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Lumiose - Gotengo

Takamaru frowned as Sal ruffled his hair, a small blush creeping up across his cheeks and nose before getting his head back in the game and having Shuriken dive below the Torkal. Ready to catch Sal should she fall. As it turned out, she succeeded in her defacing of Bansky's shell, causing the crowd below to erupt into sheers and applause, TK joining in as well, grinning and enjoying the rush of victory for the second time that day.

As Sal and Bansky descended, TK and Shuriken would glide down to the ground so the silver haired trainer could dismount. "You flew fantastically, now would you please stop showing off?" The silver haired trainer complained with a fond smile, recalling Shuriken.

[Why? should the world not bask in my Regal-ness!] Shuriken exclaimed before he was recalled into his Pokeball.

A few of the crowed high-fived him and cheered at him, causing the Timid trainer to blush a shade of scarlet and duck his head in embarrassment. "T-Thanks, but i really didn't do much..." He mumbled along with a few other humbled words before being addressed by Sal.

TK faulted and sighed as Sal referred to him as 'Taco'

Although, that is a new one...

"N-no, that's not..My names not Taco..." TK explained, a bead of sweat falling down the side of his face in embarrassment. "Im Takamaru Takashi, but, if you want you can call me TK," he explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

Scratching the back of his head, again, embarrassed he explained, "I kinda er...got lost, im not used to such a big city you see." He purposely left out the fact that about his zero percent sense of direction.

"What is this place, its way different that the rest of the city..." He asked trailing off, looking around in detail at the Gotengo itself, taking note of the exterior and the giant tree in the center.

Lumios - Gotengo

"Go-ten-go.." TK mumbled to himself, tasting the word before smiling to himself. He liked it, the name seemed to fit the area. It was something TK could get behind, making something yours, taking something no one else wanted and giving it a purpose.

Sal's seemed to glow with pride as she showed off the Gotengo.

"Ahh, sure, i could go for something to drink" TK replied to her offer with a polite grin before following Sal 'Inside.'

"Wow, this is much better than the public space's over in Santalune..." The trainer commented as the made there way inside. "Most of the people in the region are so... unnecessarily uppity, i dont even know if that's the right phrasing for it." The area inside the tree wasn't as s**c and span, but the people who were present didn't seem to be judging people by their appearance or what they were wearing. Just generally having a good time. "B-but not you Sal, you and everyone here seem cool" The trainer quickly amended.

Assuming they would grab a seat together somewhere where ever they ended up, TK would turn down any offer for alcohol, remembering Adrianns's warning about the stuff. Instead, grabbing/ordering a Sprite. If not, Then TK would merely follow Sal's lead.

"So, are you participating in the league too? Or are you just an overzealous Pokemon fan?" TK asked, trying to get a better handle on Salieri as a whole.

Lumiose - Gotengo

With a sharp snap TK opened his beverage of choice and would lean against the edge of the crows nest if Sal didn't climb any further, or follow her higher into the canopy one handed. either way, he would sigh appreciatively as the cool liquid made its way down. In TK's head, Sprite was the king of the beverage world, how anyone could want such a bitter tasting drink as beer, was beyond him.

"Yup, So that makes up rivals then, huh," The silver haired youth replied with a polite smile. So far she seemed competent when it came to Pokemon, but seeing as after TK arrived in the Gotengo she was doing most of the combat with assistance from her Horsea, he couldn't really be sure just how apt she was as a trainer herself, which is what prompted the next question.

"Do you have any badges yet?" he asked, curiosity in his tone, hoping to glean a bit more into her person and as an opponent he may or may not end up facing. "I just got my first one today, you people act nicer if you have badges? I wonder why...?" He continued more to himself rather that Sal, his tone betraying his youthful ignorance about the whole concept of betting on trainers during the league...

Lumiose - Gotengo

Taking note of Sal's confidence in her prospects at winning her gym match, TK tipped the last of his soda's contents into his mouth before tossing the empty can into a small cardboard box being used as a trash receptacle.

