Chapter 12: Usurpation

So one of the things I did not realize at the time was how populated the desert of Orre is, other than the Holohians. I seemed to have forgotten Pyrite town and Phenac city, as well as some of the other landmarks, such as the S.S. Libra and the Shadow Pokemon Lab. This was unintentional and at this point in the story, especially with so many chapter written past this, it would be a difficult, if Herculean feat to fix my mistake. So, I have decided to do some "tweaking" shall we say, by placing Orre in the context of the anime world and deciding that these places do not exist. The Pokemon lab in the desert had been destroyed at this point in the story, a few years ago from this point, actually. Because of the Holohians, Pyrite Town and Phenac City were not built. S.S. Libra had been scrapped by the Holohians and its sailors led back to civilization.

That is my story and I'm sticking to it. Because Orre has never been mentioned in the anime, I'm free to make the changes because the anime has no established canon for it. The game however. . . Shame on me. . .

The ship made its landing close to midnight, with only the light from the stars to light the way. The ocean looked like molten argent, Stella noted, beautiful in its appearance, looking at it through a small window in her room. The ship was buzzing with activity as Archer planned to make his grand appearance to the executives of Cipher, filling their heads with tales of conquest and power and enslaving them with the shackles of death and destruction. Such was Captain Archer's way and to question it is to sentence yourself to death, Stella thought as she twisted her dark curly hair into a tight braid, to better fit under her helm. Captain Archer had commanded that the high ranking officers of his outfit dress themselves in their combat gear, to better impress the executives. She reached for her signature helm, a black Corinthian style helm that encompassed most of her head, leaving only her eyes visible, for the cheek guards wrapped around most of her face and the nose guard flared outward. A bright red crest from an unknown creature topped the helmet. Her armor was like the exoskeleton of a beetle, smooth and black and covering most of her body. She carried a small kite shaped shield, also black with silver studs dotting the edge and a foot long spike in the middle. Her tulwar, long since recovered from the battle of Rota, was strapped to her side. Her pokeballs were next to it.

"Fate," she said softly to herself. "Has given me the hard road in life. To be nothing more than a tool in Archer's game. But, but do I regret that decision?

Stella answered her own question. "It is a far better choice that what could have been."

She had been born to an alcoholic, prostitute mother and unknown father—her mother's employer—she guessed, the same mother who died in an alcohol fueled car crash that killed a family of five. Now motherless and fatherless, with no one the take care of her, she was left to the whims of the child care system in Celadon City, where she quickly ended up at an orphanage—she couldn't believe they still had those things. It wasn't until she was eight where she was rescued by an older gentleman who promised her the world if she came with him. Stella, who wanted to escape the cold, cruel confines of concrete walls and uncaring officials, went with him willingly.

"I will simply be known as "The Master"," he had told her. "I will give you everything you wanted, the things that this world, cold and cruel, could not. Or rather, would not. I will change the world and you, you will help me achieve this, for I see much potential in you."

He tempted her with honeyed words and eventually he had her, truly, her head, her mind, heart, and soul.

She became his warrior queen, fierce and beautiful, talented in battle and swordplay, an assassin and a master trainer, with a team that would make a Gym leader bow their head in shame.

But then Archer came along, a prodigy, and smashed it to bits.

For Archer could use Aura and she could not.

Now she was his servant, not an equal, like she had been with The Master. Stella occasionally wondered what would had happened if she challenged him then and there, rather then stand by and watch the slow, agonizing erosion of her position of power. At the very least, he let her live and keep her position, rather than demoting her to the lowest tier of their hierarchy. With the death of The Master, Archer promoted and demoted those that he chose. Those that challenged him or were a threat were slaughtered by his blade and their carcasses discarded in the ocean to be devoured by the denizens of the deep.

