Interlude – Grunt

Interlude – Grunt

Announcement

Let me add an important content warning for this chapter. It's about Team Galactic and therefore gets very dark. If you hate it when the story gets dark, I recommend not reading this, but there'll be an author note at the end about why I wrote it.

INTERLUDE - Grunt

Two years earlier

“...although Carla battled addiction her entire life, which was filled with struggle and setbacks, we choose to remember the moments of joy that brought smiles to her family and loved ones. She was a sister, a friend, a mother…”

Émile Cartwright stood there, his eyes downcast and his teeth grinding against each other so hard it felt like they were about to fall off as one of his uncles read his mother’s eulogy. She was dead. He had found her overdosing in her bathroom, foaming at the mouth, her waste all over the floor and with a dirty needle in her arm. He had tried to get her help so many times, but there was never enough money, and she kept relapsing again and again. He had begun with odd jobs and started to delve into petty crime, robbing small stores with his Trubbish to try to get her into a proper rehab facility.

Still, it hadn’t been enough. There wasn’t much a street rat from the poorest corner of Jubilife could have done. He stared at his uncles and his mother’s friends, who looked on with dead eyes. Where had they been to help? All those times, he had begged them for money, and they just brushed him off. Yet they dared show up here to her funeral? When he had paid for most expenses out of pocket?

The system had failed Émile and his mother. The government didn’t care about any of them. Every day, they would hear about a new stadium opening up, a new rising star trainer or coordinator, pointless debates and arguments about who was the strongest Champion, or who would win the Arceus damned Conference this year. Things that just did not matter when a huge part of Sinnoh was wallowing in misery. Instead of looking at the rot in society, people just chased the newest shiny object. The trend of the month. Émile was forgotten. A nobody.

Jubilife had killed his mother. It watched her struggle, die, and spat on her corpse. Now the entire world would move on, unaware that she had even existed in the first place.

He left the funeral early. He couldn’t bare to talk with his family and act like he didn’t hate their guts. Today, he would mourn, and tomorrow, he’d need to get back to work. He had spend all of his money on getting her a proper farewell—

“You,” he heard behind him.

“What?” Émile answered with a trembling voice. He grabbed Trubbish’s Pokeball. “I might not look like it, but I’m a trainer, so go rob someone else.”

“I’m not here to rob you. You’ve been left behind, haven’t you, Émile Cartwright?”

His stomach dropped. Giving the man a closer look, he was rather average looking, with short brown hair and brown eyes, although slightly older than Émile was. He looked like he’d fade into any background. Someone you would never pay any attention to or give a second look.

“How the hell do you know my name?”

“Don’t you wish you could stick it up to the government who failed you? Who doesn’t give a fuck about people like you and me?”

Émile paused and licked his dry lips. “What do you suggest? Do you think we’re taking down the fucking League? The only reason I’m not in jail is because I keep taking from people like me. People who don’t have anything. If I targeted the shit that mattered to them, I’d already be in prison.”

“I used to think that too,” the man said. “But then someone approached me and gave me hope. Like I’m doing now with you. We’re small right now, but we have potential. Potential to finally give the little guy like you and me a voice.”

Émile somehow didn’t ignore the man, surprising even himself. Still, he was in no mood for idealism. Words were nice. They were gentle and could make you daydream about your ideal world for a few seconds before you snapped back to reality. Taking action was another thing altogether.

Still, Émile was intrigued.

“What’s your group? What do you do?”

“I’m afraid you can only learn more if you come with me, my friend.”

He sighed and rubbed his face, pinching his nose. This was shady as hell, but at this point, what did he even have to lose? Eventually, Émile would strike at a target too big, and he’d be locked up for years. So why not try something new?

“Okay,” he exhaled. “I’m in.”

The man grinned. “I’m Gabriel. Welcome to Team Galactic.”

