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The Great (Nerf) War of Plaisir

Act 3

The motor's buzzing didn't drown out the giggling of Rain Flower. In front of her stood the three figures of Prometheus, Quippie and Sinister; three pairs of eyes staring down the mouths of two barrels, behind which was one wide, sharp-toothed grin. Around them in the crowded, cluttered Lounge, the rest of the waiters were frozen - most trying to keep watch out of the barricades, but all tense and waiting expectantly. Even those that had guns ready seemed to be hesitant to act, though. That dripping blue paw was awfully firm on that trigger….

Rain Flower's face was a picture of victory. She levelled her gaze at Prometheus, eyes wide in glee.

“You do realise," Prometheus said slowly, “that it does not work like that… right?"

Rain Flower paused. Her face slid into uncertainty. “...wha?"

“The rules of this game state that anything you want me to do, I must agree with to do it, yes?"

Rain Flower nodded slowly. The gun did the same. “Yeeees, and that's why I have this gun… to make you agree…"

Prometheus rolled his eyes. “No, Koalemos, that is not what that gun means…" His voice was as if he was explaining to a child why they cannot have a birthday every day,

She frowned down at the gun, then back at him. “...why?"

The stare that Prometheus gave her would have withered all those who weren't almost entirely oblivious to social norms and cues. As it was, she just raised an eyebrow, waiting for her answer, perplexed.

“Rain Flower…" Sinister said, finally. The Mightyena had eventually slumped down onto her haunches next to him, and was now watching her with draining amusement, though a slight smirk tinged her muzzle. “You might as well just give up. If he's not going to fuck me, he's definitely not gonna fuck you."

“Hey!" Rain Flower shouted, the gun swivelling, the paw clenching down. A dart slammed into the floor by Sinister, making her jump back as it bounced up and somersaulted through the air just shy of her muzzle. She wheeled the gun back around just as Prometheus twitched with movement.

“Hey yourself!" Sinister exclaimed. “That almost hit me!"

“Yeah, about that, are rebounds even allowed, 'cause, well when I was in the Bedroom Block-" Quippie started, but was cut off as the gun swung around again.

“Hey, shortstack!" Rain Flower yelled. “You'd best be careful around me. No good dick-stealin' dick stealer!"

Prometheus flicked his eyes briefly over to the eastern doorway that led out to the walkway towards the bedroom block. Then he focused back on Rain Flower. “Now now. Just because you are a rogue, it does not mean that you have to shoot me. I do believe there's something that you can do."

“Oh…?" Rain Flower said, turning her gun back on him with intrigue.

Prometheus rose, large paws making soft whump sounds on the carpet as he sauntered around her. Rain Flower swivelled to follow. “Oh… I doubt you really want to do it though."

“Yeah, but, what is it?" Rain Flower asked, narrowing her eyes, her gun following Prometheus as he wandered towards the western barricades. Several waiters began to edge themselves out of the firing line.

“Yes, but why should I tell you if you do not want to hear it? It would be a waste of my time, I would have thought."

“Yeah, but like, I wanna hear it. Maybe I will like it!"

“You really want to hear it?" Prometheus said, raising his eyebrows in mild disbelief.

“Yeah! Tell me!" Rain Flower said, bouncing in place. “Does it involve your dick!?"

Suddenly, her world was turned upside down as she was yanked backwards. The turret collapsed to the side as she was rolled onto her back, legs spread and tail flopping over her stomach as she stared up into the Luxray's face.

“No." Ceylon replied, with a smile that could only be described as 'smooth'. Behind him, waiters had parted to allow him to walk in from the eastern doors, from behind Rain Flower. “It won't even involve my dick… but it will involve something I like to call elecstacy…"

Sparks snapped between his claws. Rain Flower stared up with wide eyes. Around her, several waiters were assembling with guns pointing at her. Someone grabbed and dragged her turret away. She began to pout.

“You're no fun, spikycock." She muttered.

Ceylon smiled, and backed off, looking up. He inspected the Lounge; the brightly lit room was a sharp contrast to the night now heavy outside the large windows. He took in the numerous barricades, the dart and weapon stores, the pile of supplies, and the waiters that had nigh-unanimously turned at his entrance.

“I do apologize for my lateness." He said, addressing them. A sly smirk crept across his muzzle. “I got a little tied up."

“CommanderCeylonSIRit'sgoodtohaveyouback!" Quippie shouted in a single mouth movement, appearing in front of him and snapping off a salute you could knock someone out with.

“Yeah, what took you so long?" Mariana asked, wandering up from the bar where she'd been talking with some of the other waiters before Rain Flower had appeared. “Find too nice of a girl to fuck? While you've been bumpin' uglies with a customer, we've been ripped to shreds over here!"

“Yeah, she's right." Sinister said, almost grumpily. “Customers took Captivate. Anything south or east of this room is customer territory. Aside from the Special Lounge, those stores over there and one of the function rooms, we've got nothing left. We're on our last stand here."

Quippie fidgeted, glancing to the side. “Sorry, Commander. I delivered your message, but we couldn't save it! They hit us too hard!"

“I see." Ceylon tilted his gaze over to Prometheus, who was sitting there patiently, large, fluffed tail wrapped around his paws. “So, Prometheus. How fares Captivate?"

“Captivate is doing very well, Commander. Everything is going according to plan." He replied, a knowing smirk wrapped around his muzzle.

Sinister, Mariana and Quippie or flicked their gazes between the two in confusion. Sinister was the first to interject. “Er, this customer that you were with didn't do anything rough to your head, did they?"

Ceylon chuckled to himself. “Thank you, Sinister, but I assure you I am quite fine. You see, when I say Captivate, I don't mean the room. I mean the plan."

“You had a plan called Captivate!?" burst Quippie. “That's… confusing! Why'd you do that?"

“Oh, multiple reasons. Mainly, it was so that if I was captured, I could easily say the plan or talk about the plan without it being known if it was a plan. Alongside this, if I were to say that, it would plant the little idea in the customer's mind that Captivate is an important control point for us, something that they should capture."

“But it was!" Mariana griped. “It was our best location. We could defend it easily!"

“Perhaps it was one of our best locations, but it's far from the best. That would be right here. I chose our base to be here for the reason that I believe that this Lounge is more defensible than Captivate, not to mention the many routes and striking possibilities from it. Take a look down that corridor." He gestured to the western barricades that lead towards Captivate. “No-one can move anywhere in the west wing of the Café without passing that line of sight. We can see every movement they make from here, not to mention their lack of cover. Captivate is easy to defend, but the Lounge is hard to attack." He grinned at the assembled. “And anyway, this leads into another reason for the naming of the plan - it's just so suitable…."

“Alright, fine." Sinister said, planting her paws in front of her. “From the top. I wanna hear all of this."

“Yeah…" Mariana said, folding her arms. “Better be good, Commander."

Ceylon smiled, and looked over the surrounding waiters. “Fair enough then. I had several plans in mind. However, when we were ambushed by Firenze in the Service Corridor, I realised that the customers had already made a significant incursion into that area. It was then that I knew that Captivate would be a lost cause, especially with a Mastermind like Firenze at the head. And knowing that Sam was their leader, well… my impression of her earlier told me she wasn't the type to play it safe, or even fair, an impression that's only been confirmed."

“What's this leading to?" Sinister asked warily.

“I'm coming to that." Ceylon replied, shifting to sit down more comfortably. “Upon hearing the plan, I informed Neon, October and Prometheus to move weapons from Captivate to the Lounge in preparation. When the customers would inevitably attack, I ordered Neon to let herself get captured. Whoever captured her - assuming that they weren't too questionable - she had to keep distracted right to the end of the allotted half hour. When the half hour is up, she was to take them out and get back to the fighting - only this time, behind enemy lines."

“And how d'you know that happened?" Mariana asked with a raised eyebrow. Ceylon leaned in slightly.

“Ah, that links in with my lateness. Sam's idea of a pleasant half hour was to tie me up and leave me in a room alone with no ability to escape, but clearly she was having so much fun that she lost track of time. I was in there for coming up to an hour. Fortunately, before any of the customers could come and shoot me again, the door opened - and who should show up but our favourite Jolteon?" He gave them a sly grin. “After that, it was a simply matter to take down the north-west barricade out to the walkway, and I came back here while she stayed behind the lines."

Indeed, now that it had been mentioned, several waiters noticed a couple of humans standing rather sheepishly by the Lounge's eastern doors to the walkway.

“That's unfair!" Mariana shouted. “Sam can't do that!"

“Wait, so…" Sinister butted in, frowning and waving a paw. “Neon told the waiters that we couldn't let Captivate fall. You lost it, and a bunch of waiters, just so you could get her behind the lines?"

“One at a time. First, alas, that wasn't Sam's first unfair act. And second, Neon is a key facet of this plan, but not the sole one. Captivate, as I said before, was a lost cause - partly because Sam has been using the roof."

“But we aren't allowed outside." Mariana stated flatly. “That's definitely against the rules!

“Ah, but it isn't. Firenze said that only the grass around Plaisir is off limits, not outside." Ceylon said, smiling to them. “A distinction I recall he was very sure to make. Something that Sam must have picked up on. Customers on the roof would provide key intel that would help capture it. Fortunately, I had a solution for this - tell me, has anyone seen October and Chai recently…?"

There was a chorus of silence, broken by Prometheus. “We have had no reports of their presence in customer territory. They've not been seen since the Fall of Captivate."

“And did anyone see them caught during the Fall?" More silence. “Ah good. You see, one can access the roof from the back of Captivate, and I thought it would be good to put the two of them in what seems to be their natural habitat. Facet number two."

He smiled. “A third is simple; keep the enemy with plenty of space to guard, not enough people to guard it with, and plenty of false security. By announcing that Captivate is key to our plans, the Customers now think they're home free. Why do you think they're biding their time now? They're getting complacent. They think they've almost won."

“They have almost won." Said Mariana flatly. “We've got no access to the basement, and they're preparing for a final attack."

Sinister waved her paw again. “Alright, alright, let me get this straight…" She stared at him, eyebrows raised. “You realised that Captivate would fall, so you let it, but in the confusion you let Neon get captured and taken behind enemy lines while October and Chai escape to the roof; Neon can then free you and take out customers from behind, while October and Chai can take out those on the roof. The customers now have Captivate and think they're going to win, while we give it our all defending here, which they now have trouble attacking." She scowled at him. “Great, only we're not in a good position to actually attack. You spent a hundred dollars to get ten back. We've got some people in position, but we're stuck here. We're crippled."

“Oh, but I don't think so. Forces concentrated at Captivate, I take it?" Ceylon asked, raising his eyebrow.

“Yep! A load of 'em!" Quippie confirmed.

“Good. I saw few in the bedroom block. Which means it's about time for a large-scale penetration, deep behind their lines…"

Rain Flower looked up from where she was being held at gunpoint. “Huh, whassis?"

Ceylon glanced over. “Ah yes. Thought that would get your attention. We'll have to move quickly, which means that some of us four-legged types are going to have a bit of difficulty with running and gunning. I think you could help with that, if you'd join us."

Her smooth face creased with a frown of thought. “Why the fuck should I help you, spinycock? You want to shoot electricity at me!"

