Young Writers Society

Mal
A Champagne Village

“Not to break up zes buetiful moment, but I believe we need to-”

Eric, and everyone else in the group, collectively froze for a moment, surprised by the almost supernatural appearance. The kid didn’t even flinch as he landed on the ground, instantly going from Tarzan to Bugsy with longer pants. Without even acknowledging the group around him he started circling the Butterfree, captivated by every little bit of it.

“Um, can we help you, uh?” Miles said, obviously uncomfortable with someone studying his new friend.

“Nick.” said Nick without looking away from the Bug-Type. “And yes, you can help me.” After a few more seconds of captivation with the Butterfree he turned to greet Miles, extending out his hand. “You see, I’m a bit of an enthusiast, some people call me an eccentric actually, when it comes to Pokemon, especially Bug-Pokemon. I’ve been keeping track of the local Caterpie and Metapod population in this area, checking their growth patterns, general health and such; we’ve been having a bit of an issue with-”

“Does this have a point, or are you just going to exposition your backstory to us?” Mal asked, stuffing his pirate gear away as he spoke.

“Good point, no need to bore you with the details,” Nick smiled innocently, side eying the Butterfree with excitement. “Long Story-Short, my name is Nick and if you wouldn’t mind I would love to be able to examine your newly caught friend here. I have a station back in the village, I just want to do a medical check up on it. Wouldn’t take too long and you could even spend the night, which you might need to judging by your car over there.”

“Not our car,” Jasmine said. “The thief sort of just left it in the road and...well we needed something to get us to the Festival.”

Nick ignored the theft part, jumping right back to the Butterfree. “Well, do I have news for you then. Currently our town is acting as a improvised Bus Station for all the trainers the festival has attracted.” Nick was sucked back into the Butterfree for moment, only snapping out as Art questioned about bus times. “Not sure on the exacts, but as I said your butte-you guys are welcome at my place for as long as you need, especially if you have any more interesting Pokemon.” he glanced around at the assortment in the group, taking his time looking at Juice and Chan. “My parents are out of town at the moment, so as long as you don’t throw a rave it should be fine.”

“One moment, we need to discuss the matter for a moment,” Mal said, hailing the group over to him. They reluctantly followed. “Well, what do ya think, leader boy?”

“I knew I would regret this,” Miles muttered. “I don’t know, the kid seemed honest enough, though the “examination” stuff is a bit off putting. Really, whether you guys feel comfortable is up to you.”

“I’m not afraid of some little kid, and I could use a real bed,” Jasmine said. "And if he starts any trouble, Murtle and Ariel can put him in his place.

“Agreed. And I wouldn’t mind seeing this kids lab, he seems to know what he’s doing,” Art added. “Plus, if he can tell you more about Mate why not?”

“As long as he does not touch Claude’s new perm I am alright with this,” Eric said, petting his Pokemon.

“He looks fun! And after a boat of old people and Mr. Ekans we could use a friend our age!” Annie whispered, afraid he might hear them talking about him. "And maybe he'll want Melon." she whispered even softer, ever so guilty.

“Well, Blackbeard has the final vote, what do you say?” Miles asked.

“I just want to learn how he moves like that, the kid is like a ninja.”

“Then we have it,” Miles turned around. “Nick, you have won the privilege of housing six misfits for the unspecified future, but if you hurt a single...whatever Butterfree’s are made of you will regret it.”

“Great!” Nick ran over to the group. “Now, I just need to make two quick stops along the way, a few minor checks ups on the local population, and then we can set you up in the Sanctuary.”

With everyone preoccupied with the newcomer (who made Art think uneasy thoughts of sewers and drowning for some reason), it was the perfect opportunity for Art to slip away, deeper into the forest. Ohm followed, and after a moment, Citrus poked its head out from Mal's backpack and glided after them.

"So, I've inspected your Poké Ball," Art puffed to Citrus as he stepped over roots and forest debris, "and it looks to me like you've learned to control it from the inside, like any other electronic device. I can't think of any other way you got out when we were in the car, because Murtle and Ariel were preoccupied with annoying Miles."
Citrus smirked.
"Mm-hmm. So I thought about it and decided maybe I'd reprogram it to resist your abilities, or to restrain them while you're inside. I can do it, you know. Every Poké Ball I use is one I repaired myself, so I know how they work."
Citrus had stopped in place and fixed Art with a fearful look.
"But then I decided I wouldn't do that." This time, Citrus and Ohm both stared back at him incredulously. "Because I'm a trainer, and you're a Pokémon, and we should be able to trust one another based solely on that. This is a nice spot," he added as they came to a bright green clearing.

Art sat, cross-legged, on a comfortable-looking grassy tuft. "What I want to do, Citrus, without sounding too much like a pompous tit, is to figure out what's driving you to act out like this. And I want you and Ohm to get along."
Ohm stretched out one of its magnets towards Citrus. Art watched as Citrus moved slowly towards Ohm, clenching his fists in his pockets in anticipation. Quite unexpectedly, however, Citrus suddenly glanced off to the side, squealed and shot off to the side.
"The heck?" Art whispered as Ohm made an offended-sounding whirring noise. Citrus was making chattering noises - upon closer inspection, they were directed at a Pokémon:

Paras, the Mushroom Pokémon

When the bug-like Paras is born, it is covered in fungal spores. These spores grow as the Pokémon does, eventually sprouting mushrooms known as tochukaso which are highly valued as medicinal ingredients. As the mushrooms absorb nutrients from the bug host, this relationship has for years been classified as parasitic; however, recent studies suggest that it may in fact be of mutual benefit to both organisms.

Art could believe that, looking at the Paras here which seemed to be quite happily chattering away with Citrus.
"I think Citrus has made a friend," Art muttered to Ohm. "I wonder if we could convince that Paras to come with us?"
His answer came sooner than expected as Paras appeared to have become very nervous, chittering something to Citrus and Ohm. Without warning, Ohm turned and shoved Art into the bushes where he stumbled and fell on his backside. The three Pokémon quickly followed as the sound of marching footsteps became apparent. Ohm whirred next to Art's ear, warning him to be silent. Art poked a small hole in the foliage in front of him and watched the clearing.

"Here is where we shall camp for tonight," said a man with a splendidly large moustache, stepping out from behind a tree.
"Did you hear something coming from here?" another man said. A third man fell out of the thicket onto his face, and the moustached man scowled.
"It was probably this numbskull," he grumbled. "Get up, you fool! No one must know we are here, and tomorrow we shall crush Sanctuary!"
"To make room for the bypass?" said the second man.
"To make room for - yes. And no one denies Team Vogon!"
"GLORY TO ARSTOTZKA!" the clumsy one shouted suddenly. The moustached man sighed and began hammering stakes into the ground.

Doomsday and armageddon just had a baby, Art thought, and it is ugly. Slowly, so as to make as little noise as possible, barely even noticing as the Paras scampered up his arm onto his head, he slid backwards until he heard the leader shouting again. At that point he got up and broke into a run towards the village, hoping the man's voice drowned out his footsteps.

2004

The rain cries when the world doesn't want to.

She sits on a park bench on the outside of the hospital, outside the ward where they never do let you go home. She doesn't have any person to visit anymore. Just a pokemon. A floating candle sits next to a girl, now wearing dresses like her grandmother always talked about; frilly and pretty, but still in black and purple because mourning isn't over yet. It might never be over. Litwick bobs along, chatting about what souls were getting close to death and how the newly departed were progressing. The girl listens. Sometimes she asks questions about one particular soul, that the Litwick has continued watching for her sake. Stories help. Anything helps.



“Do they have any clue you guys are still here?” Miles asked.

Nick shrugged. He finished pouring cups of tea for everyone before sitting down on the couch with Miles and Annie. “I would assume so. With the folks out of town, though… I don’t know what I can do. These pokemon don’t deserve…”

“No pokemon deserves this.”

“How many were there?” Jasmine asked. She was sitting in the armchair, holding her cup of tea and staring at Art.

“Just three, from what I could tell.”

“We could take ‘em.” Everyone looked at her for a very long moment, but Jasmine wasn’t fazed. “Three soldiers against seven of us? We have the numbers at the very least. It will at least stall for a few days. If they sent three soldiers to burn a town down, they have undoubtedly made arrangements for more people to arrive at a later date. But hopefully, that’s plenty of time for your folks to return and help with the situation.”

“I’m not going to just battle three soldiers and then leave town,” Miles said flatly. “That still puts hundreds of bug pokemon at risk of getting wiped out or scared out of their homes. Ans, you haven’t touched your tea.”

Annie snapped out of it for a moment and looked at Miles then to her tea. She swirled it with her spoon. “I don’t like tea,” she muttered.

“Yes, you do,” Miles said. “You drink it all the time at home.”

She didn’t answer. Miles looked at her for a moment before returning to the discussion at hand. Annie was listening – she really was – but all her sad thoughts were really bumming her out. She didn’t have the energy to really say anything. She did, however, take a drink of her warm tea and savored the feel of its hot liquid streaming down her esophagus and warming her entire body. She didn’t realize how cold and tense she was feeling.
“Is she okay?” Nick suddenly asked, snapping her attention right back. “Annie, do you need some fresh air?”

She shook her head and robotically took another drink of her tea. “I’m fine, really.” Tea was getting cold, though.

Miles dug out Annie’s pokeball, inspected it for a moment to ensure it was the right one, and released her little larvitar. The pokemon jumped excitedly in Annie’s lap, waving its arms up and down and shouting, “Lar! Larvitar!” One look at the saddened Annie made larvitar stop all his cheers and crawl across her lap closer to her. He held himself upright from her chest and then patted her shoulder. “Laaar?”

Annie smiled and hugged him.

“They don’t strike until tomorrow,” Miles said, tossing the pokeball back in the bag now that Annie was acting a bit more lively. “I’m with Jasmine. We’ll surprise them tomorrow and challenge them. We’re going to beat them even if it means fist-fighting.”

“In ze meantime,” Eric said, walking back toward their circle in the living room (he had originally been standing by the window and looking outside in thought), “I don’t zee a reazon vy ve can’t call ze government offizial behind it. Vere are your parents again?”

Nick shrugged. “They had a meeting, they said, with someone in Warsaw. They don’t usually go there unless it’s important, though.”

