“Oh. Goodie.”

Cover their retreat? Let his people die? There was a strange, hidden hypocrisy to this that sent June up the wall. To cover their retreat required the threat or acting upon action. Said actions were likely violent.

She’d stopped him to save dozens– yet their lives would still be lost. Her identity, precious and unknown, potentially offered to Freya on a silver platter– just for nothing?

“Y’know, I know my paychecks might as well have a body count tied to them in invisible ink,” her head hit the wall softly, to better ground her. “But I’d appreciate it if they didn’t also have a bloody hand print on them.”

Maybe she was reaching, but maybe she wasn’t reaching enough. But she’d rather be comedically wrong than ignorant of the truth. “We both know what’s gonna happen. To save the people you prefer, you’re likely gonna have to kill a few League people. And if you don’t, those who you save will.”

She hadn’t wanted to be directly on the front lines. Let her deliver silly things, fetch dangerous weapons, do the busy work theoretically anyone else could do. Let her get the miserable four hours of sleep she capped out on and try not to feel like a horrible person. Not watch people die or hear screams of agony no matter where she went.

“Besides, you look worse than me,” she opened her eyes. Their mismatched colors met his. Dangerously so. They did not hold the usual bite she so often associated with the man. Yet they held something. “Do both of us a favor and stay here. You have an excuse, I can give an alibi. Neither of us feel any shittier than we already do.”

---

howard slayte

June pulled her hand back at the slap, and rubbed it stubbornly as they explained the actual problem with the berries. Not ripe? That made… a lot more sense than it being rotten, honestly. Rotten berries tended to fall off the thing instead of still hanging there. Maybe her stomach was doing the acting for her.

That’s why it begged for her to eat the already described poisonous berries. She had to physically restrain herself before she attempted again. Matchstick eyed her very dangerously, too. That helped a lot more than her own impulse control.

“Please, yes, I’m starving,” she begged the… teen? Young adult? Person. “Literally anything. I’m begging you– I’ll eat dirt if you tell me its safe.”

Matchstick, meanwhile, finally lost her own self control. Her head lowered until she was eye-level with the curious insect. Yet she did not give the creature pecks. Carefully, with dangerous precision, her beak tore into the remnants of the web. Even as some stuck in her feathers, June was soon freed.

“Why don’t they have a sign or something? Seems pretty stupid to let people just grab whatever berries they want– I could’ve died!”

Wait, hold on a second. Did this mean she could sue for a shit load of money?

---

clover matamata

When was the last time Howard had genuinely laughed? June couldn’t remember. When was the last time she actually cared about him, before now? That, she couldn’t NOT remember. Her face heated up and turned red as beets. Stop it. He shot her out of the sky. Matchstick could’ve died. Just hate his guts and be done with it.

“Oh, n-no…” she stammered out. “Dated a couple of people, here and there. Nothing ever crazy serious. Was always…”

Why was she telling him this? It didn’t matter. It was wrong. He’d just revealed his secret pining for her. Arceus, this was awful. She was literally in his mindscape. Just let him gut himself on his feelings and pray it never came up after this.

“Shut up. It’s not important. Not relevant. W-what does your... fiancee, have to do with any of this? Did...”

Did something happen? But even she, for all her flaws, quick thoughts, and quicker words, knew better than to ask. Especially since it was obvious something happened. He wasn't in a relationship. Do not give off mixed signals.

---

howard slayte

June sat against the wall next to the stairs, eyes closed and deep in… nothing, really. Violet curled up in the corner, its bright cyan eyes a spotlight on the dismal bunker they rested in. Little more than the bare minimum made it the opposite of a highlight for either side. It was perfect to hide in.

Perfect to lament in. Why had she jumped in? It was not a hard question to answer, but it still begged for one all the same. One more satisfying, and less damning. Finally, she took off her own motorcycle helmet and set it between her knees.

“I… don’t think so,” she finally said. Had he heard what she said moments before she jumped off the head of freya morningstar ‘s Rayquaza? Fuck, had Freya heard it? “Physically, I’m not gonna die.”

It’d be easier if she did. Death wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Vulnerability ranked a lot higher on June’s list, personally, especially with him.

