Young Writers Society

“You would rather do this than help your friend?”

“Yeah.”

The memory wouldn’t shake from Mal as he followed Matt back into The Pit, not sure how to feel at the moment. Why should he go running off towards Miles? what help would he be anyway, he was just the asshole ‘abusing’ his pokemon anyway. Miles had his way of looking at the world, and Mal had his way. They didn’t need to agree on them, and Mal sure as hell didn’t need to make Miles feel good because he disagreed. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, and Miles didn’t have the right to make him feel that way. Right?

Matt got led him through a cramped hallway, at the end of it a steel door blocked the way, locked tight with about a hundred chains.

“Mind taking taking your Weasel out? Vader’s tough, but not this tough.”

Mal wasn’t really listening, the echo of earlier still bouncing around his head, but let Marty out of his Pokeball, not even sure why. The combination of fire and claw broke the chains, instantly causing the door to swing open, a rapid Pokemon charging at them. Whatever it was it was put down pretty quickly, vader delivering a Poison Jab before Mal could even register what was happening.

“What did I tell you, this place is fucking wild,” Matt said as he pushed forward, Mal following with far less excitement. “Oh come on man, I thought you were fun, did that pussy upstairs actually get to you?”

Mal looked up, words finally reaching past his echoing head. “First off, don’t call my friend a pussy. Second….” Mal stopped, unsure what he wanted to say. Did he want to defend Miles? What reason did he really have to, Miles couldn’t get past his own skewed view to even support Mal, all he did was yell since they got there. The doubt was gone, Mal knew what he wanted, and he wouldn’t let Miles, or anyone, stop him from getting there.

“Second, no it didn’t get to me, I’m just thinking about something.”

“And what would that be?”

Mal thought quick. “Back in the pit, I remember seeing a Dewott watching the match through one of the sewer grates.”

“What about it?”

“I’m wondering where it would be, where those pipes lead,” Mal said, not totally lying. “I wanna find him, see what was up with him.”

“Alright,” Matt scratched the patch of fuzz on his chin. “You want me to help you find the most disgusting part of this place, all for a single Pokemon?” Mal nodded. “There are worse ways to kill an hour.” Matt pulled a Pokeball out of his pocket, releasing a tiny little bug onto the floor.

Nincada, the Trainee Pokemon

Nincada live in underground for most of their lives, surviving solely on the nutrients of tree roots. Due to living in complete darkness they have almost no eye-sight, relying on their antennae to sense their surroundings. Their sharp claws can tunnel through nearly anything, including metal.

“How convenient,” Mal said, almost laughing. “Well then, um-”

“Lars.”

“Alright, Lars, let’s find ourselves a Dewott.”

Jasmine walked up the steps to the bar portion of the building and stopped, looking up at Murtle for further directions. The haunter pointed towards the back door. Now that she was focusing, Jasmine could hear Miles and Annie talking about something.

"Thanks, Murtle," she said before making the final leg of the walk.

She came upon the two kneeling around an injured Poochyena, Annie fretting over multiple injuries across the puppy's body without enough resources to take care of them.

She sighed. "Murtle, keep an eye on them, will you? Roy, you, too."

Miles looked up. "What are you doing here?"

She paused mid-turn and looked back at him. "Making sure you're sticking around to rematch me?"

That answer stood as she walked away with only Ariel behind her, the Misdreavus sticking her tongue out at anybody who dared give an inquiring look. Jasmine ignored them both and went out to the truck, digging around until she found her 'everything else' suitcase. With a few flicks the case was unlocked. Thankfully, what she was looking for was in the top layer of stuff.

She locked everything back up again, having Ariel ghost proof the locks, and went back to where Miles, Annie, and her very protective pokemon were watching. Murtle was pulling faces, Roy was growling, haunches barely on the ground as he got ready to attack. The two humans were a bit too busy watching pokemon and a very tall man in front of them to really say anything.

Good thing she'd gotten those pokemon to stay behind.

Yet another metalhead was taunting them. "What're you gonna do, huh? Not like your trainers here are calling out any moves."