“Call them,” Miles said. “They’re practically at the government’s doorstep right now.”

Nick nodded, and the atmosphere fell into silence. Annie watched her mischievous little larvitar crawl around her lap and dig in her bag before pulling out a cookie she had stuffed in there after a lunch back at the festival.

“Well, there’s no point in sitting around and waiting,” Nick said, standing up suddenly. With renewed energy, he offered, “Would you like anything to eat maybe? Perhaps another drink? I’ve got some beer if you want something stronger—”

There was a round of yes’s as Miles, Eric, Mal, and even Jasmine all raised their hands at the mention of beer. She shrugged. “I’d take a wine if he had offered that instead.”

“Got that, too—”

“I’ll take it.”

“Ans, it’s even legal here. Or something.”

She only shrugged.

Miles frowned. “Ans, what’s wrong?”

“You don’t have to like a pokemon to love them,” she quietly recited, stroking larvitar’s back.

There was a pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jasmine asked impatiently. “If she means she doesn’t like bugs, I think we could probably have guessed that when she spotted the caterpie on your shoe while we were in town. So glad it’s abandoned,” she muttered, remembering the incredible freak-out scene she put on.

“Well, no, she doesn’t like bug-types,” Miles said, falling back into the cushions. “I don’t think she’d want anyone to hurt them, though.”

“I don’t,” Annie breathed. She suddenly broke into a crazy laugh. “I don’t!” She smiled at Miles as if she made some weird breakthrough. “Miles, we can’t let anything happen to them. We have to help them. We can’t leave until we know for sure they’ll be okay.”

Miles looked at her strangely.

“Miles beat you to that idea, sugar,” Jasmine said.

Miles and Annie didn’t break eye contact though and took a minute before Miles told her, “We’ll save them. They’ll be okay.”

Annie bit her lip to contain her excitement, but it didn’t last long before she bounced right back into the cushions and tickled her larvitar into happy oblivion. Nick eventually spread the drinks around to everyone. Even Annie was handed a glass of red wine to calm her nerves and perhaps sleep a bit easier that night.

“Yeah, we have the lab out back if you want to see it,” Nick told Art as they discussed the Sanctuary. “My parents and I have been here forever, I think.” He laughed. “I don’t really imagine myself anywhere but here, surrounded by all these pokemon. They really just… are fascinating creatures. Very wonderful, too. In fact, you can meet Tulip. Tulip!” he called out.

There was a large swoosh! of wind, and a gorgeous butterfly pokemon swooped down toward them. Annie shrieked and scooted into Miles’ side (as if she wasn’t nearly on top of him already). She could hear some of them laughing at her reaction as well as ooh-ing and ahhh-ing at the new pokemon. Miles pulled out his Pokedex, completely oblivious to Annie’s reaction, and she overheard the identification.

Vivillon, the Scale Pokémon

It uses its wings to scatter its scales or create a strong wind to attack. Vivillon is said to have a secret hidden in the colorful decorative pattern on its wings.

"Meet Tulip," Nick said as the butterfly landed on his extended arm. "I’ve known her since she was a scatterbug.”

The vivillon flapped its wings excitedly and ended up re-situating herself on his shoulder, the shoulder closest to Annie.

Nick looked at Annie a bit sadly before looking back at Art. “Why don’t I show you guys the Sanctuary? You can get a good look from the patio out back, even see the lab from a distance, though there’s not much to see of that.”

Everyone was in agreement at the idea and even released their pokemon to get some fresh air. Nick led them through the kitchen and out the back door where they stood on the patio. Annie made sure to stay behind Miles and away from the vivillon.

The forest area certainly extended into their backyard, leaving a good-sized patch of grassland between building(s) and forest. What Annie presumed to be the lab was situated not too far from the house. There were all sorts of bugs and creepy-crawlies moving around the backyard area: butterfree, beautifly, caterpie, metapod, and so many more. Annie's mind didn't really feel like playing spot-the-bug as it was also a rather horrifying site at the same time. So. much. bug.

Almost as soon as Nick had stepped outside, another pokemon – a non-bug-type pokemon – bounded toward them and jumped around his feet a bit more hyperactively than Nick and Annie put together. Art pulled out his pokedex this time.

Chespin, the Spiny Nut Pokémon

Chespin has a tough shell covering its head and back. Despite having a curious nature that tends to get it in trouble, Chespin keeps an optimistic outlook and doesn't worry about small details.

“Clover, what’s up?” Nick asked, laughing. “Did you meet our friends? I’m guessing Tulip told you about them.”

Miles let out his patrat, not paying too much attention to the chespin, but as soon as Juice was let out, the chespin froze on the spot and stared at the patrat for a moment. Juice twitched and sniffed around a bit, figuring out the environment in which he now stood, before making eye contact with Clover. Both pokemon blinked.

“Chespin ches! Piiiiin!”

“Paaat!”

Juice broke into a run as the chespin chased after him with the biggest grin on its face. Larvitar waved its arms and laughed, wanting to play this most exciting game of catch-the-patrat. Annie put him down carefully, though he escaped her grasp almost too eagerly. "Be careful, larvipop darling." She wasn't sure her words really registered as he hobbled off to the edge and carefully crawled down the two steps into the grass, then proceeded to chase after the two pokemon. Various bug pokemon were also interested in this game, though others were also afraid of it.

Miles stepped down into the grass to make sure he knew where they were before not really caring anymore. He had ended up in conversation with Art, though it seemed short-lived as Art went off to inspect and study everything he could possibly see.

“You know,” Nick said to Annie, “it’s not the first time I’ve met someone afraid of bug pokemon, and it’s really not your fault. I bet I could find one you’d love, though.”

Annie looked at him strangely, too uncomfortable by the vivillon to even laugh. “Which pokemon?”

"Tulip, why don't you go show Eric and Jasmine around," he said to his pokemon, and the vivillon flew away, swooping around Eric's head until he gave in and followed her toward Jasmine. "Come here!" Nick nudged her toward the patio chairs. "Sit here. I can go find the pokemon for you. You don't even have to touch her."

Annie went to sit down and watched him scamper off with all that energy bundled up inside. There was no way her muscles were going to relax, though. They only ever got tenser the longer she sat outside.

He came back with what initially looked like a yellow ball wrapped in a leaf. Her hands grabbed onto the chair she sat on in case she had to run away because clearly this little thing was going to bite a pressure point in her leg and cause her to bleed to death the moment she was within range.

Nick sat down in the other chair, and Annie got a better glimpse of it. "What is--wait." So used to Miles doing it for her, she forgot she had her own pokedex for this job.

Sewaddle, the Sewing Pokemon

Sewaddle makes itself leafy clothes using chewed-up leaves and a thread-like substance it produces from its mouth, though Leavanny tends to make its first set after hatching. By folding it over its face, its leafy hood is used to help hide it from enemies, whether awake or asleep. It has been shown to eat berries, but when food is scarce it will eat its leafy clothing as an alternative.

Nick pet the sewaddle's head, and the little caterpillar-like pokemon squee'd at his tender care.

"It's got…" Annie's two index fingers formed two fang-like gestures next to her mouth.

He smiled. "He doesn't bite. Just like any other pokemon. They're really very sweet pokemon, only ever wanting to nurture itself and others. Kind of like what you do with your larvitar. Sewaddle here's actually a baby as well. Only a couple weeks old, but he's growing up quickly."

Annie couldn't help but smile a little. It rather stole her heart, watching it seemingly purr in Nick's arms as he pet her. He motioned with his head as he said, "Give her a pet."

She shook her head. "No, no, she seems very happy with you--"

Nick stopped petting sewaddle and held out his hand. Annie's heart started when the sewaddle's eyes opened and zoned in on her. It blinked. Was sewaddle mad? Was she going to attack Annie for stealing Nick's attention? Even though it wasn't her intent at all?!

He took Annie's hand and put it on sewaddle's hand before Annie found the strength to withdraw. Immediately under her touch, the sewaddle's eyes closed and she squeaked with pleasure. Eventually, Nick let go of Annie's wrist as she was able to pet her all by herself without even a flinch.

"She likes you."

Annie giggled.

"Want to hold her?" Nick offered. He already started lifting her.

"Oh, no," Annie said, withdrawing her hand instantly, "I don't think--okay, then." Her entire body tensed as Nick set the sewaddle in her lap. Annie's hands were balled into fists even, and her eyes were closed, just waiting for it to kill her with that one deadly bite because baby sewaddles tend to do this thing.

Instead, the sewaddle nudged her with her head. Annie could feel the sewaddle's own body shaking slightly, and her concern instantly revealed itself above Annie's fear. "She's cold."

"Hm?"

Annie looked up at Nick then dug out a small blanket her larvitar used to use all the time when he was younger. She wrapped up the sewaddle and held it in her arms. "You said she was only a couple weeks old. She barely has the strength to stand on her own, let alone withstand the outside environment. Did you have her inside for those two weeks?"

"Yeah, in a warm environment," Nick said with a nod.

Annie cuddled the sewaddle and watched it curl up in the soft, blue blanket. Annie pet her gently on the head. "She really is a sweet little gobstopper, isn't she?"

He smiled widely, though in a way as if he was hoping she would forget her fears like that. "You're wonderful with baby pokemon. No wonder your larvitar is so happy." Annie looked at him with a touched and grateful look. "Another reason why sewaddle reminds me of you is... well. Maybe you should wait and find out for yourself."

"How do you mean?"

"Keep her," Nick said. "Take care of her for me. Also," he added, holding up a finger to stop her from debating, "let her evolve. I don't know if you ever plan on letting your larvitar evolve, but... if the pokemon wants to evolve, let it. Sewaddle's third-stage of evolution. My gift to you."

Annie shook her head. "Don't be silly. I'm not from anywhere near here or anything, and you certainly have no reason to give me gifts, especially ones like a pokemon. I can't take your pokemon home--"

"I don't own all these pokemon," Nick said with a laugh. "Sewaddle doesn't have a mother or anything. She only has us. I think a trainer like you would be just the thing she needs right now. And remember: let her evolve for me."

