24 | BREAKOUT

On the eve of the auction, August planted miniature Black Powder sticks throughout the Underground. They were five inches tall and a knuckle wide; Omar, who'd crafted them, said their small detonations were ideal for distractions. She tucked them beneath abandoned carts and on the corners of houses. Shadows concealed the dark-colored bombs; one couldn't see them unless they were searching for them. She marked all their locations on a small piece of parchment Lang loaned her.

When she returned in the early morning hours, she collapsed onto her bedroll in a tired heap. She'd closed her eyes for what seemed like only a couple of minutes before a pair of paws were shaking her side.

"Omar says it's time to get up," Gracie insisted, kneading her paws into the other's back. "Wake up. Wake up!"

"I'm up, I'm up," August groaned, rubbing her eyes as she sat upright. Out of habit, she blindly grasped for the Shaymin and pulled her into a hug. She rested her cheek atop Gracie's crown and asked, Are the others ready?

"Yeah, they're waiting for you." Gracie sounded annoyed, not playful. She squirmed out of the pirate's loose hold and sprang onto the hardwood floor. "C'mon!"

Gracie scampered off, leaving August distressed. It was unlike the Shaymin to reject her affection. This was the second day in a row she'd acted coldly towards her all because of the lost Gracidea. Had she the time and energy to do it, August would mend her relationship with Gracie and work for forgiveness. But she hadn't that luxury. Not right now. She cursed at Angeleyes under her breath.

August winced as she drew her leg close and redid the binding covering her left foot. It seemed like the pain in her foot would never completely fade away no matter how many healing sessions she had with Lang. Grunting, she wobbled to her feet and sought the others. What she found unsettled her.

A heavy atmosphere weighed down the group's shoulders as they prepared for the auction. No one had slept soundly. Last night, Omar and his Pokémon had relocated White Lightning's resources for the quick escape. Lang has reorganized the medicines. Cyryl has helped Pidge navigate difficult flying patterns. Everyone's combined anxiety crammed together in one room was suffocating.

August broke the silence, checking, "Everyone remembers what they're doing?" They nodded. "Then stop grieving. I've been in graveyards merrier than this."

"It's not quite that easy," Cyryl admitted. On zir plate was a shredded pastry zie couldn't stop tearing apart. "We're dealing with Caelum's most powerful and dangerous crime lords here. One tiny misstep could lead to absolute disaster. The more I think about it, the more impossible it seems."

"If things get bad, I'll get you outta there. You won't pay fo' my mistakes," she declared, a grim yet determined expression crossing her face. "I chose to walk this path. I'll let it end early if it means you all get to keep on yours."

Omar shook his head. "If things get bad, we'll work together and escape together. No one's going to be left behind to die. We're a team." He reached out and squeezed August's and Cyryl's shoulders and nodded at Lang. "We can do this. We'll save August's sister—"

"Shannon," she supplied, her volume quiet.

"—Shannon and leave this place all in one piece. Sounds like a plan, yeah?" He finished with a forced grin.

"Easier said than done," Lang commented, reflecting Omar's positivity for both her sake and everyone else's, "but if I've learned anything in the past month from your company, it's that nothing is impossible."

"I suppose you're right," Cyryl said, releasing a strained chuckle. "Let's begin Operation Fool's Gold, then."

August waited for Omar and Cyryl to leave the room first, unmoving from her seat. Once the two disappeared from sight, she crossed over to Lang and murmured, "If I take too long trailing them, go. You're smart. You know it's not worth losing all this fo' one person."

"August—" Lang cut herself off as she saw the other's molten glower. "I... good luck.

She nodded and continued on her way. Deep inside, August knew they'd need much more than luck on their side.

⚔️

Cruel whispers chased Omar as he traversed the auction house. Sharp comments speared his chest, stinging his conscience as they spoke of his dreadful brawl against Martim. Critical glares burned holes into his King's Gauntlet. Part of him yearned to pass the weapon onto someone else and have it be their problem, but his self-restraint kept him sensible.

The auction house itself was just as terrible as August had described it. It reeked of smoke, alcohol, mold, and waste. Dense greenery sprawled across the walls as if the building were meant to be abandoned. The ceiling was giving way on itself, crumbling apart and dropping fragments on the floor below. Noibat, who perched on the crooked chandeliers, screeched randomly and dove down to steal shiny objects. There were many who failed to make it unscathed.

Dozens of merchants, magicians, pirates, bounty hunters, and all loitered around the ground floor. They were ready to fight at any given moment and, seeing the dried blood smears on the floor, Omar fretted conflicts often ended in violence. As he gazed around, he failed to glimpse the captain August had spoken of. He hadn't the nerve to ask someone if Calico would appear. Not with the dirty looks he was receiving just for existing.

