician? You'd make a damn good one."
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The more he spoke, the more iron seeped into the air, injecting truth into a battlefield of smoke and mirrors. Penelope's lips bit into a frown.
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"Talking so much and saying so little - just get to the point of it already: you're weak. I could've told you as much."
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How ironic it was, to brandish the very same insults used to cut her own. Still, she pressed onward, her stoicism cracking with every attempt at her pride.
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"But if you want me to speak freely, then here: your life amounts to nothing more than the blood Rocket continues to spill. And if we are to die here, at our worst, I'm glad my final moments would be spent with someone of such little significance."
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"And if you're satisfied with this pity party, I'll be honest again -- since you love the truth so much -- I don't care about your shit existence. What I care about is getting the fuck out of here, and if given the chance, offing every rocket rotting here with us. Starting with your friend, if possible."
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"Get up."
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She could see herself, alone, transversing lands familiar to only her worst nightmares. Large spears struck the ground around her steps up the mound of impaled bodies. The more she stared at their shadows, the more they gained meaning, taking the form of legends spanning stories across all mythologies.
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"If you're my better, than get up."
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Streaks of red cut through the rolling smog above, beating life into the world, like rushing blood. Penelope followed its trail, her body a singular spec against the wash of chaos.
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"I'm not dying alone."
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Here, discrimination held no place. Gods of both the heavens and earth were forced to bow down to the apex predator.
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"Get up."
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But who?
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"GET UP!"
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Rot was the first to greet her, the rush of its sharp sting quick to her nostrils like a beedrill laying claim with its drill. Slowly, the council readjusted on the soft cushion of mochi and decay, eyes gouging her surroundings for information. People were cleaning, like before, and -- was that Kyrenai Black? Dried lips part without a plan, then close.
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What was the point of gratitude here?
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Protected by Kyrenai Black's marriage to duty, at the center of the mound Penelope sat herself, refusing to move with the rest of the ward, defiance clear with every slow-moving crawl of her arm reaching to the hollowed bodies sprawled between the mounds of mochi. Their pale skin sang out a harrowing keening, their emptied gazes a swallowing tale of a dying light. If not for the exhaustion, rage would've surely overthrown all other senses. But, right now, for Penelope, there was no difference between their stilled hearts and her stilted state of being.
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Gingerly, with the touch of kin, her fingers would dig into the spaces below their individual masks, flicking them off. Revealing what was hidden.
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"hey love, you done over there?"
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A screeching bright light, a balmy spring breeze. The councilwoman neck nearly snapped in half as her heart lunged for the radiance peaking in.
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"Hurry up!" A young girl exclaimed, petulance burning her cheeks red, "hurry up!"
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One look was it took for the chains to fall from her mind, landing at her ankles. Unbinded, she drank in their voices, poured in their silhouettes, until every crevice of her memory reeked of galarian paint.
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"I--" her tongue felt like a dried leaf rattling in her mouth. Brittle and frail, it crumbled at every attempt she made, leaving her words puffs of ash spitting out from a fire.
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"C'mon Mom, you said you'd play with us!" The brazen young boy took a step forward, supporting his sister's futile endeavors. This method never worked, and they all knew that. Everyone in Motosoke knew If it wasn't for ollie morales, the queen would be married to her work. But that didn't stop their young Innocence from asking anyways.
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"I can't," it was a struggle to speak, much less stare into the verdent mirrors staring back at her, wide eyed and brimming with adoration. "I--"
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"You did tell them you'll take a break and join us," the older man behind them sighed, laughter tied to the rise and fall of his shoulders. "Don't worry, we're not playing zoo keepers this time, so you won't have to be fed like a horse again." His eyes crinkled and Penelope could feel her own legs shatter beneath her, giving weight to the album of memories splayed open before her very eyes.
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"Ollie," his name was the first breath of fresh air she'd taken since touching the ground. It filled her lungs, quenching the silent greed of unknowing suffocation. [BREAK][BREAK]

A single cut of sapphire sliced her cheek. And then, with suddenness that startled even herself, her arm raised and slammed back down, summoning a pillar of magma beneath the trio's feet. Their figures were burnt almost immediately, allowing only the slightest whimper of their screams to leak out before being reduced back to ghosts.
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Once before such memories might've elicited a desire so deep, so vast, madness would've fired off her every nerve, forcing them screaming and awake. But it's through the lens of a broken puppet that she witnessed their incinerated corpses writhing through the air, filling her lungs back with smoke.
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Those memories belong to another world gone from her, forever and always. Because to gain is to lose, and if she were to stand a chance against these monsters, she'd have to lose again and again and again until victory was forced to look her way.
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"VISIONARY," her voice cracked through the tightly wound air, a growl so desperate and piercing it sounds of Envy itself. Fire bled from her body, boiling extensions of the pouring blood gushing from her chest, filling their world in further folds of red. Her eyes remained stretched wide, spotlights pinning down the only target worth its hatred. "THIS IS THE END."
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Large pulses of magma surged out from her feet, sending wave after wave out toward Naomi Sato and parker jones. Above, a storm of fire jumped out from the growing ocean, tagging the forestry all around, creating torches out of their branches.





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"I have."
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It was no secret worth concealing, especially now. Months worth of silence already severed the ties strung between them, so what purpose did lies hold?
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Cian has been there for her.
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He had not.
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Her choice of company remained as simple as that.
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"The amensty program holds it's own set of complications, but as far as I'm concerned, CIAN MAHER's far from the root of it. "
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Unlike most, he'd proven himself prior to transitioning, working alongside dahlia goode far before his eecape. His history after only further solidifies her judgement. [Break][break]

"But if his former status remains an issue, try thinking of it as one of our most tenured gym leaders becoming champion-tiered."
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"If they are that easily fooled by niceties they wouldn't be such a threat."
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They would be herd sheep, easily led by a few simple words and a pairing of godly powers backing the statement.
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But, instead, it was Hoennians happily filling that role, playing the part of the fool with glee.
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"You speak with such calm certainty," her gaze flicked over to the councilwoman's, a glint shining through the slits of scarlet piercing into pools of gold. "I envy that."

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Danger curled around his words like vines from a rose garden. Barbed in tempting beauty, there was no fighting the way her body leaned into its song. It was instinctual, weaved into her DNA by the very same gods that originally twisted their fates together, bringing food to her fires, forestry to the flame.
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"Don't - Don't say that," she shook her head, furious.
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That was her hurt to wield, not his. And yet, his words cradled her fingers with such tender care, such brazen love, that there was no helping the outspread of her palm, no resisting the way he pressed the dagger into its center.
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One tug and he carried its tip to his neck.
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"For you," his smile whispered, "do as you please."
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"God, Ollie," her fury deepened into a silent roar.
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Glossy eyes stared back; tore holes of endless vulnerabilities that could never be patched, never be forgotten.
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"Why do you do this?"

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She snorted at the mention of illeana reyes.
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"Palkia's chosen? Is that how you fuckers talk about avatars?"
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The laughter barely hid the growing animosity thickening in the air, much less the spears jutting out from the slits of her mask, pointedly directed at his chest. Despite the crawling realization that struck, she hadn't forgotten the sins of his existence— the sins of his partner. Even standing there, breathing well through his nostrils, was a crude example of her failings, a direct slap to the face.
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In some ways, he was no different than the chain linked around her neck.
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"Don't get it mistaken:" The laughter paused, falling into a silence, "you and I will never be on equal footing. Not even here."
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He was a child playing Shakespeare. An empty story doomed to repeat the same failings of the wounded soldier before him. The only impact his tales will bring is that of the bloodshed they contribute to.
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