[attr="class","spiral"] fernando studies the zoroark with fixed curiosity. it reminds him of
persephone amavi and he wonders how her zorua would have fared under him if not for her birthday. he’s vaguely familiar with its ability to create
ILLUSION but his imagination can’t even begin to fathom to what lengths thomas will push. everything seems normal until his surroundings meld into something else entirely.
at first, it turns into his mother, shifting to his father after his lack of reaction. as real as they seem, fernando knows they’re both long dead. the illusion will have to be more immersive than that to tug at his fears. he does not fear what he knows isn’t real.
further probing stumbles onto the next biggest influence on his life: elysia. he spares her form a glance, realizing the uncanny accuracy of his deceased lover, breaking out into an uncharacteristic smile. it’s been so long that he’s forgotten the finer details of her skin, of the blemishes he used to intimately trace along while reading tomes of hoenn’s history.
“
teacher,” he answers, unaware of how much thomas can observe, unwilling to reveal more than he needs to.
she smiles back at him, reciprocating with a wave that fits his own rendition of her instead of natural reaction. “
hello, fernando.” and in that, the illusion is shattered. her smile cannot match the phantasm of the original and for that he is both grateful and disappointed, frowning as her figure melt into the ground.
not too bad so far.
the arena shifts again and soon enough they’re no longer in verdanturf. fernando observes the change, recognizing the rocky foundations that surround them. he’s in a cave, obviously, but which one is is left to his imagination until he sounds the unnerving electronic clicking of regirock. they’re back in the desert ruins, just in time for the doors to regirock’s chamber to open.
the attention to detail is astounding. it’s a perfect replica of his memories, filled with the mutilated corpses of the explorers along with @joey .
is he supposed to battle it? admittedly, the spontaneous nature of their encounter had been frightening but something so insignificant wouldn’t compromise being his demon, would it? as if the challenge the challenge itself, he refuses to draw a pokeball, certain that dying here would have no effect on him in reality. which, by all means, is a safe assumption. it’s what happens next that leaves him baffled.
persephone amavi running into the chamber alone catches him off guard. it’s contrary to what happened last time, paving the though that this is some sort of inner turmoil that he’s supposed to conquer. before he can react, perse turns toward the rest of the raid party, extending her hands outward to impede them from moving forward.
“
stop! regirock’s done nothing wrong.”
and, as if brought to life by her ignorance, it comes to life behind her. each dot lights up as the great titan returns to its former glory. without missing a beat, it steps forward, launching a
HYPER BEAM that instantly evaporates
Malcolm Stone ,
zeke rainey , and
thalia black . he’s about to protest the absurdity of it all but perse continues to intervene.
“
literally nothing wrong! regirock is a piece of history that we must keep—”
the head scientist is splattered like the rest of them, crushed underneath a stone pillar of its legs.
LILLIAN GLASS is quick to snatch him up, pulling him along as they escape. unfortunately, she too is crushed by a falling boulder — a substitution for his kirlia — as fernando is left alone against the bloodthirsty golem.
fernando’s eyes narrow into a sharp glare. what a stupid thought. there is no way that persephone would be that stupid. and, even if she was, fernando would be the first to advocate for her demise. that is not the woman he knows and trusts. more importantly, that is not the woman he loves. so when the regirock approaches, her remains still coating the bottom of his stubby legs, he doesn’t flinch. unable to kill him, it starts to beep again, blinding him in a
HYPER BEAM as the scene goes white.
when he opens his eyes, he’s back in silph co. not hoenn’s silph co. but central headquarters back in saffron, from before the invasion.
from what he remembers of his childhood, he’s in one of the main testing facilities. his father is giving him a tour, walking a much younger, much more naive fernando around. at least until they come across a training room. too short to peer through the glass, his father lifts him onto his shoulder, allowing him a peek.
“
and that is where we train pokemon to the best of their abilities,” he explains with a fondness fernando doesn’t deserve.
what he sees astonishes him, reminding him that this is nothing more than an illusion. his shock is fleeting and rescinded, triggered from a jump scare more than anything else. beyond the glass window is
SILAS BLACKWELL and
dorian westcliff , each training alongside their pokemon with the same regiment that fernando uses for his own. the resemblance is uncanny until silas takes out a glock, aiming at several targets and shooting them with an inhuman accuracy.
they’re training for something, he’s not quite sure what, but they’re training for something specific. for a certain moment.
both of them turn to face him, laughing, acknowledging his presence but mocking all the same. it’s infuriating but it’s not too far off from reality. at least that’s his own perception on them.
the scene turns to the slateport invasion and this time he’s spectating from the recesses of
dahlia goode ’s office. team rocket floods into league headquarters and he observes with an apathetic frown as their forces put up resistance. at least until dahlia joins the fray. what should’ve been their rallying cry to fight turns into an event that fernando cannot comprehend.