Jasmine stood behind him, hands behind her back to hide what she was holding, clicking her heels together in the process to get his attention. "Actually, they're mine."

He turned. "A little girl like you?"

She nodded. "I hope you're not afraid of ghosts."

He snorted. "Infernape and Polywrath can take a few ghosts. Nobody fights like Gaston!"

Jasmine pointed over his shoulder. "You sure about that?"

Murtle licked him in the face as soon as he turned, getting enough of a startle on its own had Ariel decided not to yank on his rather long braids with a laugh. He didn't have room to jump, only squirm and sputter against Murtle's tongue.

He attempted to wipe Haunter spit off his face and swat the Misdreavus away. "Was that a challenge, girly?!"

"No, that was a defeat," she replied. "Get outta here before that Lick takes effect."

The lightbulb went on and one leg raised itself to begin walking away... but the deed was done. Jasmine waved one hand and Murtle picked up the offending party, floating off to unceremoniously dump him somewhere that hopefully wouldn't cause a ruckus. And hopefully wasn't in the ghost world.

Although, knowing Murtle, that was asking for a lot.

Jasmine knelt down to pet a no-longer-growling Roy, handing Annie a medical kit without taking her eyes off her own puppy. "Here."

Miles was staring at her. "This is a bit more than..."

Annie interrupted him with a protest. "Nonono I can't take this it's okay we—"

Jasmine looked up from scratching Roy's ears. "Need that kit to take care of that Pocheyana."

Annie looked down at the still KO'ed pokemon, and the still horrible looking injuries, before opening up Jasmine's med kit. She cautiously took out a small amount, only for Jasmine to wave a hand.

"I'll get more in the next town," Jasmine said.

Annie's eyes got wide again. "Oh no it's okay, he doesn't need—"

"Just use it." Miles' command caught Annie off guard. He cast a glance at Jasmine. "She's right. Poochy needs it."

They watched as Annie tended the puppy, Murtle eventually floating back while dusting its hands. Jasmine decided it was best not to ask. She hadn't heard a bar brawl break out, but maybe Murtle had scared off the rest of them. Being a ghost in a mostly fight type oriented club.

Hopefully everyone else would learn that lesson, too.

Miles
In the dark, in the dark, in the dark

Jazz and Miles sat together in a booth at the back of the pub, Annie in the floor rocking back and forth with Poochyena in her arms, humming a soft song. It'd been an hour since she put the potion on him, and his wounds had begun to close.

Miles cleared his throat into his fist and looked at Jasmine. "We, uh. We owe you one."

Jasmine swatted away the idea. "You don't owe me anything. We're friends, aren't we?"

Miles' face reddened a bit and he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, we are."

"Besides, if I didn't help out, you two expatriates would probably run off in search of something that would help the poor Pooch...and I wouldn't want that, now would I?" She winked.

Miles began to respond, but stopped himself. He thought for a moment while Murtle brought over glasses of water for the duo. Miles reached out for his, but failed to grab it before Murtle phased out. The glass shattered on the table, and water spilled everywhere. His hand went for the napkin dispenser, but touched something much softer. Much fleshier.

He turned his head and the red returned to his cheeks as he jerked his hand away from Jasmine's. "I, uh. Um. Not used to ghost waiters, heh." There was a quiet, humming-filled moment while they mopped up the water from the table.

"Did any get on you?"

Miles looked down. His shirt and pants were drenched. "Nahhhhh," he wheezed. "I'll be back in a minute." He got up from the table and sloshed across the bar, to the bathrooms. A cop stood outside the men's room.

"Aren't you a little young to be in a bar, lil' man?"

Miles arced an eyebrow. "Aren't you a little old to be watching me go to the bathroom?"

The cop was silent. Good. Miles got inside the bathroom and turned on the hand dryer, pulling his shirt off to ring out the water. He heard a rumble from the other side of the wall. And another. And another.

"Allllmooooost---YAH!"

The wall broke to pieces in front of Miles. Matt, Mal, and a Nincada stood in front of him, all curious-eyed.