Annie looked at him for a moment. Then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

Eric
A very unglamourous part of Eastern Europe

"Are you sure that we shouldn't be more... panicked?" Eric asked, looking around. The others seemed remarkably calm considering there was a bulldozer coming their way.

"We can fight if it comes to it. But for now maybe it's better to let Nick's parents deal with it."

"All the same..." Eric's phone vibrated in his pocket, but he resisted looking at it. It would either be LeHipstre giving him a command, or JB asking where he was. "Poland" didn't seem like a reasonable answer to either question.

Besides, he was with a good-looking young lady. It would be rude to check his phone.

Murtle floated in and out behind them, as Jasmine looked at the bugs with big chocolate eyes. Claude was hiding nervously behind Eric's legs.

"Ah, you do not like ze bugs, hm?" Eric bent down to the Mareep's level. "Or ze grass?"

"Mareep."

"I'll put you in ze ball for now, yes? And you can come out later when you are a little less nervous."

Claude very happily let himself be zapped away. Jasmine was watching Eric. "You love your Mareep a lot."

"Yes. Is that such a surprise?"

Jasmine shrugged. A Caterpie in the tree next to them scuttled away, rustling branches. "You don't strike me as the type."

"At home, Maman doesn't keep the Pokémon for very long. She raises them, breeds them, trains them and sells them on. Her reputation is very good. But she only keeps the very best ones. The strongest, the most beautiful, the bravest... they are what make her famous, yes? But they are not what makes the money- selling the weaker ones is what does that, and she can sell them because everybody in France knows her Pokémon are the best... But Claude, he is not the best. Far from it. I had to fight very hard to keep him."

"He's your first Pokémon though? Surely with such a family you got him when you were very young."

"I've had Claude for four years now. Isabelle I got for my birthday- she is very good."

"And he's never evolved?"

Eric shrugged. "I don't want to rush him."

He could tell Jasmine was judging him with those judgey little girly eyes. He put a hand protectively on Claude's Pokéball.

"So... how do you like the bugs?"

"I'm indifferent to them."

"Oh."

Silence.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I like bugs?"

"I wasn't planning on it."

"Oh."

Silence.

"I am French."

"I noticed."

Really, Eric didn't know what Miles saw in this girl.

Tulip the Vivillon hovered near Eric's right ear. "Viv!" it called, flapping its wings in the direction they came.

"Maybe that means there's beer," Eric said hopefully.

"Or wine."

"Or wine. As a Frenchman, I prefer wine."

"Everybody should prefer wine."

They followed the Vivillon back through the leafy trees, the sounds of bug Pokémon everywhere. "It really is quite something," Eric mused. "It feels... peaceful."

"Which is why it's called the Sanctuary."

Oh, very smart, aren't you, thought Eric. But Sanctuary was just the right word for it- calm, full of life and without conflict, or so it seemed. How anybody could want to destroy this place- perhaps if the military were simply to see the beauty of this place. But then, not everybody saw the beauty of Pokémon.

"Come on, I want a drink," Jasmine said, wandering back to the house. They went in the back door and hunted through the cabinets until they found a bottle of wine.

"Bordeaux!" Eric said, pointing at the label excitedly.

Jasmine grabbed a corkscrew from the drawer and whipped the bottle open.

"If we're going to save a load of bug Pokémon, we may as well have some fun with it," Jasmine said.

Again, Eric really had to agree. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all...

Miles
The Sanctuary

Art sat across from Miles. Miles sat beside Annie. Gobstopper sat in Annie’s lap. Across from Annie sat Nick. The four were quiet for a very, very long time. In the background was the sound of two unlikely companions drinking themselves underwater. Annie was playing with her new...friend...and every time it moved its stubby fangs, she put up her fingers to her mouth and wiggled them to make fun of the little thing.

Nick put down the phone and grunted in frustration. “It’s no use,” he said, “our satellite won’t give out a signal today. There must be something interfering with the airwaves.”

Art hummed. “I guess they did have a few machines with them that didn’t look like flamethrowers. Maybe they’re jamming communications, too.”

Miles shook his head. “What bastards! What kind of soldiers set fire to a sanctuary?!”

Annie interjected, “Maybe they’re not soldiers at all. Didn’t they call themselves something else?”

“Team Vogon,” answered Art.

“I’ve never heard of them. I mean, there are crime rings in Gdansk and Plonsk, but we’ve never ever had bad people come here before.” Nick put his head in his hands. “My parents asked me to take care of the pokemon, and now I’m powerless!”

“No,” said Miles, slamming his fist on the table, “none of us are powerless!” He looked at Nick’s eyes--nearly tearing up--and shook his head. “We are only powerless when we surrender our right to change our circumstance.”

Annie turned her head to look at him. “That’s...such a righteous thing to say.” She smirked. “Very unlike you!”

Miles smoldered, keeping his nose down. “It’s not righteous if it is the truth.” He got up from his seat at the table and grabbed his coat, leaving the room like a breath of air.

Outside, he took out his pokeballs and released Mate into the air. “You don’t think we’re powerless, do you?” Butterfree shook her head. “Good. Then we’re gonna do something.” Miles took off into a run to the west where Art had said the soldiers were stationed. Butterfree followed, trailing spores behind.

“Are you sure it’ll work?” Art asked, pokeball clutched in hand.

“That depends on you,” Mal replied, turning back to their battlefield. Art let out a deep sigh and clutched the ball harder.

“It all depends on you,” Mal repeated. “So I’m sure it’ll work.” He wished he could believe that.
---

“What do you mean he took off?” Mal asked.

“I mean that he ran off,” Art said plainly. “He got angry and just...ran.” He took a deep breath, and looked at the three remaining misfits. “Annie took off after him a bit later, and Nick went to stop her, if he found her I have no idea.”

“And we have to save them.” Jas stated.

“What else can we do? Sit here on our thumbs while they maybe die?” Art asked rhetorically, anger in his voice. “I’m not that happy about the situation, but we have to do something.”

“And that means we should just charge into the same unknown, probably lethal, situation to maybe save them, but probably die?” Mal collapsed into a chair. “I’m all for saving their lives, but you have to give us something to go with, Arthur.”

“We know where they are, and we know we outnumber them-”

“We also know they work for the mob, are probably armed, have stronger teams, more experience. They’re also ready to burn down an entire forest and the things living in it, so we can rule out mercy,” Mal thought aloud, regretting it instantly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make it seem so-”

“Realistic?” Jas asked.

“Yeah. Realistic.” Mal buried his face in his hands, muffling a scream. “I’m sorry, you guys go....I just….I want to go, I really do, but-”

“You’re a coward,” Eric said, piercing right through Mal.

“Yeah. A coward.” Mal repeated, head still in his hands. “Go. Go be the Big Damn Heroes, save them. I promise I’ll be gone when you get back.” I’m better off that way anyway. “I don’t fit in anyway.” he muttered, too soft for anyone to hear.

Jasmine and Eic were already moving out the door. Art frowned slightly. “If you change your mind...we could use the help.”

Mal nodded, looking down as Art ran towards the others. Mal got up when he was out the door, ready to take off the other way. What did it really matter if he left? He was just the dumb kid in the stupid costumes, nothing much would be lost, right? No, a lot would be lost, for Mal at least. Fun, adventure...friends. Mal would miss them all, even the stupid little Rotom, even if it did like to wreck cars-

“ART!” Mal sprinted out the door, barely keeping himself upright as he ran across the mess of roots. He was smiling, a wide, almost scary, grin as he charged towards them, clutching a Pokeball in his hand. “We can save them. I know we can save them.” He held up the ball. “I have a plan.

---

Art took a breath, nodding at Mal.

“You just have to trust it, if you don’t trust it, who will?”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let that kid die until I get my rematch,” Jasmine added. “Now are we ready?”

“As ready as we will ever be,” Eric said, and ran to take his position. The rest followed.

"Wad! Sewaddle wad!"

Out of breath, Annie scrambled for an empty pokeball, still madly running after Miles. "Sorry... Gobby... stayinhere... fornow." A flash of light, and her baby sewaddle was safely secure inside the pokeball. It fell back into the bag with lavitar and muk without another thought. "Miles!" she shouted and up'd her speed.

Around the trees and over the logs and through the bushes to grandmother's house she goes, she could feel her arms and legs getting scraped every which way, snags tearing at her tee. She could barely make out Miles ahead of her, and it took all her strength to run after him, but he seemed to be running as if death was chasing him. It was really his butterfree's spores that were saving her from getting lost.

Tears stung her eyes. She didn't like this one bit. Her heart was going to burst from her chest. She was losing Miles. And there were bugs. Everywhere.

"Ahhh!" her high-pitched scream suddenly rang as she tumbled to the forest floor, her foot caught behind a tree root. Her knees and palms stung as she pushed herself up onto all-fours...

...to find her face-to-face with a spinarak.

Pokedex? No mukin' time for that.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Over here!"

She gasped. Stared in the direction of the voice. Scrambled back only to bump into and fall over the tree root again.

"Hey there, princess."

Annie looked up with wide eyes as one of the men approached her with a sly grin. "A bug forest isn't a place for a pretty little thing like you, is it? Come on. Let me help you out of here." He held out his hand.

She stared at it with horror. Then suddenly spun around and scrambled to her feet.

But he caught her 'round the middle. "Not so fast!" he grunted as she flailed in his hold. "You can't run away from the Vogon. We've got a special place for people like you, though."

And with that, a cloth to her face put her to sleep within seconds.

----

RATTLE RATTLE RATTLE.

"LET US OUT OF HERE!"

The sound of Miles' voice instantly woke Annie up. She perched up on her elbow, sleep still in her eyes. "Miles?"

He didn't look around. Didn't seem to notice her at all. He continued shaking the bars of the small window on the door. Speaking of, he banged on the doors as hard as he could. "OPEN THIS MUKING DOOR, YOU COWARDS."

"Miles." Annie got up to her feet and put a hand on his arm.

He shook it off. "Let go, we have to get out of here."

"Miles, please," she said softly, putting both hands on his arm and pulling him gently away from the door. "Miles, it's not going to budge."

He threw his hands in the air and started pacing angrily around the tiny room--well, what felt like the back of a truck, really. It was bouncing at every step he took. His hands combed through his hair, mussing it terribly, and he growled foul words under (and over) his breath.

