40 The Jailer's Key

I wish I could calculate just how deep into the underground I was – the elevator's descent took longer than it did in any one of the tallest buildings in Lumiose. Once it stopped, nothing could be heard from either outside or inside the facility. I was happy to see no sign of Calem and the rest: they must be far ahead in their strife.

The metal door hinged open – the joints screaming from little use. I braced myself, expecting the villainous throw bad guys usually perform when caging a prisoner... but Lysandre lightly held me in his hands and put me down inside the cell right in front of him, as respectfully as he could - given the circumstances, that is! He took his time gazing at me intently from his position, performing a quiet investigation.

"What good was it to help in your friends' attempt, when you had already been captured? Why was it worthwhile, if you'd be spending the rest of your time here, locked away?" he inquired in what sounded like genuine curiosity, a scientist's speculation instead of a villain's teasing.

"Because... we must stop you..." I let out my shy voice in the dark.

His eyes shone a little brighter.

"I see." Was his composed reply "It's not glory you seek, but what you believe to be justice. There is no nobler deed than the effort of a selfless warrior whose sacrifice shall never be remembered." And he sighed "A dreary waste that I alone shall regret!" and, after casting his gaze into me for another minute, he took a step back, closed the cell door.

"Excuse-me" he finished before walking away.

I let in a rich breath – my chest ached, my bones trembled lightly. Being locked again, captured again... wretchedness reached me there at last, conjured by the gloomy grey walls and the still, silent air. And what a sensitive tyrant this one was – the way he looked at me was disturbingly sympathetic, disturbingly saddening.

I sat myself down on the cold metal bench and rested my mind in the fact that my friends were probably way ahead of Lysandre by now. Still, it took quite some time for the trembling to subside.

Slumber would not come and rescue me from such torturous wait – but even if it did, the nightmares would drive me crazy with bringing to life every possible outcome of that day, so I just lay there trying to count back how much time had passed by and to calculate how much more before it was all over.

A distant ray of blue light momentarily invaded my lonely cell – I recognized the sound of the automatic door beyond that area sliding open, and promptly closing itself again – before it did though, I briefly spotted the shadow of the visitor cast on the floor by the external illumination: The slender, tall figure I had grown to love and hate in equal measures had come to see me - How those much narrower shoulders, when compared to Lysandre's, intimidated! How the charming, chevalier-like pace unnerved me... And, at last, how the meek, friendly smile tortured me beyond madness!

My chest beat arduously as Professor Sycamore walked up to the cell door. A savage, unconscious agitation would have made me start running in circles if I'd listened to it, suffering that the predator should find me locked, from where I could not escape him. Rational brain filtering the inner response, I merely sat there and watched, mute, unmoving.

Sycamore stopped, leaning against the door and casting a mocking, pitying glance my way. He measures the silence, knowing it echoed his triumph: the fact that I had nothing to say.

"To think it would come to this, darling!" a sigh brought out his voice "That you would end up inside this place..."

I faced him – his amused smile avenged him on my prior escape as he derived a delicate and ruthless pleasure from watching the scene.

"Did your plan not turn out so well?" he teased, his voice stealing softly through the bars "Was taking down Team Flare not that easy after all?"

I wanted to talk back – to defy him and scream at his face... but my spirit had already been broken by merely recognizing him, long before he started talking: I was locked, after all. How embarrassingly silly I would look now, if I still argued angrily - I would not show him the splinter of a pride I still had left, it was as precious as it was frail, for it was all that remained. It couldn't possibly survive being tossed into the flames of his amusement.

"Well, well..." he sighed again, now delicately resting his head on the space between the bars and relaxing his placid blue eyes "You look so despondent and alone in there... like a broken doll placed back in its box to prevent further degradation..."

I turned my face to the side, where he couldn't see it, hoping this would diminish his fun. I must have failed though, for he chuckled – the sound filled up the cell with a tormenting echo:

"So powerlessly beautiful you remain, too, my clawless kitten! Tell me, then: should I stay and keep you company?"

I refused to answer, refused to look his way as hot tears of shame began welling around my orbits.

I heard the distinct sound of metal brushing against itself, and closed my eyes in dismay: how much more humiliating that he should have a key! Shivers ran up my spine as his silent, composed steps crossed the floor, as his clothes rustled while he sat next to me in the bench – the warmth of his proximity pretty distinguishable through the cold air.

I felt his eyes weight on me uncomfortably as he observed me in my mental distance; I felt a smile stretch across his face, if that is possible... but he certainly smiled, I didn't have to look back to check: the fact that my only defenses against him came down to looking away was sufficient reason to do so.

"I can't help but think..." his voice was too near "That I shouldn't be here at all!"

I felt his chest lightly brush against my arm while he stretched out his hand and pulled a hair lock from my face, positioning it behind my ear – the unwelcome contact made me shiver, and he snickered, gleaming with satisfaction "...That I should leave you here all alone, until you learn your lesson..."

My distance backfired as he took it in as his ideal form of submission – his warm lips pressed firmly against my shoulder. My body tensed, and his arm wrapped around me to keep me from pulling away "But, fool that I am, I can't resist it!"

I was surrounded by his warmth in that cold bench. I could feel him growing around me, overpowering, binding, oppressing way more than the rigidity of my cell could!

"I am a rather too merciful master, I'm afraid…" his face brushed lightly against the side of my cheek as he breathed in deeply some scent that aroused him "…you'll make for a most spoiled pet, too, but I just can't help it."