——

Émile squinted as he walked past two large men into the blinding white building, a huge contrast to the dreary streets that they had just come from. He couldn’t believe such a trashy-looking exterior hid this kind of building. From the outside, it had looked like one of the hundreds of abandoned factories and storage facilities that littered the northeastern side of Jubilife, but it was a hub of activity. People filtered in and out, all with determined looks on their faces, a far cry from what he was used to seeing in his neighborhood, and some of them wore weird uniforms that resembled spacesuits.

“Eyes in front, Émile,” Gabriel said. “You’ll get acquainted with everything else later.”

“I’m just so surprised,” he gasped. “I thought you were some rag-tag group, since you said you were small, but you look… legit.”

“Of course we are,” he laughed. “If we weren’t, I wouldn’t be a part of it. And this is just one of our bases. We have a few right now, and we’re looking to start up a new one in Veilstone.”

Gabriel led him to a small storage room that apparently functioned as an office. Another man, this time way older and with greying hair, stared at them exasperatedly.

“Gabriel, another recruit? I thought we told you to slow down on those,” he said. Émile knew that he must have been a smoker from how raspy his voice sounded and how black his teeth were. “We’re growing too fast for my liking.”

“If we want to achieve anything, we need numbers, Vedran. You put me in the recruitment force, and I got good at it. Don’t complain.”

“Did you check his background properly, at least?” Vedran asked, eyeing Émile from head to toe.

“He’s a nobody. We’ll be fine.”

“What the hell?!” Émile exclaimed. If he was going to get insulted, then—

“You misunderstand, young man,” Vedran interrupted. “That is the number one thing we look at when we recruit someone. We are all nobodies.”

“Why?”

“You don’t have anything to lose but have everything to gain, so you won’t quit and rat us out. And even if you do, no one will believe you. Have you seen Jubilife’s cops on the northside? Short staffed, incompetent as hell, and with a touch of corruption to boot.”

“I know,” he said, clenching his teeth.

“We’re doing a lot of illegal shit, as you could probably guess,” Gabriel explained. “So that’s why we look for people like you.”

“Fine… but you could have worded that better.”

“This is Team Galactic, boy,” Vedran spat. “We do not coddle. Get used to it.”

“But I guarantee that you’ll feel more at home here than anywhere else,” Gabriel quickly added with a warm smile.

Émile was filled with a sense of… it was hard to explain. There was a pinch of worry. He felt that if he truly

joined this organization, it would be difficult to leave. But at the same time, excitement overwhelmed him. This felt good. Being a part of something larger than himself that was finally aiming to stick it up to the system? He was all in. He nodded at Vedran.

“Good. Let me add your information to the system…” the old man said, “Gabriel?”

He sprung up. “Émile Cartwright, twenty-two, poor as sin. His mother was a crackhead who died of an overdose, and his father’s in the slammer for attempted murder. Owns a Trubbish and is actually rather decent at battling, from what I’ve seen. Good instincts and strategizing, but lack of move variety.”

Émile stared at Gabriel with wide eyes.

“I said I was good at my job. Been watching you a while.”

Vedran typed on his computer extremely quickly and smiled. “Okay… I wish he’d been adept with technology or science, we’re lacking in those,” he sighed. “Still, you own a Pokemon, so you’ll be of use.”

“What’s my job, then?”

Vedran smirked and tapped on the enter key.

“You’re a grunt.”

——

“Give us the code,” Émile yelled in the woman’s ear. “Now!”

The bank’s employee whimpered as he pressed the knife tighter to her throat. She cried out a series of numbers, and then begged not to be killed. Émile nodded at his fellow grunts, and they went down to the vaults.

“Good! The rest of you stay nice and quiet unless you want my Trubbish here to poison you. You’ll die in minutes.”

“Tru!” The poison type belched, releasing a terribly foul odor. That was a good way to sell the threat.

There had been a few trainers in the bank as well, but they had made quick work of their Pokemon. No one could stop them anymore.