"Hm, what do you mean?" Was the Kalos league really so different than the leagues held in other countries? How exactly did they deviate from the tried and true variation?

"...I probably should have read the Term of agreement...."

But honestly, does anyone?

Speaking of other counties, holding his Holo-caster up, TK took note of the time difference. His siblings back in Johto would be fast asleep. The thought made the silver haired youth feel...disconnected.

Letting his Holo-caster fall back down to its place on his chest, connected by a lanyard around his neck, he'd try not to let his unease show on his face. trying to distract himself from his own home sickness like feeling, TK turned to look over the edge of the crows nest like Sal. The Tiki torches set warm glows around the entire Gotengo, The music was a steady beat down below.

Lumiose - Gotengo

TK's brow furrowed as he processed this new information, his features betraying his unease on the topic. This wasn't what he was expecting...Not in the slightest. TK could be pretty youthfully ignorant at times, but he was pretty sure that he was picking up what Sal was throwing out.

If he understood her correctly, That meant people have been murdered in prior Kalos leagues. For no other reason than being a commoner who had bigger dreams than working nine to five in a convenience store. The thought made his stomach churn. Whats worse, it sounded like Sal knew someone that fit that bill. He was tempted to ask, but figured if Sal wanted him to know, she'd have let on more...details.

lightly pushing himself off the railing his was leaning against, TK stood up a bit straighter as well. "Thank you Sal, that's really...a lot to take in. But still, thanks. Ill keep my ear to ground-" just then, TK's holo-caster started making an obnoxious fluxuating beeping sound.

"Oh...The parade, its gonna start soon," TK mumbled, silencing the alarm on his Holo-caster and letting it fall back down to its place on his chest, held up by the lanyard around his neck.

Turning his attention back to Sal, "Its not a very pleasant revelation, but, er...its good to know at least, good to know how dangerous this league is..." the youth sighed, still kind of slumped, running a palm through his hair before stopping at the back to scratched the back of his head. A habit of his when he's troubled or concerned.

On one hand, Adrianna would murder him herself if she found out he didn't tell her what the deal was with this league, but if he did, there wasn't a continent he could run to get away so she couldn't find him and drag him off back home. But he wasn't just participating in this league for the fun of it. Tia needed the money gained by winning this league, her spinal injuries alone would cost a royalty.

No, this was something he had to do, no two ways about it. And so, even if it meant lying to his elder sister about the happenings of the darker side of the Kalos league, TK would. He wasn't so faint of heart that something like this revelation would put him off his chosen course. for just a moment, There was a faint flicker of fierce determination In the youths eyes.

So with that, TK snatched up a scrap of paper from off the floor of the crows nest, and a pen that was on the edge of a small table also occupying the Crow's nest, before jotting down his Holo- caster number and holding it out to Sal.

"listen, I don't wanna sound pretentious or anything... but, uhm, if this league really is as rigged as you say, it wouldent hurt to have some friends in the league ready to help each other out...not that you'd er..need it? just a precaution if either of us get into some sorta trouble. And also, i owe you, for telling me how it really is over here." This gesture was every bit for himself as it was for Sal. That, and she was cool, a hot head sure, but cool (Something Shuriken would scoff at) and easy to get along with, someone TK could see himself calling a friend.

Assuming Sal took the holo-caster number, TK would store the rest of the information he gleaned from his conversation with Sal to sort through later, right now, as trainers, they had the opening ceremony parade to attended, and TK wasn't going to let the unfairness of the nobles of the Kalos league spoil it for him. If Sal proposed it, TK would tag along with her to the opening ceremony parade. If not, well he would find it on his own...eventually.

If the question was brought up about flying over on with Shuriken, TK would explain that the armored bird Pokemon was fast asleep in his Pokeball, and is prone to temper tantrums if woken up mid-sleep.

