That was just the nature of it, though. Something June couldn’t ever explain fully. Absinthe had to work for hers, and her work was rewarded. It was not the desired outcome, but it was an outcome nonetheless. If she continued, then she would reap what she sowed. June…

June hadn’t wanted it. Absinthe held June's casual treatment of the gift with jealous contempt, yet for her, it was resignation. There was nothing to be done about Violet. It was here, and that was that. A secret part of her was happy with the development, yet it’d never see the light of day.

“It’s only a curse if you want it to be, I guess,” June shrugged. Violet revved its internal engine in agreeance. “Not much either of us can do but see what happens.”

“Uh… yea?” June returned the earlier stare of utter disbelief to the originator and raised a contentious eyebrow. “I thought that was obvious. I’m not in the mood for mutual destruction when it comes to… this.”

Most other things, then she’d do so in a heartbeat. Hell, she’d probably do it without thinking about it first. But this was a social suicide that’d ruin everything she had worked so hard for. Get money, pay bills, then… go from there. See what happened.

“I’m not a fan of blood rituals, but we can spit on– hm. You know, we can just promise not to tell anyone about the things. Probably easier. More sanitary. As sanitary as a toxic chain can be, anyway.”

The more June watched the two stand together, as rigid as trees, the more things made sense. Maybe, just maybe… maybe they’d cause problems in the future. Dangerous.

---

Absinthe Blackwood

Grigori was polite because he had the same problem as Howard: they were hell-bent in their ways of guilt and self-doubt. It just showed in different ways. The grunt was too tired and old to stop others, and Howard was too stubborn and young to let anyone else stop him. That didn't make either of them right.

"It is a lie, Howard. Heroes aren't real. The people you love don't exist, because those people are an idea. An idea so big and grand that it can be whatever suits your twisted desires."

The humanity he loved was of his own image. He wanted to keep them the same as the day he first laid an eye upon them. And when they changed, they no longer fit his image. He would either have to mend his ideals for this fault, or figure out a way that allowed them to still fit the mold. And it was far, far easier to change the perception of himself than admit his faults.

It was easier to change the face he saw in the mirror to a monster than question if the mirror had warped from its prolonged existence. And Arceus help those who dared suggest otherwise.

"And you haven't moved forward. Not in three minutes, at least," June walked forward. Step by step, further into the dark abyss buried deep in the bowels of the earth. It unnerved her, sent chills down her spine. But she'd found the reason to enter.

"Let me show you how it's done."

---

howard slayte

“Then maybe it’s good I forgot the reason then,” June whispered. White knuckles held onto her desert windbreaker, and it shook without the wind’s help. Selfless? Is that really what he called it?

“So what? It’s somehow my fault? Yea, my fucking bad, I guess I was a fucking idiot for seeing any redeemable qualities in your sorry ass,” she said. Louder, stronger. “One selfish decision– that’s all you’ve ever fucking done since I’ve met you!”

She finally entered the ruins, yet without any of the archeologists glimmering in the eyes. Nor the love of the one that followed him, or even the interest in prospects of a research topic finally within grasp. June came with the fiery wrath of the temple itself, angry at those who dare trespassed.

“Ditching your fiancée because ‘you’re not good enough’. Hiding the truth of the island. Whatever the fuck happened in that hospital room, your friends you supposedly can’t have, you wanna know what they all have in common?!”

“You’re afraid to fucking talk to people because then you’d have to learn what those people actually fucking thought about you. You’d have to be wrong. All your worthless assumptions would be wrong, and that’s too much for your ‘heroics’. If you cut them off first, then you get to be right in your self-told lies. You prove your shitty logic is correct before anyone else can try to get a word in. And if that isn't selfish then I don't know what the fuck is!”

---

howard slayte

June hadn’t stopped looking down to look forward. Tomorrow was just a thing that’d be here with or without her.

“Heavy is the burden of a self-fulfilling prophecy, for its owner will carry it silently, without realizing they tread upon their own back,” June said quietly. She blinked twice. “I think Grigori told me something like that one time. Don’t remember when.”