Omar found a seat amongst a club of merchants telling stories over bottles of whiskey, too drunk to acknowledge his presence. He folded his hands atop his lap, his heart racing a thousand knots an hour in his chest. Passing the guards to get into the auction was easy with his King's Gauntlet. This whole ordeal was too easy. Something was wrong.

Everyone seated themselves as an old man climbed the stage with a balding Watchog at his heels. He slammed his cane on the rotted wood and quieted the masses. "Hullo, everyone. Sorry to keep ya waitin'. There were some complications with some o' the, uh, labor. It's all figured out now, don't worry." He broke off into a coughing fit then said, "Let's get this started. First up, we've got the Mixed Mawile's bunch!"

The auctioneer's Watchog unfolded a charcoal gray cloth and displayed the flag's emblem of a sneering Mawile. Murmurs rose from the crowd. The set of doors opposite to the ones Omar had come in slid open. His jaw dropped. Children no older than his own siblings entered the room with chains and shackles linking them together. Their heads bowed as they climbed the steps onto the stage, and Omar's heart shattered as he viewed their hopeless, tear-stained faces.

"Prices start at 200 incos a piece," the auctioneer called out.

The man left of Omar raised his hat. "220!"

Another shouted, "250!"

Much to Omar's despair, the captives were sold off one by one as if they were nothing more than pieces of furniture. Once they'd all been auctioned off, new groups replaced them to be sold off as well. The process repeated several times over. Omar's head swam, nauseated by his disgust. This was far worse than anything he could've possibly imagined. It was surreal watching people's lives be pawned off right in front of him.

Finally, the auctioneer yelled, "An' now it's time fo' the sale ye've all been waitin' fo'! Bring 'em up 'ere, boys!"

Chains jangled as the last group marched onto the corroding platform. A fearsome aura radiated from the uniform-clad victims, daring the onlookers to challenge them. Their tempers were polar to the dismal victims before them. There were twelve of the imprisoned soldiers, all of them separated into bands of three. At the forefront was a golden-eyed woman tethered to a blind man and a fellow as thin as a stick.

"Cap'n Calico 'as 'ere fancy Rubre sailors," the auctioneer explained, strutting back and forth with the Zoroark's Deceit's flag in his grasp. "She's sellin' them in gangs o' three. The bid starts at 1000 incos."

The given price elicited a synchronized flinch from everyone. People grumbled and got to their feet, shoving past others to leave. It was the sane thing to do. And yet here Omar remained. As the crowd thinned out, he found himself in the company of few others. Sweat beaded on his temple.

Omar had just under 500 on-person; August had given him the rest of her money, having guessed Shannon would cost 400. For that reason, he had several pouches full of coin-shaped rocks to trick his way through. Fool's gold as Cyryl had called it. He concealed his dread with a blank mask in fear the others would detect his uneasiness. Licking his dry lips, he bluffed, "1100!"

Every head swiveled towards him. His blood chilled he made eye contact with Shannon. Her cold glare sent a freezing shiver down his spine, striking his nerves with iced daggers. He shrunk in his seat, intimidated. Her scorn was the same as August's.

"Goin' once!" Omar's muscles coiled, his senses sharpening. "Goin' twice!" He clutched onto his coin bag, knuckles bone white. "Sold! Brawler King, which pair d'ya want?"

Legs all-but-trembling as he neared the stage, he started to dig into his bag for the incos while answering, "The front row, please." He avoided Shannon's piercing stare.

Pressed against the platform was the inco gatherer's table. Behemoth Pokémon carved from stone and crystal stood on guard, hovering over Omar as he handed the teller multiple stone-filled sacks. He held his breath, waiting for the safe-keeper to detect his incos were fake. Instead, he received a wave forward. The Gigalith rumbled as he passed them.

It worked, he realized, shocked. How?

He glanced up just in time to see the auctioneer hit the blind man attached to Shannon with his cane, snapping, "You 'eard the man. Get on with it."

"Can you please unlock their ankles?" Omar requested, clasping his hands together.

The auctioneer tossed a key ring to him. "Do it yourself."

Omar gestured for Shannon's group to follow him to the edge of the stage where he swiftly unlocked the cuffs around his ankles. He unlocked Shannon's last, fearing she would kick him in the face as soon as her limbs were freed. She didn't; she only glared.

"I mean no harm," he whispered to her. "I'm here to rescue you. Your sister's outside."

Shannon stiffened. "Excuse me?"

His response got caught in his throat. In the corner of his eye, the teller was opening his coin bags. Only the top layers of the sacks contained actual incos.

Omar fumbled with the key and quickly began to unfasten the chains linking their handcuffs to one another. He stressed, "When you go outside, you'll see a blonde Normal-magician. Follow zir."

"Cheat!" the teller yelled, the word echoing throughout the grunge.