Annie reached for her larvitar's pokeball, hoping to get a little friendly cheer in the air, but she noticed her bag was nowhere in sight. They must have taken their pokemon.

"We have to get out i can't do this we're going to run out of air faster than a rapidash can muking dash--"

"Remember when I broke my ankle?" Annie inquired aloud, running her fingers over the bruises on her own ankle which snagged on the tree root multiple times. Miles didn't pause or say a thing, still pacing around, occasionally kicking the wall or spitting a loogie out the small window in hopes of hitting one of them. Annie, however, was smiling to herself. "I didn't have my crutches yet, so I didn't walk much at all. I would sit outside on the patio to get some fresh air, watch whatever critters were wandering around the woods out back."

Miles didn't stop walking, still breathing heavily, but the muttering stopped.

"And you would come over, and you would sit next to me." She looked to the empty space on her left as if seeing this happening before her very eyes. "You'd kick your feet up on the table, lace your hands behind your head, and lean back into the chair. And we would just sit there for hours because it was perfectly normal for next-door-neighbors to hop the fence and chill on their patio without saying hello."

She laughed. "One of those days, you actually brought milkshakes. One chocolate, one strawberry. You handed me the chocolate milkshake without a word, sat down, and drank your strawberry milkshake. I drank my chocolate milkshake."

Miles' pace slowed down significantly as she spoke.

"Then I had to go in for the night," Annie continued. "And before you left, you said to me you didn't like strawberries." She looked up at him. "I asked why you got a strawberry milkshake. And you said--"

"I had forgotten you were allergic to strawberries," he breathed.

He sat down next to Annie and sighed. She smiled and took his hand with confidence. "And then you proceeded to throw your cherry at me. Because you didn't like those either."

His smile gave her permission to giggle, and she put her head on his shoulder. She could still feel his heart racing and the sweat in his palms. Breathing wasn't as much of an issue as before, but it was still short. His temper, however, subsided, and that was well enough.

"How did you break your ankle again?" Miles suddenly asked.

"I tripped over one of the trees in the backyard."

They laughed.

2004

The desert has taken over.

Tears are dry and the house returns to its vibrant colours, but the only people around are servants, pokemon, and a lone child. The halls seem bigger than they used to be. Litwck has moved away from the hospital to follow the girl who had grown to be his friend. Grandmother's room is dusty because nobody bothers to clean it. The little girl still goes by there every day and sneezes. Litwick hands her a tissue. She doesn't use it on her nose.



Roy was on the scent of hipster and ammunition, Murtle, Ariel and a tag along Paras of Art's were providing lookouts, thanks to them being various levels of invisible in the landscape.

"Claude could act as a scout," Eric said. "He is, after all, a sheep."

"And how many sheep are in the area?" Jasmine replied.

Art shrugged. "Probably a lot, actually. With this much grass around."

"Shhhh!" Mal said. "Quiet!"

Jasmine wanted to reply, 'I'm not the one talking', but that would defeat the purpose.

Claude went away from the group sometime after, and could be seen bounding through the forest, on the other side of Paras. Jasmine looked up periodically, watching for the slight purple tinge of ghosts ahead and behind them.

Roy stopped and, for once, didn't bark to alert. He let out the smallest glow which could be mistaken for a pokemon naturally evolving. Everybody ran up to him, and practically stumbled over deep tire tracks.

"So... they went into a truck?" Art asked.

Mal looked down and around, then pointed at some broken up foliage. "They were carried to a truck."

Jasmine looked at where his was pointing. "And you can tell this... how?"

"Well... uh..." Mal stammered before getting his bearings again. "They weren't careful when carrying them. Broke up trees and bushes. And their footprints are deeper than ours. if we walked back, we could find out where their prints weren't as deep."

Art blinked and stepped up to study the tracks. "You know... he's probably right."

Mal crossed his arms and drew himself up to his full hight. "Of course."

Jasmine snapped her fingers to draw the ghosts back to her. She looked at Murtle, speaking directly to the haunter. "Follow these tracks. Find out where they're headed. If Miles and Annie are inside, find out how they are. Stay out of sight."

Murtle saluted and sped off in the direction of the truck's path. Mal and Art watched them go.

"So... what next?"

Mal pointed to the more dense forest on either side of the truck's path. "We walk along there to make sure we aren't seen."

Eric spoke up. "I will be sure to escort the lovely lady on one side. Come on, Claude."

Jasmine watched as Art looked down to see Paras, who was patiently waiting beside him, and the two boys went off on the other side. She somewhat begrudgingly followed Eric.

Thank goodness I have my ghosts.

Miles
In A Cage With a Very Complex Girl

“I’ve come to a conclusion, Ans.” Miles sounded tired, like a 70 year old who’d just chased a dog for a mile because of a chewed-up paper.

“What,” Annie squirmed, pushing her back against Miles’, “have you concluded?”

“No one is coming for us.”

Annie sighed. Miles imagined she knew he’d say that. She hummed, ”Ain’t it fun…”

Miles pursed his lips. Annie nudged him playfully.

“C’monnnnn.”

“I don’t sing,” Miles deadpanned.

“But you sing like a pretty bird.”

“Well, I’m not...a pretty bird.”

“Oi, will ‘ou kids shu’ it up in theah?” One of the soldiers came around and banged on their cage with a frying pan, making Miles grimace.

“You bastards! You won’t get away with this! It’s criminal!”

“Wait,” Annie whispered, “he had a really British accent.” She hummed. “They’re not Polish soldiers!”

“Oi, wot wazzat sunshoine?!”

Miles caught something in the corner of his eye and heaved Annie down immediately. A beam of ice shot through the cage, shattering the bars and blasting the soldier’s face with ice, freezing him all like D8.

The two other soldiers were running their way. Annie and Miles grabbed their Pokeballs.

“Mate!”
“Melon!”

Butterfree and Muk shot out of their balls, leering at the oncoming soldiers.

“Guys! Don’t fight!”

Miles raised an eyebrow. An out of breath Art looked at Citrus. “Remember what I told you about not messing with machines just at the beginning of this episode?” Citrus nodded. “Forget it for ten minutes and SCREW UP THEIR BALLS.”

Citrus buzzed and hummed and disappeared in a cloud of static.

The lead soldier with the moustache arrived and grabbed a pokeball. “You meddling stowaways will regret the day you crossed Vogon! Surrender now or--”

“--tell him how good his poetry is!”

“WILL YOU SHUT YOUR HOLE MAURICE.”

He grabbed a Pokeball. “Tyranitar! I choose YOU!”

Everyone blinked. Miles grabbed Annie and ran back to the others, but nothing happened.

Moustache Man growled. “TYRANITAR! I CHOOSE YOU, DAMMIT!”

“Ey, bawz, I zink zey mezzed wiz our pokeballz or zomezing.” Younger grunt was shaking his pokeball, getting the same result.

Moustache Man smirked. “Fine. Pokemon are just tools. Fetch the HotMama9001.”

“Yezzir.”

Mal looked at his teammates and rubbed his forehead. “Guys, let’s. Let’s assume that HotMama9001 is a bad thing.”

Everyone turned to look at him curiously.

“FIRE!”

An airship sped up to the clearing where they all stood, a huge cannon aimed at them. “FLAMETHROWER!”

“Vivilon, Protect!”

A shield surrounded the group as the flames licked all around them. The nearby trees caught fire, spreading almost immediately. Miles’ eyes sunk in his head. “Oh, no.”

“Guys, we--we have to run or we’ll be torched!”

“But the Pokemon!”

Miles turned, seeing Eric kneeling in front of a stray pokeball on the ground. He picked it up and stowed it in his jacket. “I agree wiz Mal. We muzt retreat immediately, lezt we be french-fried.”

Annie put a hand on Miles’ shoulder. “We can’t save everyone Miles…”

“No,” he said, silently, “but I can ensure that machine is never used for evil again.” He balled up his fist. “MEGAMAN!” Torchic appeared in a flash of light. “Megaman, we’re going to fight the most impossible battle of our lives, and we’re going to save countless lives. I need every ounce of strength you have! We’ll do this...together!”

Torchic had a gleam in its eye as it flew from the forcefield.

“Mirror Move!” Miles ran after Megaman, and the others watched on with horror.

Megaman threw up a shield around its tiny body, redirecting the fire into the air. “More power, Megaman!”

“Toooooor!”

“You can DO this!”

Megaman braced itself and dug its feet into the dirt, yelling to match Miles.

“MEGAMAAAAAAAAN!”

His barrier shattered and the fire balled around him, circling like a windstorm. A light broke through the center of the circle, and Megaman appeared -- evolved.

Mal looked on, shocked. “That idiot can’t obey orders to save his life…”

Nick commented, shocked as well. “He...evolved...because Miles needed him to.”

Art shook his head, “I think he just absorbed the power of the fire and channeled the energy into himsel--”

Jasmine leered. “No sweet moments for you, eh Science Guy?”

Annie beamed. “Combusken!”

“Megaman! Mirror Move!”

Combusken launched into the air on its powerful legs, fire circling around him just like before. With a quick “HYA!” he began descending, drop-kicking the machine with a deafening CRUNCH. The machine exploded, and Combusken landed in front of Miles, beckoning for him to get on his back. Miles climbed on and hugged close to Megaman, tears nearly breaking in his eyes. I could’ve lost you in that fire...I could’ve failed you.

Mal had Cyndaquil on his shoulder, using his flashfire ability to absorb the flames from the trees. It took a long while, but after time passed, the fires had all been put out, saving the pokemon sanctuary.

“Nick, won’t you join us? We could use your expertise!”

Nick shook his head. “I have my place here,” he said. “Besides, I have a feeling you’ll have more than enough friends soon. Vivilon told me last night.”

“Whatcha mean?” asked Jasmine.

“Vivilon can sense change. You’re going to meet someone very strong very soon...so be on the lookout.”

Sub-par deathcore blasting and no worthy challengers resulted in one very bored Matt.

He lounged on a bench, smoking a cigarette, and glanced around the challengers. Presumptious and false. Even the previous reigning 'champion' had been no match. He'd acted all tough, but that stronzo cowered and groveled after Matt had been through with him. Matt's father had talked about Poland as the land of serious pokemon fighters. So far he'd been very disappointed.

