Crewe cleared out of her hotel room as soon as she had woken up, and had been wandering the city since then. Yeah, she's THA—
Not. In. The. Mood.
Crewe walks down the main street, hands shoved deep in her pockets, eyes on the street. She's just thinking about how glad she is the majority of the population is either at home celebrating or out doing something else, leaving the streets deserted, when a pair of very familiar red clawed feet appear in front of her. She slowly looks up to find a very familiar Pokemon—a very familiar Charizard
—attached to the very familiar feet. Anakin beams down at her, an action she doesn't reciprocate. More familiar Pokemon come up behind him, all grinning but one, who silks impassively at the back.
Crewe turns her head slowly, her face impassive as she looks over them. Her eyes lock on Electivire, who appears slightly taken aback by the coldness in them.
"Where's Aliza?" she demands quietly, her voice hard.
Electivire quickly regains her composure and replies, <Somewhere she will be loved.>
Crewe's lips twitch, and suddenly she's laughing; a cold, hard, humorless laugh that grows from a dry chuckle to a wild guffaw. Skywalker and Anakin stumble back a few paces, looking scared. Ian takes a half step forward, eyes full of concern. Seeing him, Obi-Wan does too. Electivire does her best to remain impassive, but her tails waving wildly behind her betray her worry. Crewe cuts off abruptly.
"Loved! You were right to do that, Electivire! You'll find no love here!" she yells sharply. While her Pokemon try to process these words, she continues, rummaging around in her bag with one hand. "So go on! Do what you did for sweet little Aliza! Do you what you did for weeks! Leave.
" Her voice suddenly becomes icy and calm. She withdraws her hand from the bag, now holding an Ultra ball. Electivire's eyes widen in recognition and fear. She lunges forward, one hand outstretched, but too slow.
Crewe hurls the ball at the ground. Electivire's cry is cut off by an unmistakable crunch
, and she stumbles backwards blindly, running into Empoleon. He stands, stunned.
Crewe's head whips around as she glares at her Pokemon.
"You heard me! Go! Get! You're not wanted!"
<Enough!> Ian leaps forwards, looking stern. Crewe turns her glare on him. His ears go back but he stands his ground.
<Crewe, calm down.>
" Crewe yells, a note if hysteria entering her voice. "You want me to calm down?! After what I've been through?!"
Spotting the confused looks on his and the rest of her Pokemon's faces, Crewe laughs again, a little more controlled this time.
"But you don't know! Of course not! How could you? After all, you've been traipsing about Hoenn, only to come running after conveniently missing the one time I needed you all most, minus one of the Pokemon you were looking for!" Crewe's voice becomes cold and accusing, and she turns her glare from one Pokemon to another.
"Well you can just go back to that! Leave me alone!"
Fury swelling up inside her, Crewe begins tearing the Pokeballs from the pocket of her bag where she used to keep her slingshot and slamming them on the ground, destroying them.
As their Pokeballs are destroyed, her Pokemon can do nothing but stand shocked, a few trembling, but otherwise motionless. But as Crewe raises her arm for the last time, she finds herself immobilized by strong, clawed paws encircling her arms. She struggles for a moment, bringing her face around to glare at her attacker, only to meet the wide yellow eyes of Weavile, full of fear and concern.
<Crewe, you have to stop this,> Weavile begs, her voice fast. <You need to calm down. Aliza's happy. We found Electivire. We're back now. We never should have left. We're sorry, we're so sorry! Please! You need to stop! Crewe, please!>
Crewe recoils. Finding new strength, she wrenches her arms from Weavile's claws and staggers back. She throws the last ball—the ball of the now helpless-looking Ice type that stands before her—and crushes it underfoot. She closes her eyes and turns her head away, clenching her teeth and balling up her fists.
"You're not wanted here anymore," she chokes out. "I'm not your Trainer. I can't be your Trainer...
Turning away and striking out blindly as one of then reaches out to stop her, she puts all her fury into one last word before sprinting back down the street.
As she goes, she doesn't see Anakin and Skywalker hurl themselves into the air and start climbing, or Electivire huddle against Empoleon, or Weavile drop to the ground, looking pathetic, or see Hecate stares down at her claws, shaking her head slowly and a little sadly.
But she does hear the mournful, keening wail the two flying Pokemon let out, that is taken up by the others and echoes around the city. And as she drops to the ground besides a Dumpster in the alleyway beside the hotel, for a second she almost feels like joining in.
Crewe's room has finally been repaired. The shelves stand tall and polished, the floors shine, and the door hinges are well oiled. Every single Pokeball has been removed from the walls, leaving the shelves barren.
In the center of the room, Minerva looks at her handiwork with her hands in her hips, and smiles, satisfied.