Sorry for taking so long to update. A family member passed a few weeks ago and I haven't been in a writing mood since then, but making you guys wait really bothers me and throwing out a half-assed chapter isn't any better. I took my time with this chapter, I'm not used to writing in first person. I wanted to bring out a chapter weeks ago, commemorating 5 years that I've been writing Poke Wars and thank those of you who've been with me from the get go with a special chapter. I've planned out all my future arcs, but at the rate I'm going (A chapter ever 1 or 2 months) I fear I won't reach the halfway point for 10 years. I tried working on five arcs at once, but just ended up dividing my work pace and being slower.

Some new stories for Poke Wars by other people have popped up since I've been gone, hopefully keeping you company until I bring out my stuff. I've been working extensively with a few of the people who've written the newer stories and I'd really appreciate if you showed them the same love you've shown me. Divergence looks like it's starting up again, while the Convergence has recently updated another chapter. A new story, Victory Road, looks to be very promising. Once again, you can find all of these on my profile or favorites.

The sun barely peeked over the mountain range when I find my first pokémon center. It's neatly situated in the niche of a mountainside after miles and miles of winding paths along the scattered mountains. A single river flows through the barren lands with sparse patches of green flanking the canal, almost as if the rushing waters are trying to breathe life back into the wasteland. Remnants of houses – nothing more than wooden skeletons – stand defiantly in the dusty gales, biding their time until they too fall to the elements.

I approach the building's sliding glass doors; a chime marks the departure of my reflection and reveals the interior. A single human comes to greet me, one I quickly recognize from previous experiences in other towns. Pink hair, blue eyes and cheery dispositions are common among the human healers I've seen. Why they all look the same is something I've never understood and doubt I will ever begin to understand.

I watch her jolly expression morph into one of astonishment; the iron tray in her hands threatened to fall. The humans behind her mirror her reaction and leave the comfort of the loveseats that line the walls of the facility to get a closer look.

I try not to look at their faces, knowing it will be easier to forget that they have dreams, families, and a wealth of experiences if they remain faceless.

My gaze falls back on the healer, obviously unaccustomed to meeting my kind without an enslaver close behind to hold the leash. Master's orders said nothing of what actions to take against healers, seeing as they enslaved no one to my knowledge.

A popular human custom seemed to dictate that as a rite of passage, the young would leave their nests and enslave as many pokémon in the wild as they could. Those who had trained their slaves well enough would earn the right to be recognized from their peers as adults. Or so I understood. That part was never entirely clear to me.

"Wipe out every human you come across!" Master's orders resonated through my skull as if to wipe away my doubts.

"But…what of the healers? Surely their acts of healing for our kind merits some form of mercy?" I implore internally. All I heard in reply was the silence within; the voice of my master will say no more. It occurs to me that the lack of orders regarding human healers was not an oversight on my master's part at all. He had been clear in his orders. Healer or not; she still bore the sin of being human by propagating the savage ritual the humans had created. She would bandage the battered but only to prepare them for the next round of beatings.

"Oh my! Is there something I can he-" the healer begins, quickly adopting a warm and inviting smile. The cheery expression remains on face, even as the wall behind her becomes easily visible through the gaping hole in the center of her forehead.

A part of me is somewhat relieved, hoping her passing is quick and painless. Another part of me shivers, her caring smile still frozen on her face, red rivers trailing down her cheeks like tears.

I doubt she ever saw it coming, but I feel it's better that way. It's a small mercy I can give the healers like her; it's a small mercy she and her kin deserve for their service to my kind, regardless of the reason.

There is no time for torture and I am not like my brother Entei who revels in it. Even if my schedule wasn't so strict; I doubt I would even partake in such rituals. Regardless of the pain they had put my kind through, the families and friends torn apart, and the atrocities forged from their demented imaginations, a slow and painful death will not erase the nightmares and the scars. I'm sure master would find my merciful methods efficient but distasteful but no more so than I find putting any living soul through a slow and agonizing death.

The enslavers behind her haven't caught on yet; I doubt their feeble human sight is able to see my…what do they label it…ah yes…Water Gun.

