Chapter no.6
"But for all that money…" The memory of Jessie's voice taunted him.
She might. She would do it for the money. But we…we could be happy. We wouldn't need to do this anymore. I could inherit my family's fortune and estate and could even fund Team Rocket. We could support them in that way, it wouldn't mean she was giving up!
Meowth's sudden screams derailed his train of thought and roused Jessie from her sleep. Before they could even ask him what was wrong, a flash from Jessie's pokéballs filled the room. When the light dimmed Wobbuffet, Yanmega, and Seviper appeared in the rows of seats behind them. Carnivine and Mime Jr. were next to appear on the rows of seats before them. But there was no head nibble from the grass type. That was the first signal that something was terribly wrong. Instead, what filled the void of the absent ritual were anguished screams straight out of their worst nightmares.
Meowth's claws were extended, carving into cushions with every cry. The stuffing bled out through the rips. His normally calm eyes were narrow slits, unfocused and wild like the raised hair and menacing stance he had suddenly adopted.
They had seen Meowth under the influence of several things over the years, but nothing compared to the feral creature that he had transformed into. Jessie suddenly felt James's arms wrap around her waist before he pulled her to the floor between the rows of seats where he joined her.
James's heart momentarily stopped as he felt the rush of air from a swipe of Meowth's claws that narrowly missed his head.
Yanmega pinballed off the walls, each impact leaving behind a large dent. The grotesque shape of a pokémon slamming against solid metal abruptly stopped when the Ogre Darner crashed into Meowth. In too much pain to stop himself, the Scratch Cat tumbled down the aisle until he collided with the bulkhead at the opposite end of the craft, mercifully rendering himself unconscious. Wobbuffet's lanky arms wrapped around his bloated blue body as he rocked like a demented metronome. Mime Jr. writhed on the floor, caught in the throes of this mysterious affliction. Carnivine opened his spiny maw and began firing Bullet Seeds, every spasm unleashing another salvo in a random direction. Some bounced harmlessly off the bulkhead; others punched holes in the aircraft's thin metal fuselage.
Seviper contorted and writhed, every convulsion caused his razored tail to swing wildly. Yanmega eventually stopped careening throughout the interior and settled for flailing in mid-air, vibrating her wings until it seemed that they had disappeared. The ensuing screech swallowed everyone's screams and blew out every window. The shattered fragments were sucked out into the ravenous emptiness outside and lost to the winds.
Whether an involuntary attack or a simple attempt to make the pain and noise stop, Carnivine unleashed a barrage of seeds at the Ogre Darner pokémon, heedless of whether anyone was in his path.
Unfortunately, Wobbuffet happened to be right in the line of fire. The Patient Pokémon shuddered with every projectile that ripped through him until he eventually succumbed to the barrage. His body teetered and eventually fell over into a pool of his own blood. Yanmega fared far worse. The near point-blank barrage of Bullet Seed had reduced Yanmega's body into something that best described as "chunky green sludge".
Bits of membranous wing fluttered about like morbid confetti, dancing to the raging hiss of air rushing out from the innumerable holes in the cabin walls. Streaks of lavender marked the frantic slashes from Seviper's tail, even his own body bore the scars of the thrashing. James watched as his Carnivine continued firing at random. The bluenette's eyes widened as the gaping maw faced him. He shuddered, awaiting the inevitable barrage of seeds that would tear through his body.
But they never came. A flash of gleaming black and purple bit deep into Carnivine's throat.
Carnivine's ovoid head rolled when it hit the floor, rocking back and forth before its jagged maw limply parted. Seviper's hisses grew weaker and weaker until a heavy thud and a clatter marked his fall. And an end to the chaos.
Jessie's heart was beating equally hard against James's own. While some small part of them enjoyed the other's presence and proximity, a larger part of them wanted nothing more than to stay still and hope the universe overlooked them.
Seconds stretched into eternities while James's mind was still in freefall. Wind whistled through the riddled walls and sparks rained from the remnants of the cabin lights. Jessie was the first to slowly rise off her partner and look around the room.
Meowth lay still against a large dent in the showing where he had hit the bulkhead. There was more red and purple than blue on Wobbuffet's body, his mouth and pseudo eyes unrecognizable with dozens of wet and crimson burrows that marred his body. Blood trickled down the Seviper's sleek obsidian scales, each wound another self-inflicted scar for the future.
Jessie ran over to the cockpit door. Her fear had been replaced by her Team Rocket training. On autopilot, she practically punched the button. The door creaked as its damaged motors struggled to open it. James watched his fellow field agent; he could see the muscles in her body tensed and ready to strike. She already knew which of the pilot's compartments had the medical kit; her worries of who could be actually saved would need to wait until she could try and treat them. It was as the doors began to part that Jessie noticed the holes that riddled the metal.
James watched his partner's initial attempt at a lunge and saw that the distance she traveled could've been measured in millimeters. Her stance shifted when she flinched; the determined look in her eyes faltered and gave way to surprise. One step away from the door became two, then three. When she said nothing James ran to her side, seeing what had stopped her in her tracks.
The clear windshield was covered with a red film and instead of the faint odor of hydraulic fluid and lubricants, there was the overpowering animal stench of iron.
The pilot's body was slumped over and sprawled across the controls; a single red light blinked amidst the cerise coated controls. The fact that the autopilot was still on gave them little comfort as they watched the blood trickle down the sides of his seat, feeding into the growing pool at the base.
James felt as though his blood had left his face the join the pool, his body suddenly cold and his head felt light. It wasn't his first time seeing blood; yet no matter how many times he saw it, any ounce of courage he had drained away with the blood from his face. Bile rose into his throat as he looked up from the pool and saw what had decorated the controls. Bits of plastic from the pilot's helmet were scattered amidst the brain and bone fragments that pasted the console. A series of blinking numbers caught his attention and finally gave James an answer to one of his questions.
It was 12:03 AM.