"As I said, it could have been worse." Stella laughed bitterly. There was a nagging thought, of fear for her own life and her position. Archer was changing; his moods were now becoming much more extreme and capricious. He could easily kill her just as soon as look at her, like what he did to the smuggler the other night. He had commanded his scientists to continue their experiments on the members on the lower rungs of command—mainly the Grunts he had recruited from the various criminal outfits—in order to create the perfect weapon, one that he planned to have complete and utter control over, for he planned to become the weapon, the experiment fueled by the power of Aura. He was becoming insane with power.

Something had to change soon, else they would all end up dead.

She finished getting ready, adjusting the black helm on her head and staring at the mirror. Her brown eyes looked so dead and lifeless, a minor price to pay while serving in the kind graces of Archer. She was changing, she realized.

"But is it for the better?" she wondered as she exited the room, careful to mask her thoughts and her demeanor.

Her boots, tipped in metal, clacked across the hard surface of the floor to greet Captain Archer, whom had been waiting for outside her room. Archer looked like the epitome of a ruler, discarding his usual armor for a different ensemble that Stella had only seen once before: at his ascension of the order after the death of the previous Master. The breastplate, pauldrons and bracers were a lustrous silver, with golden scrollwork along the edges. The pauldrons looked like wings flaring outwards, At the center of the breatplate was a fearsome stylized dragonite hammered in golden metal, its wings extending outwards He wore a red tunic underneath, with a longer skirt that went over his thighs. His greaves were also silver, with wing designs extending from them, looking like the ear wings of a dragonair. A belt of brown leather and golden studs went around his hips; his carnelian encrusted sword hung from it. A blood red cape went past his ankles to brush against the floor, clasped around his shoulders by two clasps that looked like the roaring profiles of luxrays.

But his helm, that was a work of majesty. It was open-faced, forged of silver with golden accents, allowing his features to be seen. It looked like a dragonite, with the head and neck of the pokemon serving as the nose guard, while the arms and claws functioned as cheek guards. The "wings" of the dragonite flared upwards. However, the true beauty was how a five pronged crown was incorporated seamlessly into the design, with a large hunk of lapis lazuli as the centerpiece, the stone most often used when practicing Aura. Archer must have paid dearly for the work of beauty, though Stella surmised that it was the crafter of the piece paid for it in blood.

"Ah Stella, I have been waiting for you," Archer greeted her with open arms. He looked like a charismatic god of the sun, while she was the wicked goddess of the night, shunned by their proverbial father. She thought that it was ironic, in a way. "Shall we go greet our guests?" he smirked. She nodded slightly in reply.

"Yes, Captain Archer."

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Stella and Archer left the ship, flanked by a half dozen members of Stella's personal guard, dressed in their encasing black armor. Archer did not have a personal guard, nor did he need one, for he had his pokemon team to guard him and if that didn't work-

-Woe be unto the enemy that decided to stand in Archer's way.

On the island, the members of Cipher were waiting for the entourage, dressed in their white suits that seemed a better fit on a video game character rather than a member of Orre's most feared organization. Stella suppressed a snicker as she gazed upon them. Their uniforms looked more like Halloween costumes than actual uniforms; at the least, her personal guard looked far more intimidating in their close fitting black armor.

One of the Cipher members smartly saluted. "Master Reynard Archer!" he practically shouted, his voice trembling slightly. Archer seemed to have that affect on people.

"Captain Archer", Archer corrected slowly, one gauntleted hand fingering the hilt of his sword.

"Sorry Captain Archer," the grunt apologized, eying the blade. Before the Cipher grunt could bumble further, the second, a girl, interjected.

"Master Greevil will see you now," she said, attempting to keep her eyes downcast and away from Captain Archer's face.

"Thank you, but I must admit, I thought that Greevil had disappeared." Archer replied, sounding horribly naïve and Stella could see why; he wished to make himself as a pompous fool, until the time was right and Archer would strike with the swiftness of an arbok.

"Greevil survived the attempts on his life and found us again to lead us," The girl seem condescending towards the pair and Stella was tempted to teach her a lesson, but Archer stayed her hand, which had unconsciously been reaching for her weapon.

