Chương 100: Finale - The Storm

At 2: 59 PM FST (Ferrum Standard Time) a cyclone hit the coast of Techne City. The storm arrived with no warning, one week earlier than the previous record-holder for earliest Spring cyclone of the year, Cyclone Maribelle. It impacted the eastern sea-board of Ferrum two days before the spring-equinox, making it the only cyclone in recorded history to make landfall on the region's shores in the winter season. Officially, the storm was designated as Cyclone Nia.

Unofficially, it came to be known as Fione's Storm, named after a classic Ferrumite legend involving a great rainfall, called to save the region's first settlers. Legends say that when a people fleeing terrible tyranny lay parched and dying upon their great ark, the ocean saw fit to preserve them from their plight, at a grievous cost.

With the sacrifice of the settlers most precious and vulnerable, came salvation, and the storm conjured by the children of the sea saw those that remained safely to an untouched land, where they became one with the guardians already living there, and founded a region where all could be equal and free. In the days following the storm, some would call Cyclone Nia a freak meteorological anomaly. Others would claim it was those very same waters from the region's founding, come to save Ferrum's people again.

Either way, the hour leading up to it would be remembered for being just as impactful as the actual storm itself. Later, the FSBC and their affiliated would report on the events as follows: - At 2: 00 PM FST, a small group of human protesters assembled at Astatine Station, Techne's largest and most central commuting hub. It seemed too nice a day for the occasion. That's what Donna was going to tell her kids someday, if she ever had them. Spring was a mere two days away, and it was already in the air.

Most of the snow on the ground had melted, leaving room for fresh buds to start springing up from beneath the cold-cracked concrete. A gentle breeze ran between the towering skyscrapers, tickling the sun-yellow tansy's growing from the living wreath she'd woven into her hair this morning. The grinding of metal caught her attention, and she turned to her oldest partner, resting a reassuring hand on Grinder's shifting carapace.

"Don't worry old friend," she whispered to him, "they're coming." And they'd better be, considering how ragged the ranger sergeant had run herself over the past sixteen hours getting damning evidence in the right hands. She knew dark circles hung heavy beneath her slate-gray eyes, and her eighth cup of coffee was only barely keeping her standing after her marathon across the city.

But it'd be damn well worth it, if today brought her even halfway towards rectifying the utter clusterfuck she'd unwittingly been a part of. Thoughts of the video she'd seen a dozen times since last night brought back the rage, thrumming to the front of her mind like an insect that refused to be ignored. The white-hot feeling burned just as fresh as if she were viewing the evidence for the first time, and that passion had turned her cross-city journey from a slog into a privilege.

"Steelica," a voice broke Donna from her reverie, and she turned to see Francesca, the firefighter approaching with her hulking Seismitoad trailing just a few steps behind him.

"Or, I guess just Donna right now?"

"Until the masks go on," Donna nodded.

"Thanks for coming."

"Wouldn't have missed it," the underleader growled, the sound of ocean wavers roiling off the enraged woman.

"And it's not just me, I brought some friends." And sure enough, a half-dozen others trailed after the Water-specialist, underleague-hardened battlers all. They trickled in behind Francesca, accompanied only by a single Pokémon each, for now. And to a one, they had hands in pockets or nestled in bags, closed around familiar masks and hoods, waiting for the right moment. And then Maurice arrived with his stupid aviators, and another five experienced trainers. And then Prawn atop her stubborn Mudsdale.

Gill with his Infernape. Regi'quang with his Appletun. And suddenly, Donna was surrounded by five of Techne's seven underleaders, and nearly forty powerful, angry combatants, all with at least three balls on their belts. And somehow, they were just the start.

- At 2: 01 PM FST, according to insiders at the RealTech Corporation, an unnamed individual reached out to company leadership with several demands, and threatened to release harmful information to the company's image were said demands not met within thirty minutes.

"I really think we need to take this seriously," Lenora told her superior officer, doing her best to keep the sweat off her brow.

"I know the threat sounds ridiculous, but that Fione girl is dangerous."

"Now you listen to me," Morgan scoffed, her partner giving her the stink-eye as he petted his chittering Whirlipede.

"I told you that girl was trouble."

"Well I should have listened to you, Morgan," Lenora growled out, though secretly she was grateful for the man's unwitting support.

"My bad on that one, let's not make my mistake worse by ignoring her again."

"Look, RealTech's not folding to what she wants. I'll put our squad on standby so they're ready to move, but corporate's not changing their minds on this Crall," the lieutenant shook his head.

"And I mean, come on. How much damage could one kid even do?"

"She's the one who blew up Dyspros Street," Morgan replied flatly as, internally, Lenora cheered him on.

"Oh…" the lieutenant's eyes widened, his eyes flicking in recollection.

"That's… alright. Maybe we could stand to take this a little more seriously. I'll try to kick things up the chain."