It had been two months since Émile had joined Team Galactic, and he had gotten a lot of work done. He was a grunt, but he specialized in gathering funds for the organization. He had already been an amateur robber before joining, and now he had just moved on to bigger fish. Instead of small convenience stores, he robbed jewelry stores and banks. Of course, they didn’t do this under the Team Galactic insignia. To bystanders, they were just normal bank robbers with masks. Cyrus still wanted the organization to stay under the shadows until they were ready to strike.

Cyrus… Émile had never even seen the man or any of the Commanders, and neither had Gabriel or Vedran. Still, they all admired him. He gave them another chance at life. A chance to be someone. A chance to matter.

“The pigs are going to be here soon!” his friend said beside him.

“I know, Naomi,” Émile said. “Just give Lars, Riley and the others a few minutes so that they can come back with the money.”

Funny how the cops always rushed to protect the big banks, but never to solve the gang violence that plagued his neighborhood and Jubilife’s northeast as a whole. Émile scoffed.

He had made friends here. Connections. People in Team Galactic were harsh, but they were real, unlike his family. He felt like he finally belonged. This was his new home, and he actually got paid here. He was so happy Gabriel had found him that day. He always worked with his squad, of which he was the leader. Lars, Riley, Naomi, and Paul were his closest friends, along with Gabriel and Vedran, but he often worked with other groups of grunts for bigger jobs like today as well. If they succeeded… it would bring back millions of Pokedollars to Team Galactic. He was sure to get noticed by Cyrus if he did.

A few minutes later, Lars, Riley, and a dozen other grunts walked back, dragging bags full of cash on the ground. There were many for them to be even able to carry, but that was fine.

“Let’s get the fuck out!”

Riley released her Abra, and suddenly, the entire group was back at headquarters with the money. Émile grinned. Commander Charon owned a Hypno who knew the move Teleport, and he often lent him throughout the entire organization so that their psychics could learn the move. They didn’t need a getaway vehicle or a plan of escape. As long as Riley and her Abra were here, they were invincible, even though he could only use the move once every few days. Any more would exhaust him to the point of near death.

People around the HQ cheered when they noticed that they were back with the money. Of course, it would have to be laundered so that it couldn’t be tracked, but they had people for that. Team Galactic wasn’t only made up of grunts. Money launderers, scientists, trolls who spread misinformation and conspiracies online about the government, recruiters like Gabriel, administrators like Vedran, street thugs, informants, infiltrators, engineers, fucking accountants.

Émile was just a cog in the machine that kept it going. A small part out of thousands. And it gave him a sense of belonging he had never felt before.

——

“I’m so fucking nervous,” Émile said as he adjusted his uniform’s collar. It felt too tight. He hated the space theme they had going on, but at least he only had to wear it when he walked around HQ.

“Just sit up straight, and you’ll be fine,” Lars said, his tone giddy.

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening,” Riley laughed. “We’re meeting a Commander.”

“The newest one, though,” Naomi said. “She joined after us, and she’s already a Commander? Must be something special.”

“Vedran called her Mars. All I know about her is that she’s an upbeat woman,” Émile said. “Now, quiet down. We want to make a good impression.”

Émile had been right. His bank robbery had propelled him from being an unnamed grunt to meeting a Commander. He was moving up in the ranks. Maybe he would even be a Commander too, one day.

An incredibly pale young woman with hair too red to be natural and an incredibly strange haircut walked into the room. Émile stared down at her and felt a flash of disappointment, although he didn’t let it show. Mars didn’t look like much. She didn’t command his immediate respect as he had expected before meeting her.

“Pffft, I hate Jubilife,” she groaned, stretching before sitting down on the ground. “You guys like it here?”

Émile’s eyes darted left and right toward his friends. What should they answer? Was this a test of some kind? Would their answer determine if they worked under her or not?

“Come on, answer me!” She said, pouting like a child.