Ceylon shrugged. “I just thought I saw a Rapidash on the customer's side-"

“I'lldoit." Rain Flower's words toppled from her mouth in a sudden impression of Quippie. “I can make him pretend he's Buck Fortitude - The Hero of the Midwest - as seen on TV…!" Her eyes widened as she quoted as if it was dogma. “Wait… maybe he is Buck Fortitude!" She blinked, her face trying out a several new expressions. “Hey, why did no-one tell me Buck Fortitude was here?"

“Glad to have you on board. I'd withhold my thanks if I were you, Prometheus." Ceylon said, smirking to himself. Prometheus returned a sceptical look. “I'm afraid you'll make up that favour I just did you in a moment, with what I have in mind."

“And that is…?" He rumbled like thunder.

“In good time. Right. The north-west barricade was rebuilt quickly after Neon and I took it out, but there's more than one route into the Bedroom Block. Now…" He stood up, looking over his forces and grinning. “The night is young, but our victory is close. The customers think they have us, but we're about to snatch victory from under our noses. My friends - it's time for a quick surgical strike on the Bedroom Block."

The waiters looked on, enraptured. He grinned toothily. “Meanwhile, if we're going to make an assault, there is one more detail of my plan. I need a couple of volunteers to be a… distraction."

* * *

Nighttime was always different at Plaisir. In most places, it usually meant a time to wind down, to relax and spend the last few hours of the day enjoying the solitude before sleep came. But Plaisir, like the bars and nightclubs of a city, subscribed to a very different philosophy. Nighttime was the time for life.

The Inner Garden was lit by a selection of overhead lamps, shining down onto the lush plant life below. It was a square deal, bordered by the building on all sides; a double ring of bedrooms that made up the Bedroom Block. The garden itself was small, a little over twenty metres across, which hosted a large tree in the centre surrounded by several sets of hedges and flowers, with smaller shrubs and crawling ivy littered around the walls at the edge. A gravel path wandered through it, and the entire area was looked down upon by two levels of balconies and large, ceiling-to-floor windows from the upper floors, and open to the dark sky above those - all save for one corner, where the glimmering shape of the gigantic Solar Mirror loomed on the roof, its curved face reflecting a few of the brighter stars.

Firenze breathed in slowly, savouring the experience. It was a cavalcade of scents here. There were definite highlights of lavender, of the nightbloomers with their slightly dark, mysterious sweetness, of the mixes of roses and shuca and flax. Under that, the smell of leaves in the late summer months, and below that was the typically earthy baseline.

He sniffed again, realigning his mind to other matters. Ah yes, of course. The lingering smell of sex. All it required was a little adjustment of the olfactory senses, and it indeed could be found everywhere in Plaisir, even out here.

Opening his eyes, he found himself smiling, tails curled modestly behind him. He looked around at that Inner Garden with his eyes and ears now, rather than his nose.

There were customers everywhere. Secreted under balconies, behind trees, in hedges, or just out in the open. Most were joined by a captured waiter, and their conjoined cries carried across the area and mixed with those of other cavorting couples or trios. He let his gaze slide over the scene laid out before him.

Over here, a human and a Lucario, pale hands grasping firmly at that large, blue rear. There, a Seviper had it's coils firmly wrapped around two giggling, affectionate human females. Half-hidden by a bush, a Manectric and a Dewgong seemed to be locked in some raunchy power struggle, with messy results. Elsewhere, further cries and yelps and gasps of delight trickled salaciously through the flora.

He chuckled to himself as he stood, wandering towards the tree with nonchalance in every step. He glanced up into the branches. “A fine bounty, Ms Sam." He called up into the boughs.

The lights from above were disrupted by the leaves, casting barely a sliver of light across the woman's eyes. If one peered, they could also make out the large pistol she dangled from one hand. “It's adequate." She said, her voice tinged with thought.

“I would have thought you to be more pleased." Firenze said, finding himself somewhat hurt by the flippant review. “The war marches on, and we're firmly in the winning camp. Around us, the spirit of passion is aflame. What more could be wanted?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, casting a dark gaze down at him. “Is that your view of success?"

“Pleasure? I would say so, yes. There is nothing more noble than the pursuit of pleasure for all, I would say."

“Nothing more noble than your job?" She asked, rather sharply.

Firenze smiled, nodding his head in accession. “True. But I am in this profession because of that." He paused, waiting for a response. When none came, he turned to the rest of the garden, watching the nearby Manectric gain the upper paw over the Dewgong, claws seeming to do well in holding them down. “Well then," he said at last, “What are your motivations, if you don't care for pleasure?"

“I like pleasure. Of course I do. That's a silly statement." She muttered, leaning down. “But if you must know what I really want? ...Control. That should be obvious by now, Felix."

Firenze narrowed his eyes, looking back up at her. His tails had been swimming behind him, just slowly, but now they stopped.

“Yes. Just like that." She muttered, darkly. “First Pokémon to graduate from your college. Major in English Literature, with your chosen discipline being the influence of twentieth-century literature on the evolution of language - a broad topic, but you put in the work."

Firenze stayed silent. He bit his tongue, watching her with an increasing wariness. His ears stayed fixed, forwards, and he was aware of every beat of his heart.

She leaned back, and the light played across her eyes again, showing that gaze back at him. “Shall I go on? I could talk about Pro²Creation, but since this is your life story, it would be redundant. After all, I can see you tensing at the very word."

“I am not ashamed of neither my past nor my present. I have nothing to hide." Firenze said, firmly. He set his gaze at her, keeping his stature rigid, formal.

“But that's not the point. Merely knowing is enough to throw someone, to have that control of them." Her voice held amusement. “And you're wrong, Felix. Everyone has something to hide…."

* * *

“Alright, 'ow about this then? Fifty darts, two - no, wait, I'll even call that three lovely guns, an' I'll throw in this tripod too! All for, call it, two hours." Dibble twirled a dart around one finger. “Cheap as a chippy, and just as reliable. And I'm only doin' this offer for you guys, 'cause I like ya cause! The Customers! Takin' the fight to the waiters, strikin' back for your good times. Fight the power, stick it to the establishment! The rebels, love it. So what d'ya say?"

The Watchog stared back. His eyes flicked left, right, left again, before focusing back on Dibble's overeager expression.

“...who are you?"

“Oi, Patrick, focus" There was a young human next to the Watchog, balancing on a stool to see out of one of the high windows. “I see movement in the Lounge."

“Oh yeah?" The Watchog replied, edging away from the hawking Furret. “Is it important?"

“I think… oh. Oh. No way. No way."

A frown passed over the Watchog's face. “What? Whatsup?"

“No waaaay…"

The Watchog sighed in exasperation, and gave a forced half-apologetic shrug at Dibble. He turned back around to his human compatriot, paws patting his revolver.

The corridor by the dressing rooms had been entirely customer-controlled territory for a while now, but the main attack was apparently elsewhere, leaving just the two of them on guard. The waiters had even locked the doors to the Lounge, so it wasn't like there was much chance of attack. All they'd really needed was a good kill zone down half the corridor towards the Lounge doors, a fair barricade, a collection of darts and they were golden. They could get a quick word out if help was needed, anyway. Meantime, they just had to keep watch through the windows set high into the wall, that could just see out and into the Lounge if you got the right angle…

“Hey, you gonna tell me or what?" The Watchog muttered, finally, as Dibble retreated down the corridor muttering to himself. “I can't get up there, remember?" He folded his arms, leaning against the far wall.

“Well… um… there's this Arcanine…"

“What, their commander? That… Prometheus?"

“No, no, it's not Prometheus. This one looks different, and there's this Mightyena too… they're, er, they're both male…"

“You can tell?"

The human nodded. “Oh yeah. Oh yeah, I can tell… oh, Arc-" He brought up his hand to his mouth, staring through the window. The Watchog moved around to see his face - it was a picture of surprise, eyes wide. “Oh… oh, no, come on, that's never gonna fit…"

“Are you telling me that two waiters are-"

“Yeah…" The man nodded with a thousand-yard stare. “Yeah… yeah, but - oh, Arceus on a pogo stick, how the hell did he manage that!?"

“Alright, alright, I gotta see this!" The Watchog said, dropping the revolver. He hoisted himself onto the stool, and scrabbled at the wall. “C'mon, move!"

“Hey, stop pushing, I - oh, shit, that can't be healthy! No bulge is that big!"

“Move over, you great lummox, I need t-"

The doors to the Lounge slammed open with a grumble of motors over a set of heavy paws slamming into the ground.

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw!"

A hail of darts whistled through the air past them, and the Watchog yelped in surprise, his paws releasing the windowsill and toppling to the ground in a daze. He lifted his head, pushing himself up - just in time to see a large mass of pale cream fur barrelling towards him.

It was all a bit fuzzy after that.

* * *

Rain Flower's face was a mask of utter delight, her paws wrapped around the trigger of the large turret, darts spewing out the front. Ahead of her, humans and Pokémon alike, all customers, dove out of the way of her barrage in a frantic panic.

“Yeeeeeeeah bitcheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!" She yelled again, before suddenly stumbling. She almost lost her footing as Prometheus skidded down a side-corridor. Her tail wrapped more firmly around his, her back paws just able to keep her balancing precariously on his back. Still grinning, she sent more darts spiralling down the corridor, trailed by her maniacal laughter.

Behind her, Sinister skittered along the floor, grabbing a nearby large gun as she passed it. Two cleaning mice, a Rattata and a Dedenne, clung to both sides of her, grabbing any darts they passed and shoving them into a well-packed back strapped to her back. Trailing her and crackling sparks with excitement, Ceylon bounded after them. His paws occasionally met the walls, claws digging in for extra support as he raced after them. He too had his own little mount in the form of Quippie; with Ceylon's large mane in his mouth and a pistol in each hand, he was picking off any targets that tried to pursue. No-one even fired at them. They never got the chance.

The seven of them burst out into the Service Corridor linking Captivate with the Bedroom Block. Prometheus turned on two paws, sliding a couple of metres across the carpet before making a headlong dash down towards the bedrooms. Rain Flower grasped the strapped-down gun tighter, darts bouncing off the ceiling and walls as she struggled to stay on. A myriad of shouts tumbled from the doors to Captivate, but a couple of answering shots from Quippie silenced them - aside from a lone, griping shout of frustration. Score one for the waiters, it seemed.

“Don't slow down!" Ceylon yelled forwards as Prometheus bore down on the closed doors to the Bedroom Block at the end of the corridor.

Quippie span back around to face the front. “Ramming speed!"

There had been a few customers standing by those doors, and one had even raised his weapon. Evidently, however, the vision of a large, determined Arcanine - who, by now, was even trailing fire from between his gritted teeth - seemed to intimidate. All three cowered as Prometheus leapt, clearing all of them, and burst through the doors with an almighty slam. Rain Flower dispensed a few darts towards their prone bodies as they sailed past, cackling to herself, as the others jumped through in their wake.

The seven waiters skidded to a halt as the doors swung closed again. They were at a T-junction, the corridor ending in front of them and splitting left and right. Strangely, the lights were off, plunging it into near-darkness, but the rays of light that trickled through the frosted glass from the Service Corridor illuminated a series of armchairs, cabinets and even the occasional bed upended and used as barricades right the way down the corridors.