"That's all I ask sir," Lenora nodded, "just that when the time comes," she nodded around at the bustling BattleTech compound, "we're ready to get out of here." - At 2: 08 PM FST, a multi-Pokémon and vehicle pile-up occurred involving a herd of Skiddo and a dozen or so cars. The resulting gridlock impeded traffic in the city-center for the next forty-five minutes.

"Watch where you're going, dammit!" the annoyed driver honked his horn, causing the herd to startle and jerk. Personally, Philip thought his Skiddo made for rather poor actors, but most people weren't nearly as acquainted with their body language as he was.

"Stop honking at the poor dears, and we'll get them out of the way!" he shouted back at the irritated commuters, before turning back to Pauline and winking. He could make an educated guess about why Donna needed he and his parked here, gumming up this particular street, but the less he knew about her plans the better, really. The former ranger just hoped that his contribution was enough for whatever their youngest former comrade had planned.

"Skid, skiddo," a resolute voice caught his attention, and he glanced over, finding one particular Skiddo at the edge of the herd, her eyes set on the horizon. The cacophony of annoyed drivers and bleating Grass-types did nothing to distract her, for she had eyes only for a skyscraper, towering in the distance. One covered in screens and antennae.

"You want to go, don't you girl," he muttered to her as he walked over.

"It'll be dangerous, you know." The clever Skiddo gave him side-eye the way only a herbivore could.

"Skisksidoo."

"If you're looking for someone to stop you, you're talking to the wrong man," Philip told her with a gentle smile.

"I'd rather you don't go haring off into danger– but it's not my decision Clover. The choice is yours, just as it always has been. Will you go to her?" The Grass-type looked down, worked her jaw twice, and then stared back up, her face set.

"Skiddo," she bahhed at him.

"Then go, and don't regret it," he told her.

"Tell the girl we said hi, and tell her– tell her I hope she finds whatever it is she's looking for," he nodded, as the Ride Pokémon turned away, before something else came to him.

"Oh, and good luck. That goes for both of you. Never let them catch you." The errant Skiddo nodded once to him, and once to the herd. She got a few saluted vines sent her way for the trouble, and then she was off, bounding through the shocked commuters at a breakneck pace, her gaze fixed only on the gleaming tower. - At 2: 10 PM FST, a large number of Pokémon joined the human protesters at Astatine Station.

It remains unclear at this time how many among the initial group were legal citizens, and how many were wild denizens of districts five, nine, and fifteen.

"Brought some reinforcements," Wilson told Donna as he walked into the bustling concourse. The station was filled with milling people, and in moments, it was swelling to burst, as nearly a hundred Pokémon forced their way into the building. Flying-types careened in through open windows, while their ground-bound fellows settled for doors, or for digging through the venerable building's ancient foundation. Normally, Wilson would have minded the damage, but just for today, he could excuse a little bit of chaos.

There was far more madness he planned to play parlay to before the afternoon was done.

"Some," Donna asked sarcastically, as their surroundings went from crowded to catastrophic.

"What'd you say to them to get them all here?"

"Same as you," Wilson explained.

"The Truth. Now are we ready to get this shindig started?"

"Thought you'd never ask," the green-haired ranger asked with a savage grin that mirrored his own feelings. Cries of alarm and surprise began filling the station as more and more Pokémon flowed in, or appeared next to their trainer. Donna's release got the most commotion of all, her massive Copperajah swelling to fill the concourse. The steel-clad titan took a ponderous step, and his bulk cracked the stone tiles set in the station's floor.

Wilson's former coworker leapt astride her partner, and Mitt's trumpeting call heralded their advance, the agreed-upon signal prompting everyone to release the rest of their teams and don their masks. Wilson joined the mass, sending out his Pokémon and fitting an old Cyclizar-riding helmet atop his head. He hadn't worn the thing in decades. Not since his younger years, banging around district fifteen with his herd. It felt more than appropriate for today.

- At 2: 13 PM FST, the protesters began marching from the station into the city-center. Donna's stomping Copperajah set the rhythm for their march, a crushing tattoo to which they could time their advance. Chants tore out from the demonstrators, disorderly at first, but quickly gaining cohesion as the mob's mentality conjoined.

"Justice for Mark! Justice for Gaoul! Justice for Bewear!" And two-dozen other names, evoked in unerring sequence. Every few minutes, another name, another victim would join the chant, conjured by mentions of some fresh injustice. The protestors flowed through the streets like a living organism, swallowing and absorbing nearby passerby, attracting attention and notoriety in equal measure.

Small groups of outriders moved in advance of the main horde, explaining what was going on, clearing the comfortable and recruiting the disturbed. Additional malcontents filtered in as news of the demonstration spread, and with each new face, each new story, another name joined the tally. A damning list of a region's failures, finally come home to roost. - At 2: 15 PM FST, city-security precinct one dispatched officers to disperse the protesters.

