TWO:

BOUNDARIES LOST, FREEDOM GAINED

1.

Boundaries did not exist because they were impossible to view. They were simply something made up by mortal man to keep their opponents away from their kingdoms, but also yet to give them a reason to attack another kingdom. How foolish humans were when they did these things. It was fun to look at maps and scoff at how silly the axis of a country looked when politically divided, or how one country's territory formed a loop-de-loop and the one below it looked perfectly square.

Rebecca Hawthorne sat rather miserably in her prison cell, curled up in a ball of sorts, her legs drawn to her bosom and her arms extended to view the map in front of her. She was not bound in this prison at all. Rather, she came to visit one last time before she left. This prison had housed her father for some time until he had been executed, and he was actually the very one who had taught her that boundaries were nonexistent. There had been a raid shortly after his execution, so the prison was shut down and slated for demolition.

The main reason why she was so concerned over the divisions of the map was because she was afraid, you see. She had nowhere to go if she left the city, and this made her uncertain about if she would make it out in the open world. She had no food, she had no money . . . she only had her spirit and her pride, both of which she determined were pretty useless in general. There was a window in the cell block, but it was barred over. Rebecca climbed to her feet, pocketing the map, and stared longingly outside of it.

When would she truly be free? She wasn't bound, as stated previously, but she was certainly not welcome anywhere. She had no resources. She had little knowledge of how the world even worked. What could she truly do? Outside was the courtyard, with two basketball stalks on either side of it. She needed to do it now, though, and see if it would work again. With one day left to Halloween, she needed to find it quickly.

2.

Rebecca was not human. Well, not fully, anyway. She was of a long-forgotten race of reality warpers, who were mentioned only in ancient textbooks and poems about monsters and heroes. As it would turn out, she was of the race of those same monsters. She could change distances through the manipulation of world-paths. World-paths were basically otherworldly footsteps. Each moving creature had a world-path, a direction it could possibly go into, and whichever world-path it chose was completely optional. However, there were limitations (what humans called "boundaries") to these paths. A moving creature could only move in a world-path that was not obstructed by another creature or object, as nature dictates that no two solid objects can take up the same space. World-paths stretch to any distance, so long as the creature moves, be it one centimeter to the right, or several thousand feet to the southeast. There was another limitation to this, however, as most creatures have an immediate distance limit. They can only stride so far in one step.

Rebecca, however, bypassed all of this. She could occupy the same space as another solid while in motion. She could ride world-paths any distance, in any direction, and pass through other solid objects while doing so. This technique was only usable on days that got high praise, like Halloween, or perhaps a weekend, when everyone was off from work or school. What did she need to find quickly, you might be wondering? Paradise. Escape. The door. Whichever euphemism was needed to express 'get out', she was meant to find it. Her father had once mentioned that Halloween, a day of ritual importance, would be the day she could use her ability to escape to some place (on Earth or otherwise) that would grant her immunity from foolishness, misery, and would grant her unrestricted use of her ability.

She had to use her power today. If not today, then certainly tomorrow. It was time she got free from this fleshy mortal realm surrounded by obstructions and limitations, time that she went to a place that allowed her to think, feel, and act as independently as she wished.

Rebecca closed her eyes, and summoned the world-path map in her mind, drawing her route as precisely as possible. Walls, buildings, people, land masses, water bodies . . . all of it meant nothing to her. She could pass through it. Geometrically, she should have crafted line segments to augment her accuracy, but she was so used to this, she didn't need to think much harder about it. Math stood nowhere in her equation to freedom, with no pun intended.

Suddenly, she was lifted from the ground by her own will. If boundaries did not exist, they did not exist. She was floating, floating away from the dingy abandoned prison and up into empty air. She was climbing in altitude, yet staying in the same place, as "beginning" was not a direction on the world path map. Rebecca could never see what the true world-path map looked like, but she assumed it was dark, black, empty space with wind in it. Or perhaps she really was flying, because when she willed herself to move several hundred thousand feet forward, the wind whipped at her long blonde tendrils like a hungry creature. Oh, yes. She had blonde hair.

Rebecca was sixteen, with a very thin build and blonde hair and blue eyes. She wore a brown WWII bomber jacket, with blue skin-tight jeans on her legs and black Converse sneakers. She didn't take much pride in her appearance, so her face was acne-ridden and her eyes puffy. Her hair was one notch above tangled, and she looked like she hadn't eaten in days. But despite all of this, her resolve to be free overpowered her resolve to be beautiful.