Lumiose - Gotengo

After Sal stepped out, TK used the time to log her pokegear number into his Holocaster. Aside from his two sisters and two others, it was the only one. It was no biggy, friends for the most part were just extra weight. His family was his number one priority and befriending Sal was just a precaution.

...Or at least that's what TK kept telling himself.

Truth was, he liked the idea of having a friend.

A real one this time... he thought bitterly, a brief flashback playing through his minds eye. His facial features not betraying his bitterness at what ever it was he was remembering.

So when Sal returned, TK would be standing there looking just as innocently calm as always.

"Mh-hmm, I can handle it." the youth replied politely, wearing a small smile.

Takamaru wasn't a physically strong individual, but he was fast, and could free run aptly enough. A skill he honed during his time spent working as a delivery boy back in Johto, as well as his training under Byron.

What are you?! A Steel type, no? Than stay the hell outta the way...idiot kid.... Tk sighed inaudibly, fondly recalling one of the first things Byron of Canalave yelled at him, just a few hours into there training on the Iron isles.

Vernal Avenue - Pokémon Center

The fabric of space and time tore apart in a brilliant flash of light, warped in, on, and around itself, then knitted back together with a quiet crackling noise. Serene's Teleport took Zack and Helena from Route 3 to the middle of Lumiose City in a heartbeat. It wasn't the first time Zack had ever teleported, but he doubted he would ever get used to the sensation; like every joint on his body had a gentle pressure applied to it, as if he was being pulled apart at the edges, then let go.

Lumiose had a public teleport zone for every pokémon center, and some private ones used by the nobility. To avoid the nasty business of botched teleportation, each city had designated areas used for teleporting. While the law didn't specifically enforce the use of the teleport zones, the benefits of accidentally reappearing inside a wall or another person were rarely worth the hassle of being dead. Shaped like giant silver discs mounted on the roof of a pokémon center, teleport zones had trainers from all over the region reappearing in flashes of light. As soon as the Redgrave siblings arrived, a circle section of the zone disc beneath their feet gave way, and floated downwards like an elevator.

From their position on the disc, the two trainers would be able to see the rest of the Vernal Avenue Pokémon Center laid out before them. Normally, this place would be a hive of activity; trainers buzzing about, having their pokémon tended to, buying new items and arranging rooms, meeting friends and battling rivals. People of all colours, sizes and nationalities together in one place. But apart from people warping in for the parade, it was practically deserted. It reminded Zack of being in school after closing time, with familiar walls fallen silent.

"I guess they knew we were coming," he said, nudging Helena. Once they stepped off the floating disc and onto the hard tiles of the pokémon center's upper floor, the disc would rise back into place in the teleport zone, blotting out the orange light of sunset. "Come on, we can't have missed much."

---

Southern Boulevard

Hundreds of people screamed in excitement as the legendary Ho-oh burst into flame. House Leroux had outdone itself this year; their main float could have passed for a real Ho-oh were it not the size of a small plane and still like a statue. Its wings were unfolded, with car-sized claws angled forward and its beak hung open, posed as if it were caught in the middle of a swoop. Flame glimmered in the float's glassy eyes as hidden ports ejected fire from between its feathers, angled just right to avoid igniting the whole thing, while still giving off such an impression. It was the shining beacon that lead the parade clockwise through the Southern Boulevard, the outer ring of Lumiose City.

Citizens stayed behind the roadside barriers, kept strictly to the sidewalk while the parade filled the main road. Banners were up on buildings, along with streamers and brightly lit signs. Confetti gently fluttered from the sky, and just before touching the floor, it vanished and reappeared where it started, resembling a dense shower of slow, multicoloured rain. Every hundred yards, there were small prefab stations where announcers were seated with sound equipment, their voices coming out of nearby speakers as they described the who's and what's of the parade, practically yelling over the fruity parade music.