Probably during the dark days.

“Regardless, there’s some fuckin’ irony to your response. You agreed with me in the most obtuse way possible. Don’t you remember the… the…”

The dream? The one they’d just witnessed? The one where he confessed his still burning love for her? Forget. Him. He was just a leech. A hero. Wanted to save the day his own way, yet his own way involved so much self-sabotage he got lost in the forest.

“What did I say in it? Something about your self-immolation not being very self-focused, or something?” She stood at the gateway to the temple. Why should she step in? It’s not like he cared about her. Not enough. “You gut yourself on your own pride, and when people want to help you off, you drag them on it with you.”

---

howard slayte

Unspoken words could be volumes upon a dusty bookshelf, yet there were just that. If only Absinthe could explain, speak the truth of her heart. She’d find more in common with the younger woman than comfortable. How little they clung to the existence that wished to give them things.

How little they cared.

“Yea, like– oh, yea, uh…” June rubbed the back of her head. Right, she had done that before. Somewhere close to here, if memory served. Absinthe had caught a taste of her powers well before she had known the cause of them. “Yea… something to do with charging stuff. Like batteries– y’know, negative to positive?”

She wasn’t a chemist, physicist, or electrician. But it sounded about right. Car batteries were annoying enough to warrant an understanding of how they worked. Couldn’t be too far to explain her stuff too.

“And I’m not stupid. Or lucky– no offense, Violet,” June quickly apologized. The living bike purred gently and tapped her leg with its tail lightly. Playful affection was a good sign. “Just… how it happened, I guess. You know how it is.”

“But… wait, you don’t have any powers or stuff? Weird,” she said. Not that she was an expert, but it felt like creature that strong would convey some sort of abilities. The golems were an entirely different story, as much as howard slayte might drone on about in his free time. They were just glorified weapons, incapable of higher thought.

“Maybe… it’s a test?”

---

Absinthe Blackwood

June had been more hurt in this stupid bunker than she had going against a literal god and a construct the size of a skyscraper. Even worse, it was friendly fire. Blood trickled down her scalp, across her forehead, as she shimmied ever so slightly away from Howard. Just a touch. He was lucky, as before, she would’ve been across the bunker in seconds.

“Doubt it’ll help anything,” June muttered. “She’d use it as an excuse to Flare Blitz you or something.”

Besides, Clawitzer were entirely different prey than Golurk. Clawitzer were damn powerful but slow and prone to missing. Golurk were slow too, but they didn’t miss. ‘Fun playdate’ would turn deadly quick, and Golurk would come out on top no matter what.

“Regret implies that I had any other choice,” June said tiredly. Her shitty decisions were just that, but her back was against the wall. Had been for nearly three years. It wasn’t her fault, or it couldn’t be. It’d be pretty fucked if that were the case. “But…”

“Thanks. I guess.”

“Matchstick, I don’t know…” June met her bird’s dangerous stare as if to challenge her. She looked as pissed as all hell. Blood continued to flow, and the Boundless wiped it away with her hand. “I dunno why she got pissed at me. Makes me nearly want to take your side. What did I do?”

“SCREEEEEEEEE!” Matchstick raised her wings once again, and the passive embers doubled their rate of existence. Her trainer could only roll her eyes.

“Sorry, don’t speak bird.” She could guess what the Pokémon was saying, how it wasn’t true. She kept saying her life didn’t matter, or whatever– and it didn’t. That was the point. They were blips on the map at most, and that was a fact. In a way, Violet had made that life impossible. “But I guess I haven’t really asked her for her thoughts on this all.”

---

howard slayte

 

Where had she heard this one before?

“But it sounds like you’re the only one to let your perverse sense of justice get in the way of any meaningful relationships.”

Déjà vu washed over her before any sense of regret. But she killed that fast; why did the man dedicated to history seemed hell-bent on repeating it?

---

howard slayte

“A shard… huh?”