The healer is still standing; her body having yet to realize that it's dead. I watch her arms go limp, the iron tray slipping from her flaccid fingers. Her body teeters slightly to a side before her legs give out from beneath her as she falls. The tray beats her in the race to the tiled floor, barely managing to clatter before her corpse crumples onto the linoleum.

Her eyes are still closed, her lips locked in an eternal smile.

The action is sudden and unexpected; the other enslavers haven't reacted yet. They're probably still attempting to process what has just happened, I'm sure the idea of screaming hasn't even crossed their minds.

I turn to them, debating whether to place the next shot between their heads or their hearts. The former promises instant death, the latter does not. Having them bleed out onto floor, waiting for death to take them from blood loss seemed messier, ensuring my next course of action.

The first one's head jerks back violently, the pressurized droplets tearing through bone and brain matter before exiting out the back of his skull. The window behind him doesn't shatter, but instead makes a distinct crack and snap sound when the droplets punch a few holes through the glass. The woman beside him turns towards the noise and movement, probably unaware that the man standing next to her is a standing corpse.

I give in to a moment of weakness, wondering what goes through her mind. They had been sitting relatively close to one another on the loveseats before I came.

Were they strangers? Acquaintances? Had they recently forged bonds of friendship before I arrived? Were they childhood friends? Long-time rivals? Passionate lovers? Doting parents?

Part of me wants to attach a history to the pair, especially with the horrified expression that resided upon her face. Does his sudden passing mortify her? Or is it fear of her own fate that fuels her expression? I would never know, nor would it ever matter.

The next salvo of droplets rips through her left temple, turning her brain to a shredded mass of pink pulp; the fractured window behind them shattering as the droplets sliced through her.

The sound of rapid footfalls reaches my ears once the window's remnants finish scattering across the floor. A pink and rotund figure waddles into my sights, unaware of my presence when the entirety of her focus is on the shards of glass scattered over the bodies.

My paws are still by hesitation; it's all too easy to recognize this pokémon. They always seem to be paired with the human healers. Many considering them to be the healer equivalent for our kind, so it only seems appropriate that they stand side by side.

The Chansey stands speechless before the site, her rosy skin becoming several shades lighter. I want to spare her the pain, but I doubt explaining my master's vision for a utopia will give her any solace. She has yet to turn to me, unaware that the murderer responsible for the corpses, sprawled unnaturally over the cushions, is still in the building. Still standing directly behind her.

I don't want her to see me, to attach a face and possibly a name to the sadness and eventual hatred. And yet, I can't bring myself to kill her then and there. To kill a creature so pure of heart and with the noblest of intentions seems wrong on every level.

"It is lamentable, but their minds are so far gone that they cannot be saved." Master's voice rang within my skull.

"And what of this one master? Is she indoctrinated? Or is she merely carrying out her desire to help others through the humans? Are we to condemn her for following her nature? The very nature Arceus instilled into her?"

Master's voice remains conveniently silent to my quandaries.

Goosebumps raise along her fair skin, reacting to the frosty chill of my breath against her back. It isn't long before I reason that killing her and sparing her further suffering aren't entirely different goals. I have work fast, having already exposed her to the horrors of my handiwork.

Fear locks her movements, save the shivers from panic or the frigid cold I exude. In a flash and without warning her entire body is covered in a thick cocoon of ice. Every ounce of water, every drop of blood was now frozen within her veins. It's an instant and elegant death at the very least, no blood will spill, her suffering hopefully assuaged. Time will eventually thaw out the corpsicle, but by then I'll be miles away from this house of healing, now a house of death.

I nose open several doors, eventually finding my way to the infirmary. Whether by deep slumber or human drugs, the pokémon inside, of all shapes and sizes, lie blissfully unaware of my presence. Unaware of their fates.

"May your dreams be ones of bliss, little lost ones. For in this slumber you shall find no awakening," I whisper before moving in for the kill.

The sun glares angrily at me as I run, as if it's aware of my actions this morning. The final dregs of summer beat down over me without mercy, the distant mountain range now a deep and majestic purple in the background. Life thrives just outside the boundary of the wasteland, more and more trees greet me the deeper I make my way into the forest.