"Move people, move! How the hell did this pop up out of nowhere!" The precinct was swarming with activity as dozens of calls overwhelmed their networks, all about the ongoing protest storming through Techne's streets.

"This whole damn region is kindling," someone muttered.

"Surprised it took this long for someone to take a match to it." - At 2: 19 PM FST, the protesters, their numbers having continued to increase in the interim, surrounded RealTech's Corporate headquarters, located just off of Techne's historic Cadmium Square.

"What do we want!" Francesca shouted, her mega-phone assisted voice echoing over the swelling crowd.

"Justice!" the assemblage howled in response. They'd filled the square, and blockaded the main entrance to RealTech's headquarters with bodies. The firefighter had taken lead of the chants, her naturally-loud voice perfect for riling up the crowd. There was still a bit of confusion amongst the people they'd picked up along the way, but the spirit was infectious, and you couldn't throw Stone Edge in Ferrum right now without hitting someone who wasn't happy with the status quo.

They just had to keep people interested and engaged just a little bit longer. And then, if everything went to plan, the real show would begin. - At 2: 21 PM FST, six squads of five officers each arrived at Cadmium Square to manage and defuse the ongoing situation. All on-site personnel refused to engage the protesters in what one officer on the scene described as, "Suicide by way of pissed-off citizen."

"Sir, we're going to need some backup," one of the officers muttered as the security squads stared at the erupting protest.

"I mean– shit sarge."

"Don't worry, no one goes into that insanity until we've got more hands on deck. Call it in." - At 2: 25 PM FST, an individual tentatively identified as Fione Alvida broke into the FSBC's primary broadcasting station through the building's top floor, two kilometers away from the ongoing protest." Incoming!" The shout was loud enough that it resounded through the entire studio, causing everyone inside to look up at the windows.

Only to realize that the warning had come from outside said windows, provided by the rapidly approaching figure clinging close to a sparkling school of effervescent, piscine forms. The fractal leviathan plowed into the FSBC broadcasting tower's reinforced windows, and went through them like a stone through a pond. Just– with a lot more broken glass involved.

- At 2: 26 PM FST, city-security was notified about the break-in at the broadcasting station, and dispatched officers to arrest the perpetrator, who already had an active warrant for several acts of vandalism, public disruption, and resisting arrest.

"She's locked everyone out of the studio," one of the staff members spoke breathlessly into her personal PokéGear.

"It's the girl you guys are looking for, I swear! I saw the pictures you sent out! She's right here, at the Broadcast Tower!"

"Stay where you are ma'am," a calm voice responded over the phone, "help is one the way." - At 2: 27 PM FST, additional support was requested by on-site personnel to disperse the protesters in Cadmium Square. Several nearby precincts and security sub-contractors responded to the call.

"I don't care that you're after a wanted terrorist!" the sergeant shouted into his radio.

"We need more help here! There's a fucking revolution or some shit happening in Cadmium Square right now, and we need every fucking officer on this side of Ferrum to get here yesterday!"

"Sir," one of his subordinates shook his shoulder.

"I'm busy Guardiansdammit!" he told the other man.

"Sir, you need to see this." Something in the tone of the younger man's voice made him look up. And then he saw her. They all saw her. - At 2: 30 PM FST, Fione Alvida hijacked FSBC's primary broadcasting apparatus with the assistance of an illegally-created Porygon and overrode all ongoing FSBC programs with a live feed of herself, standing in front of several shattered windows and an unbroken view of the Techne skyline. Any television or screen broadcasting on an FSBC channel was compromised in the attack.

Early estimates put this somewhere in the range of nine millions units across all of Ferrum. Importantly, this includes several large screens and their accompanying speakers in Cadmium Square. The girl on the screen was battered and scarred. There were no other words for it. Her plain yellow sundress left no room to hide the tapestry of abuse scattered across her body. Small white lines and little, puckering scars decorated her arms, standing out against her dark skin like whitecaps on a stormy sea.

One of those arms was swathed in bandages, the white linens half-stained with crimson ichor, and a pale sling held the injured limb close to her chest. A single, soulful brown eye peered into the camera, staring out from beneath a huge, floppy wicker-hat. The limp haberdashery covered most of the girl's brown hair, with the exception of a pair of sagging Spoink-tails, peaking out from between the beige folds.

The other eye was concealed, a square bandage affixed over it, bloodstains and tearstains soaking into the absorbent cotton in equal measure. Twin gems, sparkling in the studio lights, adorned her ears. They glittered like pyrite, juvenile, faux-gemstone studs, the sort any girl gets when she first pierces her ears. Yellowing bruises painted the teen's exposed shoulders in sickening saffron shades, except for a small strip of blanched skin, peaking out from underneath the strap of a well-worn satchel.

A child, in other words. Like you could find in a million homes and a thousand battling-fields and hundred schools in Ferrum's second-largest city. Just a girl, plastered on almost every single screen in the region. She took a breath, and then, she spoke." My name is Fione, and what I'm about to tell you is the truth." Her voice was high. The treble tones of a child whose voice had yet to change. A voice you could usually ignore in favor of age and experience.

