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[attr="class","textbox"]Golurk. A Pokemon Isaac knew all too well. Whether his own hard-working Titan, the halberd-slinging specters he and Ashley Shepard had squared off with, or the colossus that reaped souls in the deepest reaches of the Border, he'd danced with plenty of them in the past. For such cool Pokemon, they had plenty of weaknesses; difficulty using their hands, complete neglect of their own defense.[break][break]

Most importantly, a giant crack in their form, covered only by a seal on its chest.[break][break]

"If we can get that thing off, it won't be our problem anymore." The jail was already under attack. A rampaging Golurk wouldn't be any worse than a Golurk under Rocket's control. If anything, it had good odds of taking a bunch of other Rockets out of the fight along with it.[break][break]

Isaac gave his ice knife a heft to gauge its weight, took a breath to to steady his aim, and squeezed an eye shut. Once he'd figured out his gameplan, he flung the ice knife right towards the crack in the Golurk's chest. On its own, it wouldn't do much damage, though the Golurk's earthen body would be particularly prone to such moves. That was fine by Isaac. Damage wasn't his goal here.[break][break]

Instead, Isaac watched as the ice knife reduced to water. Caelia's flames ensured that it would be a puddle sooner rather than later. It dribbled down the contours of the Golurk's seal, seeping into the space between the seal and the crack in his chest. The memory of the water, thrown mere moments ago, still danced at the tips of Isaac's fingers.[break][break]

With all of his might, Isaac pulled his hand back. If he could even start to lift the seal, Caelia would be able to pry it off with ease.

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[attr="class","textbox"]"Okay, guess we're not just gonna let big man do his thing." If it had been up to Isaac, he'd run past the Rockets distracted by this mess to get the drop on their reinforcements. Gunner seemed more thorough and less opportunistic, though, so perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised.[break][break]

He had bigger problems to worry about, anyway. Like how to fight with no Pokemon and no weapons.[break][break]

Luckily, their distraction was still on a rampage, and Isaac was quick to take advantage. He rolled beneath a clubbing blow from the Golurk's arms, rising behind the Rocket grunt that had been most shocked by the Pokemon's sudden betrayal. "I the fuck just happened," he said, taking advantage of the element of surprise to pull his foe into a quick rear naked choke.[break][break]

Zev Harcourt had taught him exactly how long he'd need to hold it to make a man die in his arms. He always released just before that poiny, giving his foes the mercy of unconsciousness instead. However, instead of setting his foe down, he kept them supported against him. If anything could make a Rocket hesitate, it was the risk of harming one of their own.[break][break]

"You wanted to see me? Well, here I am." There was danger in Isaac's voice, even as he backed towards the nearest corner to stop himself from getting surrounded. "And 'til that Golurk's down, you got me all to yourselves. Fun, right?"[break][break]

His grin was downright sharklike, barely visible behind his human shield. "So! Who's first?"

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[attr="class","textbox"]It was funny. In another world, they'd be two parts of a well oiled machine. Gunner's focus on damage control meant he could handle any unnecessary risks. Isaac's spontaneity and willingness to take a gamble meant he could riff off of any necessary ones. Even now, half of the Rockets were sucked into Isaac's gambit as the other half would be handled alongside their own rampaging Pokemon.[break][break]

Yet this was no dream team. This was an alliance of convenience, nothing more.[break][break]

If the Rockets came with any guns, they were in no position to be using them. Even if a crackshot felt like he could get to Isaac around his human shield, the Golurk's heavy slams were making aiming a fool's errand. In such close quarters the risks to themselves and eqch other couldn't be ignored.[break][break]

Luckily, they also had knives, and were all too happy to turn them against this unarmed prisoner.[break][break]

Two swept down to attack Isaac, the other two content to keep their guns trained on him. He'd have to drop the hostage to fight, and that meant if he somehow fought the knife-wielders off he'd be an easy target. Simple, right?[break][break]

There was just one big, crystal-clear variable they were leaving out.[break][break]

Putting all his energy into a single step, Isaac prepared to run like the wind. If he could do it over long distances, surely he could do it over short ones too, right? How hard could it possibly be?[break][break]

The good news was it worked. The hostage slumped to the ground as the two knife wielding goons swiped through air. The startled gunmen fired, but accomplished little more than decorating the prison's walls in bullet holes. "What the fuck, man?" asked one of the grunts, half because he just tried to attack thin air and half because he'd almost gotten shot in the crossfire.[break][break]

The bad news was that it fucking sucked. Isaac wanted nothing more than to curl up in the shadow of this Golurk and puke his guts out. His body reformed before he could even process that it had unraveled, and the feeling was uniquely discomforting. He'd need way more practice, and a way less sudden stop, before trying that shit again.[break][break]

Luckily, the grunts didn't think to look behind them. Isaac shuddered to his feet, letting out a few more dry heaves as he fought for his bearings. He'd have to fight through the nausea before he lost the element of surprise. He crept up on one of the gunhavers, fully prepared to turn the rigid grip on their weapon against them.[break][break]

It turned out the only thing more value than a hostage was a hostage and a gun. Who knew?