She could feel the salty sting of the ocean below her, then the caressing of sand on her clothes, then the snow of a mountain, and the char of a volcano. She was moving so fast! It was a truly lovely feeling. But she needed to increase her speed if she was to surpass the speed of light. Go faster, her mind screamed, but as much as she wanted to, it was as if she had set up a limitation on her travel speed. Why? Perhaps because it wasn't Halloween yet. Maybe it needed to be that specific day for her powers to be at maximum. She'd never know, because she bumped into something blue and fell out of the sky.

3.

Ian gasped in shock as a girl fell from the sky before their very eyes. In one second he had climbed aboard his spirit Dragonite, the next he was flying through the Spirit World, and the last he had come to a stop, colliding with a flying girl. "Catch her!," he screamed frantically.

"Sorry!!," the Dragonite chimed. Ian reached out with his aura, and suddenly he was there below her. She plummeted onto the deceased Pokemon's back, the wind knocked out of her. When she could finally breathe, she looked up at Ian in fear and confusion.

"What?! I'm sure I . . . what happened?" She looked around panic, as if suddenly noticing the sky above her and a lake below her. She turned back to Ian, then looked down at the floating surface before her. "WHAT IS THIS?!"

"This is my friend, Camellia! She's kind of my Dragonite. When I got cast away, she was the first spirit I contacted. She belonged to another trainer, actually. She's dead now, though . . ." His voice was suddenly overpowered by hers.

"No! I mean, why is she floating here?! After that, why did I collide with you? I should have gone right through you, if I can pass through mountains and volcanoes. And how is there a dead Pokemon here?!" Her screaming was truly getting on Ian's nerves. If she kept at it, he could always see to her own immolation. Violent thoughts put aside, Ian began answering her questions.

"My name is Ian Toler, and I'm from the village of Odyssey. I can contact spirits and interact with them, and through myself, get others to do so as well. That's why she's floating here, because I summoned her. Halloween is coming closer, so my spiritual signal has gotten much stronger. As for your collision, I can't answer that." He smiled very kindly, and made sure to not impose. Somehow, he had utterly failed.

"So you're . . . not human, are you? You're like me! You said Halloween . . . my father mentioned something about that, too! He told me that Halloween was a day of ritual importance. I can't understand the rest of what you said, though."

"Ritual importance? Halloween rituals have not been enacted since . . . well, since a very long time! And even then, the older ones were done by ordinary humans. There has been few a time where one of my kind has actually given praise in ritual. How can you not understand the Spirit World? I can see that the rules are a bit complicated, but you believe in a god, right? You're not some atheist or something, right? If you're just agnostic, I could show you the Spirit World itself. I hope."

"My father said this! He's never lied to me, you know! It does have ritual importance! As for your ignorance, there is no such thing as a 'Spirit World'. There are no boundaries in this world. Everything is connected. You don't need special powers to get anywhere. You can just walk the world-paths to your destination."

"That's mathematically incorrect," Ian argued, "because it's only attention monads that are directed toward the event of the day. Not some silly mortal ritual."

"No! I'm telling you . . ." The girl threw her hands up in exasperation. "Fine. Let's agree to disagree, shall we?"

"I think I know what's going on," Ian countered, not yet done. "But first, your name?" Camellia began coasting along in the air, floating like spirits typically tended to do.

"Rebecca Hawthorne. Continue." She didn't seem to want to talk to him. Perhaps she was offended?

"Well," Ian began in his usual quiet voice, "it seems we each come from different backgrounds. We can't understand each others' euphemisms for our respective paradigms. We were just taught differently. But let me tell you why I'm here; I'm looking for someone to escape to paradise with."

Rebecca's eyes widened at his last sentence. It seemed like she just froze in place for a whole minute. When she returned to life, she was beaming. "Paradise?! Why didn't you say so?! I can help you, can't I?"

"You can. I've been alone my entire life. I tried to live in the Spirit World, but it didn't work. I was still rather unhappy. I wanted someone to share it with. A passing spirit told me to seek others like myself so I could use their help to reach paradise. Incidentally, this spirit was my father. It seems our parents, or at least our dads, knew what to do. We just have to communicate and learn how to reach that paradise."

"Oh! I can exceed the speed of light on a good day, you see? I've reached higher planes like that. Your Spirit World sounds to be a higher plane, too. Think we can meet each other on the planes, or do we need to combine our powers?"

Ian waved a hand dismissively at her, shaking his head. "I was cast from Heaven, you see. I can no longer return. Our paradise is much higher than Heaven itself. Anyway, before we devise a strategy, we should see if there are others."

"How?," Rebecca asked, a wide smile on her face. The promise of paradise alerted her; he could feel a strong mood aura coming from her.

"We have to track their spiritual connection."

4.