Except, that same childish trill was now impossibly arresting, incongruently engaging for its unexpectedness, audible through a million speakers across Ferrum in unexplainable, inexplicable clarity." Ferrum, our home, stands on a precipice." The girl gestured behind her, beckoning to unseen millions living their lives out in the skyline behind her. Beckoning for watching millions to bear witness."

Private organizations and unregulated security companies patrol our streets with weapons made for war," her words were punctured by flashing images flowing across the screen, of black-clad men and women in intimidating armor, rendered faceless by the glowing armaments worn on their heads." Supposedly for our 'safety,' but how much safer are they making things, really?" the girl's tone was bitter, and cold." Their artifice is so plain, so blindingly obvious, a child," she gestured down at herself, " can see it."

She let the statement sit, fermenting in the air like a rotted carcass. The girl's lip curled, as if she could smell the filth of it. The stinking lie fed down a region's throat." Soldiers who have known only war cannot return to their home bearing peace. Restriction? Maybe. Control? Definitely. Peace? Never."

More images in miniature in one corner of the screen; armored officers arresting citizens, newspaper clippings and online articles and evidence of brutality and mistreatment flowing across the screen at the behest of some unseen hand." So why are they here? Back in Ferrum?

"the girl sighed, and her features pulled into an unhappy grimace." Because you can't have a war without soldiers. And it is a war, make no mistake. A war for the soul of our region." Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. The girl disappeared once more, and in her place appeared technical schematics, for a helmet-like device that nearly everyone in Ferrum was well-familiar with by now." And this is their weapon of choice. The PSS.

"she paused, and then levered an enormous sigh." What a terrible name, almost as if it were chosen to make you laugh." The girl's tone hardened, and anger suffused her voice." But its capabilities are no laughing matter," the emotion choking her words caused her voice to crack, and it dropped a half-octave for a moment before climbing back up." The ability to synergize wherever you want, whenever you want. In some ways, it sounds like a dream come true!"

The girl, unseen behind the schematics, had been gathering steam, but here she paused." It sounds like a dream. In truth, this machine is a nightmare. And this is the reason,"the blueprint rotated, the image spinning in place for a moment before the virtual camera fixed, and zoomed in on one particular part of the device." Do you see that?

"she asked, as the view settled on a small, crystalline lattice." That is an artificial synergy stone. Patented and created in RealTech's labs. Like any naturally-created stone, really, except for two crucial differences." The image slowly dissolved, to reveal a close-up view from the same camera, focused on a small, incandescent crystal clutched in one dark-skinned hand." First, they're fragile. Purposely so. They don't handle being filled and drained with energy very well. A known, and planned, flaw."

The camera zoomed out, revealing the girl's upper body. She quickly demonstrated what she meant, holding up the small synergy stone on her palm to the camera's inspection, and pressing down on it in the middle with her thumb. It took merely a second of pressure before a small, but definite crack ran through the glowing crystal.

Two seconds, and the entire thing shattered, leaving the girl holding two still-luminous shards in her hand." When they break, you end up with two stones. Not necessarily a problem, except for that other crucial difference. With artificial synergy stones, as they get smaller, and older, it gets easier to do this." The girl's eye darkened, and her expression grew wroth. A sickly, pulsating light began to emanate from the stones in her hand, their prismatic glow giving way to a malefic orange.

The stones pulsed, and for a single, grotesque moment, they swelled, like an overripe fruit, fit to bursting. And then, the stones exploded, erupting across the girl's arm like spires from a Rock Tomb emerging from the earth. The pustulant ochre shards grew to cover her entire forearm, butting up against her bent elbow, and the teenager's exposed eye began glowing, orange light flecking in at the edges of her iris.

The audio cut, and yet, somehow, the girl's wordless howl was still audible through millions of screens. Her arm began shaking, the crystals on it visibly vibrating as their pulsing glow grew erratic, almost as if the minerals were somehow alarmed. And then, with a roar that could be felt through an inaudible screen, the girl straightened her bent arm, and the clinging crystals exploded off her skin, scattering to dust and fragments in a glittering spray that left pinprick shards scattered across the studio floor.

The girl took several deep, gasping breaths, and then shook out her newly-freed arm, ignoring the way it was now covered in puckered, bleeding wounds. Flecks of blood spewed from the shorn skin, only to vanish in midair, wicked away by some unseen assistant." Know that what I am about to say is the truth,"the girl said, and the croaking hoarseness of her voice did nothing to take away from the bone-deep certainty her tone inspired."

Were I anyone else in Ferrum, that"she gestured down at her weeping limb," would have killed me. And then, whatever was left of the shell that remained would have consumed everything in this building." The words were spoken with such cold, unrelenting surety, that to dispute them would have seemed nearly as mad as whatever the girl had just done."