"Dammit, Lars, you took a wrong turn at the sewer grate." The Nincada hissed and began tunneling down. Miles watched them slowly vanish while he put his shirt back on. His pants could dry on their own.

“And another dead end,” Mal said in a defeated tone.

“What? You’re just going to give up? I thought you wanted this Pokemon.”

“I do, but this is almost hopeless.”

“If you really wanted it, you wouldn’t give up so easily,” Matt said. “You look like a smart kid, you got some strategy, why don't you use some of that here.”

“Yes, let me just pull my magical Pokemon Finding Device out my brain,” Mal said. “It’ll just reveal a nice, perfect trail right to the Dewott, it can track spirits and everyth….”

“Did you hit your bad sarcasm limit?”

“No,” Mal said, grabbing Chan off his belt. “I just realized I’m a gigantic idiot is all. Chan, come on out.” The two of them covered their eyes as the Pokeball’s light flashed, nearly blinding them, blinking as Chan stood there, smiling so wide you would this she was at the circus. “Matt, this is Chan, Chan this is Matt. Say hello.”

“Rio!”

“No comment.”

Mal just smiled, kneeling down to Chan. “I got a job, and I think you might be the perfect person for it, what do you say?”

“Lu! Lu! Rio! Lu!”

“Alrighty then,” Mal smiled, no matter what he could never stay annoyed around Chan, her energy just spread like some sort of virus. “You know when I was younger and we would play Hide n’ Seek, and I you would use your Aura thing to help me cheat?” Chan nodded. “I need you to do it again, me and Matt here are looking for a special Pokemon, and this place is a maze, thing you can work some magic and get us in the right direction?” Chan nodded furiously, gleeful at the chance to to help.

As Mal pulled out his Pokedex and showed Chan what Dewott looked like Matt couldn’t help but laugh, the scene was just so strange to him. Mal choose to ignore the laughter, quickly finishing the explanation to Chan and letting her work her mojo.

“Give her a few minutes to meditate and she’ll track him down in no time,” Mal said smiling. “And don’t pretend you don’t have a soft side, you gotta have like a sister or a niece or someone you don’t swear at all the time.”

Matt didn’t comment, his face mashed up like he was fighting to stay moody and dark. “Oh right, Riolu have this thing they do, they can read waves of rage and joy, and project emotions onto people. Chan isn’t very good at controlling it, so she just ends up tiring herself out making people happy.”

“How fucking wonderful,” Matt said, trying to force a sarcastic tone into it. Mal just giggled, turning back to check on Chan, who was sitting completely still, as small blue aura surrounding her body grew thicker. After a few more moments she opened her eyes, running off down the tunnels, leaving Matt and Mal and chase after her.

“That little fucker, not even a warning?” Matt said, panting rather quickly after he started running.

“At least you aren’t in range anymore,” Mal said, slowing down to keep pace with him. “Look, thanks for the help with the tunnels, but I don’t think you’re really fit for mini-marathon ahead of us, so, so long and thanks for all the fish.” Mal cranked up his speed, Marty at his side lighting the way, leaving Matt alone, bent onto his knees as he caught his breath.

“What fucking fish is he talking about?”

“Tang?”

Dance, Cubchoo.
Paint, Chingling.
Things I almost remember.
And a song Jigglypuff sings
Once upon a September.

Annie hummed, holding the sleeping poochyena in her arms. Larvitar sat right next to her, occasionally patting or petting the injured pokemon. Besides that, however, he had been sitting rather quietly, watching the pooch. His paws would be his own toes, waving his feet back and forth, occasionally lifting his feet up and down like he was walking. He never, though, took his eyes off of poochyena for more than thirty seconds.

Discovering her foot was starting to fall asleep after having sat there for a good two hours, Annie debated how she could perhaps stand up and maybe shake some life back into her limbs. As soon as Annie's foot inched forward out of Indian Style, larvitar bounded onto his feet and stood in front of her, worried about poochyena. He put his paws on the sleeping pokemon. "Lar, lar!" he whispered fiercely.

Annie smiled, taking great car in swinging her foot out from under her. The poochyena had barely stirred, however. He was knocked out. Larvitar, however, seemed more distressed by the fact he couldn't see what was happening. He was patting his hands on his belly nervously.