The Pokefest in Britain had been far more interesting. The battle between that tizio Miles and what was the other one, Jasmine, had been very interesting to watch. Then a Rotom showed up and all hell broke loose. Matt probably should be at the pokefest now, but the London event had left him very very broke. It was a treacherous city. You set out, determined to drink one beer, and ended up with three beers, fish n chips, an union jack flag, and stramaledetto quant'altro. The fight club had turned out to be easy money, but it felt more like throwing money into the cesspit for what it was worth. Matt decided he'd leave soon.

"Tired, champ?"

Matt blinked and looked up.

Asking Alexandria shirt, viking ring, left ear pierced, hat worn backwards. Matt groaned. He lit another cigarette and said nothing. The guy's eye twitched. His scowl deepened.

"The other guys said you're not as tough as you like others to believe," the woud-be-metalhead continued. "What kind of reigning champion are you, if you don't command respect?"

Mat stood up. He tossed the cigarette to the ground.

"It's like trying to command respect among slowpokes, fishing for a gyrados," Matt replied. "Slow, weak, and confused." Very deliberately, he crushed the cigarette under his boot.

*

He stepped onto the ring, facing his opponent.

The kid threw down his hat and drew a pokeball. "Go, mankey!"

"Vader! Show him why we're champions."

The Zangoose stepped forward onto the ring, scowling.

"Using a normal type against a fighting type? You're overconfident, champ," his opponent sneered. "Mankey, Focus Energy!" the mankey swaggered, looking about as angry as Matt's grandmother when there was no coffee in the house. The similarities were stunning, really.

"Swords Dance, Vader!"

"Mankey, karate chop!" The mankey started to rush forward, but -

"Quick attack!"

Vader was onto the poor Mankey before it had a chance to react, driving it to the ring ropes with a resounding crack. Zangoose hopped back, and the Mankey flew forward as the ropes snapped back.

"Vader, Poison Jab!"

The uppercut, combined with the momentum, was fatal. The Mankey dropped to the ring, limp. The challenger's face was aghast. Ashen, he returned his mankey.

"I'm not done yet!" he exclaimed, defiantly. "Go, Wartortle!"

"I like that!" said Matt. "You haven't lost until you stop trying. Vader, Quick Attack!"

The wartortle was hit, but braced itself, trying not to hit the ropes.

"Water gun!"

Zangoose was blasted back. He recovered, rolling to a side, and stood, shaking water from his fur.

"Swords Dance!"

"Water gun!"

"Vader, break right through it! Quick attack, again!"

There was a cloud of water vapor. When it cleared, Vader was standing. Wartortle was not.

Matt lit a cigarette and stepped away from the ring. "Who's next, puttane?"

“This place makes me uncomfortable,” Annie whispered as the group staggered in. The bar was occupied mostly by much older men, and a pack of metal clad rockers packed into the corner.

“It’ll be fine,” Miles said mid yawn. After the Sanctuary Miles had them on the road for nearly two days straight, the only thing keeping him standing was a colossal amount of Shiny Tauros cans crushed along the road. It took Annie nearly crying to get him to stop. “Besides, you’re the one who told us how we needed to stop.”

Jasmine ignored the two of them, going up to a Barista stand that had about a million names carved over each other, the only legible one at the moment was Matteo.

“I don’t think this place cares where you sit,” Art said, waving at the nearly empty bar within.

Mal raised his eyebrow. Art wasn’t wrong, the place was pretty much dead, but that didn’t make a lick of sense, when they were outside the lot was packed to the brim. He kept it to himself for now though, no need to raise any alarms yet, not when most of them were starved and tired, a problem he had avoided in the Pick-Up’s back.

While Mal was Sherlocking the group had already wandered inside, leaving him standing like an idiot as another group of Metalheads staggered into the bar, already wasted. The four of them staggered in the most hardcore fashion into the corner, joining their metallic brothers in arms.

Mal blinked a few times, trying to understand how those four has crammed their way into that thing, but was interrupted as a giant tongue scratched the back of his head. “Goddamit, Murtle.” Mal waved the ghost away, she floated away, slightly sad she didn't even get a squeal out of him.

With slime dripping down his back Mal walked over to the nearest Drinker, tapping him on the shoulder. “I already told ya, I don’t give out advice for free ya punks-”

“Er, sorry, could you point me to the bathroom?” Mal spat out quickly.

“I already told ya, I already told ya, I don’t give out info for free ya stammering punk,” the drunk kind of repeated. Mal nodded, pulling out his wallet when another voice stopped him.

“Are you seriously paying to get into the bathroom?” One of the many metalheads was standing next to him. “Get some balls.”

“I just-”

“Yeah, you just. The bathrooms right over there,” he pointed. “Get some eyes while you’re at it too.”

Flushed Mal nearly ran away, taking a giant breath as the bathroom door closed behind him. “Why did I leave my bag in the car?” he said, swearing at his non-costumed self. He had been in such a rush to get some food he hadn’t thought there would be people in the bar.

Trying to get that memory out of his head Mal grabbed a pile of towels off the wall, trying to rub the Haunter goo off his hair and shirt. The bathroom was almost frightening, plastered with posters of bands Mal had never heard of, and wished he had stayed that way. In between the posters was graffiti, from swears and names, to gore and nudity. And one special little tidbit at the top. “Fun.”

---

“I see you decided to return to your roots, what is it this time?” Miles said through another yawn. His head was resting against the table, using a pile of napkins for a pillow. “And why are you smoke-”

Mal ignored him and turned to Art. “Hey, I can’t get a connection out here, can you look something up for me? Obscure metal bands.”

“Why do you need to know obscu--nevermind I’ll do it,” Art took out his phone and typed out a few lines, yawning in the process. “Alright, Gorguts and Rosetta. I’ll send you the more in-depth information.” Mal nodded and took out his own phone, reading over the copied text.

“Thank you,” Mal said, pulling down his shades, and blew a puff of smoke, finally managing not to choke on it. Mal looked over the group, smiling wide. “Which of you want to join a fight club?” Mal didn’t wait for an answer as he marched to the Metal-Head corner, Art and Miles were already back to sleeping with the rest, releasing Marty as he walked over. Just stay calm and channel the Durden

“Hey!” Mal picked out his cigarette and flicked it into the ashtray on the table. “You guys look like a fun bunch, what are you doing tonight?”

The group didn’t respond, just staring at him, sizing the little Irish kid up. If there was a challenge, then Mal would meet it.

“Ah, silent types. A bit disappointing, but I’m sure I can get a few words outta you!” Mal looked at their booth, spotting a CD case in the center. “Ah, I love these guys. Personally, I’m a fan of Gorguts myself, but these guys have some heavy stuff.”

“Gorguts, eh?” The one sitting across from Mal raised his eyebrow. “I wouldn’t peg you for a Gorguts guy.”

“Oh, they’re great. From Wisdom to Hate? That thing is like stuck in my car, can’t go anywhere without it.”

The guy looked satisfied, gesturing for one of his pack to move in. “Take a seat.”

“Happy to,” Mal laided back into the booth, lighting another cigarette when he was comfortable. “So what do you listen to? Any Rosetta fans here? I just got their new album, pretty good stuff.”

“It’s alright,” the edge guy said again. “You’re a very...peppy guy.”

“I just like to keep things lively, why waste the moment? Gotta keep your blood flowing. Just feels good to let yourself be free, not hold anything back, ya know?” Mal took a sip of the beer in front of him, ignoring whoever it belonged to.Just stay confident. You gotta own the room. And don’t piss yourself. Unless that’s a metal thing. “Name’s Mal by the way.”

“I suppose I do,” he said. “You can call me Steve, Steve MacDonald.”

“Nice to meet ya, Steve,” Mal put his hand out for him to shake, but Steve just smiled.

“You know,” Steve said. “I would think such a fan of Gorguts would know the drummer of his favorite album.”

“What does that mean, Stevey?” Mal said, trying his best to keep his smile up.

“It means, I think you’re a dirty little poser,” Steve got up from his seat, pushing the table away from the booth. “And I’m not a big fan of posers.” The rest of his pack walked away, leaving Steve eye to eye with Mal. “In fact, I kinda hate them.”

Mal took a deep breath, casually putting his hand into his pocket. “Alright, you got me. I’m not much of a metal guy, I just figured it was the best way into the club. A scrawny guy like me? And I love my Marty, but the guy doesn’t look very tough-”

“Oh! So you want into the club, eh?” Steve turned to his friends. “This guy wants into the club? What do you think should we let-” Mal pulled his hand out of his pocket, swinging a sock of soap right at Steve’s face, knocking the leader back into his seat.

Mal ducked out of the booth, placing himself behind Marty, and in front of his friends, who were staring in mild confusion at the events.

“Looks like the poser has some balls!” Steve shouted. He picked himself up and walked over to Mal. “You wanna fight, eh? Well you got it.” Off of his belt a Grimer popped out, the sludge Pokemon was stained red in some spots.

“Blood,” Mal muttered to himself. These guys didn’t play soft, not that he expected them to. Mal looked back at the possible Steve and smiled. “Marty, Howl.”

The little fire-type let out a fierce roar, the flames on his back flickering blue for a brief moment as he did.

Steve just watched, he thought, no he knew, he would win this, so why make the first move? Mal giggled, ready to crush that ego.

“Flame Wheel!”
Marty rolled himself up, still flickering blue, and charged at the Grimer.

“Poison Gas! Toxic!” Grimer spewed a toxic, gag-inducing cloud in front of it, followed by a spray of purple gunk.

Marty kept his path, riding right to the edge of the gas before swerving, circling around to the back of Grimer.

Marty honed in for the hit, blue spreading over his entire body as he covered the final foot to grimer, colliding into the sludge.“...Flame Burst.” Mal commanded.

Grimer didn’t have a chance to feel the pain of Flame Wheel, nearly instantly Grimer was shot forward as Marty morphed his Flame Wheel into an explosive fireball. The Grimer skidded across the ground, the toxic sludge digging into the newly made wound.

Steve grunted in anger, screaming for Grimer to get back up. “You idiot! You’re going to lose to that pathetic Pokemon? Get back up and fight!”