“I dislike it,” Émile said, making sure his voice did not waver. “It’s the region’s capital, and people act like it’s this shining jewel. The pride of Sinnoh. But if you peel back at the layers, you see that it’s rotten to its core.”

Mars shot up— it was almost disturbing how quickly she had gotten on her feet— and grinned.

“Good answer! Although that’s the world in general. Hey, what’s your name, my man?” She asked.

“Émile Cartwright, Commander!” He exclaimed.

“Relax, relax, this isn’t the League! I’m a laid-back kind of boss, no need for all that performative stuff,” she said, waving her hand. “Call me Commander still, though, I like that!”

“Yes, Commander!” They all answered at the same time.

“Sheesh! You guys are fun,” she laughed. “Well, you grunts distinguished yourselves from the rest, so you’re going to be working under me from now on, along with the rest of my unit.”

Émile waited for further explanation, but Mars didn’t say anything.

“What? Expecting something else?” She smiled as she approached them. Émile suddenly felt a chill, as if the temperature was dropping all around him. He stared into Mars’ eyes and had to remind himself to breathe. “I don’t particularly care for anything we do here. I’m just a girl in love. All I want is for Cyrus to praise me. So we’re going to be doing the most dangerous jobs possible. I don’t care what happens to you. Just make sure you don’t fail, because if you do and it reflects badly on me… well, I’m going to be having a lot of fun, but you certainly won’t!” She said before giggling.

She was… she was pretending, right? Surely she wasn’t actually insane. To risk everything Émile had built for a crush?

“Now, what are the rest of you called? Émile, introduce us!”

——

Émile was the last one standing.

It had only taken six months for all of his friends to disappear. Naomi and Paul had been arrested. Lars had died to a misfire from another grunt’s Pokemon, and he rarely spoke to Gabriel and Vedran these days, since Mars dragged him all throughout the region on a whim. And Riley…

Émile shuddered. He preferred not to think about what the Commander had done to Riley after she blew up at her for letting their friends die or be captured.

He was a much better trainer now. He had four Pokemon, and his Trubbish had evolved into a Garbodor. He had more money than he could ever have dreamed of, but Émile wasn’t having fun anymore. This wasn’t how it had been when he had just joined. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He wanted out.

And yet, he was stuck in Team Galactic. The higher he went, the harder it was to leave. And he was on the way up. Mars had recommended him for a promotion, which she forced him to accept, and he was finally about to meet Cyrus in Team Galactic’s Veilstone HQ, along with around a hundred other grunts. He was going to give a speech about the future of Team Galactic, which was incredibly too vague for Émile’s liking. Were they finally going to strike at the government, which had failed him and his mother? If they could just do that, then it would at least have been worth it.

Émile groaned as a grunt bumped into him. They were packed like a pod of Wishiwashi in this room, and this uniform made him incredibly hot.

Team Galactic’s leader stepped onto the stage, followed closely by his Commanders. Mars was giddy, as usual, and skipped across the stage while Charon scowled at her and limped to the center of the podium. The other woman, who must have been Jupiter, just walked forward with her chin up and a slight smile, and Saturn’s expression was hard to gauge. Émile wasn’t good enough with faces to tell if he was excited or angry— he somehow walked the uncanny valley between the two emotions.

Cyrus had spiky blue hair and no eyebrows, which was strange, but he commanded Émile’s attention straight away. His face held a perpetual frown, and he had his hands behind his back. Mars perked up and adjusted his microphone, touching his torso in the process, but he paid it no mind. In fact, it looked like Cyrus hadn’t even noticed. His mind was elsewhere.

“You are here today because you are the best Team Galactic has to offer,” Cyrus said, getting straight to the point. “You have risen above the riff-raff and proven yourself unique. Worthy.”

Émile let out an audible gulp. Cyrus’ voice was emotionless. There was no intonation. He disturbingly kept it still and unwavering the entire time he spoke, no matter what words were being said.