“I… I was worried for all the people still around, y’know? Especially after… after Sootopolis,” she confessed. In the moment, the desire had been to stop Regice from crushing innocents and Rayquaza from setting a catastrophic storm of some sort onto the route also. “And…”

Why did she say ‘and’? There was no more and to it. Hope he hadn’t heard her declaration and also didn’t fire her on the spot– she had gone directly against an initiative to siege Oldale. That sounded rather anti-Rocket.

---

howard slayte

Despite June’s constant begging, disagreement, and downright disapproval, Violet was not the same beast as Matchstick was. Matchstick could be reasoned with. Bargains are made and promises validated at a later time. She understood June much better, and was willing to set some desires aside for periods of time.

However, her ‘forced’ partnership did not hold nearly the same level of respect. That’s why the Boundless could only do her best to chase after the organic motorcycle as it sniffed the ground relentlessly. A few blades of grass disappeared within its maw for the ever-elusive search.

“I don’t know what you’re looking for, but it’s not here,” June sighed. Even with the very very mild ‘chill’ in the air, it did little to help the heat from her body. Sweat poured from her brow in the relentless chase, and she smelled a little gross by this point. It overpowered the grass and flowers.

“Can we just call it quits?”

“Mirai–”

Its head swiveled. June looked where it did, but saw nothing of interest. But since she was clearly in the wrong, Violet dashed off anyway.

“AND WHAT’S THE POINT OF THE WHEELS IF YOU DON’T USE THEM?!” June shouted as she continued her sprint. Just what the hell had it found this time? Better not be a person– or even worse, a person’s Pokemon. That’d be a nightmare to figure out.

---

Absinthe Blackwood

"I know you wouldn't have done the same for me, is all. I'm used to it."

Why did she tell her that? It didn't do anything. But it did feel a little good. Disgustingly so, like when an annoying kid fell clumsily in the dirt.

"Good luck." June finally pulled upon Talonflame's wings, off to... who knew? Somewhere not here.

---

Absinthe Blackwood

“I’m probably not,” June acknowledged. “But I’ll burn that bridge when I get there too. It’s all I can do.”

Unfortunately for the chemist, before she can truly escape the grasp of June Sleigh, she’d hear not the flap of wings but the call of a voice.

“And… Absinthe Blackwood?”

The future? Arceus, forget the future.

“You remind me of someone I’m close with,” June crossed her arms. “You two would hit it off well– if he swung for a team, anyway.”

Grigori Sokolov would know exactly what to say here. How to make her feel better, or at least not as mentally unstable. He had a way with that. Unfortunately, he wasn’t here but she was. Probably the worst person to do this with. annalise henderson had only cemented that further.

“Look, if you don’t wanna keep going, then go and die. I’m gonna be the last person to stop you,” she said. “Cause yea, it fucking sucks being in the pit. No buts about that part.”

“I’m not gonna let them win,” she sighed and turned around. Very steadily, she clambered back onto Matchstick. How powerful she looked atop the bird. How strong. How much unlike Absinthe, despite their shared struggles. “The cops wanted me to rot in a corner. They want you to die in the street like a dog. Take them down with you, if you gotta, but do NOT let them win. If it helps, don't think about it like morals. It's just spite.”

“And the future might suck, but like….” a deep breath in, then out. “Like my… dad, always said. Tomorrow’s always a day away. When it causes a problem, I’ll deal with it when it happens. Until then?”

Might as well not exist.

---

Absinthe Blackwood

Soon enough, Matchstick finally stops her relentless flapping. A nice patch of grass is where they land, on the cusp betwixt open space and dense trees. Not enough to stop her way forward, but enough to make her feel restrained. She’d be fine if only she broke her neck. Absinthe or Matchstick?

She’d never forgive herself.

“Not sure what you mean,” June said curtly. She helped Absinthe off carefully, yet let her be as soon as she dismounted. Matchstick only gave her a careful glance before she turned her gaze elsewhere. She wasn’t a threat, or at least one June couldn’t handle. No need to keep watch.

“Do you mean stop looking out for one another, or we just kill everyone we hate? Cause I’m gonna keep doing what nobody wants to, and I’m just a delivery girl. Not a killer. Snapping a few necks won't bring them back.”