She let him win and merely scooched so that she was sitting upright against the wall and resumed cradling the poochyena. Larvitar stood anxiously next to her, so she invited him to crawl onto her lap, which he did almost immediately. He pet the poochyena a few times before sitting there quietly as he had been doing before.

A heavy sigh had her head gently fall back against the wall, and she closed her eyes. She wondered when they would find a bed to sleep in. She hadn't realized how exhausted she was, and she guessed that the others felt it in their bones as well.

She looked down at poochyena. He was still asleep, though he did turn in her arms so as to be facing larvitar instead of her chest. "I remember when Peanut was sick." She smiled and looked up at larvitar. "He slept for days, hardly ate a thing."

"Lar..." he breathed, staring ominously at poochyena.

"We were playing out by Mama's garden, and I looked away for only a moment to smell the flowers because that's what little princesses did! Peanut took that chance to close his eyes and before he knew it, he was out like a light. Mama was right, though, he just needed to sleep it off." Annie patted poochyena, her other hand petting under his chin a bit. "Daddy was convinced it was something worse because Peanut had literally just keeled over on the spot."

Larvitar reached for Annie's bag (she had to push it over a little for him to reach it) and pulled it closer to him. He dug a bit before pulling out a pokeball. He held it out. "Tar?"

She smiled and shrugged. "I don't see why not. No one's coming out of that one, though. That's your pokeball."

Larvitar blinked at it then looked at her. "Lar?"

"Yeah!" she said with a soft laugh.

Larvitar shook his head. "Vitar..." He clicked the button. A flash of light.

And Annie immediately got to her feet. "MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUK!"

"Nononono, you can't be here," Annie said, scooting away.

Her reaction didn't phase the muk, however, as he held his arms out wide with a large smile. "Muuuk!"

Larvitar held his arms out, too. "Laaaaar!"

Muk looked away from Annie and at larvitar. He held out his arms again and grinned. "MUUUUUK!"

"LAAAAAR!"

The two of them laughed and larvitar bounced right into muk's arms, which made Annie shriek. "Lollipop, baby, no!" Larvitar looked up at Annie from muk's embrace and blinked. "Muk's... muk! Be careful, it could hurt you!"

Larvitar tilted his head and looked at muk. "Lar?"

"Muk muuuuk muk! Muk." He nodded sternly and folded his arms. Larvitar poked his arms. Both of them laughed. Larvitar kept poking. Muk kept laughing.

Annie bit her lip, looking down at poochyena. Poor pokemon seemed to be waking up because Annie couldn't keep it together. It was too much to worry about, and she wasn't sure what to do except to recall muk, but he wasn't even her pokemon. Or maybe it was. She wasn't sure!

"Larvitar, let's go see if we can put poochyena back to sleep--"

They started playing patty-cake.

"Lollipop, baby, don't you let me down."

"Larvitar!" he exclaimed, running over to Annie and tugging at her pant leg. He pointed at muk. "Lar!" Then he made happy, cheering noises, clapping his paws together. "Lar lar!"

Annie looked at muk. He waved. She gulped. Before she knew it, larvitar had walked back over with a random piece of bread he pulled out of nowhere. He broke it and shared with muk. The two of them sat there by the wall, eating the bread. Annie looked around for where that could have come from and saw an uncleaned table full of leftover food and dirty dishes.

"Okay," Annie breathed, sitting down in a chair to rest her shaking legs. "Alright, I'll just keep an eye on them, and if.. if it gets.. bad, I'll... I'll recall him. Yeah. Hey, poochydoll," she cooed at the waking poochyena. She rocked the pokemon and hummed her tune again.

Chansey holds me safe and warm,
Ponytas prance through a firestorm.
Figures dancing gracefully
across my memories.

Far away, long ago,
Glowing dim as Charmander.
Things my heart used to know.
Things it yearns to remember.

And a song Jigglypuff sings
Once upon a September.

"Tang?"