The alarm had just gone off when a figure ran down a long hall, stacks of money in a plastic bag that was clenched in his hand by its black handles. It felt like it would rip and tear at any moment. That, coupled with the fact that the alarm had just gone off meant he needed to get out quickly.

Thankfully, the bank was rather small. It only had one long hallway that led to the cash vault, then the reception room, and the exit right beyond. He was halfway down said vault hallway when he was stopped by two burly men in uniform. Police.

"Brunswick! Surrender the money and we'll let you off easy!" It was apparent they didn't want to hurt a child. That was where they had underestimated him.

Altair Brunswick was only twelve, but had the mind of a criminal genius, or so he was told. He couldn't stop himself from doing things like this, though, because others often made it too easy for him. This was, of course, the very first time the police were called on him, but he could deal with them just like he did the rest of the adults that stood in his way.

"Put your guns down!" See, Brunswick preferred to be nonviolent in his approaches. He highly doubted they'd actually shoot him, though. A street urchin with nowhere else to go and nothing left to do but commit crime? Mmhm. Fat chance of that. He recoiled in steps slowly, but knew the vault was still behind him. They had successfully trapped him. But he was more than just some scared rat in a corner, waiting to lash out with small teeth but accepting its demise was inevitable. He was Altair, a human with an incredible endowment.

"One last warning, Brunswick. Put the money down."
"Not until your surrender your weapons."

Bzzzt! The twin taser darts fired at Altair, and he put his hands up to block them immediately. He was so lucky, wasn't he? For his power to work, he didn't need to do any rituals, or any math, or calculate distances . . . he just changed perspectives. He altered the perspectives of the taser darts so that they saw him as a kind and loving boy, and they directed themselves away from him. Altair then changed the perspectives of the officers, so that they saw from one anothers' viewpoints, and (them not being used to the other's body) they panicked and collided into one another.

"Serves you right," Altair chuckled, and made his way back to the reception room. The bankers had closed their reception windows, and the civilians had taken it upon themselves to huddle in a far corner, though they'd seen him come in unarmed. He'd have to change that . . . again.

Three more police officers burst in through the glass paneled front door, carrying nightsticks in their meaty hands. Altair changed their perspectives so that they began beating one another to the death. Meanwhile, he also altered the viewpoints of the citizens so that they didn't mind the violence and became mutely mellow.
With his mission accomplished, Altair moved quickly out of the bank and ran away with his money. Altair, though unbeknownst to him, suffered from severe kleptomania. If he did know, however, he would probably cheer for himself, as he would find it cool. His abuse of his powers was not a bad thing, though. He stole to fill a gap in his heart. He had no family - he was too young to remember his human kindred. Whether or not he was even human was also up for debate. What love and accomplishment could not fill, envy and adrenaline could. He wasn't looking for a paradise where everyone lived peacefully, nor was he looking for a paradise where he would be loved. He was looking for a paradise with a rush of danger that he could handle. Was he supposed to be a hero? An anti-hero? A villain? He would never know, nor care. All that mattered at the moment was the money. And the eight police cars that encompassed him in a circle.

5.

Where had they come from?! How had be been so careless? And now he was going to die for that mistake! There was no way he could alter all of the perspectives of the bullets that came from the real guns of the officers.

"Get on your knees and place your hands on your head," they screamed at him through a megaphone, but he only scoffed, his heart pounding. He was famous for his petty crime here in the town, but this? This was overkill. Their pistols were now trained on him, as he could see their laser sighting. Fear mongers!

Suddenly, a car flipped over and blew up. Altair's eyes widened, but he very well couldn't run. He knew they had their guns trained on them still. Or did they? The big guns were called in; the Pokemon Trainer Special Tactics Squad rode in on their tell-tale squad car. Immediately after the double doors in the back opened, four humans in heavy armor and three Pokemon erupted forth: a Tyranitar, an Aggron, and a Nidoking. They were clad in special battle armor, like something a knight would wear if he wanted mobility, and they reached out to attack some unseen force. Another car was flipped, but this one was aimed directly at the chest of the Tyranitar. It caught the car in it's massive green paws and flung it back at the invisible car-flipper, but it struck empty air, and eventually, a building.

Suddenly, the Aggron began moving a bit awkwardly, jerking its muscles at strange angles. In the very next second, it was literally flung away into the air, sent flying into the afternoon sky and eventually becoming so distant as to disappear. Altair's jaw had dropped, as he stood dumbfounded. He couldn't process what was going on, except for the fact that he had a hyperangry Nidoking steadily advancing toward him. He changed its perspective so it would attack the cars. The unseen force seemed to notice this sudden change, as it made it do those same jerky movements, then sped up the process of eliminating the remaining officers.