“Hey, where's the fuckin' lights go?" Rain Flower said, her paw still on the trigger - as she said it, the darts suddenly cut out, the rhythmic slamming replaced with the drone of the motors. She looked down at it sadly, finally relinquishing the trigger. “Aw…"

Both cleaning mice jumped forwards at that, leaping up onto the gun and yanking the empty clips free. “What, afraid of the Dark…?" Sinister snickered, as they replaced them with two more full ammo drums.

“Quiet." Ceylon said as Quippie leapt from his back. Ceylon fished a length of rope from his side and tossed it over the handles of the doors, using both front paws and his jaw to tie it into a tight knot. “Been like thish since I first got here," he explained through a mouthful of hemp, “I think the waitersh downshtairsh tripped the shwitches intentionally. It should make our fighting eashier…" He bit down on a hanging length and yanked it tight, just as dark shapes reappeared at the doors, trying to open them. The rope pulled taut, letting nothing more than a sliver of light and some angry shouting through.

Quippie held both guns aloft, moving to look down one way. Both directions seemed full of these barricades, some even reaching the ceiling - it was impossible to see to either end if the corridor with all the cover. “Where now, Commander!?"

Ceylon turned, giving a satisfied nod at the securely closed doors. “It'll be easier if we can take out the South-West Stairwell frontier. We just gotta hope it's still up. That gives us a route to the Basement, which means more supplies and more reinforcements.

Quippie turned, and within seconds both cleaning mice had already shoved darts back into the barrels of both guns. “Got it. Let's go!"

It turned out that the South-West Stairwell frontier was still where it had been last. A significant barricade, over a metre high (it looked like a couple of bed frames), covered the whole corridor. Behind it was a stairwell, with pale white light showing the top of a dark void down to the basement. Light trickled in from outside, showing the silhouettes of four humans standing ready, turned towards the stairs.

The strike team stopped a few metres short, and flattened themselves behind a wardrobe that had presumably been dragged from a nearby room. The customers were all facing the other way. Ceylon nodded to Quippie. The Linoone looked from the customers, to his guns, and then back to the customers again. He grinned, and stepped forwards, a shaft of light catching him.

“Hey, fellas, what's the difference between nerf guns and dicks?"

Just as they turned in confusion, he fired. Two darts pinged off the heads of two of the customers on the outside, each dart rebounding and hitting a customer in the middle.

Quippie's smile shone. “I don't suck when it comes to nerf guns."

There was a shocked stage whisper from Rain Flower behind him. “Woaaaaaaah…!"

One of the customers was rubbing his cheek. “Hey… are… are rebounds even allowed?"

Click, click, po-pop!

Linoone smiled at the customers again, his two darts rolling back towards him over the floor. “Does it matter now?" He twirled the guns around, and then held them out for reloading as the humans slumped back in defeat. “Barricade down! Advance!"

The strike team peered out from around the wardrobe. On the other side of the bed frames, a series of dark shapes appeared at the top of the stairs. The barricade was pulled aside, and-

Sinister's eyes went wide. “Dex…" She muttered to herself, then quickly shrugged off the bag strapped to her back. “Dex!" She shouted again, and bounded forwards.

“Wait, Sinister, hold position!" Ceylon shouted, just before a shape detached itself from behind a nearby chair. A gun popped, and a dart bounced off her side.

Sinister toppled where she fell, legs kicking out from underneath her, slamming into the carpet with a yelp of surprise. A momentary pause followed, before she shouted in anger. “Arceus fucking dammit!"

“Sin, you fucking idiot…" Dex's voice came from one of the silhouettes.

“Alright! Two Mightyena in a night!" The voice came from the shape at the side. “C'mon then!"

“Three fucking hours…" She grumbled, pulling herself to her feet. “Three fucking hours and stopped right at the end…!" She turned to Dex, huffed, and then walked dejectedly towards her captor.

“Sinister!" Dex wailed suddenly, his voice plaintive. “Sinister! I'll find you! Just hold on! I'll fiiiind yoooou…!"

“Oh, go bite a Vanillish." She yelled back. Dex snickered as she went.

Ceylon watched her go, before poking his head out. “You guys okay over there?"

“Yeah, we're all peachy. Took you long enough." Dex said, peering between barricades as more waiters assembled behind him. “Didn't expect you here. So what's the plan?"

Ceylon smirked, letting the scene light up with a few sparks of electricity. “We're taking these customers down."

“Best plan I've heard all evening." He chuckled, the sound echoing from every dark shadow. “I'm in."

* * *

Yep, that's right. Step forwards once more, and again… turn on your heel… then step, step, step- start creeping forwards- step, step- get ready- step, step pounce!

Chai leaped up, landing on the back of the human. His paws wrapped suddenly around her head, fur digging into her mouth, causing her to yelp in surprise - but the sound was muffled, never making it past his rough pawpads.

From the darkness, a muted pop sounded, sending a dart ricocheting off her side.

“That's a good girlie!" Chai muttered down her ear. “You're my customer now. So stay silent…" Slowly he drew his paws away, claws leaving where they'd pricked her face - but his back paws remained on her, his claws there still digging into the sweater she was wearing, piercing through just enough to tease the skin…

The customer made no noise as he leant back, and then dropped to the floor.

“Good." He whispered. “Off you go, run along. Report to the Lounge, and not a word of where you came from to anyone…."

Chai sat in the shadow of a solar panel as the woman stalked off dejectedly, casting only a single glance back at him. “Good luck getting back up here..." he mused to himself. “And good riddance, too…."

“Well Chai, I'm glad I'm on your side." October chuckled from the shadows, poking his muzzle forwards just enough to be caught by a ray of moonlight.

“Oh, I know you are." Chai grinned, his rings glowing momentarily with a dark snicker. Together they both moved off, staying in the darkness as they continued across the roof.

“That six now?"

“Five, you rascal." October replied quietly. “I think we just got one left on this part of the roof."

“On this roof, yeah…" Chai muttered, looking up.

They were somewhere above the Main Bar. In this place, the roof wasn't as high as some parts of the Café. As it was, the Bedroom Block rose another story, sitting like a sleeping Ursaring on the horizon, covering their vision by almost a hundred and eighty degrees. Further along a few of the rooms were casting dazzling beams of light across the slumbering landscape; some reached over here, but it only served to lengthen the shadows cast by the numerous ventilation stacks and rows of solar panels that littered the rooftop.

“Come on…" October muttered, coming to a halt near to the end of a row of ventilation ducts. “One more, and-"

He went silent. Chai froze and crouched. Across the briefly illuminated path of roof, In the shadow of those ducts, he saw the Ninetales making motions with his paws.

Chair frowned, and mouthed “What?"

October's paws stopped, and then repeated the same motions, but slower.

Chai repeated the silent question.

October threw up his paws - and a couple of his tails, and then leaned in. “I can see him." he whispered, only just able to be heard. “Last one. Over by the ladder."

Chai peered around the edge of the solar panel he was hiding behind. The customer was another human, male, athletic judging by his outline. He stood by a ladder which led up the side of the Bedroom Block, cradling what was certainly a hefty rifle. Chai let out a soft growl of thought.

“I can take 'im…" He whispered back.

October shook his head. “No cover between us and him. We can't even shoot that far… But I can make a distraction-"

“Bullshit we can't shoot that far. Gimme my gun, I'll get him!"

“No, Chai, listen, the distraction idea is better."

“Fuck that, you just wanna show off."

“Hrff, I never said th-"

There was a metallic thunk from the direction of the customer, followed by a scraping sound. They both turned to watch as a grating fell from vent next to him with a loud clang, the human turning and staring at it in shock. “What in the wor-"

“Jebo te onaj ko te napravio!" A sudden burst of light scarred their eyes, half-blinding them as a flare was tossed from the open ventilation shaft, bouncing and rolling to a stop by the customer's feet. It hissed and sputtered, the air filling with the stench of rapidly oxidising magnesium.

Through the glare, they could just see a Sylveon poke his head from the vent as the customer danced back from the flare in shock. A series of pops could just be heard over the hiss, and darts cast brief shadows against the wall as four of them hammered into the customer's chest.

“Matkojebca!" The Sylveon yelled, before disappearing back down the vent. A perplexed looking human was left standing by the ladder, having dropped his gun and now looking around in surprise. The flare fizzled out by his feet.

In the now-returned darkness, October shrugged, stood up, and wandered over. “Alright, you know how it is. To the Lounge. Leave the weapon…."

“You planned that!?" The man said, aghast, tottering away from the Ninetales. “You planned that!?"

“Yes, of course I did." lied October, smiling broadly at him. “Now run along, run along, before I get bitey…"

The human took one more look at the vent, then the Ninetales, and then scarpered.

Chai joined October by the ladder. “Well, I suppose that worked…"

“Told you the distraction idea was better." October smiled at him.

“Oh, go bite your own tails." Chai muttered wryly, before trotting up to the ladder. Beside them, a flame still licked from the charred remains of a dart. “Hey, October…"

“Yes?" October said, looking back around at him.

Chai grinned back, his paws curled over the second rung. He glanced up at the roof above them. “Want to take this to the next level?"

October got bitey.

* * *

“Here, use one of these!" The Dedenne said in a stage whisper, scampering up to Ceylon. The Luxray inspected the device he was being handed - it was an attachment for a nerf gun.

“What's this?"

“It's a Light Beam Unit, attaches to one of the tactical rails!" She grinned at him, waving it under his nose.

Ceylon frowned, reached out with a claw, and flicked the switch on the side. A pitiful red glow could just be seen on the opposite wall.

“It's a torch." He said, simply. “A bad one too - did Dibble sell you this?" Ceylon asked, just as Prometheus loomed towards them. The Dedenne scampered, dispirited, as he approached.

“Waiters are in position at the South-West intersection." He rumbled quietly, his face mostly hidden in the darkness. The baritone in the words was felt more than heard. “I told them to keep quiet, so we can capture any customer coming through."

“Good. How many do we have?"

“Without them, and those in the basement, we have twenty-two in total."

“Stiiiiill not seen Buck Fortitude…" Rain Flower griped at full-volume from his back. Her paws were folded over the rifle.

Ceylon nodded, giving Rain Flower only a short glance. “Good. More than I hoped for. Let's move to the North-West barricades. We need to establish a supply line back to the Lounge."

The team gathered up their guns and started advancing back up the corridor. Their voices were kept to a whisper - low enough to not be heard over what seemed to be a constant level of muffled grunts and gasps. As they passed a door, a female moan cried out from it, only to be drowned out by a possessive squark and a loud thump.

In front of him, Quippie and a Bisharp were taking point, guns pointed forwards as they dodged from cover to cover. A red glow illuminated their backs.

“Hold Position." Ceylon ordered, the group coming to a stop around him. “Sasha… turn that torch off…"

“Hey, I like the Light Beam Unit." The Dedenne's voice rose from behind a sharp red point of light. “It looks good…"

“It's also a big 'shoot here' sign to anyone who sees it. Put it away…" He turned around further. “Spritzer?"

“Present, commander!" Came a quiet response from a barely-seen Frogadier.