Unfortunately for Absinthe, she had to lay bare her secret to someone that struggled with biology and knew nothing of the theoretical. Thus, a ‘shard’ of a Pokémon was a concept that held no weight. She might as well had blown raspberries for all the use the term did. What did it mean?

“Y’know what, whatever, doesn’t matter,” June waved it away, much to the chagrin of Violet. However, the term wasn’t the important thing. What mattered was that it apparently wasn’t the real deal. Just a hollow facade. “Probably means you won’t be hanged. Immediately, anyway.”

And when the conversation turned back to her, she could do nothing but resign to her fate as well. The prospect felt much better than before, if only because the threat of their secrets would keep them both quiet.

“I think mine is the real deal,” June started. Violet nodded a singular time, then finally relaxed. It walked gently back to June and rested on its haunches by her side. “I dunno what it’s called, but I call it Violet. I think it starts with an M.”

“Miraidon!”

“That’s pretty close, yea.”

Howard knew it better than she did. How many times had he told her? Too many to count.

“Anyway,” she rested her shoulder against the warm metal frame, “it joined me right before the Sootopolis thing. Been with me since. I can… do things. Like magic shit. Pretty fucky.”

Suddenly, her eyes lit up. Almost as bright as car headlights blinded Absinthe, only flickering as June blinked. “Like this. It’s not the only thing, but…”

The last thing she’d do for the chemist is show her the weird EMP thing. It really hurt, and made her want to throw up.

---

Absinthe Blackwood

“Oh, my bad. Next time I’ll double-check on the Pokémon that you said nearly killed us,” June rolled her eyes. While they threatened to remain stuck there, Matchsticks were aimed permanently at Howard. His every move, breath, twitch, and word clung to like a drowning man on a plank.

If looks could kill, he would’ve never existed in the first place. Not even his teary eyes and frown could hope to soothe the sheer hatred that radiated from the bird. Almost like the embers it desperately wanted to ignite. A few scattered lackadaisically from its wings, whispers of a promise.

Yet Miraidon did nothing but watch, an amused spectator. Its heart was not as scorched as Matchsticks, nor as cracked as June’s. Who used the excuse of the violent bird to avoid Howard’s eyes. A heart of steel was necessary. Anything less and she might break.

“Stop apologizing to me, damn it,” she said through grey feathers. “What happened to me didn’t matter.”

How many times did she have to say it? It felt sad, at this point, to repeat the same phrase over and over and over again. Yet its truth never diminished no matter how many times it rang out.

“Me being dead in a ditch isn’t the worst thing in the world,” she said again. She finally turned around, and Violet tilted its head. Her steely resolved looked ever shaky, but she tried nonetheless. “Whether it's a Clawitzer, Golurk, fucking Regice, whatever– stop being sorry for me.”

Matchstick finally attacked, but not who Howard thought. June ducked down at the sudden peck, and let go of her Pokemon. “Ah– what the fuck, Matchstick?!”

She hopped away a few steps, and they both received the fury of its gaze. Violet hummed contently. Its pupil was doing well, in a sense.

This was certainly an unexpected result for her. One she’d hopefully learn from.

---

howard slayte

 

“Fwalca-fwa?”

By the time Clover asked, June had already shoved a handful of the pickled roots into her mouth. Their juices leaked out all over her shoes and the front of her black sweatshirt, yet she seemed oblivious to the mess. Matchstick wasn’t, and shoved her beak into her trainer’s chest to point it out.

June quickly chewed and gulped, then swiped away both the bird and the dribbles of root juice, “No, not at all, just a delivery girl. I’m here to grab some berries for someone. I think. And that’s Matchstick. She’s… well, she’s a carnivore. So maybe don’t bring your Oricorios out. Please.”

She couldn’t afford a lawsuit. That’d make her eat the Occa berries legitimately.

“But anyway,” she gulped down another root whole, “you should probably tell them to put up a sign or something. People might sue.”

“Screee.”

“Come on, I would never sue someone who gives me free food,” she said. June stopped suddenly, then sighed. “That’s a lie, you’re right Matchstick. I absolutely would– but not this time.”