The Gigalith hunkered off the ground with powerful bays, fracturing the earth as they stomped their feet. As their red gems gleamed white, bright pink energy ensnared the loosened shards.

Omar shoved the group at the exit. "Run!" Whipping around, he cried, "Tono!"

Electricity surged over the King's Gauntlet, hot and cyan blue. A rock spiraled at him—he slammed his fist into the Power Gem attack. Sparks exploded on impact, blasting those in front of him with a barrage of volts and stones. He reeled backward with a cry. Pins and needles sliced into his gloved arm, rendering it numb. Shrieks erupted, pained and angered. He must've got someone. Panting, he spun heel and raced after Shannon and the others.

He hated to admit he'd thought, Good.

⚔️

"Celeri!"

A torrent of stars crashed into the auction house's guards, propelling them into the rock walls. Loud cracks met August's ears. Unfazed, she rushed past Cyryl's clone and the unconscious men into the entrance of the building; zie would keep others out of it. A barren lobby separated the outside from the main room where the auction was. Just two guards and a Bewear occupied it, blocking August from people who'd appeared on the opposite side of them. She glimpsed their scarlet coats.

August unsheathed Risk, crying, "Ignis!"

Flames barreled forward in a raging storm of blistering heat. The guards launched themselves sideways. Their Bewear shot skyward. Rubre soldiers dropped to the ground.

"Go!" she bellowed over her growling fire. Like a hungry beast, the embers shooting from Risk's blade chased her targets in great leaps and bounds. The Bewear flung zirself in front of the attack, taking the brunt of the inferno. Zir thick fur spouted into flames. Curses spilled from her lips; she hadn't wanted to hit the Pokémon.

The soldiers sped past her as she pelted the flames in her foes' direction, save for one. Shannon faltered as she paused by August. Bewilderment slackened her features, a silent question in her eyes. August nodded. Shannon hesitated, but she obeyed.

Seconds later, Omar vaulted over the crackling flames and into the lobby. He tackled August—a boulder tore through where she'd just stood. A deafening roar ruptured her eardrums.

The Rock Blast obliterated the wall in one fell swoop. Debris fired in a biting shower of stone and wood. August cried out as the rubble struck her, bruising and cutting her skin. Dust flooded the air in a dark cloud, illuminated by the fires she'd lit. Gray-and-orange blobs swirled in front her, and sharp ringing muffled all other noises in the ears.

Her vision cleared as weight disappeared from her body. Squinting, she realized Omar was forcing fallen debris off of them. Her muscles ached in protest as she forced herself to move. Coughing, she rose from the rubble and stirred the white dust. Omar pushed Risk into her hands, she sheathed it, and together, they limped out of the crumbling auction house.

Outside, a massive riot conquered the streets. Anyone and everyone fought one another with knives, fists, hooks, swords, and everything in between. Pride flared within August. She'd told Cyryl to stir a fight to draw the attention away from their breakout; the magician had done a damn good job.

Omar took the lead, utilizing his gigantic build to shove through the crowd. August hurried behind him and gnashed her teeth. It felt like knives were slicing open her foot from the inside-out; she ran unevenly in an oafish hobble. They'd managed to cross two blocks before her ankle gave way, and she fell.

Terrible words strewed from August's mouth as she tried to stagger to her feet. She put pressure on her foot. Fire raked up her spine. Crying out, she toppled to the ground again. Tears blurred her vision.

Furious at herself for getting this injury, she swallowed her pride and called out, "Omar!" He skidded to a stop and spun towards her, surprised. "I need, I need help."

The shipbuilder flew to her side and bent down, offering her his back without a second thought. His gauntlet's magic receded. "C'mon."

August climbed onto his back, they both secured their holds, and Omar darted. As he raced towards the Underground's exit, she looked over her shoulder. There were no pursuers in sight. All she saw were the normal crooks who loitered in this area. Confusion clouded her brain. It made no sense. These were Calico's prisoners they'd stolen; the entire isle should be after them.

Where is she? August frantically looked around for any sign of the Zoroark's Deceit. Did she skip us an' chase Shan? Horror struck her as strongly as a knife plunging into her gut. They had to reach them. Now.

"Oi," she said, her stomach knotting, "no one's after us. They're tailing the kid."

Omar jerked to stop, gasping for breath. Beyond the duo was a street crowded with a passing caravan. A dozen merchants seated upon their harnessed Mudsdale moved at a Shuckle's pace as they bragged to onlookers about the loot they carried. Bulging bags of goods clunked against the mighty horses' flanks.

August's gaze locked on the Mudsdale rider closest to them with his short and skinny frame. She demanded, "Put me down. I'll spook the Mudsdale; you grab zir. We need to catch up."