Grimer attempted to pick himself up, but poisoned and exhausted the Grimer laid there like a puddle, drooling sludge. Mal smiled, a victorious Marty returning to his side, head held high ready to be petted.

Maybe Steve brought Grimer back into his Pokeball, sending out a fresh Geodude in its place.

“Seriously man? You can’t just give up?” Mal smiled, he was getting on his nerves.

“What? You don’t think you can win?” Steve said almost desperately. “You seem cocky, give it a chance!”

Mal looked at the rock, and then to Marty, the Pokemon was barely even phased by the Grimer, and seemed more than happy to go back into it.

“Alright, if you want it so badly,” Mal ushered Marty back into the ring, which had already been cleaned by a surprisingly agile jainitor.

“Harden!” Maybe Steve shouted, not letting Mal get an early edge this time.

Mal kept quiet, there were only two things that could happen next, and either of them were easy enough to deal with.

“Rollout!”

Mal almost sighed at the predictability of the combo. “Smoke Screen, Ember, down”

Marty pointed his snout to the ground and let out burst of smoke that surrounded the area, blinding both Pokemon and Trainer alike. Geodude sped right out of the smoke, nearly breaking through the wall of the building.

“Is that all you have?” Maybe Steve asked. “Rock Throw!”

And possibility number two.

Geodude spun his arms like a helicopter, rocks flying from his hands like a blizzard into the smoke. The sound of wood cracking was drowning, as if every inch of their makeshift arena was being crushed and turned to dust, but not a sound from Marty was heard. As Geodude exhausted itself tossing rocks the smoke cleared, revealing nothing but a torn circle of wood.

“What?” Maybe Steve shouted. “Where the heck did it go?”

Mal responded with his command. “Dig.”

From right under Geodude the floor caved in, a rush of stone and flames bursting out from under him. Geodude was forced into the air as Marty emerged, with no energy left to even lift an arm to stop it as the fire-type sent him back to the ground with a flamethrower.

Mal just smiled as Steve stared at their original Smoke Arena, his eye unable to turn away from the gigantic burnt hole in the center.

Marty gave another Howl as Geodude lay defeated, his usually grumpy face shining with happiness. As Marty began to walk back towards Mal his body began to shine, a bright light covering his entire body, and after an explosion of light the tiny grumpy Cyndaquil was a surprisingly large Quilava, his eyes wide open and gleaming with pride and anger.

“One more!” Maybe Steve shouted. Pulling out a third pokeball. “Or are you afraid?”

Mal ignored him, instead kneeling down and petting the new Marty. “You did so well, little--well not so little guy anymore.”

“Hey! Listen to be you jerk!” Maybe Steve snapped at his metal pack. “This poser-”

“Just stop,” said a new voice from behind Steve. “He beat you, fair and square.” Mal couldn’t get much of a look at him, but he caught a glimpse at some blonde and black hair, and a leather jacket through the crowd. “So either admit defeat, or take it up with me and my friend.” Mal strained his neck and saw a Zangoose at his side.

Maybe Steve instantly shut up, turning away from Mal and toward the guy. “You win,” he said before walking out the door.

“As for you,” the leather jacket man said. “You did okay out there.” He reached into his pocket and handed Mal two cards. “If you think you have what it takes.” Mal nodded, slipping over the cards, smiling slightly.

“Thanks,” Mal said as the guy walked away, returning to the back room that he came from. Cards in hand and Marty at his side Mal ran back to his friends, disappointed to see they were still asleep at their booth. “They’ll never believe us, will they?” Mal asked to no one in particular.

Art
In his happy place

"Whatcha doin'?"
Art looked up, startled; he'd been concentrating so hard on his PokéGear that he'd forgotten he was with people. He turned to his right where Annie was waiting for an answer.

"Well, uh, since we've got a free moment devoid of fishing for grumpy old men or fighting militant vigilantes, I figured I'd see what I could recover from the laptop." He indicated the cord connecting the loose hard drive on the table to his watch, and moved the screen to give Annie a better view. Annie stared at the screen, nonplussed.

"Yeah, I... don't understand any of this. Are you some kind of genius?"

"N-no, not at all! I mean -" Art said hurriedly, feeling his face turn into a tomato, "It's nothing really complicated. The only real damage to the laptop was the screen, it looks like all the files are more or less intact, aside from a couple that look like Citrus might have corrupted them. Nothing important, mostly games and stuff..."
"Ooh! What games? D'you play Country of Crimecraft?"
Common ground! A reprieve! "I'm more of a Land of Lovecraft player. Not a particularly good one, mind. Still never beat the Eye of Cthulhu. I'd show you my stats if Ohm hadn't busted the laptop -"

Art was cut off by a huffy-sounding MIDI sequence coming from Ohm, who glared at Art before doing a one eighty and gliding off.
"Aw, come on!" Art called out. "I wasn't having a go at you! I don't... I'm not mad... about the laptop," he muttered as Ohm vanished out the door. He let his head drop with a thump onto the table. He noticed, too late, that the table wasn't quite stable and had tilted quite hard when he'd hit it; he lifted his head just in time to see Annie's glass tip over, spilling its innards across the table.

"Oh no, ohno ohno ohno," Art said, his nerves going into overdrive, "Iamreallysorry here'safiveritshouldcoverit didanyofitgetonyourclothes Icanpayfordrycleaning -"
"Art!" Annie said, shocked. "It's just a drink! Don't get so worked up about it - I'm not."
Art heaved a sigh and flopped back against the wall. "I'm... also not very good at friends."
"What do you mean? You get along with all of us, don't you?"
"Yeah, it's just - I get really paranoid. You know how there's always that one kid at school who never really gets accepted into any of the cliques and ends up keeping to themselves, more or less? That kid was me."
"Yeah?"
"Actually, one guy did get me to hang out with his group. Ralph, his name was. That was the day I'd brought a bunch of muffins to school to share with people. It was Mother's idea, for me to try to get to know people better. These guys were all fun and games that day as we devoured the muffins; the next day, it was like we'd never met. I gave up after that."

"Who would do something like that?" Annie pouted indignantly. Art shrugged.
"What can you do? But - well, frankly, you guys are all really... cool." Art was getting red again, and took a gulp of his own drink before continuing. "Like, we're all from wildly different backgrounds, and yet we just... fit together really well. I feel like a right pillock telling you all this."
Before Annie could respond, Art stuck his hand out and flagged down a waitress. "Could we get another of these, please?" he asked, indicating the empty glass. "And a rag, for the spill."
He and Annie both reached out with money for the drink.
"I've got this," Art said.
"You don't have to -"
"I know I don't. But let me, ok?"

"Hey, Art," Miles said from Annie's other side as her replacement drink arrived, "I've been wondering. Where's that little crab thing that was following you around back at Sanctuary?"
"Oh, Cass?" Art said, not at all reluctant to change the subject. He pulled a Poké Ball out from his bag. "She's in here. Sat on my head while your Combusken was fighting for everlasting peace, and wouldn't get down even when I said we were leaving Sanctuary, so I guess she wanted to come with."
"You instantly befriended a wild Paras, you've pretty much broken in that crazy Rotom, and you say you're 'not good at friends'?" Annie asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Ok, human friends," Art said. "But speaking of Pokémon, I think I'd better go and find Ohm." He stood up and smiled awkwardly at the other two. "Thanks for, er, listening to all that bollocks."

"Ohm!" Art shouted. "I'm sorry! Where are you? Can you hear me?"
"SHUT THE HELL UP I'M WATCHIN' JUDGE JUDY" screamed a voice from a nearby window around the back of the establishment.
"Is this what you're looking for?" another voice asked from behind him. Art spun around to see Ohm, clutched in a giant gloved fist.
"Ohm!" Art exclaimed, reaching towards the Pokémon. The fist pulled back.
"Uh-uh-uh," the owner of the fist said from behind a bizarre red mask. "If you want your little buddy back, you gotta give Baron von Flexmypecs his dues!"
"Baron von...?"
"Th-that's me," the towering man said, a bit nervously. "I, uh... I like to sometimes call myself Baron von Flexmypecs. But you," he added more confidently, "can call me Bong Strad! No one can handle my style!"

"... Right," Art said. "Um, did any of that mean I can have my friend back without any further conflict?"
"What? No way!" Strad said, annoyed. "Naw, if you want Magnetdoughhandsman here back, I challenge you to a children's card game! Except, uh, not for children."
"What do you -"
"Poker, mon! We'll play poker, and the winner gets to keep the little Stinkoman reject."
Art narrowed his eyes at the "reject" comment. "I take it that's your place, then?"
He pointed at a small shack over in the distance. A hand-written sign outside the front door read "pokeя klub".
"Ugh. Yeah, but let's just play in the bar," Strad said with a shudder. "That place is too small and cramped. Gives me the jibblies."

It wasn't long at all before Art found himself with a solitary 100-point chip. Strad sat across from him, beaming.
"Don't be so down in the dumps, Dumpo," the muscle man said with an air of superiority. "Let me get you a Cold One™."
He grabbed a bottle off the bar, scrunched up his face for a moment until the lid popped off, and put it down in front of Art. Art just rubbed his head, knowing there was no way to recover from this position.
"I'ma go ahead and deal the cards for this round," said Strad, shuffling the deck. He tossed two cards over to Art and took two for himself.

2 and 8. Wonderful. Art looked up at his opponent, trying to keep his face expressionless. Strad smirked at his cards with satisfaction, then brought them down to his lap, tapping them on his knee twice like he'd done almost every hand before. Art still couldn't tell if this was some kind of tell.
This time, though, Strad tapped them again. And, looking down at them, again. An annoyed expression flashed across his face for a second. He looked back up at Art, who pretended to be thoughtfully staring at his own cards, then slowly moved his left hand over to his own Cold One™ and, after a moment, flicked it off the side of the table.
"Oh! Ma bad!" he said with exaggerated embarassment. "Let me just go get that." He disappeared down below the table.