Rooftops were as crowded as the pavements and twice as drunk. The more accessible the building, the greater the number of people gathered on top. Squashed lines of spectators watched the parade at the edge of the rooftops while others mingled more leisurely behind them. A solitary silhouette owned the tallest building; too high up for the masses, the tower may have been designed to be stylish and contemporary, appealing to young creative types, but right now it was the least popular place in the city. Ratio looked half his age in this disguise. His hair was dyed its natural auburn, pulled back loosely at his neck, and his skin smoothed by a Ditto-based chemical compound, leaving only the sparse, shallow wrinkles of a man still years away from middle age. He discarded any semblance of the Creature, wearing unremarkable clothes that had never seen the inside of a Kalos boutique, doing little to mask his imposing frame. The commenters' voices blurred with the music this far up, so he knelt at the edge to get a better look.

Positioned just behind the giant Ho-oh figurehead, on a raised section of the float where all could see, Elliot Leroux stood proudly to attention, unaware of the man far above who watched him like a vulture. He had an extravagantly crafted throne, coloured gold and red like his house standard, but refused to sit on it. Elliot stood like a man used to power; in his late thirties, Elliot was the young head of House Leroux, one of four in the Court of Kings. He waved to the people of Kalos, to television cameras broadcasting globally, keeping one hand in his crimson tailored coat. His family were on a step below, his dignified wife and eager sons sitting on their thrones. The two boys shared their father's white-blond hair, keeping it swept back neatly. They grinned and waved excitedly while their mother offered a polite wrist movement.

New cheers rippled through the crowd as Ho-oh drew into view, and new streams of confetti appeared in the sky to mark its coming. Just behind the premier float marched a square of fire-breathers who danced in feathery outfits, then spat flames into the sky in unison, eliciting a fresh wave of screams from those who had already seen Ho-oh. Jugglers tossed flaming swords, while miniature floats carried blazing rings that pokémon leapt through adroitly. Ratio ignored them, carrying his gaze further down the street to another float. Standing at its fore was Malva, known to the public as a newscaster and member of the Kalos Elite Four. She was House Leroux's official champion, and a hurdle any would-be league trainer had to overcome. She waved her arms like the conductor of an orchestra while a pair of dragons battled in the sky. The Mega-evolved Charizard, one black and the other orange, arced in complex patterns. Every beat where the dancers breathed fire, so too did the pokémon, acting in perfect synchronicity. Blue flame met red, long fingers lacing in an embrace, then scattered to the wind in a shower of embers.

The procession moved too slowly. Ratio stood, thick muscles protesting more than his youthful appearance would suggest, and scouted a new vantage point further east. Before the parade brought the two Charizard too close to his position, where he might be noticed by sharp-eyed onlookers, Ratio leapt from the tower. Freefall whipped through his clothes as he felt the wind's refreshing sting. The alleyway floor shot towards him and he tapped a pokéball on his belt, which cracked open with a burst of enveloping light. Anyone watching the alleyway with intent would have seen it glow white one second then fall back into darkness. Ratio was gone.

---

Even more massive than the Ho-oh effigy, the first float of House Taine cradled a statue made of ice. It depicted Suicune in a graceful yet predatory posture, its body poised for battle, head bowed as its ribbon-like tail fluttered around it. Firelight from the Leroux parade shimmered on its icy, translucent flesh, and any confetti that drew too near simply vanished. The craftsmanship was superb; the rigid, unmelting ice held the impression of a living thing that could burst into motion at any moment, aided by the flickering light of flame. In her forties and slightly muscular, Lady Madeline Taine was as elegant as any Suicune, even ones made of ice. Her long dress was sleek to her form, its colours drifting from sky blue to the deep colour of the ocean, the material flowing onto the floor like water. She stood at the top of the Suicune float with Elite Four member Siebold at her side, both appearing very proper, very disinterested and prim.

