There was inspiration out of the evil. Now imagine another class of people, and conflict.
Betty Els drove between snow banks on a road with shops, and red and yellow fast food signs on either side. She let her window down, for her wool coat and pants were made for the sunny, below freezing condition outside. On her route to a shop to sell her truckload of furs and meat of beastly, human killing pokémon to a butcher and tanning shop, a line of yellow buses lined one side of the road.
“The elementary, darn traffic,” she said, noticing the line of cars adding to the buses. Red, blue, and green cars and trucks parked before and after the line of yellow. Her speed halted to stop and go as parents parked, picked up kids, and drove away before another car would take their spot.
She stopped for one group of kids crossing in front of her. She smiled and waved, remembering pokémon that hatched under her watch. Then the black truck in front of her white one stopped. A man with a blue stocking hat got out, and ran towards the school.
He parked closest to the school, right beside the middle of the line of buses. She sighed, then looked into the oncoming lane of traffic for an opening. Once an opening five cars wide came in view, she honked her horn and drove around, forcing the other drivers to stop.
Then she sped up to twenty miles per hour while watching for other groups of kids or adults while she wondered if she should have come back later. She looked in her mirror as other cars honked at the truck blocking the road. Farther down the road, she looked back and saw less and less kids entering the buses as they filled to their limit. Then a flash.
Her shoulders tensed up, and her head ducked down as her truck spun out and her windows blew out. Louder than anything she's heard from training, a blast caused her left ear to ring and ring.
“Fuck the speed limit,” She said, holding her left hand to her ear. Pulling in reverse with her heartbeat shaking her hands more and more, she pushed the pedal down and reached fifty miles per hour. After she dodged a car at a stop sign, she slowed and dialed her cell phone. No windows, just air blowing her hair behind her as glass brushed off her clothes.
“The school blew up! What do I do?”
“This is quite a lame excuse for why you're late to the shop.”
“Shut up, Burton, I swear that a blast just smashed over a hundred kids.”
“. . . And you saw?”
“Flash, me crashing, buses pushed against the school's walls—”
“Hold on,” he said, and she cursed him as she waited. “You're right. Get to Bill's shop, use the telephone there.”
- - -
“So you drove at twenty miles per hour for about fifteen seconds after getting around that truck?” A man said into his cell phone, running into a conference room of pokémon and humans that all wore business clothes.
A blaziken wrote on a paper as Burton talked. “And it shattered your windows. . .” The blaziken sighed and said to Burton it was high explosives. “So he ran into the school, then detonated. But why?”
“Perhaps he's not done,” a lady said, tapping her pencil against the wooden table.
“She says the man from the truck was Günther, the one the lucarios never trusted, the guy we fired. . .” he said, leaning his brown blazer against the door frame.
“How nice to know, we'll send word of this suspect to Sinnoh's police and get this evil punished,” a man at the far end of the table said, tightening up his blue tie. His face showed wet eyes as well as others in the room, for they felt a burden hearing of such quick killing of innocents.
Burton told them he heard a shot in the background of the call, and how Betty noted it was an armor piecing round. Then a police car crashed.
“Just stay inside, be armed and invisible,” he said, then he called for a defense contractor to extract her on his phone after wishing her well.
“Sir, the police blocked our call,” the blaziken said, putting down his cell phone.
“Screw them. Call everyone we know in Sinnoh about our suspect,” the man at the end of the table said. Then every man, woman, and pokémon in the meeting room began long distance calls to friends in Sinnoh and business contacts.
- - -
“Gonna be night soon,” she said, sitting behind a metal desk on a white tile floor. “The TV says a sniper and bomber is out there,” she looked at a reporter on the wooden wall, “but I believe it really is Günther.”
A bald man sitting beside her nodded, his hands were wrinkled as they gripped his pistol. “Just because he had the skill and corruption doesn't explain how he got access to this equipment,” he said, watching the reporter run in front of a cop car's fire. “Sniper fire occurred in separate areas—big fifty caliber shots. No one's seen him carrying the rifle, the media hasn't put his face up yet, and I don't know who would be helping him.”
The reporter stopped, and said the Governor is expected to speak soon. Then he said there were fourteen other police cars burning and melting the asphalt like the one behind him reported across western Sinnoh. Explosive rounds, he said, which killed the pokémon and officers inside.
Then he pressed his finger to his ear, and waited as if listening. He brought his gloved hands quickly up to his face with the mic and blew his cloudy breath on it as he spoke:
“This man is the prime suspect: Günther,” he said, then a picture frame popped open on the upper right. Black hair, blue stocking hat, white face with blue eyes avoiding the camera with a sneer like he hated the photographer. “Lethal even if unarmed.”