"Where is that little philly cheat-steak?" Art heard him mutter as he fumbled around, nowhere near his dropped bottle. What-steak? Art thought with a frown.
"Excuse me," a familiar voice said. "Are you looking for this?" There was a loud slam as Strad hit his head on the underside of the table. Art's eyes widened as Annie and Miles stepped forward, Annie holding up a struggling Pichu.
"The Che-eat!" Strad moaned. "You got caught? I oughta get my poopaw to cook you into a stew!" He yelped as the deck of cards Pichu had been holding hit him square in the face.
"He's been rigging every hand," Miles explained. "Jasmine and Eric were watching the whole thing."
"And they didn't think to let me know any sooner?"
Miles shrugged. "They said your reactions were funny to watch. Anyway," he continued, turning to the flailing luchador, "taking the fixed nature of this game into consideration, the big man is disqualified."
"Disqualified!? I'll disqualify your face, you little crap-for-crap!"
"Will you now?" A figure stepped out from behind Miles; the very large and imposing Megaman. After a moment, Strad threw up both his hands.
"All right, all right! Take your stupid robot thing back."

"I owe you guys," Art said as he walked back to his friends' table, flanked by Miles and Annie, "big time."
"No, you don't," Miles said.
"We don't do favours," Annie said. "We just help each other out, 'cause we're a team! It's like how I said you didn't have to pay for my drink. That was only an accident, and I'd never hold it against you. Or anyone else."
"How do you not know about friendship, dude?" Miles asked. "Isn't that a My Little Ponyta hanging off your bag?"
"No," Art said far too quickly, grabbing the offending trinket and thrusting it into his pocket.

"'Ey, little buddy," the vaguely Mexican-sounding voice said. "You're good with computers, right?" Art stared at him.
"You just blatantly tried to steal my friend and now you want my help?"
"I was half kidding! What do you people want from me?"
Strad lifted a laptop onto the table. "Can you help me connect to the wi-fi in the cloughb? I gotta check-a my emails!" He winked at Art and added "Every week, I hope there's one from a female!"
He really is pathetic, Art thought, rolling his eyes. "All right, here's what you need to do..."

“Why are you guys agreeing to this?” Miles asked the group as they followed Mal down to the bar. “It’s sick.”

“I think it might be entertaining,” Eric said. “As long as the Pokemon are okay with it, what is the harm?”

“Are you serious?” Miles nearly shouted. “Art, Jazz, tell you don’t agree with that.”

“It beats staying in our room,” Jas said. “If you haven’t noticed there isn’t much to do here other than drink.”

“While I agree it might be immoral, it’s a great chance to gather some research on how different Pokemon react to different environments. There isn’t a lot of work out there on underground Pokemon battling, it’s rather fas-”

“Am I the only sane one here?” Miles said, cutting Art off mid rant. “Mal, don’t make your pokemon do this.”

Mal just stayed silent, it was victory enough to get Miles to even agree to see the match, there was no point in trying to get him to agree with it.

“Scientific? This is just wrong,” Miles said “Pokemon aren’t just tools for fighting, they have feelings and-”

“Yeah, and we got that the hundredth time you said that upstairs,” Mal muttered, stopping in his tracks. “These Pokemon do have feelings, you’re right about that, but they want to fight. They like it. I like it. These metal-heads like it.” Mal took a breath. “Can you just give it the tiniest bit of a chance? Please?”

Miles scowled but stopped his rant. “I’m just glad Annie decided to stay away from this place,” he grumbled.


----

As Mal walked into the Pit he felt excited, for probably the first time in his life there wasn’t a voice in the back of his head telling him how bad he would screw up, or to do this or that. It didn’t matter that the crowd wasn’t excited to see him, he definitely didn’t fit their clique, because he knew he would make them cheer by the end of it, whether they wanted to or not. I’m better. Mal thought, feeling superior as he met his opponent.

The two of them shook hands, his opponent, Damian, was hard to tell apart from the army of Metal-Heads in the bar, another cocky kid who wanted to beat the new hot shot. Hot shot. Mal let the words sink in, cherishing every little bit of it. Mal wasn’t just wanted, he was needed, a prize to be had, and not a second of it was lost for him.

Their referee, a guy wearing a black T-shirt with a single white stripe painted across it, sent them to their sides, and set the timer. One minute, that was all the time you had to size up your opponent and make your choice, a mistake here could end the match before it started.

Mal flipped his two Pokeballs between his fingers, trying to make his decision. Marty was known, most of the fighters had witnessed at least part of the mess that took place upstairs, at least some of them would be competent enough to have picked up on some of his moves. Chan was less than ideal, aside from the speed and power Marty had, Chan was special, Mal always had trouble fighting with her, she was like a little sister he wanted to protect, Marty was like a brother he could rely on.

Twenty seconds. Mal took the rest of the time to study his opponent. Damian hadn’t taken his eyes off Mal for a single second, still grasping the same pokeball he had when they shook hands. Damian already knew he could beat Mal, he didn’t need to waste his time with the timer, there was something in place already.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT

Mal flung Marty into the field, catching Damian’s flash of a smirk as he saw Marty emerge. At the other end Damian threw down his own Pokemon, the Lampent swayed side to side in the air.

“Flash Fire?” Mal said casually, trying to hold his frustration back. Damian answered with a simple nod.

“Four,” Mal muttered to himself, rolling Marty’s moves through his head. “Howl. Hard.”

The ensuing howl was nearly deadly on it’s own, causing the viewers, including Damian, to cover their ears in pain as Marty powered up, his flames swirling green and blue briefly before dying down again. At the other side Lampent’s flame swirled around, the ghost swaying faster and faster as the howl went on, nearly tipping over with each sway.

“Confuse Ray!” Damian shouted, far too loud for the cramped space.

Lampent surrounded itself in an aura of purple energy, it’s arms pointed right at Marty. Lampent’s balance loosened as it focused on the Ray, the sways becoming more violent as it tried to form the attack,the motion causing the energy breaking around it before it could release it, the ghost falling to the ground, doubly disoriented.


Mal smirked as he saw the confidence drop from Damian’s face, his plan falling to pieces before it could even begin. It was almost too easy, he felt bad for the guy. “Rollout!” he said as Damian shouted pointlessly at his pokemon.

Marty dug his paws into the ground, covering his body in a thin layer of dirt before blasting forward, every inch pulling chunks of pebbles, dirt and stone onto his body. Damian called at Lampent to dodge, but the Pokemon wouldn’t respond, the ghost’s eyes staring right at Marty as it charged towards it, hypnotised by the movement. Lampent took the hit without even moving, leaving the now unconscious ghost nearly plastered to the wall as Marty shed his rocky shell.

Ears still ringing from the howl Mal let himself nearly collapse into the wall behind him, smiling through the pain. “Hell of a trick, eh?” he shouted to Damian, but the metal-head had already left the Pit, not even bothering to send out a second Pokemon after that.

The crowd was a mix of snickers and boos, a few people clapping or cheering at the quick take down. Mal ignored it for the most part, staggering over to Marty and giving him a small scratch under the chin, the only time Marty allowed physical contact was after a victory. As Mal knelt down, through the corner of his eye, he saw a bright blue face poking through one of the grates spread around the Pit, and pulled out his ‘Dex on instinct.

Dewott: The Discipline Pokemon.

Known for their unique and varied fighting style, based around their dual scallops. Dewotts are extremely attached to their shells, always keeping them sharp and clean, and prone to panic if they drop it for any reason. They run in small packs of six, but do not hesitate abandoning members who they feel slow them down

Mal turned away from Marty, looking the ‘Mon right in the eye from his level, slowly crawling over towards the grate. The Dewott froze, his face the perfect image of panic as Mal approached, unsure of how to react to someone noticing it, finally ducking and running before Mal got too close to him.

“Hey!” Mal screamed into the bars. “Wait! I’m not here to hurt you!”

But the Pokemon was already gone.

Miles
If it's your first night, you have to fight

Intermissions in Fight Club didn't last long. In fact, they only took as long as it took the referee and his janitor team to sweep the arena floor clean of blood and teeth.

"Our next match-up is Arthur Wilson and Ralph Wiggum."

Art perked up. "Ralph? Wiggum?" Art hummed for a second. “Certainly he can’t be talking about Ralph from primary school.”

The announcer announced Ralph again as he took to the ring. “It is! It’s Ralph!”

“What’re you gonna do?” Annie cooed. She sat down beside Miles, who glared at her for the longest time.

"What're you do--"

"I decided that it was too boring upstairs, and Larvitar here wanted to see some matches!"

"Lar! Lar Lar!"

Miles' mood crashed all over again and he buried his face in his game.

"Sooooo. Whatcha gonna do?"

Art narrowed his eyes. “I’m gonna wreck ‘em.”

A second passed, and Art scratched his head. “No, wait. I didn’t even sign up for this!”

Miles was focused on his DS. "I'm guessing the leprechaun did it for you."

Art was emotionless. Dreary. And Miles really didn't care. He was pissed about the whole thing, and if someone wanted to risk their pokemon's health and well-being on some stupid game--he angrily shut his DS, mid-battle with Champion Iris. He turned to look at Art, eyes pleading. "Please, as my friend, don't hurt his Pokemon."

Art stood up and shrugged off most of his anxiety. In some weird crippled way, he had the support of the one guy in the room who'd rather burn down the building than fight in it. Art stepped into the ring and looked around. Metalheads were all around and he could swear he saw Bong Strad standing by the door with a wad of cash. Art looked across at Ralph and cocked his head to the side. He looks different.

Ralph waved at Art happily. “I’m happy because I got to wear my pajamas all day today!”

Art shrugged. Definitely not the Ralph Wiggum he knew. His PokeGear vibrated and he checked it.

RubberPantsAreHotD8: I see you!

“Aw schadenfreude. He’s changed.” He narrowed his eyes, though, and got his head in the game. “Not gonna hurt his pokemon. Not gonna hurt his pokemon.”

“THIS WILL BE A DOUBLE BATTLE!” Screamed the ref. “READY! FIGHT!”

Art took out two Pokeballs. “Ohm! Cass! I choose you!”

Ralph threw out two balls, too. When the lights cleared, three Magnemite and a Paras stood in the ring. “Great,” Art said under his breath, “this is gonna suck.”

“Great!” Annie beamed.

Miles deadpanned, “This is gonna suck.”

“A battle’s a battle,” Jasmine interjected, propping her feet up near Miles’ shoulder. He’d forgotten she was behind them with Eric.

