87: Chapter 87 The tank doors open simultaneously, and the army leaves the factory.

Three thousand meters beneath Cinnabar Island, the volcanic furnace roared all night.

Magma rivers flowed on both sides, with black pipes plunged into the scalding red currents, siphoning heat into the central arsenal. The iron bridge was scorched red; workers padded their feet with thick wooden boards, yet the smell of burnt soles still lingered. Water droplets clung to the walls, and as the heat surged, they rolled down and burst into white steam on the ground.

Metal carts were pushed out from the tunnels one after another.

The carts were piled high with steel hoops, shoulder guards, breathing tubes, painkillers, empty Poké Balls, and bundles of black chains. Most of the people pushing the carts were wrapped in bandages; some had arms in slings, while others still had burn dressings on their faces. Cinnabar Island had just climbed out from under the crushing pressure of Mewtwo and Articuno, and body bags were still lined up at the docks, yet the underground factory was already firing on all cylinders.

Lynn walked across the iron bridge, leaning on a metal cane.

With every step, the tip of the cane struck the bridge deck with a crisp sound.

Beneath the high platform, hundreds of green culture tanks were lined up in a long row. Dull yellow lights floated inside the tank walls, and behind the lights, dormant Pokémon were curled up.

Charizard.

Blastoise.

Venusaur.

The Kanto League had once printed them on brochures for newcomers, displayed them in the windows of Pokémon Centers, and used them to trick teenagers into believing the world was clean and heroic. Now, those same figures were soaking in the tanks of Cinnabar, with tubes connected to their backs and claws hooked to iron rings, waiting to be dragged onto the battlefield.

Blaine stood before the control console, the hem of his lab coat stained black with machine oil, his eyes bloodshot from exhaustion. He slammed a thick stack of reports in front of Lynn.

"The first batch, twelve hundred."

"Three hundred Charizard, four hundred Blastoise, five hundred Venusaur. About eighty percent are ready for immediate combat. The rest have issues with body temperature, heart rate, or skeletal structure."

He pointed to the other side of the hall.

A row of gray carts stood there, covered with white cloths. Twisted claws, deformed tails, and incomplete wing bones protruded from beneath the cloths. Two workers pushed the carts toward the incinerator without a word.

Lynn glanced at them, his gaze steady.

"Those that can stand, join the ranks. If they bite after standing, cage them first. If they break even the cages, send them to the front line as battering rams."

Blaine grinned, his smile laced with fatigue.

"You really know how to use resources."

"When the enemy sends children to training camps, they also select for physique," Lynn said, flipping to the second page. "We're just moving the process they keep hidden out into the open."

Below the high platform, the first batch of culture tanks began to drain.

Red warning lights flashed, and heat mist sprayed from the bottom of the tanks. The sound of draining merged into a single roar, as if the entire underground factory was panting. The first Charizard opened its eyes, its golden pupils still clouded. It struggled, and the iron buckles securing its wings snapped instantly; a piece of chain flew out, piercing the protective plating nearby.

"Hold it down!"

Six beast tamers lunged forward, pressing electric prods against its shoulder blades. The Charizard opened its mouth to breathe fire, the flames searing across the iron bridge; the face shields of the two soldiers in the front row turned red instantly. One soldier was a beat too slow, his sleeve caught fire, and he tumbled to the ground, rolling.

Lynn stood at the edge of the high platform, his voice carrying throughout the hall.

"Turn on the cold water."

The valves for the Blastoise section were smashed open, and thick pillars of water erupted from the ceiling, forcing the flames back down the Charizard's throat. It hissed in pain, shattering two lights with its wings, only to be restrained by eight black chains from four directions.

The first Blastoise also woke up.

The ground sank when it landed, and culture fluid was still dripping from the cannons on its shell. The beast tamers pushed a half-meter-thick steel target in front of it. Blaine raised his hand.

"Test fire."

Boom!

The Hydro Pump punched through the steel target and blew away three rows of sandbags behind it. In the water mist, a recorder was knocked against the wall; when he crawled up, his nose was bleeding. He wiped it and continued writing in his notebook: Water pressure satisfactory, recoil too high, shoulder braces required.

The tank doors for the Venusaur opened the slowest.

The massive flower head lifted from the green fluid, vines dragging on the ground with a sticky, wet sound. A dozen workers pushed a discarded armored vehicle into the testing area. The Venusaur smelled the metal, its flower head twitched, and four vines pierced the bottom of the vehicle, lifting the entire armored car into the air.