I won't explain further, except to tell you that the same has happened a dozen times already in the region, and will happen hundreds and thousands of times more if we continue to use these devices with abandon. Every single PSS and BfG can cause this. Each one is a ticking time bomb, counting down until inevitable disaster. Each. And. Every. Single. One." The unseen operator punctuated each word with photos of PSS-wearing personnel, standing menacingly on street-corners all over Ferrum."

Problem and solution, all assembled together in one neat little package. Pay to replace your stone periodically, or don't, and provide plenty of incentive for everyone else to make sure their knives are sharp and ready. A real coup for RealTech, who created these devices, and sold them to all of us, while being well aware of their flaws," the girl sighed, and her voice was a rough whisper by this point, audible only because every speaker from which she spoke was turned to its maximum."

So now you know the sides, and the weapons. You know the dangers, and what's at stake. All that's left is one question, Ferrum. Are you ready to act?" - At 2: 31 PM FST, a single squad of security personnel from BattleTech arrived at FSBC's broadcasting station and began ascending the building's stairs, bypassing the tower's disabled elevators. They were met with stiff resistance from a number of Pokémon and several unidentified human individuals who fled in the ensuing chaos.

Identified Pokémon include a Pikachu, a Burst-Beedrill, a Machoke, a Falinks, a Klang, a Maushold, and a Skiddo.

"Fafalinks!" Lance cried, directing his little piece of the garrison. Fe's partners had split into two teams. Lance got Percy, Bers, and Klang while Tristan had taken Galad and Kay, along with Rai, Sui, and Tei. Mana couldn't be spared, instrumental as she was in their trainer's demonstration, and as a last line of defense for any flying infiltrators.

For the ground-bound, there were only two stairwells in the FSBC broadcasting building, and Fe's Pokémon needed to make sure that city-security had to fight for every single step in both of them. Ten minutes. All they had to do was hold out for ten minutes. And it was so, so hard. Their trainer needed everything she had, all her presence, all her power, so she could sway a nation. And her team had never been so painfully, desperately alone.

Moves exploded around the enclosed space, shattering railings and crushing pitted concrete. The utilitarian, unpainted stairwells were degenerating from industrial causeways to war-torn battlefields.

Every flight, the three Falinks in each stairwell would engage in a brief, but desperate melee, trading blows with whatever PSS-empowered Pokémon was in the lead, before falling back, retreating under the cover of their comrades, a barrage of explosive mauses or a bolt of thundering electricity giving them the time they needed to scramble up another dozen stairs. But the rate at which they were ceding floors was unsustainable.

They'd only made it through six minutes, and already they were only five floors from the top. And then, the cavalry arrived. Quite literally in Alyssa's case, considering she thundered in atop Clover the Skiddo, with Pikachu riding on her shoulders, all three bleating a savage warcry in tandem. Their assault pushed one member of the two-human squad and her partner through an open doorway, spilling the fight into the building proper, and leaving Lance with a much more even fight on his hands.

Unknown to him, on the other side of the building, Gretchen and Bert were doing the same. Fierce the Beedrill, burst-enhanced and aglow, jetted up like a rocket through the stairs, both Crall siblings clinging desperately to his armored abdomen. They reached the ongoing battle just two floors away from Fe's broadcast, picking one fight each with two of the three officers trying to ascend, leaving Tristan's group to handle the last remaining man and his accompanying partner. Just four minutes to go.

Exactly the length of three full rounds of Ferrum battling. - At 2: 32 PM FST, an unidentified individual broke into BattleTech's corporate compound for unknown reasons. The perpetrator remains at-large, and city-security are seeking any leads into the mysterious criminal's identity.

"Pern Alvida," the besuited Unovan spoke to Pern, somehow invisible and inaudible to the guard standing right outside his cell.

"That's… me," he said uncertainly, rolling upright with a groan. He had a few bruises from the rough treatment he'd received thus far, but he knew the worst was yet to come. Was this odd foreigner somehow part of it?

"Oh, good," the man's accented Galarian dripped with relief.

"I was worried she'd gotten it wrong. Your daughter sent me to rescue you." Pern felt his eyebrows climbing up into his hairline.

"Fee did? She– sent you?"

"And did a lot more besides," the man grumbled.

"Your daughter is up to quite the bit of mischief. Here, let me get you out of here, and I can start to fill you in." - At 2: 38 PM FST, Fione Alvida concluded her presentation, and disappeared from the FSBC station.

"They're escaping!" one of the officers shouted, rather unhelpfully, considering the whole half-squad could see their battered opponents inexplicably fleeing the battle.