"Steady," Archer whispered to Stella, quiet so that the grunts could not hear. Then to the girl he said, "Ah yes, my apologies. My news must be outdated. It is difficult to retrieve news about your organization." Again, another lie. Archer had plenty of information about the organization, retrieved from various sources inside and outside of Orre.

She nodded curtly, her hand extending to inside the cave. "This way, Captain." Archer went in first, followed by Stella, only a couple of steps behind. Stella's guard, the only guard that came with them, marched on either side of them, in tidy rows of six.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- .-

Greevil was a small, shriveled up husk of a man, Stella noticed, strolling into the the room that served as their dining place, a tiny man with a balding head and glasses that seemed too big for his tiny raisin like eyes, all but hidden under the numerous wrinkles on his face. He wore violet robes that made him seem even smaller, if such a thing were possible. A man like Greevil should not be allowed to wear a color designated for royalty. He looked hunched over in his chair, surrounded by his executive that Stella didn't even bother a second glance at. Grunts lined the walls, keeping an eye out on the visitors, just in case.

Sometimes, it was best to not learn the names of people you might end up killing. It made the nightmares less horrifying, in a way.

"Welcome Captain Reynard Archer and Stella Natalios," Greevil wheezed, his eyes falling upon Stella, almost lecherous. Stella fought the urge to gag at the thought. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I have heard much about your organization and I am glad that you have decided to make this alliance." His voice was thin and reedy and Stella wondered how such a small man could wield the power of an organization as expansive as Team Cipher. She could easily break him with her bare hands.

One of the grunts walked to them and gestured to Archer's weapons. "Your weapons, please."

Archer nodded and pulled out a small dagger, one that had been skillfully hidden in his belt and handed it over. The grunt took the weapon and sneered, "The sword as well." he glanced over at Stella. "You too."

Archer looked down at the sword as if it was the first time he had seen it. "Oh, this? This is nothing but a prop, it can't even cut you."

The grunt seemed unimpressed at Archer's explanation and began to say something more, when Greevil waved a hand, shooing the grunt away from Archer, clearly believing him. "Leave the man alone, if he says it is useless, then it is useless; however, I want your guards out of the room. I'm sure that my grunts will suffice for the meal."

Archer scowled at the request, but obliged anyway, banishing the guards outside the room. It was only him and Stella now, but Stella was all he needed should something arise. The grunts directed the pair to their seating places, near Greevil, but not close enough to be in arm's reach. Two men, one with red hair and the other with blue, hovered near Greevil, their faces partially obscured by their wrap around sunglasses. "Bodyguards?" he asked.

"My sons," Greevil sniffed.

"I would not have guessed."

Greevil shot Archer a dirty glance and continued, gesturing for one of the grunts to start bringing food out to them. A hot steaming bowl of soup was placed in front of Greevil while Archer received a steak that Archer was positive wasn't synthetic meat and had no desire to eat all of the sudden. He despised the idea of actually eating a pokemon, but in order to oblige Greevil and his twisted machinations, begrudgingly cut a small piece and took a bit, repressing the urge to gag all the while.

"So, what brings the mighty Archer to grace my humble presence?" Greevil began, his reedy voice cutting through the room.

"I'm searching for something," Archer cut another piece of the steak but did not take a bite. "Something valuable and powerful. If we can find it, it will bring us great power."

"You say us," Greevil snorted. "Why not search for it on your own?"

"Because," Archer adjusted his cloak around him, subtly undoing the strap that held his sword in place in its scabbard. "I have little knowledge of the desert, and you do." Another lie, but this one was designed to make Greevil sound and appear more important to Archer.

"Yes, I do have much knowledge of the desert," Greevil crowed, sitting back in his throne of a chair, an elaborately carved chair with a high back. "My men had operated in the desert for some time and have no intentions of leaving anytime soon. But what, might I inquire, are you looking for?"

"A boy."

Greevil's piggish eyes widen in surprise. "A boy? A boy will bring us great power?"

"It took a boy to bring an organization such as yours to its knees, no?" Archer sneered.