---

Absinthe Blackwood

“Appreciate the thought, but no need to thank me,” June said. “Just doing what a person should be doing. Make sure you won’t get caught in the crossfire, and you should come out alive.”

Probably not unscathed. Never unscathed. Regardless of what happens, she’ll likely get some amount of flak or scrutiny. People like her or June would always get one final kick whenever possible. But if she lived, then that was good enough for June. Easy enough to put someone else's life at risk than her own.

Not that she wouldn’t, if the need arose. There were worse things than death– they both knew that well enough.

“I’ll just say some corrupt fuck threatened me with a bad time, and I have reason to believe they’re in some bad shit,” she offered. “Unless you got a better idea. Or wanna do it yourself.”

The call of sirens had all but disappeared at this point. She might not even need to escape into the trees. “You think they’ll put a warrant on our heads?”

---

Absinthe Blackwood

“If it helps, I’m not exactly doing this for you,” June said. She could be just as blunt as the chemist, given the opportunity. “Yea, you’ll reap the rewards, but I’d be offering the same thing to just about anyone– except maybe Rocket’s top brass.”

They could rot in hell for all she cared: they didn’t want to give the little guys any help. And while it took a certain level of apathy to even stomach Rocket’s clear abuse, it wasn’t like she was planning to stick around for long. She was but one person. Even avatars couldn’t carry the weight of the world.

It wasn’t like the world cared anyway.

“Like I said last time, I’d like to stick to delivering whatever to wherever you need it and not blood pacts,” she tugged the reins a little to the left, towards the distance foliage and trees. No way in hell they got chased there. Cars sucked and no one could navigate near death like she could.

“But also like last time, I said the cops and investigators told me to go fuck myself. I’m not about to let any of them walk free, even if it costs me everything.”

The innocent would have to distance themselves enough not to get caught in the hell-storm that was freya morningstar . And if they couldn’t, then tough shit. She wasn’t gonna lose sleep because someone wanted to be friends with a dick.

“‘Sides. I can be a real bitch too.”

---

Absinthe Blackwood

“Yea, like all the people that were biting at your heels to step in against a fucking bully?” June scoffed into the wind. They both knew that if she hadn’t, then no one would’ve. That’s how it worked, whether by bystander effect or plain disinterest or wanting to keep safe. “No one will, until it’s too late.”

If it did happen, it’d be when they bit off more than they could chew. They’d choke on their prey and finally take their last look at life at the ripe age of seventy. People like that were only stupid when they were old. When it didn’t matter as much anymore. What’s five years of life behind bars when you only got seven more to go?

“I’d protect you from him any day of the week anyway,” she said. Promised. “Or I’d get Freya to protect you– no questions asked. It’d be a week or two of lying low, maybe a month if you’re unlucky, and then you’re free of that fuck face.”

She was different from herself and annalise henderson in their grief. The ranger would let the world crush her beneath its tread if it meant she got to feel the warmth from it. June wouldn’t let the world touch her with a ten-foot pole, as it’d mean the struggle was worthless, and it was all for nothing.

But something told June that Absinthe was the type to let the wound fester, simmer, and boil beneath the surface until the world suffered for her pain. She’d gone to Rocket after all. And she fucked with dangerous chemicals. They probably didn’t heal the sick Yamper, that was for certain.

“Because if he ever starts going down, even if you’re not involved– he’s coming for your ass whether you like it or not,” she spit out. Another left and the edge of Slateport came into view. “I don’t need to be book smart like you to guess that. Might as well get a head start on it, so you don't get blindsided.”

---

Absinthe Blackwood

His…

“Fiancée?” The words left her dry mouth in a whisper. Pieces started to click together, and none of the assumptions or realizations were kind. Three of them right now, three in the past. Howard, a scholar, and a love interest. One that didn’t work out.

“Did… was she an archeologist too? Or just… here?” She looked to the side. Somehow, she found the confusing walls, with their strange carvings and incomprehensible meanings, infinitely more interesting than either of the living souls present.

“How far did you all get in here?”

---

howard slayte ameena abadi