Matchstick unfurled a wing and smacked June.

---

clover matamata

This was… quite the dangerous game. June had heard rumors about Lulu. She was a very important figure in Rocket, she slept as much as June did, and she was very much not sympathetic to the League. And she might be nuts– but who could say? It meant she had to keep her helmet on snuggly, and use her fake name without exception.

Oh, and Shred was here.

Shred, her brother in arms, so to speak. And also her arch nemesis. Or not, as he hadn’t revealed her identity yet. Maybe Howard had a strong enough leash after all, but it was more likely that Shred simply didn’t care about her. It made a lot more sense. More logical for what she knew about him.

“Not a fan of the underground,” she said. When she was here in the past with annalise henderson , they stuck strictly to above ground. Her claustrophobia didn’t want to risk an accident. Great, now she was thinking about the ranger too. Could this get any worse?

“I have been here plenty of times, though,” June stepped forward. Her massive black sweatshirt hid the hairs that didn’t stand up on end. She seemed entirely unphased and unthreatened by the cords that shot sparks out with staggered pops, like a delayed fireworks show. “I’m not scared of anything in here.”

She had its god on her belt. But she also had a Corviknight, whose eyes glowed purple. A Future Sight predicted little in terms of danger in the immediate future. It cawed quietly to ascertain as much. “Not that we have anything to be afraid of for the next minute.”

---

Lulu Flint Shred Future Sight on first tile (120 BP, 90 left)

Fuck. She didn’t buy it. All she had to do was buy it, and June was fine. Safe. Free to ignore that stupid bird Absinthe had that would likely get her strung up by… a fifth of the Hoenn population. Hell, it might be enough to make League and Rocket work together. The Loyal Three hadn’t discriminated, if she was right.

“Well– w-what’s that thing then? Huh?” June shoved her finger in the chemist’s direction, straight toward Fezandipiti. “I think you got a lot of nerve to ask me what this thing is when you have… that! Having it’ll get you killed. My thing just gets me on everyone’s radar.”

A fate worse than death. But at least the toxic-chained bird would grant her that mercy. Whether by its beak or the people who’d hate her for merely being associated. She was stuck with Violet, who gave her a head tilt down and pupils up. Fuck, could it read her thoughts? “Oh, you’re not too bad Violet…”

“Wait, no back to you,” she crossed her arms, “you explain first. My thing is a futuristic Cyclizar. What the hell is that and why do you have it?”

Violet sighed robotically at the insult. 

---

Absinthe Blackwood

“Good luck,” June sighed. “I think they attacked each other during the meteor thing too. Not that I’d know.”

Too busy with Dad. Wondering if it was even worth huddling in a bunker for a life that wasn’t going anywhere. Having to think if the world would end and if that was even a bad thing. Bigger fish to fry than if the two factions capable of stopping it would set aside their squabbles for even a fraction of a moment.

But she did raise an eyebrow before he finished his thought. And before she could ask, the archeologist once again unearthed history. Her mouth popped, but she pulled the only decorated ball on her sling off. The Hisuian one didn’t count– she hadn’t drawn on it like this one. It only had an ‘M’ and countless scratches.

“Well… your fun– whatever,” she clicked the button. White flashed, a shape emerged, and–

“Woah!” June hastily threw herself in front of Howard. Again. Except this time, the threat was much more personal about it. Matchstick’s beak barely grazed his nose before the physical body of her trainer stopped her. Several loud ‘caws’ filled the small space. Violet rolled its eyes.

“Back girl, back,” she pushed hard. Even her tired bones were enough to get Matchstick back and away from her enemy. Or she loved June enough to listen to her, even if every cell in her avian body wanted to tear him to ribbons. Set him ablaze and hear his death cries. “Not right now, please.”

Something akin to a grumble escaped her beak, but her wings closed. For now. “Alright, cool, you letting your Clawitzer out for a one-on-one brawl, or?”

Violet stared intently at Howard, saddled with a curiously amused gaze. As if it wanted to see what they did. 

---

howard slayte