Greevil scowled and his two bodyguard sons stepped forward, hands to pokeballs, ready and willing to defend the honor of their father and Team Cipher. "And why," Greevil crossed his arms in his luxurious robes, his form dwarfed in them. "Should I help the likes of you, crawling to my doorstep, hoping to endear me with honeyed lies, then insulting me in my own house!" he snapped.

"Why, that's quite simple really," Archer fiddled with the knife in his hand, digging the tip of the blade into the wood work of the large table, cutting through the fabric of the tablecloth in the process. "I have taken down organizations as powerful as Team Rocket with a single gesture. I have assimilated the forces of Team Aqua, Team Magma and Team Galactic, their leaders forsaking them and their values, my associates and I shepherding them into one organization, despite their bickering, petty values. I have forged them into a mighty weapon that will take the deserts of this puny region like a hurricane.

"And besides, if you don't, I will kill you and take your organization by force." Archer finished, smiling, his teeth looking more like fangs.

Greevil had enough with Archer's drivel. He practically lunged out of his seat, robes in a flurry. He pointed and screeched at them. "Seize them! Make them pay for their insolence!" The grunts swarmed the pair, wielding what appeared to be stun guns mounted on a rifle stock. Greevil was surrounded by his executives and they vanished to the deepest recesses of the room.

Yanking the knife out of the table, Captain Archer flung it at one of the Cipher grunts, while pulling his sword from his scabbard. The knife sunk deep into the Cipher member's chest, breaking the armor he wore. The grunt fell to the ground with a gurgle. Stella stood up and kicked the chair back, whipping her tulwar out. The chair collided with two grunts and the fell back, covering their faces from the flying pieces of wood. Archer cut down two grunts, blood whipping of his sword in a bloody arc, staining the pale hued tablecloth with blood splatter.

"Stella! I order you to deal with these grunts!" Captain Archer commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos in an authoritative manner, deep and charismatic. "I will deal with Greevil. I was hoping that we could settle this in a simple, bloodless matter," he shook his head sadly and pulled out a pokeball. "Furret, help me find Greevil!" the long pokemon emerged from his pokeball in a flash of white. The ferret like pokemon was wearing silver armor that ran down its back and belly, the two pieces joined by leather straps. The armor was made of large overlapping scales, allowing the ferret pokemon to have as much mobility as the armor allowed. Both Archer and Furret darted out of the room.

Stella found herself quickly surrounded by Cipher grunts. She whipped out flygon's pokeball and the pale green dragon came out, clad in black armor, like his trainer. Flygon's wings turned into a blur as it summoned a miniature sandstorm. Stella pulled down the visor on her helm, which provided protection from the grit while still allowing her to see in the storm. As Team Cipher strained to see in the dust storm, Stella whistled shrilly and piercingly, beckoning her and Archer's personal guard into the room. Stella blocked the stun rifle of one Cipher member, slicing it off midway down the stock. A mild electric shock went up her arm as the weapon broke, but she paid it no mind, sending her tulwar into the chest of the offending Cipher member, the tip of the weapon emerging from their back. Flygon slashed away at one Cipher member and batted away another into the stone wall, snapping their spine with the collision. Flygon blasted away a grunt with a dragon pulse attack.

The door of the room shattered as one of her guards kicked the door in, sending it off its hinges. The guard swarmed into the room, each of them pulling down the visors of their own helms like Stella, the sand striking off the armor, paying no mind to it. Stella's personal guard had special helms designed like hers allowing them to see through the grit. Stella used the tactic often, having her flygon muster up a sandstorm and using it for cover. Swords slashed up and down, as a farmer would cut down wheat at harvest. The Cipher grunts stood no chance against Stella and Captain Archer's personal guard.

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Archer and Furret charged down the halls of Greevils volcanic lair, the halls made of natural lave tubes, solidifying after thousands of years. Archer snarled, "Where are you, you miserable little cretin?"

