Sakurai.

It's not as if he doesn't hear the surname often enough; his brother Jiro was still in politics, as well, spreading his campaign of urban expansion.

Hard to believe that was the reason Orion had run for office.

"Where'd you hear that name?"

He doesn't try to deny his family name but there's fury in his growl.

And the Beast shows its teeth, then, a saccharine smile as deadly sharp as the blade in his hands. There it was: he wasn't going to torture Orion because it would accomplish anything, he was going to do it because he wanted to.

"You're sick, Choi."

No answer is given, just a coy smile and a wink.

He approaches with the blade. Instead of getting sliced, Orion Lykos would hear a 'click' on the chair itself. His arm was then moved, still strapped down, the metal itself adjusting from curved like a chair to straight out. An awkward position that didn't care how it bended and twisted the arm itself to get there. Another 'click' and it was firm in place, which Chu-e checked by giving it a quick shake.

The blade bit into the seams of his sleeve, almost delicate as the layers of clothing was removed from his left arm.

"I bet it was really hard growing up, Seiji. A rich family..." A forced laugh. "My family didn't have anything but bills. I shared clothes with my brother, never had money for things. Sometimes, even food! You not get along with your family? That why you ran off?"

The sound of his old name has a more immediate effect.

"That's not my name."

And for all intents and purposes, that was true. Orion Lykos wasn't a separate identity from Seiji; he'd changed his name, legally, the one thing in his power that could put further distance between himself and those who hated him.

He winces in discomfort as his arm is stretched uncomfortably into place and strapped down. Cool steel gently kisses skin without tearing flesh as Chu-e Choi cuts away the fabric. Orion deliberately keeps his gaze on the other man's face.

"You think a silver spoon makes up for psychological torture?"

It's clear from his tone that Orion does not.

"Being a cadet pays real shit, you know. Not really enough to afford an apartment free of infestation, definitely not enough to make rent and still eat every night of the week. You think 'cause my family was rich I've never suffered? Pull your head out of your own ass and use your brain."

"I know it's a lot different when you're a kid and have no control over it and an adult who does."

The blade, surprisingly, if put down on the metal table his teacup had sat.

"You don't see anything wrong with that, though? My little family with parents who loved me did all they could to keep us fed... and yours who hated you, ran you out, and had all that money and power. How was that fair to either of us? To anyone around us? Why do bad people prosper while good people suffer?"

A whistle. A door behind Orion Lykos opens. Growling.

"I'll give you the answer to that one. It's because the system is rigged, Lykos."

He moves, steps to where he's in front of the other again. He looks down at Orion as if he's an insignificant speck. Dirt under his shoe.

"Of course there's something wrong with it! Why the hell do you think I'm still doing this job? You think I like politics?"

He's hated them his entire life. They represent his family, the system he's always loathed. He'd rather live an easy life as a Ranger.

"Yeah it's fucking rigged, but I'm doing a hell of a lot more to try and fix it than you."

Chu-e Choi looks down at him and Orion glares up in defiance.

"You don't know what I do or how I do it. There are people who respect me because they know I'll protect them when the system won't."

A low whistle.

"How many times did you and the other Council members sit in meetings and talk about nothing? Reached no answers? Nothing solved? Did you ever talk to the people you lead, get the public angry and wanting change, trying to force the red-tape apart? I've never heard of any of you fuckers doing that."

Orion Lykos's Silvally would stagger into the room, growling, angry, something... wrong. Not physically, the pokemon was very much un-hurt, even well taken care of, but an aura seemed to hang around it.

"Kanto shouldn't have happened how it did. My methods are the methods of someone beyond help. That doesn't mean everything I do is wrong, Lykos."

Two Gardevoir would flash into place, one on either side of Chu-e.

"Now, I'm done chatting. It's been lovely."

"You don't deserve respect," Orion spits. "None of you do."

He presses his lips together and refuses to answer when the Council is mentioned. Furious or not, he knows better than to take the bait that may lead to saying too much.

It's much easier when he's faced with his own Pokemon.

"Percy!"

Something raw enters his voice, the first genuine note of fear since they'd taken him. But it quickly twists back into anger; Orion struggles against his restraints as he turns his glare upon Chu-e Choi.

"What the fuck have you done to him?"

Chu-e's words make it sound as if he's going to leave.

"Cowards," he snarls. "All of you."

Chu-e, predictably, doesn't answer. He's done with words for now.

Orion Lykos would feel the heavy pressure in his mind- a Telepathy. Usually Psychic pokemon would ask, push at the boundaries until allowed entrance, but this one pounds at any mental barriers like it has a hammer and ice pick.

Chu-e won't know anything that happens in there, there are limitations to what a Psychic pokemon can do to the mind, but Orion would still know.

A glass bottle is plucked from a table, a syringe pushed into the top while this happens. Methodical and delicate. The Gardevoir with a half hand walks over and shoves the needle in deep, pushing a clear liquid into Orion's neck. It would burn.

"Think about every thing you know you've helped cover up. That was wrong." Quiet, an order from someone detached from the scenario about to play out.

After a moment, the Silvally would lunge- at Orion. Psychic energy would crackle off it from the control.

As a self-proclaimed psychic-type expert, telepathy is a familiar brush against his mind. What's unfamiliar is the force with which that presence applies pressure, more like a battering ram than the gentle nudge he was used to.

He clenches his jaw, tight, and his walls hold.

Stay out of my head.

Whatever occurs in the physical realm is much harder to resist, for no amount of thrashing or craning his neck will stop the injection of Arceus-knows-what into his neck. It burns, spreads like fire through his veins, and Orion lets out a hissed breath.

He doesn't reply to Chu-e Choi, determined to remain stalwart—

—until his trusted partner lunges at him, eerily reminiscent of the three-day war as it bares its fangs.

"I-It's OK, buddy," and his voice cracks for the first time, fear for his Pokemon trouncing that of his own well-being. "I know it's not you, Percy, just— ngh."

He focuses hard on the defense of his mind, the only thing he can control.

To Chu-e this was a familiar stroll. Orion Lykos might be unfamiliar, but Chu-e would take the time to show him all the best parts. The colors of the flowers, the interesting rocks, a lively bubbling stream. Slow and methodical, Chu-e would make sure Orion got the full experience of what he was given.

The whole time, Telepathy would batter at his mind.

Percy would eventually be called back into his ball, laid aside, but only after bite marks had been left behind and a few fingers eaten.

And Chu-e would carefully wipe the red stains from his equipment before any scraps were dumped into his Bruxish's eagerly waiting mouth.

Any bruises, slices, or scrapes would heal. The missing arm would not.

A hot iron was picked up to cauterize the wound. Chu-e wondered if Cillian Quinn was still watching.

Stubborn or no, he can't stop himself from screaming.

He tells himself he will not be reduced to begging, not even when the pain becomes nigh unbearable, but it is the suffering of his companion that wears down the resolute defenses of his mind. Seeing Percy struggle against his own psychological torture as he's forced to do Chu-e Choi's bidding is worse than anything they could do to Orion alone.

"Let him go," he finally chokes through tears, bloodied fingers trembling. His teeth are bared but his voice shakes as violently as his hands. "Your problem's with me, Percy hasn't done anything to you, let him go."

By the end, he doesn't have the strength left to yell.

It's pure hatred that keeps him conscious at all, the anger fighting against the pain that blinds all other thoughts.

"Just kill me, you coward."

How many other limbs before they'd had their fill?