“Check out that room. We'll cover you." He nodded across the hallway to one of the doors that seemed to be silent.

The Frogadier moved through the team, flattened himself against the wall, and turned the handle. The door was pushed slowly open, with several silent barrels were pointed warily towards the gap. There were a few tense seconds. Down the hall, another loud moan could be heard, full of instinct...

“Clear." the Frogadier replied, turning back.

“Good. Spritzer, hold position here and await further orders."

“Very good, Commander." The Frogadier nodded, and slipped into the room, letting the door shut quietly behind him.

“Alright. Team… forwards…" Ceylon hissed, resuming the march.

“Ceylon, I am curious…" Prometheus said as they followed the two leading Pokémon darting across the faintly illuminated carpet. “What is it that happened to you with Sam?"

“Have you heard of Kinbaku?"

“I have, yes…"

“Have you heard of the Kobaru Technique?"

Prometheus fell silent for a moment. “You know… I think I may have…" He said, giving a deep, growling hum.

Ceylon turned, and frowned at him, waiting for more.

“Not much. I have not partaken, but I remember seeing it when I last visited the Taboo Saloon… the brothel over in Wyoming? It was on a list of… banned techniques…"

“Banned? The Taboo Saloon is not the most conservative of brothels..." Ceylon muttered with incredulity.

“Indeed. Under the definition of torture… I did not ask there, but by Hades, I fear for what you went through…"

Ceylon faced forwards again as they group moved past some blankets that had been hung over a set of packing crates. “It was… distinctly uncomfortable…" Ceylon muttered as he heard a duo of intense snarls from a nearby room. He found himself stepping oddly as a few thoughts and instincts resurfaced. “Put it this way, I shall have to take some time off when this war is over. Or I need to make a point to claim a prize myself from someone I shoot…."

He took another step, then narrowed his eyes as red light once again played over the crates in front of them, shadows flickering and dancing. He sighed, exasperated. “Sasha, I told you to take that off…"

“It's not me, Commander…" came the disgruntled reply.

Ceylon paused, turning his head. Much further down the corridor was a point of red light.

“Take cover!" He ordered suddenly. “Attack from the rear!"

The shapes of waiters scarpered to the sides or hit the deck as a green flash sliced through the air, just where a few of them had been standing. More passed overhead as they flattened themselves against various items of furniture or the floor.

“Tracer darts!" Dextus shouted from beside a mattress. “They were using them on us earlier!"

“Return fire!" Ceylon shouted, pulling a gun from his back with his jaws. It was hard to load and fire without opposable thumbs, but it was better than nothing. He primed the gun, swinging it around.

“Commander!" Quippie's shout came from the other direction now, followed by a couple of _pop_s. “Commander, incoming from the front!"

“It's a trap!" Prometheus growled from somewhere near the floor. Fortunately, an entire bed had been turned on its side, else the Arcanine might not have found enough cover. Above him, Rain Flower was kicking him.

“Oi, bigfuck, crouch lower, they can see me!"

“I can't crouch lower! Start shooting!"

“I'll start shooting when you crouch lower!"

“Rain Flower, open fire!" Ceylon yelled, sitting back. His tail wrapped around the priming lever and trigger, and he held the barrel against his shoulder for stability as he sighted down the gun. A pull of the trigger sent a single dart spinning into the darkness, and satisfactorily, a dark shape dived to the floor.

He primed again, just as more darts arced from behind him, and he pushed himself further against the back of a tall chair. “Quippie, sitrep!" he shouted, as he sent another dart flying.

“We can't see them!" Quippie was shouting. “They're hiding… somewhere!"

Ceylon shot again, the dart bouncing off a wall behind a customer's head, and he dived to the floor as a dart whistled past his ear. “All units, full volley - fire!"

A chorus of pops and slams answered the call, sending a horde of darts swarming at the enemy like locusts. There was a satisfying shout from behind a bedside table.

A trail of glowing green darts speared back at them. The waiters all ducked again, but not before a dart, still glowing that ethereal green hue, smacked into something and landed on the ground.

“Fuck!"

“We lost Typhoon!" came a shout, just as another dart speared the darkness.

“Gah!"

“Shit! Mantis' been hit too!"

Ceylon breathed hard, cranking the lever on his rifle again. “Another volley!" He steadied himself, holding in a breath as he stared down the length of his gun.

“We're running out of darts here, Commander!" Dextus shouted back.

“Fire!"

More darts were flung forwards, bouncing off walls and upholstery, but there were no shouts of defeat.

“We can't do this forever…" Dextus warned, a growl in his voice.

Ceylon suppressed a snarl, yanking his lever again. This wasn't good, he thought to himself. “Bloody hell…. Quippie!"

“Still nothing Commander! I think-"

There were a couple of yelps from beyond the head of the group. A motor that had been buzzing somewhere beyond their vanguard was relaxed, the electrical whine sounding like a sigh of relief. Ceylon breathed heavily, forcing himself not to turn around, waiting for any more sign of movement in the direction he was facing. “Quippie…?"

Silence from the vanguard, while several more waiters fired the occasional potshots at those still behind them.

“Still here!" Quippie shouted eventually. “And-"

“Target sighted!" Came a high-pitched voice, with the smile clearly heard in the tone. Two more darts spat past the group from the front, arcing over them, flung into the darkness behind them. One of the other customers there threw themselves against the wall to dodge out of the way. Another volley from a few of the waiters caught them just as they were trying to scrabble back into hiding.

Ceylon grinned to himself. “Glad you could join the party, Neon!"

“Couldn't resist!" The Jolteon pranced up, the motor of the large pistol strapped below her grumbling contentedly.

With one side down, the waiters seemed to find a second wind. Another hail of darts back down the corridor were answered with a few more tracer darts fired in a panic. It was enough to give away his position - Ceylon yanked the trigger, the dart catching the culprit right on the head. There was a wail of pain from the darkness.

“Dextus, check the area." Ceylon ordered, priming again just in case. “Everyone, stand by."

There was nothing now but the hum of motors and the continuing tune of fornication.

“Clear." Dextus growled happily.

“Well done. Back in formation. Mice, reload and restock. Dex, Quippie, grab their weapons. Typhoon, Mantis, you two head to the Inner Garden, but don't give anything away. Customers… head to the basement."

“What do you want me to do, Ceylon?" Neon said, holding her gun up and letting the clip inside it drop to the floor as a Pachirisu walked up to snap in a new one. “Back behind their lines? I can sneak back in if I'm quiet."

“Good," responded Ceylon, gratefully receiving his own new clip, “because I need you there for one more special mission."

* * *

It was like music, in a way. Firenze mused this point as he walked softly down the corridor, his ears turning as doors passed him by to better catch the sounds.

Here, a melody of gasps and moans carried a sporadic, indistinct tune. Several disjointed growls came as backup… hisses and gasps were the hi-hats, and squawks were the clash of cymbals. He swam through it, listening to how the levels interfered, constructive here, destructive there, and how it flowed and danced. It was like a car's headlights passing a slatted fence at night - on the other side of the fence, a clutter of vertical sharp lines of light would tumble over the scenery. Only here it was sound, not light. Whimpers underlay the half-shouted vocals, and grunts and snarls carried the bass, the power of the music. Underneath it all, the drumbeat of thrusting, rocking doors in their frames, beds against walls, two bodies forced together…

The blackness only aided the experience; it cut off one sense just to accentuate another. Firenze stepped easily between the barricades, enjoying a salacious chorus of breathless whines as he did so.

It was that focus on sound that let him hear her. No matter how quiet the breathing, it could always be heard if one just kept an ear out…

Firenze swung a gun around. From behind a table, the dim shape of a Jolteon stared back at him, what little ambient light there was illuminated a gun pointed right back at him.

“Miss Staccato." Firenze said pleasantly, his other tails fanning as the other two guns he was carrying pointed up and down the corridor. “How lovely to see you again. Did you enjoy your time with Monsieurs Farrin and Trincendie?"

“They were alright." Her gun was steady in her grasp as she muttered. “Very… focused…."

Firenze smiled. “Yes, well I'm sure you put on a good show for them. Well done."

“Thanks." Neon said, with a voice lacking in sincerity.

“Now," Firenze continued, “am I to assume this is a trap? Are several guns trained on me as we speak?"

“Wouldn't that be fun." Neon muttered back. “Nope - just me, but ah! Don't try anything. You know how good my reflexes are."

Firenze stared at her. Both their guns stayed aloft, each pointed right at the other. It was nearly point blank. Neither would miss. The tension was thick enough to cut with a claw.

“Well then, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Firenze continued, never letting his pleasant voice falter.

“I've come to inform you that we're about to launch an offensive on the Inner Garden. If we're successful, this war will be over, and we will win."

“Only, now you've told me this, I shall no doubt try and stop it…" Firenze narrowed his eyes at her. “So you have something else to tell me, too, making that piece of intelligence an olive branch, I take it?"

Neon didn't even nod, her body tense and still. “That's right. I've come here to propose an idea."

“And what makes you think I'll accept?" Firenze drew his gun a bit closer, tailtip curled around the trigger, ready.

Neon narrowed her eyes. Her paw flexed around her own trigger, the barrel pointed right at Firenze's chest. “I don't. But Commander Ceylon expects you'll want to hear it regardless."

* * *

The gun clunked against the Scizor's metallic chest. The woman holding the gun glowered at the Pokémon, jaw set and eyes peering at her searchingly, hatefully. The Scizor had folded her arms, wings fluttering every few seconds, her sharp gold eyes glaring back in steely defiance.

“I guess you didn't hear me." The woman said, sticking out her lower jaw further as she flexed her grip on the gun. “What… are… your plans…?"

“My name is Mantis Serration." The Scizor spat back, the words coming out as if memorized by rote. “I am a Bedroom Waiter on the Evening Shift. Main kinks; Domination, Blood Play and Exhibitionism."

“You're really getting on my nerves." The woman growled, her finger teasing the trigger. “Tell me what the plans are for the waiters."

“My name is Mantis Serration. I am a Bedroom Waiter on the Evening Shift. Main kinks; Domination, Blood Play and Exhibitionism."

The woman dug the gun up against the Scizor's neck. “Tell me! Is it true there's a strike team in the Bedroom Block right now? Answer!"

The Scizor glared at her with a firmed expression, even leaning in. The gun clunked against her hide again. “My name is Mantis Serration. I am a Bedroom Waiter on the Evening Shift-"

The woman drew her rifle back as the Scizor continued, as if to swing it round.

“Hold it!"

The woman stayed in place, frozen in mid-action, the gun held aloft. The Scizor too had gone quiet.

Sam looked down on the both of them, and swung her legs over a branch, staring down from the darkness of the trees. The large six-shooter she held swayed in her hand.

“She's not going to tell you anything…" She murmured boredly. “Not like that, anyway…"

The woman hissed through her teeth, pulling the gun back around to aim it at the Scizor again. “What should I do with this bug, then?"

“Take her back. Put her with the others we just got…." Sam scratched her neck nonchalantly as she looked around the Inner Garden. “We can let Joe deal with her. She'll break, eventually." A smile passed over her face momentarily, her voice taking on a somewhat wistful air. “There should be a Houndoom somewhere, name of Trincendie. Find out where he's got to and bring him here. Scizor don't react well to… a little heat…."