Matt backed away from the sharp steel pointed at him until his shoulders could go no further, though they tried. It was a Metang. Battered and chipped, but it was a Metang. He'd never encountered one previously. It did not seem threatening. It was just staring at him, impassive. If Metangs could cock their heads, this one was doing so.

"Tang?" it repeated, puzzled.

Matt collapsed onto the floor. It was asking him what he was doing here, and Matt honestly had no idea. What was he doing here? In Poland? In the sewers of a goddamn fight club? He had always been conscious of the fact he was going to be leaving home, and it had never bothered him, up until now, that is. The stench was oppressing. The walls seemed to be closing on him. Matt lit a sigarette, the last one he had on him. His breath came out shakily. He coughed. His chest was still heaving slightly. He was alone, and for all anyone cared, he could die here. He supposed he wasn't completely alone. He had his pokemon, after all. They would not abandon him.

"Lars? Lars!" Matt stood up, eyes searching. "Lars?!"

The Nincada scuttled to him from a corner, eyes glinting.

"Pezzo di merda," Matt said, chuckling. "You had me worried."

Matt stretched. The hell was he thinking? He was the champion of Poland's fight club, and he had a match to attend to. He had no time for clichè poetry, or any poetry at all for that matter.

"Listen," he turned to the Metang, "you don't happen to know how to get out of here, would you? I think I'm lost, and Lars here isn't going to be much help, not unless I feel architecture is in my career choices."

Metang pointed towards a side tunnel. "Metang."

Matt grinned and took another drag of the cigarette. "What are we waiting for, then? Come on!"
He picked up Lars and plopped him on his head, then followed the Metang, which was floating briskly through the dank corridors.

Time did not seem to pass in the tunnels, but sure enough, Matt started hearing noise. People noise. His step quickened. He heard muttering and... a pokemon? There was someone else down here with him.

Matt turned the corner, and --

"Oh. It's you."

It was Mal. And a Dewott. It frowned when it saw Matt, but backed away when Metang also appeared.

"I see you found the Dewott," Matt said, at a loss for anything more intelligent.

"And you found a Metang."

Loquaciousness had clearly taken the night off.

"We better get back to the club, we have matches to attend to," Matt said. "Metang knows the way."

The two walked in slience. Matt thought he recognized the tunnels he was walking through, and put further spring in his step. He found himself humming a tune, but caught himself and glared at the Riolu who followed Mal. Riolu did not notice. Mal grinned, innocently.

Chi se ne fotte, he thought. One couldn't always be gloomy. Besides, the journey to the sewers had turned out to be quite eventful, he would say positive. He'd found a Metang and braved the champion's pit. Now, to close the night with a flair.

Mal followed the sound of clanging metal as he wove his way through the maze of deadly scrap the he assumed used to be a boiler room. Chan had led them a long, tiring, way through the Cage, but they were finally at the end it seemed. At Mal’s side Marty heaved, some of the more violent ‘Mons had attacked them on their run here, leaving him in pretty bad shape, but the Pokemon wouldn’t let up.

As the three of them closed in on the clanging the steam and scrap started to clear, allowing them to see the true filth of the place, cockroaches and mold wherever they looked. Slime that looked like a Muk oozing from various pipes along the ceiling, and of course a bit of blood splattered here and there to bring out the color of the place. At the end of the mess was a single Pokemon, back turned to the Mal, pounding away at a Boiler with his fists.

“Alright guys,” Mal whispered to his Pokemon. “Stay here and act cool I’ll do the talking.” Marty’s rolled his eyes as Mal strutted over, trying his best not to disturb the Dewott at the other side. “Hey.”

Dewott turned to Mal, switching his fists out for a pair of improbably sharp shells as he switched to attacking stance, his eyes full of fear. In a flash the Pokemon was gone though, shells dropped in terror as Marty roared and charged over, taking Dewott’s self defence as a threat. Panicked Mal tried to tackle Marty, grabbing the Pokemon’s center as he landed, trying to stop him.