The sound of screeching sheet metal set everyone's teeth on edge.

The armored vehicle was hurled into the wall, leaving a massive dent. The Venusaur growled, and pollen drifted from its back. Two nearby recruits inhaled a breath, and their eyelids immediately grew heavy. A veteran slapped them both awake and stuffed wet cloths into their faces.

"Learn not to get poisoned by your own side before you hit the battlefield!"

A burst of short laughter erupted in the hall.

The laughter was quickly drowned out by the sound of the next round of tanks opening.

One by one, the tank-born Pokémon woke up from the green light. They were confused, irritable, and hungry, knowing nothing of this hot, underground factory. The beast tamers used electric prods, black chains, food bowls, iron cages, and wounds to teach them the way.

Fight outward.

Fight toward the Indigo Plateau.

Don't turn back and bite the people of Cinnabar.

An accident occurred at the seventh row of tanks.

A Blastoise had a deformed shell; it tipped over immediately upon landing, its limbs twitching, and its cannons fired uncontrollably. The water jet swept through the crowd, knocking down a dozen workers. A young female worker was pinned under an iron rack, her leg bone fractured on the spot. Her face turned pale from the pain, yet she tossed the valve wrench in her hand to the side.

"Shut off its supply valve first! Forget about me!"

Two veteran workers lunged into the water mist, bracing against the water jet to crank the supply valve shut. Blaine rushed down from the high platform himself, grabbing the worker by her collar and dragging her out. When the medics brought a stretcher over, she was still staring at the fallen Blastoise.

"Can it be fixed?"

Blaine looked down at her.

"Fix yourself first."

The worker gritted her teeth, laughed, and passed out.

Lynn took in the scene and turned to the officer beside him.

"Record her for merit. Double her family's food rations. After her leg heals, if she wants to return to the workshop, let her; if she wants to join logistics, let her."

The officer nodded and noted it down.

Mewtwo stood in the shadows of the high platform, watching it all quietly.

It had arrived silently, and many only noticed it then, seeing how the firelight in the entire hall bent around it. Several recruits instinctively backed away, only to be kicked back into place by the veterans.

"What are you backing away for? They're eating Cinnabar's rations now!"

Mewtwo's gaze swept over the culture tanks, the wounded, the incinerator, the iron chains, and the logbooks one by one.

"You turned them into an army."

"They were already in an army when they woke up," Lynn said, flipping to the third page. "The Indigo Plateau hangs a holy facade at its front door and buries these things underground. Cinnabar is just digging up what was buried and sending it back to their doorstep."

Mewtwo looked at the Charizard that had just learned to stand.

"Do they understand this war?"

"Soldiers don't understand everything before they board the ship," Lynn said, looking up. "But they will understand who provides the food, who provides the medicine, who dragged them out of the tanks, and who wants to lock them back in."

A Charizard suddenly broke two chains and lunged toward the high platform.

The wind from its wings whipped up documents, and the flames illuminated Blaine's pale face. Before the guards could raise their guns, Mewtwo lifted a finger. The Charizard stopped in mid-air, its claws only an arm's length from Lynn, the flames in its throat still churning.

Lynn didn't even raise his eyelids.

"Give it a food bowl."

The soldier froze.

"Now."

A bucket filled with high-energy meat chunks and volcanic mineral powder was pushed over. Mewtwo released its hold, and the Charizard fell heavily in front of the platform. It intended to lunge and bite, but its nose caught the scent of food. The next moment, it lowered its head and swallowed the entire bucket of feed, even crunching down on the edge of the iron bucket.

Lynn tapped its head with his metal cane.

"Remember, eating is this way, killing is that way."

He pointed to the map of the Indigo Plateau on the wall.

The Charizard chewed on the iron bucket and looked over, following the tip of the cane. It certainly didn't understand the map, but it remembered the scent on Lynn, the taste of the food, and the mountain circled by red arrows on the wall.

Blaine whispered, "They need longer training."

"Time is in the enemy's hands," Lynn said, closing the report. "Then we'll train on the move."

Before boarding, Lynn had twenty Old League captives brought to the edge of the testing area.

These people had been responsible for registering new Pokémon at the Indigo Plateau, and their white uniforms still bore the insignia. When they saw the rows of tank-born Charizard, their faces went pale. Someone recognized the number on one of their backs; his lips trembled for a long time before he finally whispered that the prototype for that one had come from a ten-year-old Trainer's partner.