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[attr="class","textbox"]Isaac was glad for the standoff. His head pounded. His gut heaved. At least it was better than what happened to other guy, his arm broken and his weapon stolen. One arm wrapped tight around his gut, pulling him against Isaac, while the other held the weapon he'd once owned to leverage it against the grunts.[break][break]

Brutal? Perhaps. But when the alternative was dying . . .[break][break]

"I don't want to do this." One had been choked out. The other was blacked out from the pain. Would the remaining half of the group buy what Isaac was saying, considering that? "And you don't, either. Just put your weapons down and walk away."[break][break]

"The hell should we listen to you?" A knife-wielding grunt agitated, held back by his comrade so the gun wouldn't be trained on them next. "So you can stab us in the back again?"[break][break]

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I supposed to just lay down and let you kill me?" Isaac's voice cracked at those last words. Nobody he knew and trusted was present, and Gunner clearly didn't give a Rattata's ass about him either way. With no reason to keep his guard up, the dam broke. "You don't get to cry bullshit when a job goes wrong. You know what you signed up for. And if you didn't? Good news! Now you do."[break][break]

"Now we all do." Bitter. Heavy. This betrayal was a two way street, etched into Isaac's voice.[break][break]

One of the knife wielding grunts went to lower their weapon. The gun wielding grunt simply held his higher. The last of the group simply glared at Isaac, expression unreadable. There was no consensus between the trio on what to do. It wasn't surprising. There never was, except the one direction left to go.[break][break]

Forward.[break][break]

Too late. Before the gun-wielder could wrap his finger around the trigger, an officer's hand took his wrist. They were surrounded, and now would be following a new authority's commands. Their weapons and Pokeballs were confiscated. Their hands were cuffed. Through it all, Isaac could only watch.[break][break]

He'd given them a chance. They opted to stand their ground. Now, they paid a frankly merciful price. Isaac wouldn't have been surprised if Gunner had taken them out with a round to the back of the head, one by one.[break][break]

A part of him felt relief. Until moments ago, they'd been ready to kill him where he stood. At the same time, it hurt to see rhem carted off in chains. Were they dime a dozen scumbags? Lost souls who threw their lot in with the wrong crowd? Scared shitless, because whatever Gunner could do to them Cillian Quinn would have done ten times worse?[break][break]

He knew Gunner would never let him talk to them. He knew, even if Gunner did, they wouldn't want to hear a word of it.

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[attr="class","textbox"]"I get that." For good, for ill, or simply for the sake of never being silenced again. At least Isaac had a good sense of humor about it.[break][break]

At Gunner's question, he simply shrugged. "They had guns on me," he said, a rueful tone in his voice. Was it bitterness towards the Rockets, his interrogator, or himself? "Too late for any of that. But if they stood down, it would've saved us all a bunch of hassle."[break][break]

They had a gun, they knew what it meant, and they were ready to follow through. Isaac had a gun, he knew what it meant, but he lacked that killer's instinct. Had Gunner and his patrol not been on the scene, had he not been able to convince them to back down, had he needed to drag their standoff out any longer . . .[break][break]

He was never built for war. Yet here he was, in the center of it all.[break][break]

A brief look of concern flickered in his eye as he looked over the assembled security force. With a solid chunk of their forces peeled off for a wild Swanna chase, it was unlikely any carnage was caused. At the same time, Isaac couldn't help but squint, trying to spot any injuries beneath their body armor.[break][break]

"Any of you hurt?"

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[attr="class","textbox"]It was never worth reasoning with a Rocket. Despite that, Gunner had deigned to reason with Isaac, who was "the same as all the rest." Was it hypocrisy, or had he proven himself that slightest bit in Gunner's esteem? In either case, he kept that little contradiction close to his chest. He'd pushed his luck enough today.[break][break]

Instead, with another twist of his fingers, he weaved the mists into a ball of water. He dragged it over the guard's head as he approached, not only cleaning the blood from his forehead but also sealing the surface wound. "You're welcome," he said, flashing a cheeky smile as he turned over the gun he'd borrowed.[break][break]

The temptation to take advantage of this kindness to pull a disappearing act was strong. Shame even the thought of running made him want to hurl.[break][break]

Unchained, unbroken, and unyielding, Isaac lead the way back to his cell. The contrast to those who had come after him was palpable. Was this the natural endpount of the Rocket life? Chaining yourself to Walsh in your misguided quest for freedom? Choosing death, both for yourself and others? Committing yourself to a forever war not just in your own home, but spanning the globe?[break][break]

"You're right." Because Rocket would take, and take, and take. It sacrificed a dozen lives just to send a message. Would they wake up and see how little they mattered to Rocket? "But it's always worth reasoning with people."[break][break]

Were he to tear their bloody banner from the sky, would they let themselves be free?