Some officers were smart and altogether avoided the cars completely, and shot at Altair and the unseen force. The bullets clanged casually off of the air, as if a shield were right in front of him. As it would turn out, there was.

When the crowd of enemies had cleared and the Nidoking was flung away, his helpers had become visible. One was a boy, around sixteen, who wore a thin trench coat and a scarf. He had graying hair, hazel eyes and bore a kind smile. The other was a rough-looking chic, around sixteen, who wore a bomber jacket and had a really stuffy face.

"What."

"Hello there! I'm Ian Toler and this is Rebecca Hawthorne. You are . . . ?"

"Altair Brunswick. So . . . what just happened?"

Altair climbed aboard the blue Dragonite both were riding atop, taking time to notice the also blue Bastiodon that had apparently protected him from the bullets. "So those guys -"

"Long story. I control spirits and I summoned them to help. She controls 'world-paths' and she flung the other ones away. We're trying to get to a Heaven beyond Heaven, and we need your help. We're seeking others. How do you use your power?"

"People work on the basis of inspiration," explained Altair, "so if I rearrange that inspiration, or their perspective, I can get them to do things or just change their mood. It works on objects, too."

"So you can infiltrate peoples' minds?"

"Not quite. I-" Rebecca growled in frustration and signaled him to shut up.

"Guys! Another time, please? We have others to find, do we not?" Ian nodded, and stepped down from his Dragonite, pressing his hand against the spiritual Bastiodon.

"In the name of Giratina do I bless you, O Holy Soul, and commit your passage back to the Reverse World safely. As a token of your service, I commit my spiritual energy to you, and do anoint your standing spot. Fare you well, O Holy Spirit, and I bid you passage back to assist me when needed." The dead Pokemon faded back into the earth. Ian grabbed an unsightly chunk of hair from his head and pulled it out, tossing it where the Bastiodon once stood. Noticing the looks of his team, he replied, "It's for his passage. If I don't offer toll, Giratina will be angry with me and will refuse him passage back to me."

They did not understand, but opted to smile and nod. Ian climbed back atop his Dragonite and they flew off.

6.

"So, can we have that in-depth explanation of your abilities?," asked Altair after some minutes.

"You've seen them in action. There is no further explaining to be done."

"What? Then can I at least know the plan?"

"Sure," Rebecca interrupted, "you can know the plan." Her voice was rough with scorn.

"Are you always irritable?"

"Anyways," she began pointedly, "here it is, so listen up. If you keep asking questions, it'll get annoying. That, and we're older than you, so you're under our command. First-"

"Hold it right there! Who says I'm under your command?!"

"There is one more person we need to contact," said Ian, his eyes focused on something distant. "If he's younger than you, he's fourth-in-command. Contrarily, if he's older than us, he's second-in-command."

"Why not first?," asked both Rebecca and Altair in unison.
Ian smiled a very sneaky smile, evil underlying. "Because I founded this team. I'm always first."

There was no reply from the other team members.

"Sorry if that offends you, but it's true. Rebecca was about to fly off to Lord knows where, and our young thief here would be Swiss cheese had we not helped him. I had the idea, I'm first in charge."

"That isn't fair," argued Rebecca, "because we have strengths too! I feel like you're ignoring them! We should switch leaders."

"Not possible. This has to work out this way. Rebecca, about the plan?"

She growled, but continued anyway. "The plan is that tonight, the day before Halloween, Ian is going to draw his rather USELESS pointy-star things and consult the spirits or whatever. Then he's going to come by tomorrow and tell us what we, as a TEAM, need to do to get our paradise. We're going to perform one of his rituals and use our talents to break reality and form our own paradise, with our own universe and people and everything. Exciting, right?!" She seemed pretty determined to make Ian out to be evil at this point.

"I dunno," Altair said uncertainly, "that sounds kind of . . . cultish."

"And? It'll make us be free. We're not like these humans. We're above them. Our triumph with the police has proven that, has it not?" Ian turned back, his eyes suddenly growing an icy blue. Perhaps he was seeing the spirits now? "We can do what we want now. We're free. One more member and we're finally free!"

Altair had his doubts, but he wouldn't voice them until they found this last guy. Maybe he'd have similar worries.
"I've found him. He's in a mountain range. Let's go."Chapter End Notes:Ugh. Italics omitted due to length. Ian flip-flops, Rebecca is introduced c: And Altair is Altair. All in a day's work, though I'm QUITE worn out seeing as I don't write this much in one sitting. For Christ's sake, not even Mortal Immortality was this long in a chapter