Ratio moved through the crowd, darting between openings to avoid causing a disturbance. Not ten feet away, Taine marchers, dressed in white suits with blue accents and high, ridged collars keeping with Kalosian formal dress. They walked in strict formation, their faces half-hidden by metal visors. Closer to the barriers, bannermen rode on the backs of Samurott, holding up standards with the Taine's crest scribed on billowing cloth. The Taines were practically a non-entity. Though holding rank in the Court, they were by far the least powerful of the four houses. Some mistake long made had caused them to fall out of favour with the royal family and the house had been paying for it ever since. Ratio supposed that the current Lady Taine's strict, icy demeanour stemmed from a raging, fiery desire to prove the worth of her clan. He memorised her face, ignored the display of water types that matched the Leroux's fire turn for turn, and slipped into another alleyway. Once he was sure that all eyes were on the parade, Ratio tapped the pokéball and disappeared once again.

---

Once the Leroux and Taine portions of the parade had passed, the music on the speakers switched from bold and celebratory to more sombre and militaristic. Kalos was a nation steeped in a long history of war, and while it presented itself as carefree and beautiful, no acknowledgement of its culture could be complete without reference to its military might. House Balibar was the embodiment of that might. Traditionally charged with commanding Kalos' armies, every house leader was a trained master in the art of war, and held the rank of Lord Commander. Bertrand Balibar was a giant of a man, broad in the shoulder, balding, and the owner of a thick black beard. He wore long, stone-coloured robes that ballooned slightly at the gut, the lapel adorned with glimmering emblems and medals. He leant in his throne, resting his chin on a knuckle, and surveyed his legion.

House Balibar had no giant statue of their patron pokémon, the Heatran. Instead they displayed their dominance by marching battalions of soldiers ahead of Bertrand's float. Human troops, wearing grey uniforms, were organised into square formations, separate from the pokémon soldiers. Ratio noted that pokémon in the Kalosian military were predominantly steel, fight, and dark types. He saw several hulking Machamp in combat fatigues, towering head and shoulder over people in the crowd, as well as Bisharp who had the red sections of their bodies repainted with neutral patterns. Kalos was not currently in open conflict, but Ratio could tell that these pokémon were experienced, likely trained throughout times of peace for any sudden onset of war. Not simple opponents to face. This was a silent show of force; the eyes of the world were on Kalos, and now they were on Kalos' army.

An entourage of six knights marched the back line. They were clad in ornate black armour, which gleamed under the parade's decorations more than the waning sunlight. Each knight was identical, their movements perfectly synchronised, each standing at almost seven feet tall. Not an inch of their bodies could be seen, revealing no signs of weakness. They were the Royal Guard, the Quillon, and they moved with such a terrifying command of power that most just called them the Death Knights. A Metagross hovered in the air between Bertrand's float and the battalions. Wikstrom stood on its back, leaning on the hilt of an oversized sword and appearing stern. As well as being House Balibar's champion, the Elite Four member was Bertrand's second-in-command.

"Oy, oy! I told you, man, this is our roof!" the annoyance said again, raising its voice. Ratio glanced at it silently. It was thin, malnourished, adorned in old, spiked leather that hung from its bones. It had styled its hair into a tall, bubblegum-pink mohawk, and waved a burning cigarette around as it spoke. "What, don't I interest you? You gonna develop selective deafness where I'm concerned? You too macho to respond to someone who's talkin' right at you?"
"Fade, c'mon go easy on him," the disturbance said. It was around the same age as the annoyance, somehow thinner but clearly female. "He prob'ly just wants to watch the show."

There was a murmur of agreement from the other half dozen punks who had formed a semi-circle behind Ratio. The parade was currently row after row of human and pokémon soldiers, with the occasional tank or military vehicle. He could afford to take a moment to deal with this issue. Rather than being dissuaded, the annoyance grew even louder, though not loud enough to grab attention from the crowds far below the tower's rooftop.