Betty looked down at the floor again and played with a pencil from the desk. The door on the other end of the door remained locked as they sat against the wall. True, no shots occurred recently, but if the police could not see the shots coming, then Betty wouldn't take her chance on the street.
The phone in her pocket rang, so she picked it up and said hello as the man next to her looked at her.
“Ah, Betty, it looks like the Governor failed his end of the bargain,” a voice said, with a woman crying in pain in the background.
“I told you to never call me, killer,” she said.
“After I mutilated that ursaring's body for an hour in front of all those lucarios? Ah, ha, quite a dream . . . This Governor will blame me, but I did nothing, I was asleep, you see.”
“You're wasting my time.”
“Just look at the news, Betty, that motherfucker is trying to get Parliament to declare war on you, your friends, and every company like the one you work for,” she looked at the screen and indeed heard the Governor blaming the owners and managers of wild lands not under control of Sinnoh's government. “He told me, in a dark office, about his plans for today. Showed me where the bomb and guns were as well, and promised me that tomorrow, some sucker (not me) would use all of it.”
The Governor's words coming out of his aged, desert dried cheeks were furious. They wet his cracked lips and the press in the room listened and wrote notes as fast as he talked. These reporters also noted the “justified” emotion of his anger.
“But you did all of that—”
“Ah, but he is the real bad guy. I am not really me when he gives such a beautiful plan out, you see, I was him.”
The man beside her sneered and looked away from her. “Well then, are you going to help me since you've said all this? Maybe expose the Governor at least?”
“Give me an invisibility blanket. It will get me out of town safely . . . and in exchange I'll give you the audio tape of that night in the office and a video tape of me restating what the Governor told me.”
- - -
A house down the road from the school had the first police officer's car on fire in front of it. Its flames lit the surrounding street but left the blood inside dark. The blood from a man's nearby head soaked the butt plate of a bolt action anti vehicle rifle. Its full weight had crushed the man's skull. Being hidden in the garden, the rifle and Günther's appearance shocked him as well as the sliced throat of the arcanine in the kitchen.
Ground types made a hidden tunnel in the man's basement that extended to the next location. He left behind the rifle since other guns were promised elsewhere.
No one in Jubilife City walked outside at midnight, and even other nearby roads and towns stayed locked in thanks to a provided flying type that escorted him to the out of city sniper nests.
He flew over the lands owned by the hunter guilds and hunters. This group of guilds and persons and pokémon, never belonged to Sinnoh's government. Once sold or given away it mostly came under control of the state in power at the time. There was never enough wealth for the state to assume control, especially since the pokémon and people living in the forests, tundras, and mountains hated the state. Things changed . . . Now these areas gained wealth through logging, fishing, mining, tourism, and future plans for implementing factories like the rest of the world.
Sceptiles, blazikens, lucarios, infernape, floatzel, gallade and more non-violent but also intelligent pokémon may have rights like humans in some regions, but those rights remained unasserted in Sinnoh. In history, these “hunters” (and pokémon) stayed poor. The princes would declare their separation from their rule legitimate only if they lived so that the prince could laugh at them since, to him, they would be a negative to have within his borders. Buildings of bricks and wood instead of sod and sticks occupy the forests where these hunters oversee.
Now, even certain pokémon became hunters and could flaunt it to each trainer in the cities. It happened because of the near total fall of government in a region composed mostly of these hunters. Globalization also enabled wealth to be offshored to this region. The savings piled up there.
“Hunters, human and pokémon alike, have replied to our request for some honest taxes from them with this,” said the gray haired Governor of Sinnoh as he rubbed his nose and looked at papers. “Sinnoh deserves justice for this, and I hope the Parliament meets quickly,” he said, his voice coming out of the thousands of TVs.
Another prince is here. His office is threatened by the increasing wealth of regions without government that also preserve order. What better way to shut out this cooperation in Sinnoh's collective mind by displaying them all as mass child and police killers?
The Governor drank a full bottle of wine that night. For joy, or for his sadness over seeing this happen, one may guess . . .
- - -
“Come on now, Betty, think of the lives to be saved by doing this for me?” he said, then the background got quiet, no woman crying like before.
“I know you, you betrayed me once . . . so look at the TV. That's your answer.”
The TV screen flashed red with BREAKING NEWS then a female anchor with brown long hair said “This just in—”
“You're such a bitch, Betty,” he said, then a gunshot went off in the background and the phone went static.