The woman paused, looking up at Sam. Her face was momentarily puzzled, the tough-interrogator act faltering for a fraction of a second. “Er, Commander…"

Sam's gaze held true. She glared, unblinking; she could feel her eyes illuminated by a small line of light. There was a silent moment, before the woman nodded, her face resuming its hard glare, and waved her gun. The Scizor, arms still folded and sharp eyes glaring up into the branches, marched off to a far corner of the Garden with the woman in tow.

She watched their retreating backs until they were lost past the canopy, and then let her gaze wander back across the garden. She could see a fair bit from this vantage point; the leaves barely let any light from the first floor balconies trickle through, but elsewhere huge swathes of grass and hedges were illuminated, revealing a landscape dotted with guards and cavorting couples. Around the walls, she could see both doors leading into the Inner Garden from the ground floor. Both had modest barricades turning the area in front of the doors into a kill zone, and a handful of guards stood ready near to them. To her left, one of the doors was flanked a couple of large expensive, ceiling-to-floor windows; through which, she could see a medium-sized seating area with a collection of dark couches and armchairs. With the switches cut, a collection of torches and electric camping lanterns were being used to barely illuminate a few more customers, enjoying the spoils of war. She watched them undulate, silhouettes in the blackness.

“Commander Sam." Called a female, gravelly voice, coming from a Krokorok who was standing at the foot of the tree trunk. Sam didn't move - not waving her away was enough of an acknowledgment.

“We haven't heard from our forces at Captivate. They said they'd be ready for the final assault ten minutes ago, all they needed was the darts to supply them, but the runners never returned."

Sam frowned, still watching the seating area. Her grip tightening reflexively on her gun.

“I wanted to know if there was anything you think we should do? More runners, give them an armed escort…?"

The doors to the seating area opened, and a chuckling Mightyena pushed through, his paws skittering on the gravel. He held a Linoone by the chest fluff, and the two of them were muttering to each other. It looked as if the Mightyena was giving a few instructions, the Linoone nodding after each muffled line. A classic picture of a customer and their waiter. She squinted at the Linoone; in her mind, a series of facts were pulled from her memory.

Quippie. Real name Fernando, comes from California, been at the Café for one year, three months. Works as an errand boy and occasional floor waiter, known prankster, has tried and failed to get onto the Masseur team for most of his career here…

She looked at the Mightyena. Most of his face was hidden by the Linoone, but she could just see the markings…

Dextus. Real name also Dextus. Comes from a trainer named Cyan, was a battling Pokémon for much of his youth. Has worked at Café Plaisir for seven months. The Café denies any romantic or sexual relationship he has with his sister, a poor cover for the truth….

Her eyes went wide, looking back to the seating area. Through the glass, she could see that several of those previously copulating shapes were now advancing on the door.

Sam primed her weapon. “Waiters attacking! Barricades, now! NOW!"

As she shouted, the Mightyena dropped the Linoone to the ground, and twisted to reach into the mess of black fur on his back with his jaws. He dragged out a rifle, while the Linoone turned to reveal himself grasping two revolvers. Before anyone could react, both of them had fired rounds off at the stunned, frozen customers.

Sam raised her gun, and fired off a shot at the doors to the seating area. “Open f_i_re!"

* * *

The Lilligant in front of Ceylon shoved the doors to the Inner Garden open and leapt through. The next moment, she stumbled, caught by a thick, red dart that bounced off her chest. She groaned, falling back against the window in shock.

He roared a battle cry as he raced through the doors after her. The area opened out as the cool outside air hit him full-on, the rife scent of nature and sex surrounding him. This was it; the final battlefield.

Behind him, another waiter, a Leavanny, burst through with his own gun, quickly followed by Prometheus. Rain Flower was still on his back, and she let out a banshee-esque yell as she revved up her motors, a torrent of darts leaping from her turret. Another red dart lanced from the direction of the tree, and Ceylon only just managed to leap out of the way of it, trailing an arc of electricity from where he'd stood.

The Inner Garden was an instant firefight, a hail of darts hurled towards the scrambling customers. They had been caught with their pants down - literally, in the case of some, judging by flashes of reddish-pink against fur and a mix of growls and cries of exasperation from the hedges and bushes that were scattered around the garden.

The incursion by Dextus and Quippie had quickly taken out any guards near the barricades. The Waiters leapt behind them, securing their beachhead, sending another volley of darts across the spotlight-lit garden. Behind him, Ceylon heard the doors get shoved back open again as a couple of cleaning mice ran after them, dragging an ammo box towards the entrenched waiters.

“North doors!" Sam's voice cut through the mêlée. There was a bang on the opposite side of the garden as the other set of doors slammed open, disgorging another couple of waiters. Darts answered their call - dammit! How did she know? He-

Ceylon leapt to the side again, rolling behind a pillar that held up one of the first-floor balconies above, just as another dart threw up a few specks of gravel where he'd been a half second before. He stuck his head out for just a moment, glaring up at the tree. That's where she was, he knew it; but even looking for her, he could only just see slivers of a humanoid shape half-hidden by the branches. Of course she knew about the north doors - she'd have expected the pincer move; it would have been strategically foolish not to take advantage of it.

He pulled up his rifle, hiding the lurid green plastic as best he could in his fur as he sighted down it, sending a dart off at a customer who was leaping behind a bush. He gritted his teeth as the dart just missed his legs, and he yanked with his tail to reprime the weapon.

The customers had been caught by surprise, but they made up for it by their response. He ducked back behind the pillar as more darts flew out of the shadows, bouncing off the red brick wall behind him. A few metres in front of him, the waiters ducking behind the barricades were forced against the ground to avoid the fire.

He leaned out, sighted down the gun, and sent another two shots across the path towards where a few of the customers had taken shelter by the tree. One jumped up in response, arms waving in admittance of being hit. He primed and fired again, and again…

Another red dart almost caught his mane. He panted heavily, drawing back behind the pillar, before leaning out just enough for another inspection of the battlefield.

The Northern assault had been made up of three waiters, meant to sneak behind the back and jump into cover before the customers could retaliate… but as he looked for them now, all three were standing weaponless against the wall. He could just make out their faces of defeat. Curse that Sam! He snarled, turning around, looking out from the other side of the pillar.

It wasn't like his front was doing much better. The Leavanny had been caught on one of his antenna, and was now rubbing it painfully, crouching against one wall next to the Lilligant. Rain Flower juddered left and right as her turret fired, never seeming to let up her barrage. She was yelling at the hidden defenders.

“Come on then, come at me! I'll take you all! I'll suck you all off! I'll fuck y-!" She cut her speech off in mid-word as the gun sputtered, the motors revving in vain as the darts ran out. In a flash, two Emolga were on her, yanking out both drums and slamming new ones back into place. “-ou all you bitches of fuckers!" She continued, exactly where she had left off. He almost smiled, but as the Emolga jumped down, a dart caught one of them in mid-air. The mouse cried out in surprise, wing-flaps collapsing, sending him tumbling and spinning to the floor.

Ceylon snarled again, blasting a dart off randomly in the direction of the offending shot, before leaping from his cover. His paws threw up clods of dirt as he launched himself forwards towards the barricades. The next moment, he felt hard, cold plastic shoved into his side, his feet misplacing themselves on the gravel, sending him toppling to the ground. He hissed dangerously, feeling electricity lance between his lips drawn back over his teeth, as he wheeled his vision around at a Meowstic holding a rifle almost as big as he was.

“Don't move!" The Meowstic shouted, the tip of the gun hovering too far away to shove to the side. “I would prefer not to shoot you…"

Ceylon glowered at the offending weapon and its owner. His own gun was trapped underneath him - he couldn't raise it. He had no choice but to stay there.

His ears flicked as the firing trailed off with a series of barked orders. He looked over at the barricades.

Though the hum of motors was still loud in the air, the firing had fully ceased, and for a reason. Against one wall, weapons having been dropped to the floor, Quippie stood with a sorrowful expression. He shrugged as Ceylon's gaze passed over him. In front of him, scruff held in one meaty hand, Dextus' front half had been shoved against the floor by a customer, the barrel of a pistol thrust against into the back of his head. Dextus was snarling, large teeth gleaming and wet with saliva, but the man straddling him wasn't relinquishing his grasp.

Behind the barricades, two more customers - a human female and a Gallade - were holding two very large rifles to Prometheus and Rain Flower respectively. Rain Flower was busy yanking uselessly on the trigger, muttering to herself and apparently oblivious not only to the customers, but also of the plaintive whines the motor made; sounds typical of a jammed gun. Next to them, watched over by an Armaldo with an amusingly small pistol, one of the Emolga cradled the other in her arms.

Two thumps in quick succession of boots on grass. Ceylon turned again, still growling under his breath. Underneath the tree, he could see the outline of Sam standing still; one hand on her hips, the other tightly grasping a large, red revolver.

He could just about make out her clothing now, too. She'd changed out of her garb before, the loose-fitting pants and a tight shirt. Now, she wore tight jeans that were ripped, the fabric hanging loosely from her legs, loose, wiry threads implying the rips weren't a normal feature. Her tight top had also been exchanged for something shorter, cropped and low cut, and similarly figure-hugging. The way it stretched over a pair of small breasts left little to the imagination. The more he stared at her, the more he could see that the skin was grubby, marked with dirt.

“Enjoying the whole 'Fight the Power' aspect, Ms Sam?" Ceylon called over, ignoring the gun jabbing into his side. “Think yourself a rebel now, do you?"

“Silence him." Sam replied. Ceylon ignored the Meowstic moving around to press the gun against the back of his head. He focused on Sam, and how her eyes seemed to gleam…

Those eyes looked to all of the captured waiters in turn. “Twelve. That's a skeleton crew for a shift, let alone a full strike force. Commander, I expected more of you. Did you lose that many in the corridors?"

Ceylon was silent. He kept his gaze on her, his face neutral.

“Hm. Yes, you most likely do have a plan…. You, you, barricade the doors. Make sure no-one can open them." She pointed at two of the customers, sending them scampering off to the doors. Ceylon growled, flicking his gaze to the ground for a moment, his paws flexing at the gravel. His claws dug into it painfully. “There. That should about stop any reinforcements coming your way. Which leaves you with… hm, I believe only five of you left, uncaptured?" A smile tinged her voice. “Let's fix that. Joe?"

The man holding Dextus, Joe, tugged the Mightyena up by the scruff and walked him over towards the tree slowly. Dextus never once stopped showing his teeth, eyes a sharp red and sickly yellow that seemed to glow even in shadow. The gun was kept at the back of his head.

Same walked over and stopped in front of him, standing casually once more, never leaving the shadow of the tree. “Dextus. How marvellous to see you at last."

“Oh, don't start with the evil villain crap." Dextus snarled. “I've had enough of that as it is."

“Evil villain, or potential ally?" She smiled again, her teeth reflecting the ambient light. “Your sister is missing from this assault. This makes me think she's been captured, right?"

Dextus didn't respond. He stood tall, claws extended against the even grass surface, jaw set and lips pulled back.