"This is crazy," he muttered, although he obliged.

She drew Risk; the cutlass was still ignited within her fireproof sheath. The silver blade trained on a small package halfway hidden beneath a cart full of rotting fruit. Her wrist flicked—embers arced through the air. And they met their mark.

The Black Powder stick exploded. A clamor of bangs and shouts erupted as the cart's fragments blasted everywhere. The Mudsdale reared onto their back legs with terrified whinnies. Thrashing, they bucked their riders off of them. Omar dashed; he caught one of the fleeing Pokémon's reins. He swung himself onto zir saddle and hauled August behind him.

Like lightning, the Mudsdale bolted. They shot down the streets in a filthy whirlwind, kicking up dirt and grime. Both people and Pokémon leaped out of the way of the charging steed. The Underground was no more than a mad mess of sounds and colors.

"Pidgeotto!"

The shrill squawk pointed her eyes skyward. Pidge flew overhead, darting through the air in a zigzag motion. Noibat tailed the bird with terrible screeches. Their pulsating blasts narrowly missed his tailfeathers. White light encapsulated his wings. Pidge zipped away.

⚔️

Four. Four was the number of guards who'd started off pursuing Cyryl and the soldier trio. With quick wits and straight-up luck, zie'd lost both them and most of their Pokémon. All except one. A Pokérus-infected Houndoom dogged their steps, having gotten past the explosion of one of the Black Powder traps. Zie had no clue when the beast would strike.

Pure fear raced through Cyryl's veins and stood zir hairs on end while the group navigated through the cargo hold. Near the coast of the isle was a maze of large, wooden containers full of goods. They were stacked as tall as Snorlax, making it impossible for humans to see over. Pidge led the company for that reason; he wouldn't get lost. Zie trailed at the rear.

"We're close to the end, now," zie told the soldiers, unnerved by the intense silence. Cyryl's anxiety persisted as no one responded to zir.

Zie opened zir mouth to speak. A deep snarl stilled the teen. It was guttural and animalistic, dark and dangerous. Hauntingly familiar. Zie inhaled sharply.

"Cele—gah!"

A hellish canine sprang upon Cyryl, claws tearing into zir cloak. Her teeth snapped at Cyryl's throat. Zie screamed. Quickly, zie propelled zir half-formed Swift stars. The Houndoom tossed her head, deflecting the weak attack. Unlike a normal Houndoom, she had hooked bones jutting out of her spine. Her tail lacked flesh; it lashed in the air like an ivory flail. Her missing fur revealed bulging, pulsating muscles. She roared. Shadows glossed the brute's jagged fangs.

"Hey, Pidgeotto!"

Hands latched onto the Houndoom's horns as she snapped at Cyryl's face. Someone launched the Houndoom into a crate, far from the teen. Pidge dove after the beast, cloaked in white. He propelled her through the box with an enraged cry. Hundreds of thousands of splinters cascaded onto the Pokémon. Pidge soared out of the wreckage, shaking off the debris. The Houndoom did not.

"That's a strong Pokémon you have there."

Cyryl turned to the speaker, zir savior. Golden eyes stared back. Zie sputtered under Shannon's gaze and replied, "Th-thank you. Pidge has spent his entire life training to be strong. Recognition means the world to him."

"Be proud of your achievements."

She helped zir to zir feet; zie noticed how her eyes lingered on zir magician form's features. Cyryl would be lying if zie said the feeling wasn't mutual. Scarlet coats were something every magician feared. The monarch behind the uniform had begun the Black Purge all those years ago, after all.

Shoving the thought aside, zie said, "Come, let's hurry. I'd prefer not to take any chances with the Houndoom finding zir way out of that wreckage."

Against all odds, Cyryl and Pidge guided the soldiers to White Lightning without any further troubles. Zie found August and Omar already back, releasing an angered Mudsdale who was quick to leave. Rather than speaking as they met, August and Omar hurried everyone aboard to prepare for deportation.

As Cyryl helped August adjust the sails, she mentioned, "I saw Pidge fighting Noibat."

"Really? Where?" zie questioned, confused. Pidge hadn't picked a fight with random Pokémon in ages.

"In the Underground." She added, "He flew back to me an' Omar to show us the quick way out."

Cyryl's brows knitted. "That must've been a different Pidgeotto. Pidge was by my side the entire time during this escapade."

August sighed. "Shit. I must be seeing things. The explosions have my head messed up."

They split paths, and Cyryl headed to the gunwale. Zir stomach twisted as zie looked into the never-ending sky; zir fear of heights was yet to be tamed. Something flickered in the corner of zir eye. Zie turned zir head and saw a dark-colored mass disappearing into cloud banks below. That object would be gone. Forever. Cyryl stepped backward. It was for that reason zie dared not mess with the sky's wrath.