I closed my eyes, experiencing the hot humiliation of my condition… of still being swayed by his fingertips. His breast shook with an entertained laugh.

"But who am I fooling? I rather enjoy these little transgressions. They make for some amusing times, don't they?" He passed an arm around my waist and pulled me against his chest… the other hand brushed lightly across my face "If you were the obedient little thing I dream of, I'd miss out on putting you back in your place… of telling you 'I know better', 'I told you so', and of enjoying this kitty-cat vexation you direct at me without fully daring to confront your beloved Professor… because you know you can't!" He whispered the last part into my ear, his lips purposefully breaking the necessary distance and brushing against my hearing organ "Physically you are no match, yes, but that's not what stops you… it's something else. And I do so love the light in yours eyes when you realize it: that you can't oppose me. That deep down, you don't want to…"

His hands moved, his clothes rustling against mine, his arm pulling back.

"Despite of yourself, you don't want to. And you are glad I am here to make your cold captivity a little more amusing. I am a kind master, and I'll have you admit to it before the day is out."

He squeezed both my arms in his hands and pulled my back closer against his torso, quickly kissing the back of my head with a fragment of wounded passion lurking there. Then, as if moved by urgency, he yanked himself from me, stood up and pulled back his hair, adjusted his lab coat, recomposed – the red tint marking his face beginning to subside.

"…But I must not get carried away my darling, not yet. Important things are about to happen, and we must stay sharp for it. All the more reason for you to be grateful I have taken the time out of my busy schedule to come and see you in your lonesome defeat, don't you think?"

I scoffed and turned my face away, shaking my head from one side to the other. Sycamore watched my consternation with his quiet, constant smile.

"You don't see it yet, do you? You play a hard bargain, miss Anne! But I have come prepared…"

And he tucked his hands inside the pockets of his lab coat, watching my inevitable interest.

"Would you show me more gratitude if I presented you with a gift?" he suggested, cocking his smile.

Having enough of his conceited wickedness, my voice broke out - shaky and nearly weeping, but furious nonetheless: "Gratitude!" I scoffed "Why would I ever be grateful to you?!!".

"Why, I can name many reasons!" his eyes lightened up, happy that I was finally reacting to his provocation "Gratitude that I have been so kind as to advise you this would be the outcome of your senseless struggle... That I have tried to spare you from this silly, helpless position you find yourself in..."

"That you have put me in in the first place!" I corrected. Sycamore merely laughed.

"Mere technicalities! Anyhow, the gift is this…"

I gasped, moved to sudden silence when he lifted his hand from his pocket and offered a red, gleaming pokéball. My wet, humiliated eyes widened, then paused, suspicious… I studied his face, the smile lurking there, the trap…

"Your little friend, you will like to know, was pretty miserable himself on the other side of the facility guarding Team Flare's corridors. Now, at the very least, neither of you will be alone..."

Charizard! My heart raced. I wanted to seize the pokeball before he could retract it, before he could announce the condition – the steep price to such an offering. Did he merely tease me? Or did he not know Charizard's potential to break me free from that cell? I looked into his scheming blue eyes again: the Professor was too smart a man not to have considered that. Was he just that confident that Charizard would not move a muscle to help me? Did he just plan on amusing himself further with my humiliation as he watched me try? I hesitated cowardly.

"Well? Won't you take it?" he moved his hand, beckoning me. I watched his movement with a child's yearning.

Well, being too scared to even reach out for the pokéball was coward and humiliating in itself – that awareness moved me, I sprang for the pokéball and quickly seized it. Once it was safe inside my hands, I watched him further, apprehensive: His mean smile was there, sure enough… but it looked rather staged... as if he took pleasure in being the bad guy and wanted to keep the mask in place throughout a truly charitable act amidst all his evil deeds.

Could it really be so, that he just wanted me to have company? I looked at the pokéball, turned it around in my hands, watched the faint glow reflecting on the sphere... I smiled a lonely smile: Charizard had been so brave! I was proud of him, and happy I'd have the opportunity to thank him now… in case it all ended. My eyes grew wet...

"You know..." Sycamore sighed. His voice sounded troubled at last... "Darling, I could let you out!" it sounded like an annoyed answer to something I hadn't even said "...But I can see from your stubbornness that if I do, you will see before you only two options: joining your friends in their losing fight against team flare, or escaping this place and braving the blast of Lysandre's weapon."

He waited until I looked at him to continue:

"...Both of them mean to die."

I looked back at the pokeball in my hand – I knew death didn't mean so much to me now... I could even smile a faint, conformed smile in the face of it, for, if Calem failed, I was ready to accept the ultimate defeat.

Sycamore's fingers invaded my wet view; he delicately picked the ball from my hand:

"...And it's not only you who will perish, dear..." His voice was low and concerned "Charizard will die, too. All your Pokémon will die, if you choose to let them."

And with these words he let Charizard out – The Pokémon's eyes sullenly traced the floor, then, making out his surroundings, they moved excitedly from Sycamore to me, becoming aware of our presence. Sycamore flashed him a warm, affectionate smile, and the creature seemed truly happy, like one awakening from a bad dream where his most beloved friends fought against each other. It made my heart heavy...

"You see?" Sycamore continued "He doesn't want to fight. He just wants peace..."

Sycamore's penetrating eyes then turned to me – for the first time I saw a dark shadow dimming them. "We all do... This world has been divided by war before – many lost their lives. I don't want to see that, darling... and I don't want to let you do so, either!" His tone was sullen and determined "Abandon this senseless quest, do! Return to me at once, and none of us has to take any part in this madness!"