“You joined Team Galactic thinking that we were simply trying to be a thorn in Sinnoh’s side, but the truth is that we are much more than that. The human spirit is weak and incomplete. There is too much conflict and too much suffering in the world. Team Galactic will harness the power of Sinnoh’s old myths and science to create a brand new world without strife. We will start from zero. A blank slate. That means that this world will be wiped away. Rejoice, for you have been selected. You are part of the chosen few thousand who will survive and be a part of this perfect new world.”

It took everything Émile had not to throw up. The organization he had joined… didn’t exist. Team Galactic was run by crazies. This new world idea was impossible, but that somehow wasn’t the worst part. Everyone who had joined and was still joining… was doing so for a fucking lie. His entire goal had been brought to naught. It had never been about helping the forgotten. Still, he looked around him. They were all cheering. Clapping. Celebrating. They had been brazenly lied to for months or years, and yet, they didn’t seem to care. They were completely taken by Cyrus with such fanatical devotion that Émile felt like he was in a cult. He was alone. There was no one to speak up with him, so he decided to stay silent.

It was too late to go back. Cyrus kept droning about his new world, and Émile stopped listening.

——

Émile carefully stepped down the stairs and saw Mars leaning against one of the walls. They were holed up in Eterna city HQ since the League was closing in on them, but he actually liked that. That meant that he wouldn’t have to do dangerous work for a goal he didn’t believe in any longer, although they were planning on abandoning the base in a week. His trip through Eterna Forest to catch that Rotom had been horrible, but he had gotten it easy compared to the others. When he heard that all of the grunts had been left at Valley Windworks, his stomach dropped. Their memories had all been ripped away. The camaraderie that he had seen at the start of his career was gone. Now Team Galactic was all about results, no matter the sacrifice.

Still, Team Galactic exploited that and began a campaign of misinformation, accusing the government of tyrannical action and trying to balloon the already ongoing protests. A year ago, Émile would have been fully on board, but now, he just couldn’t bring himself to care about anything. He was hollow.

“How goes my favorite grunt Émile?” Mars smirked at him.

“I’m good, Commander,” he answered before eyeing the knife in her hand. She was hiding it behind her back, but it was barely showing. It was bloody, and so were her white shoes.

“Ah, you noticed!” She laughed. “Come here.”

He shambled across the basement, and she pointed at a door.

“Open it.”

“Why?” He gulped.

“Open it.”

Émile’s hand trembled as he gripped the handle. He pushed down, creaked the door open, and he felt a pit form in his stomach. It was… a mutilated body. He was missing his nails, and lacerations and cuts ran across his entire torso, arms, and legs, but the face had been left completely intact. Some cuts were so deep that they had reached the bone, and blood had seeped all across the floor. He still wore the Galactic uniform.

“Not my best work,” she continued, uncaring at the horror they were looking at. “But not my worst either.”

“Who… who was that?” He stammered as fear crawled down his spine. He bent over and almost threw up on the floor, but nothing came out.

“Calm down, Émile! I wouldn’t do that to one of us. Come on, you know me better than that!” She said. “He was a League agent that had been sent to join and infiltrate the organization. Caught him right away. He was down here for a few days while I was working on him.”

So she had tortured him for days? Émile stopped himself from lurching.

“He died an hour ago. He wouldn’t spill anything, though, even after I threatened his Pokemon,” she sighed. “And when I tried to get Hypno to extract any memories, his mind came up blank. That’s how I figured out he was a League guy, actually. Some kind of mental shield they use that we haven’t figured out yet. How annoying. But his screams were decently fun, although there’s one particular girl I want to play with soon.”

“But we got all the information we needed from the League with Rotom,” he said, his throat tight. “We even know that they found another one of the lakes by Sunyshore— you didn’t need to keep torturing him.”

