[X] My Assistant

[Umbrae Calamitas]

Had Tuesday been aware of the storm that had been brewing within her team, she would not have anticipated it to come to head as it did. Had she known, as Odysseus knew and other suspected, that it was only a matter of time before the fury culminated, Tuesday would have expected it to do so in the presence of Jaima. She would not have anticipated that she be so far removed from her friends as she was, an unknown number of miles away from them, in fact. She would not have guessed that the rage which filled the heart of her first pokemon would reach its apex during a pokemon battle with a trainer she had never met before. Had she known, she didn't know what she would have done to prevent it.

But then, she didn't know.

"Laurel, use Take Down!"

"Smokescreen, Dante!"

The venusaur that was the third pokemon her opponent sent out charged forward with a grumbling roar. Dante hunkered down on his back legs, muscles tense, hissing as the smoke burst from his mouth like a gas bomb, filling the air with a dark cloud which obscured their view of each other.

Laurel's move must have missed its target, as there was no sound of an attack having connected. Only the grumbling of the large saurian beast and Dante's ominous hissing.

The field in which the two trainers were battling already contained evidence of their pokemon's harsh battles. Grass was torn up in area, great gouges had torn through the grass and soil, and whole areas had been trampled or burned clear of vegetation. A large dead stump off to the side had already been a point of attack for Tempest, Tuesday's hotheaded pikachu. The bark still coating the stubborn remains of the tree was crispy and brittle on the edges, and the center of the tree was blackened and scorched. The stantler, who had attempted to use the stump as a springboard of attack, had not fared well from the attack, either.

Tempest, of course, had been beaten nearly to unconsciousness by the small deer-like pokemon that the other trainer had used as her second. Tuesday had never encountered the pokemon's like before, but the adorable pink and yellow pokemon had clearly been a grass-type, or partial, like the venusaur before her now. Tuesday resisted the urge, with some difficulty, to fetch her sketchboard and draw the pokemon. It was a close thing. Her fingers were itching.

This third pokemon was proving to be difficult, however. Dante had laid waste to Horizon, as the girl had called her fawn pokemon, but was now faced against a pokemon of a greater evolutionary tier, and power. Of course, being a fire-type helped.

"Fire Fang!" Tuesday called.

She heard a snarl from within the smokescreen and caught a glimpse of a flash of fire. The gentle breeze which had been blowing was quickly causing the smoke to dissipate, and Tuesday caught a glimpse of her opponent on the other side of the field.

Straight brown hair was cut just at the girl's jawline, curling in at the ends. A single strand of hair, errant, with a slight curl to it to differ from the rest of her hair (as all errant strands must), hung down over one of the girl's large green eyes. Her lips were parted slightly as she watched the battle before her. Her hands clenched into worried fists as she attempted to command her pokemon in such a way as to bring the battle back into her favor.

"Earthquake!"

"Earthquake?" Tuesday gasped, just as the venusaur stomped great paws down on the ground and caused it to tremble beneath her. Tuesday let out an "oof!" as she lost her footing and toppled, with no small amount of embarrassment, onto her behind. She grimaced at the sore pain in her rear, but blue eyes flicked up to the battle before she bothered to get to her feet. The smoke still hung with stubborn futility in the air, brief wisps of dark cloud, but she could see the two pokemon fine. Dante had lost his balance from the attack and collapsed onto his front, legs and legs splayed outward. As he pushed himself to his feet, hissing dangerously, he did not look the least bit pleased.

In the moments after Dante had fallen, the venusaur had taken advantage of its opponent's lack of attacking and moved closer. Tuesday thought quickly of a way to give Dante a chance to get away from the pokemon. A fire attack would do more damage, of course, but even with the super-effective attack, the venusaur would have a chance to retaliate. a physical attack was more likely to make the larger pokemon flinch away, or at least attempt to dodge, giving the charmeleon a chance to put some distance between them.

"Dante! Metal Claw!"

The charmeleon put its weight on its right rear leg as it brought its left arm raking upward through the air, claws glowing. The metal claw attack caught the venusaur across the face, causing the pokemon to roar and pain and jerk backward on instinct.

"Get out of its range, Dante!" Tuesday called. She knew, of course, that the charmeleon wouldn't be able to get out of striking distance of a vine whip or razor leaf, but as least he could avoid being stepped on.

Instead of doing as she said and retreating to a safer distance, however, the charmeleon hissed loudly, a burning sound, like cold water hitting a hot skillet. Light flickered beyond the charmeleon's fangs, and then flames burst forward. The venusaur roar and reared back on its hind legs, eyes shut and face as turned away as such a large pokemon could manage.

"Laurel! Use Synthesis!" the brown-haired girl cried, fists clenched at her chin.

Tuesday hadn't even thought of what order, exactly, to give Dante before the charmeleon was attacking again. Fire burst forth from his mouth, causing the venusaur to retreat, its attempt at performing Synthesis a failure. Dante advanced on the pokemon, mouth opened in a continued hiss that was interrupted only by the flames that burst forth. Fire attack after fire attack, the charmeleon unleashed unrepentent fury upon its opponent, oblivious to the measures of his own cruelty and Tuesday's cries for him to stop.