“This is not why we came here,” Mal screamed as he wrangled free Marty’s Pokeball, returning the wild mon to it. Once Marty was put away Mal smacked himself. “Why did I think it was a good idea to keep him out?” No one responded. In front of him Chan had wandered over to the two Shells, slicing the air with them as if nothing was wrong. “Oh come on, give me those before you hurt yourself. No puppy dog eyes, these weren’t even yours to begin with.”

Farther down the hall Mal saw Dewott poke his head out, the pokemon was frantically scanning the room, looking for something. “You want these, right?” Mal said, holding out the shells in plain view. Dewott nodded slowly, still afraid, as Mal placed the shell down on the ground in front of him. “Don’t worry, the angry one isn’t here anymore.” Dewott pointed a shaky hand at Chan, almost making Mal laugh. “Alright.”

Mal pulled Chan’s ball off his belt, returning her and then, slowly, pushed himself against the wall behind him, hands raised above his head as he slid down to the floor. “This better?” In answer Dewott ran over, scooping up his shells, checking over every inch of them. “You really love those things.” Dewott nodded this time.

“You love fighting too, don’t you?” Dewott turned away. “You’re a bad liar, I saw you up at the Pit, before you saw me heading over you looked so excited. Just try and tell me you don’t want to be out there.” Dewott stayed where he was. “Okay, how about you answer some other questions for me then?”

“Why are you in this boiler room? You afraid of the other Pokemon in the cage?” Dewott nodded. “Smart, I wouldn’t leave Lance’s Dragonite down there and hope for it. Nice spot you have though, hard to get to, defensible, the entrance alone could kill a Tyranitar.” A small smile creeped onto Dewott’s face.

“You’re smart, you’re obviously tough just from surviving down here, and that dedication.” Dewott turned his head in confusion. “The boiler! The way you attacked that thing, my parent’s pokemon don’t train that hard, and they’re like professionals. Whatever smuck gave you up must be a world class idiot.” A bit more of a smile creeped up, Mal took his chance.

“Look, I can see that you’re afraid, I get fear, trust me on that one, but I think you’re wrong about yourself. You’re a fighter, I can tell, and you want to be a fighter, which even a Zubat could see. Come with me, you won’t regret it.” Dewott’s smile dropped, his body shaking slightly. “You don’t think you can fight, do you?” He nodded.

“I was-I am a lot like you...I’m afraid and I don’t think I’m strong, but that is what friends are for, what teammates are for. We support each other, believe in each other, and even if you can’t believe in yourself, you know you always have someone you can believe in to back you up.” Dewott’s head raised, the words hit something deep down in him. “I believe in you, and if you were at my back I wouldn’t hesitate for a second.”

Mal reached into his bag, pulling out a Great Ball. “Here,” Mal said as he got up, this time Dewott didn’t run. “I’m not going to fight you, I’m not going to force you, but I want you to know you have a spot with me.” Mal placed the Great Ball at Dewott’s feet. “Make your choice, I’ll respect whatever you do.”

Slowly Mal turned away, heading back towards the scraps of doom, but stopped as he heard a familiar sound. A whoosh of air, followed by a few short clicks. When Mal turned around Dewott was gone, a Great Ball left on the floor, the center glowing red from a fresh capture. Mal grabbed the ball, holding it out proudly before releasing the Pokemon.

“Now we just need to get you a name,” Mal said. “What do you think of Ronin?” Dewott-Ronin, nodded in agreement, finally smiling fully. The moment was interrupted by a loud Buzz, Mal grabbing at his phone to stop it. "Looks like we have to cut this therapy session a bit short, matches are about to start again. Mind leading the way?"

When the eyes of the righteous blink, who will watch the darkness?

A little boy stands alone in a hallway, a bowtie snug around his throat. Through the left door is Courtroom D. His mother has left him here, tells him to stay put until the hearing is over, then everything will be just fine. They'll even get ice cream after. No strawberries? No strawberries. It's not his fault that he's curious; he just wants to see the back of the man's head he has never seen. He peeks through a tiny slit in the doorway, watches the adults argue and use his name over and over, and in the front he sees a man with his hair and his shoulders and his eyes.