"Doesn't matter," the sergeant growled, "the teams following us will catch them. We need to shut down that broadcast. Come on!" He led the charge up the remaining flight of stairs, arriving just as the other three members of his team and their partners got there from the other side. Something tingled in the officer's brain. The timing was too neat. Almost as if they'd all been allowed to get there at the same time. With a shout to "get down on your knees!"

the sergeant sent his partner bursting through the door to the broadcast studio. A whipping draft blew past him, originaling from the shattered windows. The miniature gale scattered gleaming shards and flecks of salty water across the carpeted studio floor. Their target, the girl, turned away from the window to look at them. Somehow, her gaze arrested all ten of them, every single man, woman, and Pokémon locked in place by her orange-flecked eye.

And behind the squad, as they stumbled into the room, a single camera-Magnemite floated, Rubber coordinating wonderfully with the Pokémon for this production, after Klang had convinced them to help." They're here to silence me," the girl spoke, even as the Magnemite made sure to zoom in and highlight the BattleTech patches on the agents' armor." But I've already said everything I need to. Now it's your turn. Make sure they hear your voice! Tell them! We are Ferrum!

We might be beaten, we might be bruised, but we are not broken!" The girl's words broke the soldiers' out of their stupor.

"Get her!" howled the sergeant, and all five of their Pokémon charged forwards. The girl turned away from her assailants, strangely casual in her movements, in spite of the danger rapidly approaching. Her movement exposed her back fully to the camera for the first time, revealing in entirety the panoply of bruises framing her shoulders and upper back. They were even worse from behind, somehow. Tinges of distorted black swelling circulated amongst the magenta contusions.

Uneasy patterns of inexplicable damage, evidence that someone had struck this girl not just face-to-face, but also from behind. The camera-Magnemite zoomed after the racing Pokémon, tracking over the shoulder of the one in the rear, closing in on the teen at their same breakneck pace. And they were barely a meter away when their target took a single step forwards, leaving her only half inside the building. For a single breathless moment, one of the girl's feet hung over an eternity of empty space.

Time seemed to stretch, almost as if the moment were captured in slow-motion. She lurched, and then she leaned, and then the young girl pitched fully forwards, out the shattered window. The Magnemite zoomed past the girl's stunned pursuers as screams and shouts erupted from the humans behind them. They hummed with barely-restrained energy as they flew, trying desperately to keep the falling girl in the frame of their attached camera. They succeeded.

The camera-Magemite, and by proxy all of Ferrum, saw the girl's tumbling body turn in mid-air. A single orange-flecked eye stared up into the vast, uncaring sky, unblinking against the whipping winds. The girl's good hand kept hold of her floppy hat, in spite of the blood streaming from her shorn skin, and her expression was somehow serene, as the gales around her tore at her plain, yellow sundress.

And for years after-the-fact, though the footage was too grainy to say for sure, viewers would debate what last few words the girl had to share. It was impossible to hear in the footage, but those who swore they could read lips reported her final words as this: "Manafi, take us home." And then she was gone, dissipating into a spray of azure blue. The ocean, vast, and unknowable and, impossibly, for one single moment, yawning over the Techne skyline. And in the next, nothing but the empty skies.

- At 2: 39 PM FST, the first riot began. The voices hit Gill's ears with a physical weight. The oppressive anger of the mob had an unnatural mass to it, a supernatural pressure that stuck to his skin like oil. And sparks were pouring off him as well. Embers of rage reignited. He'd already gotten some of the story from Donna, he was out here after all, but seeing Artie's presentation had filled in the lines of the macabre painting he'd been catching only glimpses of.

And it had been Artie up there, of that he was sure. He hadn't seen most of the girl's face when they'd battled all those months ago, but there was no mistaking her voice. Nor her eyes. That same intense stare, even more electrifying than when they'd first fought. Then, the question in her gaze had been a challenge.

"Who are you to stand in my way?" The same was true today, but what they asked had changed.

"Why have you stayed silent for so long?" The crowd choking Cadmium Square was answering her with a roar, hundreds of voices roused in rage. At injustices done, and finally brought to light. People and Pokémon united, finally recognizing that they were on the same sides. That there were sides, and that the war that someone else had started, now needed ending. The crowd began marching, and Gill and his team joined them, their determination blending with the mob.

They burned, fire thrumming through their veins, and from the kindling, was born an inferno. - At 2: 41 PM FST, three city-security precincts decried RealTech's activities, and joined the rioters in their assault on the corporation's headquarters.

"She spoke only the truth!" Sigurn growled to his comrades, and knew in his heart that every Lucario on the force was telling everyone who would listen the same.

"Aurick, Menise, Crusher, Balken, North, every officer injured or killed in one of these shadow incidents, the blame lies not with the citizens who were unwittingly victimized by RealTech's madness, but with the company who gave them, gave all of us poison, in the guise of medicine."

"That mob is getting out of control, Detective," shouted one of the officers in his squad.

"It doesn't matter if they're right or not, they're about to do something unhinged." And the woman was right. He could smell the madness in the air. The righteous fury given target and direction. There was a certain justice in a mob. One of the oldest kinds. Buried deep beneath layers of civility and training and law, there was a part of Sigurn that could appreciate it. But he'd sworn an oath, to be better than his instincts, to uphold the law, to separate righteousness from savagery, and see real justice done.

