Love in the Time of Tribulations

Chapter 17: A Tale

Part of the chapter here is taken almost, kinda, verbatim from the games. You'll know exactly which, but I didn't want to change TOO much. Hopefully you enjoy Chapter 17!

Chapter 17

A Tale

"Reeree..." Mimi slumped against a rickety old chair in the dimly lit room, obvious numbness pervading her body. "Reeree is dead?"

"You saw her die?" Michael asked, sitting back with his hands behind his head. Gone was any geniality he once expressed as the vice president of the League. Now that he was back in his own element, as leader of DARC, there was no need for any sort of façade. Not now that the Final Day was approaching. Paul didn't say anything, which was usual of his rather reticent self, but Gary at least opted for a shaking of his head. "So you can't confirm it?"

"She probably had a hole the size of a watermelon through her," Paul spat irritably. "There's no way that she's walking away from that one."

Michael sighed. It was a shame, his own daughter dying such a violent death, yet it was something he'd come to accept over the years. Too many children had died before him; children that he'd chosen and taken under his wing. It was easy to do so when one called themselves the "Father of the Dark". Disseminating information around the underworld had always been a strange task, though now he had no more use of the moniker, just as his daughter had no more use of the name "Reeree".

"Pitiable, but that's how it is," he replied. "She knew the risks."

"She was your daughter!" Mimi yelled, standing in a fit of rage and kicking her chair aside. Michael frowned at her and she seemed to curb her tongue slightly. "It was them, wasn't it? Those monsters..."

Michael tilted his head, watching as Gary's eyes narrowed and his head dropped just a little. A smirk came to Michael's face, though it was hard to tell in the darkness. "Calm down, Miette."

"Calm down? ! We just lost one of The Seven!" Mimi screeched. Paul cringed at the sound of her high voice reverberating over the walls. "The Final Day is in just two days and we..."

"We will win," Michael said confidently, but sternly. "Serena's death is...pitiable, but as I said, she expected it. Let us not mourn the loss of a comrade and instead focus on the task at hand. There's still much to be done in the next two days."

"How do we know they won't strike earlier?" Carl asked, leaning forward with his palms together and his elbows on his knees. "ARC is ever-persistent, and we can no longer count out the rest of the people. The Gym Leaders and others did join that fight."

"Yet you saw the result," Michael waved off. "They were pushed back and beaten. Tell me, if you were them, would you strike back so soon?"

"Yet you're sure they'll strike back. Maybe your time in the League caused you to overestimate them," Paul said, now folding his arms as one hand played with his zipper. Michael didn't look in his direction as he answered the question.

"Hardly. Jack knows the score, and his son is just the same. I could see it," he said, his tongue practically slithering the words. "That fire in his eyes. They'll come at us with everything they have, just as always. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Oh, Michael...ever the schemer, keh heh heh," Cedric cackled out. Michael slouched a little in his chair, resting his head on his fist. "You're not wrong, though. They're stubborn. I look forward to it, personally. Wonder if Mr. League Winner has learned his lesson?"

"Who cares? !" Gary snapped, rising from his chair. "Why should we care if they've 'learned a lesson'? They're just...monsters, right? Look like us, act like us, but they're vain and selfish underneath. Feeling anything for them in any capacity is pointless!"