Lynn had the soldiers drag the captive to the iron railing.

"Read it."

The captive held the registration book, his voice trembling. He read the number, the Trainer's name, the date it was sent to the laboratory, and the final disposal note: No public value, transfer to underground storage.

The Charizard didn't understand the words, but it could smell the fear. It pressed against the iron railing, sparks spraying onto the captive's face. The captive collapsed on the spot, wetting his pants.

Lynn turned to the recruits.

"You were never just escorting monsters. Behind every one of them is an old debt. Once we reach the Indigo Plateau, the ledgers will open along with the artillery."

The recruits had initially been afraid of the tank-born beasts, but now their gaze toward the Indigo Plateau map had changed.

The fear was still there, but beneath the fear, a layer of rage had grown.

At 2:00 AM, the underground arsenal entered the loading process.

The Charizard were fitted with back saddles and iron masks, then hoisted onto transport racks in batches. The Blastoise were dragged toward the cargo hold by tracked vehicles, their cannons all fitted with locking rings. The Venusaur were the hardest to move; workers wrapped iron chains around their roots, then used three winches to pull them simultaneously. For every ten meters they advanced, the ground was gouged by their vines.

The elevator shaft leading to the surface lit up with red lights.

The first batch of the tank-born army rose slowly. On the walls of the shaft were names written in chalk by the workers: the gunner who died at Cinnabar Port, the chain-handler who froze to death at the Seafoam Islands, the maintenance worker whose chest was pierced by Mewtwo's rain of needles, the mother who gave up her anesthesia in the medical tent.

When the soldiers passed those names, no one shouted slogans.

They simply tightened their iron buckles, pulled back their bolt carriers, and filled their canteens.

The black transport ship sat in the underground harbor.

The cargo bay doors opened like a giant mouth waiting to swallow troops. The low growls of Charizard, the heavy breathing of Blastoise, and the sound of Venusaur dragging their vines mixed together, shaking the entire harbor.

Lynn stood on the highest loading platform.

Blaine held onto the railing, breathing heavily.

"If you take this batch, Cinnabar's defenses will be left with a huge gap."

"Articuno remains in the volcanic prison. Mewtwo is outside the city. Sabrina is guarding the tower. The rest of the people will guard the food, the furnace, and the children." Lynn watched as the giant beasts entered the ship's belly. "Over at the Indigo Plateau, they even use children to hang flags. They will panic before we do."

Blaine was silent for a moment, then suddenly laughed.

"True. The glory that the League has cherished for years is being dragged onto your ships by the crate-load. If I were on the mountain, I wouldn't be able to sleep either."

Lynn looked toward the night sky at the end of the elevator shaft.

"I want them to see clearly who the monsters they raised will eventually bite."

Before the second ship left the harbor, another explosion came from the armored zone.

A Venusaur, annoyed by the iron buckles chafing its roots, wrapped its vines around a winch and hurled it into the crowd. Three workers were knocked over, and the handlers rushed up, scattering volcanic mineral powder into the soil trough at its feet. The Venusaur smelled the familiar scent and paused for a beat. Taking advantage of that pause, the Old Bee, carrying a swarm of black bees, dove down, and hundreds of stingers nailed themselves to the edge of its flower head.

The Venusaur growled and lay down.

The Old Bee landed on Lynn's shoulder; its wings were tattered, yet it still raised its stinger toward the Venusaur.

Lynn raised his hand and tossed it a piece of sweet mineral candy.

"Record a merit for you."

The surrounding workers laughed, the laughter tinged with the smell of sweat and blood. Everyone knew that this army was still rough, jagged even in its stride. But precisely because it was rough, it was wild enough, painful enough, and sharp enough to tear the polished face of the Indigo Plateau to shreds.

The first transport ship blew its whistle and left the port.

The underground seawater was churned into white foam by the propellers. The red light from deep within the volcano shone on the ship's hull, and the Black Flag was blown open by the hot wind. Below the flag, the tank-born Charizard opened their eyes on the iron racks, the cannons of the Blastoise were aimed at the distant sea, and the vines of the Venusaur coiled around the edge of the deck.

Cinnabar's army had rolled out.

They were still rough, irritable, covered in wounds, and might even bite their masters at any moment.

But the Indigo Plateau would soon understand that as long as a rough piece of iron is heated until it's red enough, it will still be lethal when smashed against someone.