Art sighed. “A battle’s a battle.” His expression deadened into focus. “Ohm! Use thunder wave on the right one! Cass, paralyze the one on the left!” Art held his scarf to his nose as Cass let loose yellow spore dust, covering the ring. An effective stun spore could paralyze a human for an hour at least. The two Magnemite didn’t move to dodge the attacks, taking the effects head-on. Their eyes began blinking yellow. “That’s a nifty trick,” Art noted. “Uh, Ohm! Sonicboom! Cass, cover your ears!” Magnemite’s eye blacked out and his magnets began spouting electricity. After a beat, he clapped them together, sending a booming shockwave through the whole fight club. People all around covered their ears. The two magnemite opposite Ohm fell lower in their hover.

Ralph rubbed his head. “That wasn’t nice, Mister Wilson. You hurt my Magnemite!”

Art bit his lip, thinking of Miles’ request. Right. No hurting the pokemon.

“What’s he waiting for?” Annie asked the gang.

Mal arrived and plopped down beside her, smelling faintly of sewage. “He’s afraid of hurting Ralph’s pokemon,” he deadpanned. “I wonder who gave him that idea.”

Miles balled up his fist. “Art! Finish it quickly! It’s a form of mercy!”

Art nodded. “Alright then, mates. Time to take this to downtown Sydney.” He threw out his hand, pointing at the battlefield. “Ohm! Magnet Bomb!”

Magnemite began glowing, gathering energy. He aimed his magnets at his targets and shot polar beams at them, reeling them in at sonic speed. There was a deafening crash before a chorus of BZZZT BZZZZT BZZZZZT came from center ring. A light burst from the battlefield, and Art gasped when he saw it. But his Pokedex was one step ahead of him.

Magneton, the Magnet Pokemon

Magneton finds nourishment in electrical currents. The magnetic forces that holds the three Magnemite together is powerful enough to dry up all moisture and raise the temperature 3.6 degrees Fahrenheit in the vicinity. It can also be disruptive to electronic devices.

“...Ohm evolved?”

Ralph scratched his head. “Where’d mah Magnemite go?!” His eyes teared up, and he cried his way out of the ring. The ref entered the ring and inspected the Magneton. Two of its three units were KO’d. “Arthur Wilson is the winner by an evolutionary knockout!”

Art recalled Magneton and Cass and left the ring, returning to his friends. “I, uh. I won.”

“Fuck yeah, you did.” The gang turned to see Mal’s friend from before: leather jacket, blonde and black hair streaked down the center of his head, and a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. He took a long drag, burned up the last of the fag, and dropped it to the ground under his boot. “A few more wins like that and you might end up fightin’ me tonight.” He grinned. “The name’s Matt. Rocker, roller, general badass.” Miles was not impressed. “The next intermission’s the longest of the night. It lasts an hour and there’s no shit to do around here, so I figure we can go exploring in the Champ’s cage.”

Eric raised an eyebrow. “Ze Champ’z Cage?”

“It’s the underground beneath the underground where stronger pokemon live. Bartender says they were abandoned here as babies and survive by fighting one another. The more beat up they are, the better fighter they’ll be.”

Annie put a hand on Miles’ shoulder: he was shaking.

“So Mal,” Matt zeroed in. “You fuckin’ interested or what?”

Mal nodded, and they were off. Miles got up and picked the remainder of the cigarette up off the floor, sucking in what little drag it had left. He held it in his lungs as long as they would burn. Miles wiped his forehead and looked at Annie half-heartedly. “I’m gonna get out of here...I’m not feeling too well.”

Annie's stomach churned at the thought of the Champ's Cage Matt was describing. Baby pokemon? Fighting each other? Quite honestly, Miles was a great excuse to get out of there anyway. She held his arm and gingerly pulled him to his feet. "Let's go get some fresh air," she said quietly.

Miles avoided all eyes as he moved past Annie toward the exit. No one else followed except for Annie, who practically jogged to keep up with his longer, quicker strides. Larvitar thought it was about as much fun as a roller coaster ride, waving his hands in the air like he just don't care. She didn't say a word as they walked down the halls and up the stairs to the outdoors.

He threw open the door, and they stepped out into what appeared to be the back alley behind the bar. Annie timidly stepped down, looking around to make sure she knew what all the creepy things in this alley were and where to find them. Just in case.

Bang! Buh-bang!

Annie turned around to see Miles kick a trashcan angrily, its lid falling off to the ground. It spun and spun until it eventually stopped moving. Miles ran his hands through his hair as he walked a distance further away from her. She couldn't help but assume the large crowds of the fight club were triggering his claustrophobia a bit as well. He had the symptoms anyway, if minor.

"Miles--"

"I effing hate Poland," Miles shouted, kicking the dumpster with all his might. The echoing boom! scared away little critters, which gave Annie a moment of panic wondering what those critters were exactly. The panic was brief, however, when she looked back at her frustrated friend. "They only ever abuse pokemon, it seems. Put your larvitar away if you know what's good for him," he added, shooting a nasty glare at Lollipop.

The larvitar stopped his happiness when he saw Miles' angry finger pointing at him. His face suddenly fell, entire body drooping in Annie's arms as he cowered into her chest.

Miles pulled his hat off suddenly and threw it as far as he could with all the strength he could muster, as if a cloth beanie was going to collapse the fight club below them. Whether it was from nothing happening or seeing his poor hat drenched in filth and whatever that puddle was, Miles clawed at his hair again as he fell back against the opposite building. He doubled over, breathing heavily.

Annie still hadn't moved, hugging her concerned and hurt larvitar. When he tugged on her sleeve, she let him down and he wandered only a couple feet away. He stood there, his pawhandthings settling on top of his belly (would have been on top of each other if he didn't have a chubby belly with little arms) as he watched Miles with about as much sadness as Annie.

Miles finally sighed heavily and looked up at her. He over-did his shrug, frustration still controlling his body language. "Why won't you say anything? You always have something to say."

The corner of Annie's mouth lifted into a half-smile and she shrugged. "It's not often one gets to kick and scream without making a scene. I'm kind of jealous, actually."

He shook his head as he looked at the ground as if he should have anticipated the most unhelpful answers from her. "Scream then."

She smiled again and took a deep breath. "Ahhhhhhh!"

"Laaaar!"

Silence.

"Your scream sucks."

"I don't scream for a living, you know!" she said with a laugh.

"Use your diaphragm this time," he said monotonously, though he was looking at her now with very tired eyes. "Stop breathing like a girl."

She tilted her head. "You mean..." She poked her belly (and larvitar poked his). Miles nodded slowly, and she took a deep breath. "AHHHHHHH!"

"LAAAAAAAAR!"

Miles stood upright now and looked at Annie, unimpressed. "Larvitar screams better than you."

"Lar! Larvitar!" he said with a happy jump.

Annie laughed and sighed at the same time. "What am I doing wrong?! If I can't scream properly, I'll never get saved by Prince Charming."

Miles rubbed his temples as he balanced himself on his feet again and trudged toward her. Annie was still smiling now that his train of thought was redirected. "Deep breath until you can't breathe anymore, then breathe some more," Miles said, poking her gut. She giggled, holding her stomach, then did as he said. "Now let it out like your larvitar just evolved into pupitar--"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"!

Miles looked at her, stunned, as she doubled over, breathing heavily. Her eyes, however, continued to look ahead, fear in her eyes. "Wow, that worked better than I thought--"

"Larvitar!" she shrieked and dashed forward, scooping up her dear pokemon before those large red-and-yellow eyes came any closer. She felt Miles pull her back more quickly until she was behind him. "Let's go inside, Miles," she said, shivering. Larvitar was squirming and panicking in her arms, occasionally looking back at the mysterious beast growling in the shadows.

Miles had already pulled out a pokeball and tossed out his patrat. The mad little 'mon bounced from one foot to another then flexed his tiny arms threateningly at his target, ending his entrance in a karate stance.

Then it coughed.

Annie blinked. Even Miles' tension eased slightly.

It was coughing. The glowing eyes were blinking, moving left and right until eventually it had fallen onto its side. The alley was way too dark for them to see anything, but Juice bounced and ran around Miles' feet. Then Annie's. Juice never ran around Annie's feet. Larvitar squirmed, too, only this time, he wanted down. Now.

"What's gotten into them?" Annie asked, refusing to put larvitar down.

"I think it's hurt," Miles muttered. He started for it, Juice having to dodge his steps.

Part of Annie felt he was right and followed, still trying her best to hold larvitar securely, but she was still terrified. Why didn't anyone put a light back here anyway?

As though he was thinking the same thing, Miles pulled out his phone and turned on his flashlight app.

"Puh... puh..."

"Almighty Arceus, what happened to you..." Miles breathed.

Larvitar finally managed to jump out of Annie's arms, leaving wet larvitar footprints on her pink shirt. Out of breath from that battle, she popped next to Miles' side and looked. Her heart broke and she fell down to her knees next to larvitar and patrat as Miles' pokedex was turned on behind her.

Poochyena, the Bite Pokemon

At first sight, poochyena takes a bite at anything that moves. This POKéMON chases after prey until the victim becomes exhausted. However, it may turn tail if the prey strikes back. It has a very tenacious nature. Its acute sense of smell lets it chase a chosen prey without ever losing track.

Annie had already pulled out her tiniest travel first-aid kit and wrapped the only bandage she had around poochyena's injured leg. Tears were already in her eyes as she worked with all the speed she could boost. Larvitar had put already poured some of Annie's emergency bottled water (well, the rest of it as it was running low after their hike) onto a cloth and set it on poochyena's head. He pat the pokemon softly on its shoulder. "Larvitar lar..." he whispered to it.

"C'mon, he needs to go inside," Miles said. "Somewhere that doesn't smell like trash. Juice, make sure larvitar makes it inside."

Annie nodded frantically, still throwing trash into her bag and pulling out medicines. The bandage was cheap, clearly, as it just would not stay on poochyena's leg. She pulled out larvitar's handy dandy blanket and cooed at the whimpering poochyena as she gingerly scooped him up into her arms.

Miles held the backdoor open as slowly and smoothly (as she could anyway) stepped inside. Juice had to push larvitar up the step before they both tumbled into the hallway. Miles followed in after them.