“I'll take that as a yes. Well, it's simple. I know Dark Types, and I know Mightyena, and I know your loyalty…" She smiled again, leaning back. “And I know how much you want to fight alongside her. So, it's very simple; you can leave now, if you want - my guards will let you out. You can go find your sister, and you have my permission, when she's… finished with her current customer, to accompany you back here." She waved a hand around her. “Do consider this offer, Dextus. You may find it repulsive at first, but do look around you…"

Sam scanned the area. Ceylon narrowed his eyes.

“After all, where has being a waiter gotten you? We hold almost the entire Café, and your side holds but four rooms and the strategically insignificant basement. We have more people, more land, and more resources. And now that this… little skirmish of yours has come to a thoroughly disappointing end… well. No commander, most of your forces have been captured… this truly is the only way to victory."

She swayed her hips, waving the gun in the air. Dextus opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. “And now this is where you say that you don't care, and that you'll rip me to shreds for trying to use your sister against me. How delightful!" She waved her hands. “I told you I knew Dark Types! I love your loyalty and tenacity! It's so invigorating, isn't it?" She giggled like a schoolgirl, turning around and swaying her arms excitedly. “Oh, I just adore you types... you're my absolute favourites, you know that?"

She turned again, resuming her previous casual pose. “So just consider this then. If you stay, you'll lose, and we'll have our way with your entire side. But if you join us, then you can take your sister back to your nice big basement room with any waiter you like, and you can have your not-so-secret little sordid affair. Hah! You know, I may even have to join you…." She paused, and again, those teeth gleamed. “Tell me, Dextus, my dear. What's loyalty to the Café in the face of an offer of domination and salacious desires?" She stalked closer to him slowly, footsteps heavy on the ground. “That is what you're here for, after all…"

Dextus' snarl rose like a revving engine. “If you think… that I would join you… for the simple offer of being able to fuck you with Sin? You are absolutely right. I will rip you to shreds…." He breathed heavily through gritted teeth. “What makes you think I would accept such a despicable offer…!?"

Sam shrugged. “Nothing. I just wanted to make that speech." In one motion, she primed her gun, and fired it at point-blank range into Dextus' forehead. Ceylon jerked in surprise, Prometheus doing the same a few metres away. The dart span through the air before rolling to a stop in the grass. Dextus growled in annoyance, shrinking back from the impact.

Sam was laughing. “Oooh, this is such fun! One down, four to go! Oh, who do we have next!?" She was giggling again, arms clamped over her stomach in a mock laughing fit. To the side, Dextus was marched away by Joe to where Quippie was sitting and watching the proceedings. “Oh, roll-up, roll-up! Let's have, let's have… let'shavelet'shave…" She paused, stopping in mid motion. Her body froze, before her head turned, eyes alive with joy. “Ceylon…"

Ceylon stared back in defiance.

“Oh, Commander Ceylon, come on over! I don't want to let my fellow leader feel left out!" She smiled as the Meowstic dug his rifle back against the Luxray again. Begrudgingly, Ceylon rose up, tossing his rifle to the side as he walked over.

“Oh, now that's not nice…" Sam chastised, turning to another customer. “You there, do pick up his rifle and move it away from the rest of them? That's a good boy…"

Ceylon glanced out of the corner of his eye as his rifle was picked up from where it had landed near Prometheus, and tossed over into the darkness beneath the balcony.

“There we go…" Sam said as Ceylon was marched closer. “Let's not have any final attempts at resistance here, especially not ones that are so petty and pointless…."

Ceylon came to a stop, half-in the shadows. He looked up at Sam, keeping his expression firmly neutral. “Ms Sam, I believe in fighting for my waiters to the bitter end."

“Oh, look…" She cooed, gesturing to him. “He's being all defiant in the face of defeat. The Martyr. How nice." She sneered suddenly with the last word. From up close, Sam could better see her face. New lines, new wrinkles; it was like a mask now, so changed from before, her very being seemed to be caught in the grasp of mad joy.

“You can forget wasting the speech on me." Ceylon continued. He flicked his eyes to her weapon - her finger was already teasing the trigger. “I won't be turned, so you can shoot me now and be down with it."

“And ruin my fun?" She smiled sadly. “Commander Ceylon, I am disappointed. I thought that I would receive better service…." She grasped the priming lever of her gun firmly.

“I do apologise," came a new voice, smooth and eloquent, “if the service here has been anything less than wholly satisfactory."

All heads turned as Firenze pushed open the northern doors. The barricade there had been hastily removed, the woman who had held the door shut standing to the side with worried eyes. The Ninetales strode through, his tails curled neatly behind him, still holding his three guns - two dangling casually, following the curl of his tails, the other pointed forwards and half-resting on his side as he strode confidently out into the Inner Garden.

In front of him, gun still strapped to her side and walking in a very dejected fashion, Neon glanced up at the rest of the waiters.

“Mister Firenze! How glad to see you here!" Sam said, turning and waving her hand at the captured waiters. “Put the Jolteon over there with the others. You're just in time! This is the strike team. I'm afraid they didn't take the Garden like they'd been hoping, the poor dears...."

Ceylon had been watching Neon as she walked over to where the waiters were being held. She looked back over at him, with the smallest, most indistinct of nods. Ceylon turned back to Sam.

“And Ceylon here! Oh, it seems he hasn't had enough of my company! He's come trotting back into the fold for round two…"

“Curious," Firenze mentioned, padding up to Sam, “I would have thought he'd have had more than enough last time. I was just informed of how long he stayed in those binds."

“Oh?" Sam said, raising her eyebrow. “And how long was that, hm?"

Firenze's face was etched with a serious expression. “Around fifty, fifty five minutes."

Sam smiled, enjoying another light giggle. “Oh, that's music to my ears."

“Is it now?" Firenze replied. “Because I still recall the rules of this game and I feel I must mention a very important one that both of us have no-doubt been informed of. I believe 'Don't be a dick' was the exact, if crude, wording…"

“You think I went too far, did you?" Sam replied nonchalantly, as if they were discussing something over afternoon tea.

“I think you went very far, leaving someone with no chance of escape for almost twice the allotted time. And not just that, using a debatably dangerous rope technique. I've also been informed that the Kobaru technique that you ordered is in fact banned in at least one brothel, under the definition of torture..."

“I've seen nothing telling me I cannot use it here." Sam waved the point away.

“That is not the point. I am aware of the safe, sane and consensual rules of bondage play. It is not banned here because, for those that are aware of the effects and consent to them, they have every right to indulge in it as safely as they can. Ceylon was not informed, and neither was I, about the effects of the technique and how powerful and dangerous they can be. Leaving him there for close to an hour without consent was dangerous and against the ethos of this Café."

“This Luxray encouraged me to do it. His stubbornness-"

“Cannot be taken as a blank cheque to perform your sadistic kinks on him. I am aware and supportive of any and all BDSM activities when they follow the rules, and you, Ms. Sam, have not followed the rules."

Sam's face was hardening. “This is no longer fun. You forget your place, Mister Firenze, I am the customer here and your commander, and you will stand down."

“On. The. Contrary." His eyes narrowed, brandishing his tails behind him. He was large for a Ninetales, and on all fours he almost came up to her height while she stood on two legs. His weapons were flourished. “I am the General Supervisor here at Café Plaisir, and it is my duty to ensure that all parties enjoy their time in a fair and safe way. You are a threat to that, and thus it is my decision to challenge your command of these forces."

There would have been silence if not for the gentle sound of plastic being squeezed by flesh, fur, scales, and all manner of other types of hide. All eyes were on the two of them now, guns not yet raised; but around them, it was obvious, that countless digits were being curled around countless triggers. Firenze's tails had turned two of his own guns on Sam, each one held aloft and still.

“Hah!" Sam scoffed eventually. “Hah, Mister Firenze, you are one for drama, aren't you? This eloquence of yours is almost unreal. You are so delightful!" She giggled again, waving her gun casually as the Ninetales stared back at her. “I have so enjoyed your presence, oh, come on, Ninetales… drop your weapons." Her voice slid smoothly into a hard, impatient sneer. “Now."

Firenze didn't move. “I am being very serious. In fact, I would be well within my rights to have you escorted from the premises, so take this as a kindness."

“There is nothing kind about this…."

“I would disagree. Relinquish control."

“Guards, seize him…."

“Is this what you want?" Firenze said quickly, as guns around them wavered. His face was passive now, one eyebrow on his sleek face raised just enough to convey the question. “Any of you? Do you want a leader that is unfair?"

“I will lead you to victory!"

“What victory is there in unfair play? In cheating?"

“When I fight, I do what it takes to win, whatever the cost." Sam was spitting out her words now. “Even if I have to play dirty…"

“And all around you, people are forced to forfeit their own happiness, because they wanted to enjoy a game that you just want to win."

“You have to win the game to enjoy it!"

“No…" Firenze said, his voice filling with pity. “No, you don't. Not elsewhere, and certainly not at Plaisir. It does not matter whether you are the one who comes out on top or not, the game is the pleasure in and of itself. Your strive for victory is far more important than any victory you could want."

“This is bullshit!" She yelled. “I'm not listening to this kids show nonsense any longer. He is a simple waiter and a Pokémon and he is working for them when he should be working for us. Seize him!"

“It's your decision, of course." Firenze announced to the customers, all of whom were looking from Firenze to Sam and back again worriedly. “Who would you rather follow? I will not appeal to your emotions with petty adjectives, so I will simply say; her, or me?"

Again, silence, aside from the quiet creak of plastic under stress. Around him, Ceylon could hear the heavy, adrenaline-filled breathing of his captors.

Firenze's face remained passive, neutral. Sam glared back, teeth gritted, eyes wide and wild.

Around them, several guns were raised, their orange barrels shaking as they were pointed at Sam.

Sam swallowed, shaking eyes flitting from each one in turn.

“So be it…." She spat quietly - and then primed her gun quickly, jumping to the side as several darts _fwip_ed past where she'd been standing. She fired a shot that almost skimmed over Firenze's muzzle, turned on the spot, and dashed back towards the tree. “Now!" She yelled, her feet meeting the bark as she ran a couple of steps up the side of the thick trunk, before launching herself away from it.

From the shadows of the canopy, what had looked to be just a collection of branches detached itself. Two yellow eyes sharp enough to cut through skin opened, and the almighty form of the Skarmory bore down on her. At the apex of her jump, the two sets of dark, steel talons curled tightly around her shoulders, and with a flap of wings that sounded like a dozen whirling swords, the Skarmory bore both Sam and himself up into the tree, followed by another volley of darts that fell short of their target.

Leaves and branches were sheared clean through as the Pokémon and human were hoisted up, through the top of the tree, wings chopping at the air in great beats, hoisting them higher and higher. Above the din, Sam's gun could be heard being primed again, another dart spiraling down and smacking into the head of the Meowstic behind Ceylon.

Ceylon jumped back in the sudden confusion, catching his shoulders on the gun the Meowstic was holding; the large rifle jolted from his paws, and Ceylon span round, biting down on the barrel and spinning it around, launching himself back toward the other waiters. The customers were had abandoned their guarding and were now all focused on Sam, guns aloft and firing up into the dark sky. The remaining Emolga had already jumped up and set herself to work, yanking the problematic drum from Rain Flower's turret, ripping the stuck dart from its place and jamming a new clip into the holder. Neon had scampered behind them, dragging Ceylon's lost rifle with her, and looked at him with a grin as she yanked on the priming handle of her weapon.