Exhausted, with scorch marks scattered across her body like war scars, the venusaur collapsed to the ground with a great rumble and thump. Snarling, Dante's claws glowed on both hands, and he lunged with fire flickering in his mouth. The fainted venusaur was a defenseless victim to the charmeleon as his claws tore through blue-green flesh and his fangs, burning with flames, shredded the petals on the unconscious pokemon's back with great bites and vicious twists of his head, as though the venusaur were not another living creature, but a dog toy, to be chewed to pieces for amusement, if nothing else.

"Dante! Dante, stop!" Tuesday cried, horrified. Her attempts at recalling the charmeleon were a failure when he dodged the red beam of the pokeball, only to unleash a flamethrower attack upon his felled opponent.

"Laurel!" the other girl cried, tears filling her eyes but unfallen, as she desperately searched in her bag for her pokeball.

"Dante!"

The charmeleon ignored her again and, horrified at what she was witnessing her first pokemon do to another, Tuesday grabbed another pokeball from her belt and tossed it outward. The words she thought she would never say - words that fought tooth and nail to be substituted with vomit at the very thought of them - tore from her throat before the pokeball had even fully unleashed its charge.

"Odysseus! Take Dante down! Water Gun!"

[Umbrae Calamitas]

Later, if asked, Tuesday wouldn't be able to say what exactly broke her concentration. One moment, she was elsewhere, her mind buried somewhere fierce and hot, fire pounding through her veins with every beat of her heart.

And then there was a feeling - the feeling - of something rushing over her. A wave, overwhelming, all-consuming. It grasped her in a hold she could not break and tore her away from where she had been wrapped in flames that burned and blazed, bit and howled.

For a moment, a terrifying moment, she was deaf. There was a blackness surrounding her worse than darkness - blindness. There was nothing in the air that she could smell, nothing on her tongue which she could taste. She was floating in a vast nothingness, unfeeling, alone, bereft of everything. Bereft of anything.

Then the wave struck around, bowled her over, sent her gasping, shrieking, screaming, crying in pain-wonder-terror-amazement-happiness-loneliness-confusion-fear.

And then the wave became.

And Tuesday became.

And Tuesday was the wave and the wave was she, and the world around her was an ocean of blue, lapping and crashing, receding and bursting. It terrified her and it thrilled her. It made her want to flee, and it made her want to jump into endless waters where the waves would tear her soul asunder and remake her.

And she wanted that. She wanted it desperately, and not only because her mind was a cat's cradle mess of the Tuesday that had been before and the Tuesday that was a DragonSlayer but who didn't really exist. The linear threads of time were tangled in knots that wouldn't be undone, not without cutting the lines of her past and finding some way to paste the tattered remains back together. What was left behind from the salvage would be a Tuesday that had never been before, one that might never be again.

And she wanted that - to be unmade, and then remade. To be fixed, to make the two lives pressing against each other in her head become one, so should could be Tuesday. Just Tuesday.

Whoever Tuesday turned out to be.

~*~

"Lucario!"

The walls around Zorro did not exist. He knew that now. The white stone that seemed to glow with its own unearthly light wasn't real. There was no palace in which a kingdom's hierarchy existed. There were no Fae. It was all, everything, an illusion. An elaborate ploy, the reasons for which he did not know. He didn't quite care.

His hermana had come for him.

Illusion or not, there were dramatics in play. The masks these creatures - these mindgame-players - wore were of the Fae, and those who dwell in the Faerie Realm do love their games, they love to dance, and they love the stage on which it all is set. If nothing else, a shadow's dream on a midsummer night would tell us that.

Bound in walls that did not exist, Zorro was free to leap from his cage and take on the Fae-that-were-not. And leap he did, bearing his own mask of play and tricks, for he was Zorro.

The walls about him shattered, like shards of glass, slivers of a waking dream, and the riolu leapt free even as the change took him, a white light making him taller and faster, stronger, altering his sight. The little riolu became a lucario, his heart thrumming with happiness, for while there was a battle to be had, while they had been lied to, while he had been caged in a box of shadows, Tuesday had come for him.

It was enough to make a donphan fly, but Zorro was content to evolve. And take on the world.

~*~

There was a flame that burned in Ashleigh's heart. It thrummed beneath his skin, a constant. It was a blaze that brightened his eyes with fire, warmed his fur with the heat of a star. The houndoom had a sun burning in his heart, and he would do anything for the little pup that had saved him.

But Ashleigh could not take on the world and win. Dark though he may be, and strong, he was not strong enough to take on seven pokemon, even those who trembled to see him, who saw a void where stood a pokemon.

Even dark against a psychic, he could not win when he was outnumbered, when he was alone.

But she had asked. Alpha. The one who would lead his new pack. She had asked, and Ashleigh could do nothing but answer.

He would do anything for her.

And so he spat curses with fire and bit illusions with teeth that tore through masks and shredded what lay underneath. He roared to scare them back, to chill their souls. He burned to send them running, to make them hurt for hurting his Alpha. He bit and scratched and snarled to show that he would not stop. And he howled.

He howled a call of begging, because he could smell the tiny dancer, the pretty ballarina who was so close and who might fear him but who was strong. She would stand next to him with her pack and her kin and make him strong, because he would not be facing an army alone.

Ashleigh howled. The Fae trembled.

And suddenly they weren't Fae anymore.