The fleet of ships within the crater remind her of home. All the ropes and planks linking them together, as foes and friends alike bound them and crossing them like great bridges. Pacifidlog was likely a dozen Leagues away, if that, and she could see hints of its design in the makeshift construction, haphazard as it was. All they lacked was the great reef beneath, giving the sea a pink color almost like fresh blood.

No, it was entirely blue here. Dark and cold. She took comfort in that. The open sea was death as much as it was life, and she could see both spread out in front of her as she rode her ship at the front of the defensive charge, straight at the league's center of command.

It was a suicide charge, she knew. Just like Cillian Quinn's order to kill Navy had been. She was expendable in their eyes. She saw that as an asset, in some small sense. They expected nothing of her yet, which meant all she needed to do to prove herself was come back alive. Easy enough -- she had no intention of expending herself here.

Battle had come to them. A few months after finally sticking herself to the great belly of Rocket like a remoraid, and she'd already glimpsed the assault of their great stronghold. It was her famous luck. For better or worse, she always managed to find a great fight.

And find one she did.

"Y'see that?" She placed one foot on the edge of her ship, looking out over the water. "Looks like the brass are here already." Her empoleon, ever at-the-ready, focused his sights on where she was looking and gave a curt nod. Amid the mist rolling in, they both glimpsed the unmistakable bubblegum-pink hair of the League's top champion. There was no hiding that color, chosen to be ostentatious as possible.

As the curtain of mist obscured Melody Miro, Hana slipped off the edge of the ship into the water, her Empoleon raising her among the waves as it danced across them like a speed boat. Her sea legs had never left her, much like how ordinary children never forgot how to ride a bike. Ducking between wreckage and sharp boulders, they leapt out of the sea and vaulted upward, while Hana drew another ball from her hip.

"Yo, Champ! Think fast!"

Her excadrill burst from its ball in an explosion of white light, using the shine of its own appearance to disguise a metal claw aimed square at Melody. With any luck, she'd have her head right here and now!

PURCHASING/REDEEMING

welcome to the poké mart!

1X Mega Accessory (Mega Magatama) (500 PD)
1X Mega Stone (Scizorite) (Free w/ Purchase)
1X EVENT Mega Stone (Melmetalite) (Redeeming from Excursions)

TOTAL

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She eyes the puddle of mercury. A body made of living metal, fluid as water but still alive. A departure from all sense. The small eye glances up at her, nervous. She could almost think it was cowering the way it shakes, though she can't tell if that's just its way of trying to keep its shape. It feels on the verge of melting away entirely, leaving just a golden nut behind.

"Kill it, huh?"

She doesn't see how to make it bleed. Usually, that was how things died. But she'd fought enough strange pokemon, she doesn't count it out as a possibility just because the thing is made of inorganic material.

She draws her blade, and in a flash like lightning, her sword lunges directly for the center of the nut, where the black eye peers back at her.

Kill it.

Then they could move on from this tedium.

She is wreathed in the burning blue of ideals. Every atom in her body screams as if they are falling apart. She opens her mouth to cry out, but no noise comes out. All she can hear is a constant drone, the buzzing of an engine as the hadron accelerator in its tail screams to life.

And then, there is nothing but black.

She wakes with a start. The droning, it fills her with dread. She furrows her brow, and recognizes it suddenly as the submarine's engine a floor away. She pushes herself up, suddenly dizzy.

"... Just a dream," she responds. "Can do whatever you want in a dream."

She holds her head. The ache grows worse the more she moves.

"But a dream's just a dream. Don't worry 'bout it."

The mangled throat of the dragon, glowing blue as a star, still burns bright in her vision when she closes her eyes.

Black blood falls freely onto the stone below. It sizzles, turns rock molten, burns away everything in its path. The ichor flows and erases, as the embodiment of ideals should, to make way for that-which-should-be.

Hana leaps into the air, swords singing as the cut through the sky. The maimed throat of the dragon is a shower of sparks, and black blood, and glistening, wet flesh. She longs to sever it completely, to abort the desolate world it longs to bring forth.

"FUCK, your mug's ugly as SIN!"

Blue sparks give way to a wicked, blue lightning bolt. A rattling cry that reached down to her bones. She looses her blades to contest it, feeling her flesh begin to disintegrate.

The drake's lightning flickers off of the drill's claws. She emerges from her spin at the apex of her climb, raking claws against the air as the god pulls back. It opens its gigantic maw wide, blue energy congealing within its gullet.

"GO!! Spin down its throat if you have to!!"

Hana screams, her voice raw as she watches the pokemon tear at the sky.

Blue flames cover it like a veil, burning ire against that which is. They seek to unmake, to recreate in their image. All will be ash in their wake, destruction all that is left of the League's ambition. Their ideal world is dead. Those who oppose them will burn. And what is built in the ashes, that is below the drake's concern.

The flames cover the excadrill entirely, but she spins white-hot down its throat, rejecting all the ideals of a murderous prince.

A boundless azure sea meets the deep red of hell. She gazes straight into the eyes of the onyx giant, hair standing on end. She can feel the static energy in the air. It gives her the same feeling as the sheriff's cold steel gaze, cutting straight through her like a blade.

"Got it."

She takes a step.

--In that moment, a tremendous bolt of lightning is called down. Swords in her grasp meet it, swift enough to deflect it as if it were a sword fashioned from the god itself, a blade of heaven. She scarcely feels the pain ripple down her arms, into her chest, striking her heart...