“Get her!" Ceylon ordered as he skidded to a halt by the barricades, his tail winding around his rifle. “Prime and fire!"

Rain Flower yelled, Prometheus crouching into position with a fiery grin, angling her up ready. Another hail of darts joined those in the sky. Ceylon turned himself, yanking backwards and forward on the priming handle, then firing his own dart up at the duo.

Another beat of the Skarmory's wings caused a sudden downdraft. All the darts in the air were caught in the turbulence, sending them spiralling back down to the ground. Customers dived for the cover of the tree, some tripping over the branches that had fallen before and being pelted by the tumbling darts. Ceylon gritted his teeth, priming the weapon and firing again, only for the same thing to happen.

“It is no use!" Prometheus yelled at him. “That cursed bird is making it impossible to hit from down here!"

Ceylon panted loudly, priming his weapon again anyway, and sighting down the barrel. The edge of the roof was in his vision.

“You're right." Ceylon shouted back. He glanced sideways at him. Prometheus gave a broad grin back. Ceylon looked back up again, and drew in a deep breath. “Aerial Ace!" He yelled to the sky.

On the edge of the roof, there was a sudden glow of yellow rings against the black night sky. Next to it, green fire licked, illuminating the pointed ears and snout of a vulpine figure. So high up, the guns couldn't be heard - but the fluorescent glow of the tracer darts were definitely seen. Several volleys of two darts apiece smacked into the Skarmory, a few of the darts being sliced in two by the beating wings, but some just bouncing off the metallic hide.

The Skarmory screeched in rage, raising his wings to the sky, the reaction to the surprise unbalancing him. Sam yelled in anger as they two of them dropped from the sky, the wings slicing through the air like a scythe as they tried to regain lift.

“Get… off me!" Sam yelled, just heard, grabbing one of the Skarmory's legs and yanking one shoulder free, her shirt ripped by the action, she swung below him, and then with a quick look around from her quickly lowering vantage point, she pulled her other shoulder free of the panicking bird, and swung from his legs into the open air below to a chorus of gasps.

Her arms flailed momentarily in the void, before she grabbed at a passing railing, stopping herself short. Her gun slammed onto the wooden floor, shattering the side and sending shards of plastic scattering across it. Tightening her grip, she pulled upwards, swinging herself over the railing and onto the ground, panting hard, just as the Skarmory crashed into a bush at the side of the Garden with an exasperated squawk.

Only then did she turn and stare back around… and down. Her eyes were wild, short hair matted, ripped T-shirt exposing her bare breasts and her knuckles white as she gripped the railing of the first floor balcony. She stared down at the stunned waiters and customers.

After a moment, she jerked, as if to jump over the railing back down, only to have a hard plastic barrel shoved against her back.

Ceylon watched silently, lowering his gun as Nikki emerged from the rear of the balcony. Sam spun around, the barrel now pointing right at her chest.

“Sam." Nikki stated, loudly and clearly. “Firenze was most certainly being kind to you. Between being a dick, several impolite shots to the face and now even using the first floor…"

“I was forced to land here! They were on the roof!"

“You ordered your own people onto the roof, so don't start complaining when they do it too. And yes, you were forced here, but that doesn't excuse other factors…" Without moving the gun, Nikki bent down, picking up the destroyed revolver now lying on the floor in several pieces. Somehow, even without being held, her pants just managed to stay up. Nikki turned the revolver over in her hand.

“For example. This revolver's been modded. I know that spring system, and it is most definitely not stock. Did you have it with you, or did you modify it here? Ah… regardless, I expect a few waiters probably have bruises from this thing, and that is most certainly being a dick." She tossed the broken gun back to the ground. “So, as referee, I think I'm well within my rights to do this." She grinned, grasping the rifle with both hands now, holding it at her hip. Before Sam could react, Nikki pulled the trigger, a large red dart within slamming into her chest. It spiraled through the air, specks of foam from where the gun's mechanism had shredded it falling like a burst of confetti, before falling from the balcony and bouncing to a rest on the gravel below.

“Sam? You're disqualified." A slight smile on the Scrafty's lizard-like face. “Now get out of my sight."

Sam was breathing heavily. A few drips of blood stained her T-Shirt where the Skarmory had been clawing at her. She turned back to the battlefield below.

After a few seconds of shocked, wide-eyed staring, a smile suddenly returned to her face. She giggled, folding her arms as she leaned over the balcony. “Well, that's fair enough, I suppose." She said, happily. “Was fun while it lasted. Sorry about that."

Ceylon raised his eyebrow, drawing his gun back close again. “Sorry…?" He asked, drawing her gaze.

“Well, yeah. You especially. I mean, it was fun doing the whole evil leader thing, but I suppose I went a bit over the top." She shrugged. “Sorry about that." She paused, frowning. “You do know I didn't mean what I said, right?"

Ceylon frowned back, and glanced at Firenze, who returned a skeptical expression to him.

“Right." Ceylon replied. “Sure." He smiled at her, enjoying the smugness. “Nikki, take her to a bedroom, if you will. I think I'll claim some time with her, if you'll allow it."

“You sure? You have no obligation to." Nikki replied, shouldering her rifle again.

Ceylon nodded. “I believe I have a debt to pay, and I do make sure that our customers get what they deserve…"

Sam's expression had hardened again. “You petulant little cat…"

“Oh, are you wanting to back out? That would be a real shame. I thought you were so strong." He grinned to himself.

Sam seethed visibly, about to say something - but then banged her fist against the railing. “You'll pay for that, Luxray!"

Ceylon smiled. “Not at all. Free of charge."

“Commander…" Neon muttered behind him. Ceylon was dimly aware of motors being spun up. He turned his gaze from Sam, looking around.

Firenze had been quiet, but the customers had moved from their previous positions, and were now hidden beneath balconies and the tree in the centre of the garden, some even pulling the sliced-off branches over them as cover. The Ninetales himself stood with all three guns ready, pointed at the low barricade where the remaining five waiters were crouched.

“I decided not to fire upon you during your little conversation." Firenze said with a smile, “That would have been somewhat unfair. However… I am commander now, and this is far from a victory for you." He glanced around. “I believe we have ten remaining on our side, versus your five. Also, we have more ammunition, and I'm afraid quite a number more opposable thumbs." he glanced up through the branches. “And Mister October, Mister Chai, I do apologise, but I'm afraid this tree is more than ample cover for anything you two might be able to throw at us." He looked down again, focusing on Ceylon. “I believe this is where your skirmish ends. But I am fair, and if you agree to submit without a fight, I'll allow you to return to your base right away. You won't have won the war, but I'll give you a fighting chance." He paused there. “Do consider this offer, Ceylon. The Lounge won't hold up against our attack without you, and I'm sorry to say that you really have no chance."

Ceylon stood firm. Either side of him, the waiters were ready. Rain Flower's motor was once again growling, and Neon had grabbed two electric-driven guns herself and had hoisted them up. The Emolga peered out through the tines of a rake that had been lodged in the barricade, holding three darts in his little paws.

Ceylon's tail curled tighter around his rifle.

“I'm sorry to say this too, Firenze." Ceylon said, then drew in a breath. “Shadow Force!"

Around the perimeter of the Inner Garden, the windows to the bedrooms that faced it were shoved open. All at once, a series of brightly-coloured barrels and tips appeared at the frames, trained at the collection of customers. A quick roll call of voices called out their readiness as the waiters that Ceylon had snuck into the bedrooms earlier trained themselves on the enemy.

Firenze turned his head slowly to observe them all in turn, around eight or ten of them with guns ready and in range, surrounding the coverless customers.

Ceylon smiled as Firenze turned to face him again. “Sorry, dear chap, but this is quite the crummy juncture you've found yourself in, isn't it?"

On the other side of the garden, a flare of green flame suddenly cast dancing shadows around the area as the crimson shape of October landed on the ground, wreathed in that brief spurt of fire, the rope he had been using in the brief absail now waving uselessly behind him. Chai dropped in next to him a moment later with a grunt, and he grabbed his gun from the ground where he'd let go of it on impact.

“What do you think? Sky Attack?" October was saying conversationally to Chai. “Sky Drop…?"

“What the fuck're you talking about?" Chai muttered back, priming his weapon.

Ceylon chuckled, levelling his rifle right at Firenze. “So, Firenze. Looks like I won't be accepting your most generous offer." He smiled to himself. “But how about this… you surrender the Garden to the waiters, letting us win this war. In return, we'll match up every customer present, captured or not, with a waiter of their choice for the next hour or so." He hummed to himself as the waiters around him spread out, fully surrounding the customers. “Then, we can see just how effective the soundproofing here really is. How's that for a slice of fried gold…?"

Firenze paused, and then looked around. Orange barrels were seen from every direction. He glanced at the surrounding customers, most of whom had already warily lowered their barrels.

“Well, my friend." Firenze said after some careful thought. “It does seem as if we're not in the best position to dispute this. And I do think your offer has… caught the minds of a few here…"

There was a general muttering from the customers. Ceylon glanced around at them, never once letting his aim falter. Indeed, a number of them were already letting their eyes wander quite significantly over a few of the nearby waiters.

Firenze let out a small sigh as the assembled crowd muttered their agreement. He let his guns fall softly to the grass. “In that case, the customers concede defeat. The waiters of Café Plaisir stand victorious." He smiled warmly at Ceylon, a true, genuine smile spreading across his face. “Congratulations."

Ceylon nodded, reflecting that smile. He lowered the gun, letting it drop to the ground beside him. “The victory has been gained!" He announced to the assembled, and then grinned at the ranks of the customers. Once more, his eyes met Firenze's.

Ceylon's smile turned into a sly grin. “Bring on the pleasure."

~ ~ ~ End of Act 3 ~ ~ ~

---

Epilogue

Warm, bright rays filtered through the large, intricately patterned windows of the first floor balcony. The morning sunlight was just cresting the opposite side of the bedroom block, letting the first rays tumble into the Rest Area, next to the Café's massage facilities, the light playing on the far wall above waiters and customers alike.

The warm air was filled with tired mutterings and softly spoken words, and here and there a gentle moan slid across the scene from a particularly exhibitionist couple. The fragrances of shampoo and incense rolled from the frequently opening doors to the massage rooms and sauna, occasionally giving way to the scent of the flowers that curled from the Inner Garden below.

“Nature's not going to be happy about his tree." Ceylon mused, relaxing on an armchair. “It was only a couple of the outer branches, but still.... I'll have to break it to him gently."

“Where is the little boy?" Prometheus asked, distractedly, not looking over.

“Oh, the forest, I believe. He had yesterday afternoon off. He'll be back soon enough though. You know how he loves his solitude, sometimes."

“Mmmm… yes, sometimes…. Ah…"

Ceylon yawned, wiping the tiredness from his eyes. His body felt heavy with exertion, but at the same time he felt so warm. He looked over at Prometheus.