I keep to the established roads, knowing my chances of finding humans are higher if I do. Oddly enough the roads are empty of travelers, with little to no signs of battle. For a moment I wonder if my wild brethren have done their job too well, leaving no work for me. I stop to psychically sense for their presence, finding nothing by echoes in the void.

I keep up my pace, eventually reaching a two-story wooden lodge along the side of the road. Stopping by the entrance I close my eyes and sense for the presence of those inside. There are two humans, weathered souls that had seen many winters. I can sense no pokémon with them, and yet the fact brings me no comfort. Master's orders are not discriminatory: rich or poor, young or old, weak or strong, death was the ultimate equalizer in the end.

"Should I even waste the effort? Time will come to claim them eventually," I reason, feeling the aged wood beneath my paws creak when I shift my weight. Were I to leave them alone others would come from the wild; others that I doubt will be as merciful as I will. I question whether it will be more merciful to kill them now, or to spare them and leave them at the mercy of another.

The sound of footsteps towards my position immediately interrupts my thoughts. I silently leap from the wooden porch, sliding beside the house just as the door opens.

"Could've sworn I heard someone," the old woman mumbles into the open air. She scans the road until she's satisfied, closing the door behind her.

"Hiding from humans now, Suicune? Weak and elderly ones at that," Master's voice scolds me.

Finding no fitting excuse to provide the voice, I decide to remain silent. Hesitantly, I remove myself from the wall, taking cautious steps towards one of the windows. My second target's back is to me, holding a wall of white paper, inscribed with black undecipherable squiggles and images.

"Who was it dear?" the older gentleman asks, lowering the newspaper to his lap just as I duck back out of sight.

"It's the strangest thing. There was no one there."

The recliner creaks as he makes his way to his feet, swiftly striding over to his mate.

"Probably better that way. I'd rather have you all to myself than share you with a bunch of pesky visitors."

"Oh Marc," the woman sighs happily, his fingers intertwine with hers. I watch her silently stare into her mate's eyes, the windows to her soul now shimmering as he leans in for a chaste peck on her lips.

The assassin in me realizes it's the perfect moment to strike; one shot is all it would take. I can get the both of them in the head. Their guard is lowered; their final thoughts likely ones of happiness I reason. What better way to go than being in the apex of joy and with no knowledge of one's impending demise? The promise of a painless death in the arms of one's lover is a chance many would kill for.

And yet, every cell in my body screams in revulsion. Killing in cold blood is one thing, but to kill those in the midst of the most sacred and ancient of unions, regardless of the species, seems almost unfathomable. It sounds so hypocritical considering the blood on my paws. Murder is still murder.

I watch them separate from their signs of affection, half relieved and half dreading the missed chance. The older woman is pouting now, her arms retreating from around the man's waist and perching onto her hips.

"What's wrong my dear?"

"You call that a kiss?" the woman's sour expression warming into a coy smile.

"You're rather needy today aren't you?" Her mate chuckles.

"Is it so wrong for a wife to want a decent kiss from her husband?"

"Not at all," the man replies tenderly, leaning in slowly as she closes her eyes.

"Now is your chance," Master's voice hisses, "You missed one opportunity, do not waste another!"

My jaw tenses as I clench my teeth, paws digging ever deeper into the soil at my feet. This kiss is longer, begging me to take advantage of it, begging to end their lives on a sweeter note. My nostrils flare as I take in a breath and hold it, steadying my aim as I scramble to pick which element is more merciful.

Water or ice

Water or ice

Water or ice

Water or ice

Water or…

The sun is red now, scowling at me as it sets in the distance. I run for several hours, realizing it's easier if I think of nothing. I keep my sights towards the ground, fixating on every passing pebble. Occasionally I'll close my eyes to sense the area around me, sense the presence of potential targets or obstacles in my path. There are none, and part of me hopes to never find any.

A little fantasy pops into my mental purgatory, a tiny wish to run forever along and endless road. There's no more orders, no more death, and no more sadness. No noble crusade, no methodical genocide, just me and the road. I give a sad little smile, expelling the silly wish with a bemused snort.