She takes a breath, and she's back on the ground.

The portent of death come and gone, her kirlia's future sight gives her pause. Hand falls to her hip, and her Excadrill explodes from its ball as the bolt of lightning is summoned from the heavens. It spins like a drill, aimed straight at the god's heart.

It's the same sinking feeling she's become used to, these long, hard nights on this submarine. A feeling everyone seems to share in waking glances every morning, sleep-encrusted eyes filled with foreboding. There is a foulness in the air, a miasma that fills the unconscious mind, the feeling of drowning here beneath the sea...

She breathes in, desperate for air, and she chokes on the smoke. Eyes raise to the skies, filled with pillars of ash and flames. They obscure the gods that descend upon the city, the place where legends begin.

She spits, and her hands reach for her blades.

"Not like we've got a choice. Looks like it's them, or us."

She can see it on the far edge of the crater, flares of ice, fire, and lightning, as the League presses its agenda, its own form of 'diplomacy'. She has all she needs to negotiate right here in her hands. The swords buzz angrily, hungry for blood. They do not seem cowed by the dread in her chest.

"By all means, Inoue -- lead the way."

In response to his question, a shadowy morass congeals near his feet. A pile of debris clatters to the earth, and she steps from the dark onto the battlefield again. Broken glass crunched beneath her feet.

"It's Hana. And I ain't no lady."

She glares up at the giant drake. Its size is baffling, every flap of its wings sending down a gale that threatens to sweep them off their feet. Her swords tighten their grip on her wrists, and keep her steady as she stares it down.

"Damn Harbinger wanted me to slay a dragon... but I don't think this is what he had in mind."

The chill settles down to her bones. All the same, she can feel the sweat slick on the back of her neck. Memories of the three day war flash before her eyes.

Now they're giant... fuck...

Hana bows curtly, never losing her confident smile.

There's not a lot of honor in a wandering ronin, but at the very least, she's worth her word. She'll do as she promises. That, or die trying.

"Yep, you betcha! That we will!"

She grabs her katana on the way out. One at a time, til all five are at her hip. Then she salutes The Harbinger on her way out the door.

"Thanks for your time, Underboss!"

She makes her way straight to the exit of the submarine. There's a long trip to Dewford, no time to dally.

She ducks beneath the dragon's fury, a hair or two on her head singed with blue flames. The drake shrieks with pain and anger in equal amounts, turning its stinger downward toward the woman.

Hana raises her blades. They clash with a flurry of sparks, sending the swordswoman sliding back across the earth. She grits her teeth, pressing the attack.

"Why'd'you think I'm here?"

She huffs, shunting her blades forward. The closer the stinger comes to piercing her skin, the more intense she becomes.

"HAH! That's... why Harbie sent me, to KILL the sheriff of this PODUNK town!!"

He must've known that wasn't as easy as it seemed. The thought pisses her off a little, but the thought he'd find her fit enough to fulfill that challenge or die trying for some reason makes her respect the underboss that much more. She channels that rage into a fury cutter -- one, two, three successive strikes that push the advance, putting the Naganadel's back to Hitoshi.

The weight of the swords on her hip make her feel at ease, in a way she never could be in that cell. The sheriff had defanged her when she'd surrendered them, and only now does she feel herself again. As she's hit by the cold night air she takes a deep breath, feeling it deep in her chest.

Freedom.

"I do," she answers, to Inoue's incredulous question.

It was a sacred rite for a samurai to drink a saucer full of sake before he rode into battle. Liquor was an offering to the gods. Something that elevated one closer to them in the heat of battle. A prayer, for the divine winds to blow in their favor.

"Pretty sure that deputy swiped mine. Saw an empty bottle just like it under his desk."

She'll have his blood for that. Maybe not tonight, but she will. Of that, she's sure.

She follows, takes the sake happily. One saucer, then two. She's almost about to refute his words - there's no such thing as 'too much' -- when the ceiling is torn off and a canvas of stars is exposed above them. She leaps to her feet and draws her doublade without the slightest bit of hesitation.

A flying leap across the table, running along the backs of chairs, and she cuts at the beast with an aerial ace. There's nothing in her mind but the sound of her heartbeat and the icy chill in her lungs. She remembers this feeling of dread, unmistakable. She'd felt it the last time these beasts roamed the streets of Hoenn.

The god-slayer cuts the mundane, and Hana steps aside.

"Damn, that thing's sharp!"

She sounds almost cheerful as she watches the bars that once contained her clatter to the floor. They're thicker than her arms, clearly crafted for containing more than human strength. If all you meant to keep was humans in a cage, you would've settled for less.

But this sheriff, he knows that people won't stop using pokemon as tools. They'll do everything in their power for freedom, even take it from others.

"Guess I missed the opening act. What's the deal topside? Another raid? Thought Rocket took everything worth it in this dung heap last time 'round."

She swaggers to the stairs like she owns the place, eyes lingering on the Sheriff's desk for a moment as she passes. Maybe he's out there fighting even now. How she'd love to see the look on his face when she shows up all fresh, while he's beaten down by a battle defending his town and his people. The kindling of a fire reflected on steel...

"Well, night's not gettin' any younger... yo, Inoue, got any sake, by chance?"

She follows the dog, wild look on her face. She can already smell the blood. All she needs now is a sword in her hand, and alcohol in her stomach.