The large Arcanine was on his back on the largest beanbag available, which was only just enough to cover most of his torso. He didn't seem overly uncomfortable though, even with his back legs spread in the air. Between them, Quippie had straddled Prometheus' crotch, paws wrapped around his engorged, red cock. Quippie's muzzle was wrapped tightly over the leaking tip, the small Linoone was making the occasional muffled grunt and moan of pleasure, eyes rolled back in his head as those paws spread pre and cum up and down the gleaming length.

“So, whatever happened to Sin and Dex?" Mariana asked. She was sat on another chair, inspecting an almost empty bottle of beer. “You said that Sin had been captured, but that was about half an hour before the victory, so…?"

Ceylon pulled his gaze away from the engaged duo. “Oh? Well… about what you'd expect. Simon, the guy who'd captured Sin, and Dex before her, came back just as we were deciding who goes with who. The two of 'em managed to convince him to take them both on at once… haven't seen 'em since, but they did go off in the direction of the basement."

Mariana snickered as she nodded. “Poor guy."

Ceylon chuckled to himself. “Oh, he'll wander back up in a daze sometime later today. I expect the twins might be a bit late for their shift, though…"

“Bam, bam, bam!" The Dewott slapped the base of her beer bottle. “Hah! Those two...."

“I know, right?" Ceylon smiled to himself. “May even have a bit of sympathy for them. This time, anyway." He leaned back, his tail twitching. “Though, there's something I don't really know about." He looked over at the balcony. “Hey, blacktips?"

From outside, October glanced up from his cigarette. “If you want to talk now just after you've let me have this, you're out of your mind. I haven't had permission to smoke here before, so I'm damn well gonna enjoy this one."

Ceylon turned, paws folding over the side of the chair. “I was only going to ask about the roof. I have to admit that while I had every faith in you, I'm still impressed that you managed to take out all the customers up there."

“Oh, well that's what happens when you send a dark little scamp up against a bunch of mooks." October said, a tail moving to fuzzle the head of Chai, who was enjoying a cigarette next to him.

The Umbreon flinched, flicking his ears and waving a paw tiredly up at him. “Gerrof…"

October chuckled. “It's about typical of what happens to me, anyway. Always seems to make for a fitting narrative, whenever I look back on it. Though I distinctly feel like I played more of a supporting role here than normal."

“Can't always be in the limelight, October." Ceylon smiled, leaning back with a sigh. “Who'd you get, anyway, after the victory? I'm afraid I left rather abruptly"

October chuckled again, taking another deep drag of the cigarette. “Ooooh, a gentleman never tells…"

“Th't Leafeon 'gain…" Chai murmured sleepily. “October m'de me fuck her while he fucked me… h'd a challenge to see who could knot who first."

A somewhat embarrassed, but not exactly apologetic, laugh came from October. He breathed out a cloud of smoke happily. “It's good to be the winner…"

“Yeah, about that…." Neon said, from a cushion near Mariana, where she was sprawled full-out on her back. “Ceylon, you've still not told us what happened when you left. Y'know, between you and Sam?"

Ceylon shrugged, turning back to the rest of the crowd. “Oh, well, I just gave her what she deserved, really…"

* * *

Several Hours Ago

The room was lit by a single, lampshade-less bulb that hung from the ceiling. It swayed with the air currents as they entered the windowless room, making their shadows play over the bare cream walls as Sam was directed to the bed.

Better illuminated now, it seemed as if the dirt across her skin had been applied intentionally, the grime applied like warpaint. Fingermarks and handprints of soil covered her face and shoulders, ending where her shirt had been before it had been ripped. They'd washed it off and applied a couple of band-aids where the Skarmory had wounded her, but she didn't seem to care much about them. She walked in and turned, standing by the bed. “So now what?"

Ceylon smiled warmly at her as Firenze flanked him. A couple of human customers trailed behind, and in the corner of the room Nikki leaned back against one of the walls, watching her closely.

“Well," Ceylon started, “I figure that what goes around indeed must come around, so in the spirit of that, I think you should lie down on that bed there. I won't insult you by having you be dragged onto it, like some would." His smile could have sold travel insurance.

Sam scoffed, sitting down on the coverless bed. “Where is this, anyway?"

“A spare room." Firenze replied, moving to the side. “We use them for short-term waiters. Unfortunately, I suppose it's a bit of an overflow, what with most of the… more pleasant rooms being almost unanimously occupied right now. And if not that, then… unfurnished, would be the word I would use?"

Ceylon nodded. “Sounds about right. I don't envy the morning shift their job of putting everything back together."

Sam, shrugged. “So what now, then? Going to use the Kobaru technique on me too? Make me beg for mercy…?"

“I have my own selection of techniques to choose from, but if you're sure you want that one…" Ceylon continued, enjoying the moment.

“Ah, but then, wouldn't you be as bad as me?" Sam said, a glint in her eye.

“Not at all." A smile teased Firenze's muzzle. “Ceylon and I were unaware of the effects of the Kobaru technique. You, however, seem to know them intimately."

Ceylon continued. “You did show Firenze your phone, after all. He's informed me of the practice you've had, but I hear that he never saw you being the one bound up…"

“I'm a rigger, not a bunny." Sam replied, flatly.

“So it seems. Well, if you really don't wish to comply…"

“Oh, fuck you…" Sam said, grasping her T-Shirt and yanking it up over her head, revealing her bare chest. “Yes, I know. I'm falling for your dastardly plan to show that I'm strong, well now, Luxray, I am strong, and I will show you…."

Ceylon watched with only passive interest as she continued to strip naked. “Yes, yes, you're very strong and resourceful. Your near-total memorisation of the Café's official records, alongside many other sources, seemed very useful to you. Thanks for finding that little exploit in the computer system, by the way, we've already patched it up nice and securely…"

“Blow it out your ass…." she muttered, laying down full-length on the bed. “Go on, get it over with."

Ceylon turned, gesturing with his head at the customers behind him, the same two that had tied him up. They moved forwards, rope in their hands.

“I think that 'get it over with' isn't that good of a definition. More… 'get it started'?" Ceylon said, shrugging. “Either way… I'm going to keep you here for an hour. I'm even being up front about that. After that, I'll check back in, and see if you've had quite enough. If not, then I'll let you enjoy it for another hour. Oh - don't worry, by the way. Nikki will be here for the entire proceeding if you ever want to give in."

“Don't worry about me!" Nikki said brightly, and then a bit darker, “I have a book…."

Once Sam had been properly tied tightly, Ceylon could see the handiwork in full. It was a fairly simple pattern, in all, not one that involved a lot of knots or twists, but how each rope seemed to spend a lot of time around the hips…

He hummed thoughtfully at the sight, trying not to show how he gritted his teeth. His tail wavered down a bit, and his hind paws scratched at the floor as his gaze curled over her.

“By the way…" he muttered, a half-purr, half-growl rolling from the back of his throat. “The liberation of Pokémon was a defining event, yes, but you forget…" he loomed over her now, stepping right up to the side of the bed. He leered down at her glaring face. “Centuries ago, there were no Pokéballs, the strongest weapons came from an iron forge, and there was almost no taming the wild creatures that lurked beyond hastily-built city walls. Night after night in dense, forest-coated wilderness, humans cowered by small firepits, flinching at the growls and snarls of the dark…" He grinned slowly. “Pokémon have not completely forgotten their servitude. But humanity has not forgotten the millennia it spent as prey…."

There was brief silence in the room, apart from the low, harsh purr from the Luxray. Their eyes glared into the other's.

“Anyway…" Ceylon said suddenly, smiling again, his tone much friendlier. “As much as I'd love to stay and hear your defiant silence for the next hour - Firenze...?"

Firenze nodded, brandishing a tail that was curled around a small pistol. The tip pulled the trigger, and a bright orange dart bounced harmlessly off Ceylon's side.

Ceylon's gaze never once left Sam. As he felt the dart hit him, he nodded cordially. “- I'm afraid I have other matters to attend to."

And with Sam's vile silence filling the air, Firenze and Ceylon followed the two customers out of the room.

Nikki smiled at her now lone companion. She drew out a thick, hardcover book from a pocket of her pants. “Hm. Maybe I should have brought the whole trilogy…"

* * *

Neon and Mariana snickered to themselves, as Ceylon curled a tail demurely over his crotch. “Well, as I said before, it's an intriguing little practise, but it does leave you a little… wanting."

“And what about the Skarmory?" Maraina said, jumping down from the chair and wandering to a vending machine against a nearby wall. “Whatever happened to him?"

“Oh…" Prometheus rumbled from beside her. “You see, he was… defiant. He never said anything, but he made us know that he could take anything we could throw at him."

The dispenser revealed a new bottle, and Mariana retrieved it, popping it open with a claw as she wandered back to her seat. “Oh yeah? And could he?"

Prometheus growled. Quippie had swung around, thighs wrapped around the knot, and sat back in the depression between the Arcanine's large balls. Every shift the Linoone made seemed to make the Arcanine spasm and grunt, paws flexing in the air. Never once did those lips leave the visibly throbbing shaft.

“Nnnf…" Prometheus uttered, flicking his eyes to Mariana briefly. “It is a fact, after all, that hot metal is very… malleable, is that the word?"

Ceylon laughed. The mental imagine made his paws flex in response. Ow...

“Well, I certainly enjoyed this…" Ceylon said, trying his best to dismiss the vision. He leaned back again and shuffling against the chair. “I'm gonna have to get some sleep before my shift. Hey… Chai, October, aren't you supposed to be on duty now?"

“You allowed us a cigarette each!" October protested. “And you're our senior. That means that you've allowed us time off." He nodded firmly, and took another drag of the almost nonexistent smouldering paper.

Ceylon sighed in response. Next to him, Prometheus let out a deep, rolling growl. “Rrrrr… cocksock…" He muttered from beneath clenched teeth. “I'm-"

There was a clank from the ceiling. A ventilation grating fell to the ground, banging against the wooden floor, and coming to a rest by a table. Neon rolled to her feet away from it as it narrowly missed her cushion. Around them, several customers turned to stare at the noise.

“Jebo ti vila sve svoje!"

A small cylinder tumbled from the new hole in the ceiling, span around in the air, and landed on the ground with several hollow, metallic clangs as it bounced across the floor. For a moment it just hissed loudly. Suddenly, smoke spewed forth from the cap, the thick grey fog billowing and instantly surrounding the nearby chairs and their occupants.

“Petier!" Ceylon shouted, rolling to his feet as the smoke surrounded him.

“Upierdol? ci g?ow?!" the Sylveon shouted from the hole above as the smoke grenade slowly filled their end of the room. The area was a sudden maelstrom of customers and waiters alike trying to scamper away from the thick, choking grey smoke.

“You know what, Chai, I think we'd better get back to our shifts…" October said hurriedly, curling a tail around the Umbreon's midsection and dragging him away as he scarpered from the scene.

“Petier!" Ceylon yelled again, pawing ineffectively at the smoke. Darts pinged off his fur, lost as they bounced into the thick cloud. All around him came confused, panicked shouting. From where Prometheus and Quippie had been, a rumbling snarl that could have registered on the Richter Scale accompanied a spire of harsh orange flames.

And it had all been going so well.