"Yeah? Well he can watch the show from some other roof 'cause this one's taken!" It punctuated its shouting with a spray of spittle and jab of its cigarette. Whether by accident or intention, the cigarette's hot tip scraped against Ratio's arm. The annoyance would soon learn that Ratio didn't react to pain the same way most people would have. Rather than flinching back, Ratio's arm shot out and grabbed the annoyance by the throat, lifting it off the ground so that its feet dangled uselessly.

"Ice-Iceburg!" the annoyance gasped, eyes bulging wide. Ratio heard a grunt to his right and one of the punks lurched forward. It was a good six inches over Ratio and powerfully built to match, with a waistline that suggested it had more than its share of food. Still, it would be foolish to judge such a large opponent as trivial, thus Ratio mentally dubbed it 'the problem'. Clearly mindful of the deadly drop from the tower's roof, the problem crept forward, its fists a cluster of fingers like slabs of meat, with knuckles obviously used to hitting things hard.

"Let 'im go or I'll smash yer teeth in," the problem growled. Ratio tilted his head quietly then made a play.

Swinging his arm out like a crane, Ratio turned on the spot and dangled the annoyance over the side of the building. While not as high as his initial vantage point, this was still one of the largest buildings on the Lumiose City skyline. Unless the annoyance could sprout wings, falling from this height would be like running into a moving train. It didn't stop it from kicking and screaming, but luckily Ratio's grip was steel.

"Now," he said, "Tell me your name."
"W-what?" the annoyance spluttered with all the air of a man being strangled by his own body weight, "Fade! It's Fade!"
"No, that's what your friends call you," Ratio tightened his grip, "Tell me your name."
The annoyance went quiet, and seemed to be calculating the actual likelihood of being able to sprout wings before he hit the street. "It's... it's Trevor..."

Despite themselves, the surrounding punks burst out laughing. Even the problem lowered its fists and held a smirk. The annoyance summoned pink to its cheeks that rivalled the hue of its hair and kicked angrily, but couldn't reach Ratio. Frustration and rage were a dangerous combination, Ratio thought, capable of overwhelming even the strongest survival instinct. The grey of the Balibar procession gave way to the green of Nostrad. The moment was almost up.

"I'll get you for this, you freaky b*****d!" the annoyance roared, using both hands to try and prise Ratio's open. "We've got pokémon you stupid piece of s**t! You try anythin' and I'll 'ave your bloody c**k for a necklace!"
"Interesting," Ratio said quietly, which was all it took to shut the annoyance up. "The faith you have in your pokémon is astounding. Will they be able to reach me before you evolve into a street decoration? What do you think, Trevor?"

Dangling above an unsuspecting crowd, in the grip of a man unfazed by its taunting, backed by a crew that could do nothing to aid it, the annoyance finally fell silent. Ratio pulled him in until their noses were almost touching and said, "Now get off my roof."

---

Jullien Nostrad was a man in his late sixties. He had been the head of House Nostrad for the past forty years, and was in charge of the organisation and general training of all noble trainers. At one point or another, all trainers of noble birth were put through one of Nostrad's specialist training schools, tutored by the best, given privileges befitting their high station. He took pride in knowing that thanks to him, no trainer of common birth had, bar one trifling exception, been able to champion the Kalos pokémon league and ascend into nobility for decades. While he secretly cursed the damned tradition, Nostrad tolerated being paraded about Lumiose for the league's opening ceremony. Though far from noble, it was a duty he was obliged to fulfil.

It wasn't every year that the pokémon league came to Kalos. Originally, the host of the league rotated yearly from one region to the next, allowing him ample time to prepare for the peasant invasion. However, some time in the past decade, it was decided that each region would put in a bid to become host. Naturally, Kalos had been the winner for the majority of those bids. Three of the previous four years alone had been Kalosian tournaments, leaving Nostrad's systems feeling strained. Thankfully, he thought as he clutched his sceptre, that would no longer be a problem.