"If we can't stop the tide, then we can at least get those in danger out of the way. Follow me!" Sigurn began marching, his fellow officers behind him.

"What are we going to do, sir?" One of them asked him as their squad began to pick up speed.

"What's right," he told them solemnly.

"Relay this to all squads. We're going into RealTech's headquarters, where we're going to apprehend every single employee on-site on suspicion of grand conspiracy. They'll be held in protective custody until further notice. Am I understood?!"

"Sir!" his officers acknowledged, all of them moving at a full sprint now. Pokémon joined them, appearing at their partner's sides, and desperate shouting filled the radios as Sigurn's call to action spread across the nearby squads like wildfire. The mob wheeled to face them at first, more than ready for confrontation, but they weren't prepared for the officers to charge past them, Sigurn slamming a Bone Club into a Poliwhirl's gut as his line made contact with RealTech's frantic defenders.

Half of his comrades turned, trying to stem the mob for as long as they could, and the rest pushed forwards, sprinting desperately into the building, to save as many as they could before the fires of the crowd consumed them. - At 2: 43 PM FST, the rioters broke into RealTech's corporate headquarters. Wide-spread destruction ensued, and several staff-members and security officers were injured in the ensuing conflicts.

Several important devices and physical records, however, were fortuitously spared from the destruction by several escaping RealTech employees. The preserved files would later be submitted as evidence to law enforcement, corroborating RealTech's many wrong-doings from the last decade.

"Found you Iana," the Hero spoke into a PokéGear someone was holding up for him in his pod back at Frontline's headquarters. He knew that his voice was coming out of the other end, from the device clutched in his coworker's hand.

"We can see you now, through the windows. Just hold tight, we'll be there in a second."

"Maybe pick up the pace a bit farmboy?" the woman's breathless voice tickled part of the Hero's mind, but his other half was no-nonsense, all action, which was very much appreciated right now considering the madness swirling about their unexpected rescue mission..

"We're moving, but we have to be careful. This place is a warzone." And that felt like an understatement! BattleTech officers wrestled with city-security and a horde of masked vigilantes in what was rapidly turning into a three-way clusterfuck. Everyone was throwing metaphorical hands with everyone, and it was a miracle that all the battles so far had only been between Pokémon. Less miraculous was the way everyone very carefully kept their distance from anyone wearing a PSS.

Each wielder was treated with deep suspicion, and massive radii formed around the helmeted security agents, with assailants from both attacking sides trying to subdue the BattleTech personnel at range, almost as if the men and women had bombs strapped to their skulls. Considering what the Hero had seen on the big screen out in the square, and his own experiences at Techne General, he could only respect their caution.

Unfortunately, more and more people were pushing their way into the building, and many of them weren't wearing the uniforms of city-security or the masks of the more organized protesters. Ferrum was descending into madness, and the rate at which the insanity was spreading was exponential. The Hero wasn't sure what it'd take to quell it, and it galled them that they couldn't do more to contain the chaos. But they had to accept their limits for now.

They'd save their colleague first, and then as many as they could after. - At 2: 45 PM FST, another riot broke out in district four.

"Down with RealTech! Down with the corporations!" Ordinary citizens and their partners were out on the street, shattering every PSS and BfG they could find. Great assemblages were forming around impromptu pits and fissures opened in the concrete by Ground and Rock-types. People would arrive carrying shattered devices bearing RealTech logos, and into the earth they would go. And the insanity was spreading.

Shattered windows littered the streets as vandals and opportunists took advantage of the chaos to break into storefronts and destroy corporate offices. Two more riots would break out in Techne in the coming quarter-hour, and one in Neos' City Center. At 2: 49 PM FST, Ranger Captain Oreck Scotts, Ranger Lieutenant Brenda Snow, and Ranger General Samona Kirk were each apprehended by their subordinates, caught in the midst of attempting to flee the region.

"Janine, you left! I know you did!" the ranger captain growled, his hands on the Poké Ball at his hip.

"Hayate has fast wings, and I wouldn't have missed this for the world," the Johtonian Ranger told her opponent, her smoke-damaged voice curling at the edges with disdain. The shadows around the woman writhed, as if they had a life of their own. They whipped and whirled, like the tendrils of some unseen monstrosity, twitching in time with her words.

"What happened Oreck? I thought you were better than this?"

"Better than what? It was just a bit of money, to stand out of the way of the changing tides. Why let it drown you when someone's willing to pay you to get out of the way?" the ranger captain demanded, venom leaking from his voice and his mouth as he released his Toxicroak in front of him.

"Because that's what it means to be a ranger," Janine told him, as Stella appeared next to her.

"If the ocean's coming, then you hold it back, even for just one more second."