Miles
The Clustermuk of Fight Club

"Marty," Mal says under his breath, just within earshot of the group, "I need you to buck up, buddy. I need you to be at 314% for this next fight, and I think it's gonna be a toughie."

Marty flexed his leg muscles, wavering just a bit, but his flames burned high and bright.

"THE NEXT FIGHT!" yelled the announcer over the intercom, "WILL BE A ONE-ON-ONE MATCH BETWEEN SASHA VOLKOV AND MALCOM P-DIDDLE RUNNING MAN DUPREE." The ref took a minute to ensure he had the name right. "YES. COMPETITORS, TAKE YOUR PLACES!"

A thin blonde girl with satin blue eyes eased by the group, sizing each one of them up. "Eef you do not mind, I would like to know wheech of you shall be combatteeng me een the upcomeeng duel."

Mal poked his chest out, proudly. "I am!" He was showing some weird confidence that Miles hadn't picked up on before. Maybe something'd happened in the Champ's Cage that made his life worth living. Something dramatic and stirring like that. Who knew? Mal took out his pokedex, which was set to Fame Checker, and entered her name.

Siiri: Sasha Volkov, heiress to the Volkov Industries Arms Dealership. Pokefest registry ranks her at 19 spade coins, #11 in the competition.

"Well you're important." He even picked up sass. Miles was impressed.

"Of course I am. Now if you weel excuse me, I have a floor to wipe with your pitiful Pokemon's face." She sauntered off, entering the ring on the opposite side.

Miles still wasn't comfortable in the fight club. He could see all the pokemon with bruises and cuts all around him, and he just wondered what had gone through their trainer's minds before sending them into battle. Pride? Glory? Or maybe it was something more down to earth, like Mal. Miles couldn't imagine the guy having such avarice. Despite all the costumes and decoys, Miles was certain that there was this core to Mal, this center part that wasn't all that different from Miles. He looked up at Malcolm and took something out of his bag. A piece of charcoal he'd found in the Sanctuary.

"Mal," he said, standing up to face his friend, "take this." He handed over the black bark, and Mal looked at it curiously. "Feed it to Marty. It'll power up his fire attacks by a good 50%. I...I don't want you to lose."

Mal watched the black charcoal for a long second before nodding, kneeling in front of Marty. "Quilava, I'm not gonna call you Marty right now because it's time for serious business, but I want you to take this and be the best fighter you can, okay? Nothing short of 314% will do, and I know you feel the same." Quilava let out a bark, flames bursting from his back in quills. The weasel ate the charcoal and narrowed his eyes, a new intensity in his glare.

Mal and Marty ran off to the ring, and Miles sat back down beside Annie, who, holding Poochyena, leaned against Miles' shoulder warmly. She whispered, "I'm proud of you. Righteousness doesn't have to come at the cost of friendship. Not always."

Miles nodded. "I think I'm starting to get that. Maybe."

"You'll always be my fence-hopping Shining Knight."

Miles imagined how twisted his thoughts could be, how selfish and arrogant. He wasn't a knight,

"READY!"

Miles looked down at his clenched hands, his Pokeballs. Then he looked up at Mal, fists clenched just like his. There it was. Resolve. Determination. Drive.

"FIGHT!"

Marty charged into the arena as Sasha unleashed her pokemon in a billow of blue light. The crowd gasped and partially cheered. The metalheads were overwhelmed, and it was no surprise why. No one in the Fight Club had seen that Pokemon before.

Aurorus, The Tundra Pokemon

This pokemon is believed to be the evolved form of Amaura, an ancient dinosaur pokemon. Aurorus can blast freezing cold air to damage enemies. Its known attacks are Aurora Beam and Ancientpower.

Sasha wasted no time charging in. "Adelle! Slow hees attacks weeth Aurora Beam!"

The dinosaur stamped on the battlefield, shaking the ground, and breathed out a rainbow of frigid fire, combing across the plane like a wave. Marty ran towards the flame and tucked, rolled, and dodged the first pass. "Marty! Flame Wheel!" Quilava tucked and rolled again, this time covering his body in blue flame. He zigged through and around Aurorus' Aurora flame, and made a direct hit to her chest. The dinosaur staggered backwards, and her flame vanished.