The preceding displays had been quaint shows of fire, water, and steel military force, mere appetisers for Nostrad's dragons. Speakers and confetti showers went dead as his parade approached. Sun had set, with the final ribbons of orange and pink light disappearing behind Lumiose's cityscape. Twin files of bannermen marched alongside the barriers, leaving the middle of the road clear for Nostrad's elegant emerald float. As if by some unspoken command, the crowds fell quiet, even people drunkenly peering from the edge of rooftops were soberly silent. It was then, once all other sound was dismissed, that the ghostly singing began.

It sounded like a harp had taken on voice-like qualities. An eerie melody echoed down the boulevard as it filled with rolling mist, billowing tendrils creeping through the crowds, enveloping them in partial darkness. In the blackening sky, distant will-o'-the-wisps flew over the parade, singing sweet melancholy. They swooped over the cobbled streets, a dozen Altaria joined in hymn. Nostrad's float carried through on great spoked wheels that were taller than the float itself. Glowing orange lanterns dangled from masts mounted on its rear, illuminating Lord Nostrad. He had the look of a wizened old man, his receding hair a bright white and slicked back to the base of his skull. He wore bright green robes with silver embellishments, and several rings on each finger. Now, especially in the ghostlight, his features were narrow, taking on the hollow look that one assumed close to death. But for all this, Nostrad directed powerful dignity, barely moving to breathe as he sat, hands crossed on the head of a sceptre crafted in the image of Zygarde.

The mists broke, parting for Nostrad's parade as it came out in force. Tyrantrum led the way, yawning roars as their massive scaled legs stomped forward in a rigidly slow gait. Noivern screeched, swooping in overhead, a small colony of the bat dragons flying beside the Altaria, entwining with them, their cries adding new depths to the birds' harmonic chorus. Joining the Tyrantrum, acting as Nostrad's marchers, were Haxorus and Garchomp. They bore their fangs, jaws snapping as they prowled through the boulevard, mist too thick to tell their exact number. As the Altaria's song reached a crescendo, Dragonair shot through the mist, swimming in the sky as thick grey cloud lapped at their lithe bodies. House Nostrad's dragons were exquisite and perfectly trained. An orchestra of singing, roaring bodies backed by thick, secretive mist. They too were a show of power.

Jullien Nostrad may begrudge the league's opening ceremony, but he'd be damned if he wasn't the best part. He almost allowed himself a smile, when the sensation grew in the pit of his mind. Psychics were fairly few in number, most never discovering the full depths of their abilities, or spending a lifetime in complete ignorance of them. Nostrad had been sensitive to the ebb and flow of psychic power since he was a boy. While it allowed him certain benefits, it also made him acutely susceptible to intrusion. He recognised this feeling as originating from a pokémon, but the voice was distinctly human. It was, after all, a distinct human.

'Nostrad.'
'You!'
'Ah. So you do remember me.'

Nostrad seethed, biting his teeth as he instinctively clutched his aching shoulder. It was him, back from the dead. He gathered himself. To the rest of the world, Lord Nostrad was sat alone atop his float and surrounded by a legion of dragons. He wouldn't tip them off to the contrary.

'What do you want, Ratio?'
'You know exactly what I want. I'd have thought Gabriel Leroux would be fair warning. You seem confident.'
'I'll show you just how confident I am, you son of a b***h! Come out here and face me.'
'Another day. You'll see me again. I'm certain you're looking forward to it.'

The sensation vanished as if a part of his skull that had been packed full was suddenly emptied. Though he knew no connection remained, Nostrad couldn't help but psychically shout out for Ratio, to demand his return. Mental intrusion was terrible enough, but leaving him with the silence? He felt sweat drain down his temple, realised his breathing had become ragged. The ache pounded worse than ever, worse even than the night it had appeared. He rubbed his shoulder, groaning lowly as the pain died down. To lose his composure, that was exactly what Ratio wanted. Nostrad's grip on his sceptre grew tighter. Now, more than ever, he had to proceed with the plan.