From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of blue going down one of the halls that branched off the main hall. "Furret go after them!" the furret chirped and bolted down the hall, much faster that Captain Archer could. Archer followed behind, his sword bare and bloodied, his cloak billowing behind him, his boots striking the stone floor, like a bell ringing out.

Archer and Furret found themselves at the top of the mountain lair, on top of a helicopter pad. He laughed, for Greevil had intended to flee and regroup somewhere else in Orre, like a sniveling coward he was. A nondescript black helicopter was waiting on the helipad, the blades rotating, sending gusts of wind everywhere. Greevil and his two sons were running towards the helicopter, unaware of Archer's presence. They would know now.

"Furret, use hyper beam on the helicopter's blades!" He commanded. Furret nodded and opened his mouth wide. A stream of white energy flew over the heads of Greevil and his sons, and blasted into the blades of the helicopter. Helicopter parts and flame went everywhere as the machinery of the blades exploded. Greevil's two sons shielded their father and yanked him away from the smoking wreckage. They turned around to face him. Furret was exhausted from the attack, but Archer would use him again soon enough. One of Greevil's sons, the one in red, made a move for his pokeball strapped to his belt. Archer's left hand flared black and he shot out a gout of black Aura at the man. The Aura crashed in the man's chest and he was sent flying across the helipad.

The other son, the one in blue, charged, bellowing at the top of his lungs and reaching for a ball. Archer clenched his fist and manipulated the Aura energy into the shape of a hellish whip, comprised of black fire. Archer cracked the whip, sending the tip at the man's legs. The Aura whip tripped him and Archer pulled back on the. The man in blue fell back, the whip entangled with his legs. Archer cracked the whip to his left, sending the tip, and the man, flying with it. He released the Aura and the man crashed into a rock at the edge of the helipad. Both men were now unconscious, presumably dead, leaving Archer to deal with Greevil, who was now a burbling wreck, hiding in his robes, tiny raisin eyes wide with fear. The helicopter was now a burning wreckage on the helipad, the pilot assumed dead as well.

Archer stalked towards him, sword tip pointed low to the ground, cape draped behind him. His dirty blond hair was now out of its club, loose strands framing his face. He crouched next to Greevil, tsk-tsking at the man.

"You know," Archer began, slowly sheathing his sword. A sword would have been unwieldy in quarters as close as these. He pulled out his dagger, the one whose hilt was studded with carnelians. "I'm mildly disappointed. I had hoped that we could settle this matter peacefully. Now look at what you made me do."

"Please, please don't hurt me!" Greevil blubbered, his jowls shaking with every sound. To Captain Archer, it was like watching a quivering bowl of jelly.

"I wish I could do that; however," Archer paused. "To leave you alive would mean that I would have a rebellion on my hands. I don't like rebellions, frankly. They're too costly."

"I have money! Lots of it! I'll give you anything!"

"Why give it to me now, when I can simply take it when you're dead?" Archer plunged the dagger deep into the royal purple robes and into Greevil's side. Archer yanked the dagger out, wiping the blood off the blade, using Greevil's luxurious robes.

Archer stood back up, admiring his handiwork. If all went well in the depths of the volcanic lair, Stella should have subjugated the rest of Cipher's members, including the executive that survived the initial sparring.

"Captain Archer." It was Stella, her black encasing armor liberally splattered with blood, her tulwar held loosely in her right hand. "The members of Cipher have surrendered." she gazed at her surroundings, whistling in amazement at the chaos. "You did this, sir?"

"Yes I did." Archer held one hand up, allowing the black Aura to flare to life for only a moment, then extinguishing them as quickly. "You said the Cipher members surrendered? Including the executives?"

"Yes sir."

"Very good." Archer turned his back on her. "Have them spread the word of Greevil's rather untimely demise." he kicked the corpse of the Cipher leader. "Tell that that they're under new management as well."

"Very well sir. Anything else?" Stella sheathed her weapon.

Archer mulled it over, returning Furret back into his ball. "Yes, I do.

"Tell them. . . tell them that they have a new mission now."

And this is why you don't mess with Archer. Or his Furret.

You have been warned.