"Fuck that! Get out of the way, Sergeant. We're leaving this sinking ship."

"You can try Oreck, you can try." - At 2: 58 PM FST, Chairwoman Ambergine Reynalds declared martial law in Techne, and activated all available public and private security personnel.

"Curfew begins exactly at 3: 00 PM, and everyone out on the streets past that will be arrested!" the chairwoman spoke into a camera she'd had wheeled into her office. She'd finally gotten the Disaster Response Network to respond to her requests for an emergency-takeover of all active television channels. They should have complied with her demands a half-hour ago, but she didn't have the power yet to push through that level of inter-departmental command with the speed she required.

Yet another thing to fix once they got this mess under control.

"City-security and their official contractors will be going door-to-door to confirm that you are in your home. Comply with all requirements and requests and you will not suffer any consequences. I say again, I am declaring martial law in–" A knocking behind her interrupted Ambergine, which should have been impossible, because to her rear was only a full panel of fifth-story windows.

She turned, and her breath caught in her throat as two feathery tendrils pried her office windows open, admitting the Guardian of the Sacred Lake, accompanied by his pale-haired partner, mounted astride the great beast's back.

"Chairwoman Reynalds," the Key's family head greeted her.

"I've come to accept your resignation. - And at 2: 59 PM FST, nine hours after sunrise, Cyclone Nia arrived. The ocean opened above the skies of Techne again, but this time, it was not for an instant. No, the skies wept for what ended up being hours. A cacophony of rain pounding the earth like a drum. Every building in Techne creaked and groaned under the crushing water, and then the wind picked up.

It flowed through the city's street and square like a tide, rain swept sideways until standing in it was akin to enduring a river. And somehow, the storm continued to spread, expanding to cover not just Techne, but Neos as well. All of Ferrum's southern sea-board ended up engulfed in the tempest, as the cyclone raged on-and-on-and-on. What could the fires of mortal rage do in the face of nature's might?

Everyone could only come together and endure, until, along with the setting of the sun, the crushing waters finally abated. And in their wake, the surface rot suffusing Ferrum was scoured clean. - More happened in the wake of the devastating storm. Rioters and security alike came together in harmony to weather the unseasonal catastrophe, and in the tumultuous aftermath, dozens of public officials and corporate leaders, including the chairwoman herself, resigned from their positions.

The Locke Organization, with the backing of eleven of the fourteen active dynasties, came forward with their own evidence of wrongdoing, implicating three among their number, and a handful of companies and corporations. Chairwoman Reynalds was seen being escorted from her office into security-custody by the active champion of the Ferrum League, Benyl Taksin.

Eyewitnesses at the scene claim that Suicune was sighted in the vicinity of the capital building, but a number of other sightings put the legend in at least three other locations at around the same time.

Several other business leaders and politicians attempted to flee the region via boat, but the storm ran most of them aground, and those that did outpace the cyclone were apprehended by the international police, who were conducting their own investigations into extremely dangerous contraband emerging from the region.

Ferrum wasn't a signatory to the international treaties giving that organization power, but no one in the region complained too much about the extra-judicial apprehensions once the escapees were turned back over to Techne and Neos security. Heroes rose. Brent Wilson and his partner Mask, Sigurn the Lucario detective, Ranger Captain Janina Egao, among many others. And villains were pulled violently into the light.

Ranger General Kirk, RealTech CEO Albrecht Price, key members of the Madaka, Largessi, and Trinite dynasties. But what of the girl who'd started the madness? The manhunt lasted weeks, and the whole while no decision could be reached about what was to be done when they found her. Commend her for exposing the largest criminal conspiracy the region had ever seen? Condemn her for her many crimes, chief-among them demonstrating something beyond forbidden, beyond taboo on live television?

In the end, the hypotheticals remained just that, because of Fione Alvida, no traces remained in Ferrum. Just an abandoned apartment, some distant relatives who had little to say of the girl, and some former classmates who spoke even less. In the coming days and months, many people would speculate whether the girl on the T. V. had even been a real person at all. Maybe she'd been a projection, a virtual illusion conjured by a rogue Porygon.

Perhaps she'd been an actress, created wholesale by the Locke Organization to build grassroots support for their housecleaning. Or maybe there was something deeper in play. Because it was lost on no one, that the girl had introduced herself as 'Fione.' Child of the sea. And into it she'd returned, before the eyes of a nation. One legend already walked the surface of Ferrum on live television. Perhaps, on that fateful winter day, another myth had come ashore, to save the people of Ferrum once again.

Just as they had more than a millennia ago. Or maybe. Just maybe. A girl named Fione Alvida really had existed on Ferrum's sands. And maybe her story wasn't quite over yet. -"Hi mom."

"It's so good to see you again."

"I've got some new friends with me here, and some old ones."

"You'll never believe the adventures we've had."

"Let me tell you about everything you've missed." - Fe and co. will return, in Book Two: Smelted Iron.