Mars stared at him blankly, and then her face split into a grin. “Oops. I guess you found me out! The truth was that it was too much fun. Don’t tell anyone else, okay? They’ll get mad at me. Especially that old gruff Charon, ugh, I hate him.”

How… how had she become this way? There was no life in her eyes. Mars was a monster. Émile couldn’t believe it had taken so long for him to realize it. He had often tried to guess what kind of childhood she must have had to turn out this way, but the truth was, it didn’t actually matter. She just… she wasn’t human. She just looked the part.

“Why’re you stepping away from me, Émile?” She pouted. “Come on, I got you promoted! You’re going to live past the end of the world!”

I never wanted any of this, he thought as his breathing quickened.

“But of course, you didn’t want it, did you?” She continued as if she was reading his mind. “I knew, Émile. I knew all along. You were my pet project, you know? I wanted to see how long I could keep stringing you along toward a fate you hated. It was decently fun, but you just took it and never reacted, I mean, come on! Blow up at me or something. Get mad! Attack me! It’s too late now, though. I’m bored of you.”

Émile couldn’t even register the words he had just heard.

“What?”

“You heard me,” she said. “No hard feelings though, right?”

“You—”

Suddenly, the entire building was rocked by an explosion.

“Ah, must be the League,” Mars smiled. “About time.”

About time? He thought. They hadn’t been expecting to be found for another two weeks!

Émile clenched at his Pokeball. Could he pretend to be helping and strike Mars down so that she’d be arrested somehow? Killed would be better, but he would take anything he could get at this point. He didn’t care what happened to him. Mars ignored his bubbling rage and skipped up the stairs as she released her Seviper and her Clefable.

“Let’s go fight them off, shall we?” Mars smiled.

“Yes, Commander,” Émile hissed, grinding his teeth together.

——

“Sludge Bomb!” Émile yelled. “Double Edge!”

“Protect and Disarming Voice!” The League trainer ordered in quick succession.

Garbodore belched and spat out a huge lump of poison at the opposing Delcatty while Linoone’s body tensed and rushed toward the normal type. Delcatty summoned a thick barrier that protected it from both attacks, before quickly screaming at Linoone, causing him to writhe on the ground.

Everywhere around him, fights were erupting, ending, and ongoing. Parts of the ceiling had collapsed, there were holes in the walls and the floors, and a part of the building was on fire. There were so many battles going on at this point that Émile didn’t even know where Mars had gone, but he knew one thing. They were losing. The League had brought everything they had, and he caught a glimpse of Aaron from the Elite Four at one point. Linoone fainted, and he recalled him. His other Pokemon were also down. He only had Garbodore left.

Émile cursed, contemplating his options. Running was impossible. All exits had been blocked off, and League trainers had the building surrounded from all sides, along with the International Police. The only place he could go was deeper into the base.

“Surrender,” the League trainer said as he covered his mouth and nose from the putrid air blowing his way.

Émile ordered Garbodore to spit out another lump of poison, giving him an opening, and then booked it anyway. If he was going to get arrested, then he’d make sure the monster that called itself Mars would go down with him. He quickly recalled Garbodore once he was far enough and ran away. He needed to find her. He needed to—

She was there, mowing down League trainers with just two of her Pokemon and giggling like a girl. She wasn’t even using her Dusknoir, and yet she was standing up to three trainers at once. Clefable laughed maniacally as she struck down a trainer with a Thunderbolt that flew from the tip of her finger, and Seviper stabbed a Manetric’s throat, its sharp tail dripping with poison and blood. Émile bit his tongue, waiting for the exact moment that he needed to strike, which was right after Clefable sent another Thunderbolt forward.

“Sludge Bomb,” he whispered, pointing at Mars. Garbodore hesitated, but he hissed out the order again, and he finally listened, spitting out another ball of poison—

The world drained of its color and became cold, and smoke immediately coalesced into a solid shape. The Sludge Bomb washed over Dusknoir’s body, and the ghost type shot Émile a look that caused him to collapse on his knees and desperately crawl back as he soiled himself.