What I would give to enjoy this like brother Entei, to forget my guilt and my feelings. What I would trade to eliminate my targets and think nothing of it afterwards, to not even grace it as an afterthought. What I would give to make this a thoughtless and detached action, no different than breathing or blinking.

Things would be so much easier that way.

Living with myself would be easier that way.

It's a small comfort I take whenever I find a lake or a pond, the promise of cleansing usually succeeds in making me smile. I press my paw against the water's surface, revealing in the feel of it against my skin. It's like living glass, cool to the touch but soft, comforting, and unlike anything I know in this world. Human glass is different; it's frigid, still, and lifeless.

I lean into the shallow end, watching the water bend but never really let me breach the surface unless I wish it. I've always liked that about water and wind, so accommodating and pliant. Taking the form of whatever catches them or embracing anything within their midst.

A circle of crystal clear water expands beneath my touch, the brownish taint throughout the lake dissolving into nothingness in a matter of seconds. For a moment, I allow myself to admire my handiwork, reveling in its beauty and purity. There is no fear of guilt in this task, no promise of haunting thoughts.

I see my face in the purified pond, astounded that someone so tarnished can still cleanse much of anything. My paw breaks the surface of the water, but the blood on my fur refuses to wash away. I scrub and scratch, knowing nothing is there but the phantom stains my mind creates.

It's a fruitless action, but keep scrubbing until my skin goes raw. I pull out my wet paws, droplets, sparkling like diamonds, fly through the air as I shook off the excess water. Crimson irises stare back at me, an expression of concern wavers along the reflective surface.

Is there anything in this world that could cleanse me?

I hear my next targets before I actually see or sense them. They're light and jovial, and it isn't until my paws hit the sand before I realize what I'm about to do. Plastic mockeries of my brethren are the first to meet my gaze, tiny figures dart across my vision and make me shiver.

It isn't long before the young ones take note of my presence, freezing in place all at once and gawking at me in unified awe. There stare at me expectantly, fearing I'll disappear if they so much as twitch in my general direction.

How much I wish that were true.

They're no stranger to my wild brethren, but my presence easily outdoes any encounter they've ever had with any Pidgey and Rattata they've seen. I can feel them drink in my presence in very much the same way my brothers and I do with Master. They're so blissfully ignorant of their fate, I can see the wonderment in their eyes and it's disgusting. I cast my sights to the sand, the very thought of my next course of action succeeding in making me nauseous.

"Can I not spare them?" I plead.

"No Suicune, you cannot."

"But…how could… they have done nothing!"

"You must, Suicune. What would do? Leave them? Ha! Their presence ensures that others must be around. Would you kill the other humans and leave these orphaned? They would grow to despise you and our kind, feast on the fruit of that hatred to live another day. Can you really call that living? Would you doom them to a life of pain and resentment because of your petty notion of mercy? You are saving them Suicune! Saving them from the horrid destiny that awaits them should you leave them alive."

Minutes pass in silence until one of the children steps towards me and stops. When I make no attempt to move away he takes another wary step, the others slowly gaining courage of their own.

"Your kindness for all living things is the very reason I chose you to shoulder this burden. Raikou and Entei would simply slaughter them without a second thought. But you…you would send them from this world so gently they would never notice that they had passed. Had you not the strength to handle this task I would never have given it to you, but I trust you will do what is necessary. What is right."

The children now surround me, silently closing the distance as I devoured the lies I fed to myself.

"The bond you and I have is so much stronger than that of your brothers. You have always been my favorite. I love you Suicune. You're like a son to me, the son I was never able to have."

The child who had taken the first step now stood just before me, hand cautiously stretching out to touch my trembling form. His skin brushes against mine, the very contact forcing me to flinch. It's like lava being poured over my raw and naked nerve endings. The child smiles now, gently petting me and relishing every second I don't flee from his touch.

"Make me proud," Master whispers.

"Y-yes…Master" I reply as I take aim, hearing the excited murmur from the children around me.

"Good doggy," the boy whispers happily and innocently.

And then the screams begin.