“
everyone! put your pokemon away. we can solve this with words and compassion.”
his eyes narrow, unsure how this divergence will teach him anything.
“
we’re not here to be mean! i’m sure the rockets have a good reason for what they’re trying to do and we need to respect their choice to do so.”
caught between so many events, fernando’s own self-awareness starts to fade as the tumulus nightmare takes over.
his eyes go wide when several members return their pokemon into their balls. headquarters is filled with defenseless peons, each one welcoming their rocket invaders. “
how about that? see? we can solve this with peace—” that statement never finishes. a sledge hammer comes down on the skull of an unfamiliar ranger and none are shown any mercy.
only dahlia is left untouched. the most he can do is glare at her in contempt, his internal criticism the closest thing to punishment she’ll ever receive. the scene unfolds and after the fourth or fifth death, he grows bored, snapping back as he rubs his eyes in exhaustion.
he doesn’t have the strength to leave his perch. the sight of
marie jules approaching in disguise is left unhindered. they disappear from existence with
TELEPORT.
the illusion is done and fernando is back where he started, safe within the confines of thomas’ gym. the nature of his hallucinations leave him uneasy if only because he doesn’t comprehend them. was that supposed to be a psychological sign? to tell him something about himself?
“
congratulations, councilman. you’ve fought off your demons and have earend the right to the demon badge.”
he doesn’t dare question the challenge just yet, not in his current state of mind, but accepts the validation with a nod and thanks. he starts to depart, returning his pokemon to their capsules, when he hears someone approach.
branches crack, underbrush rustles. there’s more than just one. several individuals are coming toward them in an encirclement.
“
well, well, well. if it isn’t the councilman and the new gym leader.”
it doesn’t take a head scientist to guess who it is. he responds in kind by croaching, running his fingers over the very pokeballs he had just returned.
“
battle routine—”
“
no, councilman. this is my gym. i got this. this is my territory and i’ll show these rocket scum why they should’ve stayed disbanded.”
fernando ignores thomas only because they’re surrounded by at least a dozen grunts. assuming they sport six pokemon each, they’ll need all the help that they can get. he immediately releases his glalie and it spins into a
PROTECT upon materialization. the green barrier protects them from several attacks but several weavile feathers pierce through it and skewer his pokeballs, placing them under an
EMBARGO and preventing him them from further use.
“
benoit!”
he turns to face thomas just in time to catch the gym leader enter hand-to-hand combat with one of the grunts. with an expertise fit for an elite interpol agent, thomas grabs the grunt by his wrist, flipping him onto his back, disarming his knife in an effortless throw.
a familiar voice rings from thomas’ back pocket.
“
agent benoit, this is comissioner goode. you are not to harm a hair on any of those rocket members. remember, we fix our problems with our feelings and our love for one another. with friendship and inclusion, anything is possible!”
fernando’s eyes go wide at the realization that he might still be in an illusion but at this point he can’t be too sure. it all feels too real. he’s descended too far, allowed them to seep into too many layers.
“
i veto her command, benoit! you are to defend yourself as you see fit.”
but it's already too late. fernando watches in horror as thomas not only helps the rocket grunt get up but also stabs himself with the rocket’s knife, guiding the grunt’s hand into delving the knife deeper into his chest wound.
“
orders are orders, councilman silph.”
“
fuck!”
the sight of thomas bleeding out is the least of his worries. “
glalie, to me,” he barks. furious at his own demise and subsequent trickery, fernando refuses to give in, illusion or not. he intends to conquer over all. even his worst fear.
“
sheer cold!”
the frost overcomes all, at first, leaving fernando half frozen as well as several other pokemon and trainers. unfortunately, resistance comes in the form of flames and projectiles. in a true role reversal, fernando is bombarded by an onslaught of attacks, feeling his own interpretation of pain, cracking underneath the pressure.
the glalie crumbles. fernando lies several meters away, bruised, battered, but far from out. he grits his teeth as he comes to a crawl, smashing one of his pokeballs against the dirt floor to pry it open. the
EMBARGO is still in effect and his efforts are useless. he only stops when a poison sting punctures his hands and pins it to the ground
“
never give in, never give up.”
it’s but a whisper, dying as is his own consciousness, fading into the illusion.
“
not even in the face of certain defeat.”
the illusion ends and his consciousness returns. the clarity comes in all at once, nauseating really, but gives him a better grasp of himself and his greatest fear. and, to no surprise, it comes down to one thing.
incompetency.