“I finally broke you,” Mars laughed. In the middle of this battlefield, her words still rang clear in his mind. “You were fun after all, Émile. Leave him be for now, Dusky.”

Émile didn’t have the energy to keep going. He stayed there, on the ground and staring at the ceiling for minutes, hoping to die from a stray attack or a collapsing roof. He didn’t. He felt someone grab his arms and handcuff him, and then he was dragged out of the building.

——

Émile sat in one of Eterna city’s jail cells with two other grunts, awaiting his fate. His Pokemon had been taken, and hundreds had gotten arrested, but he was sure Mars had made it out somehow. Hypno had been in the building before the fight erupted. Again, she was going to get off scot-free after all of the suffering she had inflicted.

The door to his cell opened, and two League trainers walked in, accompanied by a police officer. He recognized the one who owned the Delcatty, and he lowered his head.

“I didn’t want to— I’m sorry, I never knew it would get this bad—”

“Shut it,” he said as he beckoned a Kadabra into the room. “You didn’t want to do it, you didn’t know it would go this far, you’re sorry. I’ve heard it all before, and I don’t care. Your terrorist organization caused the death of a lot of good people and Pokemon today, and I’m not in the mood to hear your sob story—”

He paused for a few seconds, wincing.

“Yes, you can start working on them now,” he told the Kadabra before another pause. Another pained expression from what Émile assumed was telepathy. “Yeah, yeah, sorry for wasting your time. Go ahead.”

Émile’s breathing turned harsh and loud as he watched Kadabra approach his fellow grunt. Its spoon bent, its eyes flashed, and the man began to convulse, biting down so hard on his tongue that his mouth started to bleed. The process took around five minutes. Five minutes of torture. They weren’t even asking them questions before the extraction process. There was no out.

It was going to happen to him too.

Émile felt a sudden chill run down his spine as color died around the room.

“Ghost!” One of them yelled.

“What the fuck are the dark types doing?!”

The two League trainers cursed and released their Pokemon as the police officer ran out of the room. Émile frantically pulled at his restraints, but he was tied down. There was no escape. Dusknoir appeared behind him, opening his mouth as thousands of screams rang out throughout the room. The two trainers clenched at their heads, and Émile fell to the ground. The headache was agonizing. He couldn’t think about anything.

His body was so cold. His fingers trembled as the smoky mouth closed around him, and the world went black.

Émile’s body was gone, and he felt nothing any longer. Just that he was falling closer and closer to the screams. It had been hours now, or maybe days? He couldn’t tell. Everything was so dark here, and there was no way to know how much time had passed. The further he fell, the more he thought that he could hear someone laugh down here. A distinct giggle he had learned to fear.

Much later, the giggle was all-encompassing. It was unmistakable. Mars was down here somehow. Eventually, he slowed and stop falling.

“What are you doing here?” He asked with a trembling voice. He could somehow speak, even though he held no physical form. “How are you even in there? What are you?”

“It’s a piece of me,” she said. Her voice reverberated through the screams. “Dusky and I are linked forever.”

“You— you let it eat a part of your soul?” He said, his voice full of terror.

“Something like that,” she said. Even without his eyes, he could tell she was grinning. “I messed up and made you hate me too much, so I couldn’t save you, but I couldn’t let your memories get stolen by the League either. You knew too much, Émile. Cyrus would hate me for letting that knowledge into the League’s hands, but that doesn’t matter. You’ve reached the bottom now.”

“The bottom of what?”

“Dusky’s soul receptacle.”

“What does that mean?”

Mars didn’t have to answer. Émile felt an indescribable agony flare up and began to scream, adding to the thousands of other voices. He was a piece of something grander. One part out of thousands. A cog in the machine.

And he would be for all of eternity.