"Again! Up the ante!"

Adelle roared as she released another rainbow of icy flame, coating the whole of the battlefield in lights this time. Marty rolled in his flame wheel across the field, leaving skid marks where he'd broken up her icy assault. His speed, though, was slowing.

"His fire attacks aren't enough. If Aurorus is part rock-type like all other ancient pokemon, then fire won't do that much damage." Jasmine was leaning forward in her seat.

"But she's using ze ice attacks," retorted Eric, "which means she is probably part ice-type, so ze fire will balance out."

"The fire will have an edge," Miles smirked, "he just can't charge head-in on this dino. Her defense is too high."

Mal nervously watched the field. It was an ongoing cycle of flame wheels and aurora beams, but neither one was prevailing. Quilava's speed, though, had been chilled to the bone. He could hardly hold up a flame wheel anymore. Mal closed his eyes. What can I do?! They're all watching. If I fail, I fail in front of everyone. I may as well take a fire blast to the face.

Mal paused for a moment, realizing how genius that was. But only if Marty had enough power left... "Marty! Gather energy! Bide it out until you're...until you're at 314%!"

Quilava began glowing a deep red, soaking up all the energy of the cold fire around him. After several seconds, the energy he amassed was pushing the aurora flames back away from him in a circle.

"Adele!"

"Marty!"

"Ancient-Fire-Power-Blast!"

At once, the flames lapped to a cease and the dino reared her fins, glowing as rocks appeared around her neck, spinning. Marty ran up under her underbelly and closed his eyes, releasing every bit of fiery energy he had stored up in his not-so-little body. The flames erupted in a volcano around Aurorus, sending her face to the ground, knocked out.

Ironically, Miles was the first to jump from his seat to cheer. Matt stood behind him, arms crossed and smirk on full-force. "If your pal uses all his energy in every fight, he won't make much fun for the champ later on."

"Oh, don't worry about that, Matteo," noted Art. "Mal puls hat tricks like this out of nowhere, figuratively speaking, all the time. It's a wonder he never loses so miserably!"

Matt smirked. "We'll see. He's got muscle...let's just hope it's in the right places."

Annie couldn't help but also feel a little pride in Mal's victory and waved one hand in the air in excitement with everyone else (her other arm occupied), but when Miles had stood up on his feet, it knocked her just enough to wake poochyena.

"Well, good morning! Just in time to see Mal--oh!"

Poochyena instantly propped himself up, which in turn instantly caused a whimper of pain. He flopped against her arm, all the while barking and crying. Annie tried to assist him onto her lap to curl up better, but the dear pokemon was too terrified and tense to cooperate.

He bit her.

"Ah!"

Waving off the pain, she dug in her bag with that very hand. "Hold on, poochyena, you can't go anywhere until you can at least stand up, and you know you can't. Here." She pulled out another potion, poured a little bit in a cup, and looked at the confused pooch, who was looking around and fidgeting about for a way out of this mess he was stuck in.

"Hey, hey," she cooed, her other hand wrapping around his entire side. She held out the cup. "Poochyena, trust me, drink this--"

"Did he just bite you?" Miles asked, indicating the new marks on her hand now bright red with blood. "Put him to sleep--"

"Okay, you try to sleep in the Fight Club and get back to me," Annie snapped without even looking at him. "Come on, cocoapuff, it'll help." She started humming the song from earlier, leaning closer to his ear. The poochyena's ears perked, then he turned his head to look at her. He tilted his head.

"He won again!" Eric exclaimed, returning to the group. He looked rather flushed, a little out-of-breath. "Mal iz doing zuperb!"

"Yeah, he is!" Miles said with vigor.

"Where were you, anyway?" Jasmine inquired, eyes narrowed.

"That's true," Miles blinked and looked at Eric curiously. "Didn't even see you slip out."

"Uh... Eric, are you okay?" Annie asked, wanting to put a hand on his arm, but her hands were a bit full with the medicine and poochyena, who was now looking around anxiously again, but not as frantically as earlier. His ears seemed to fall back every time another pokemon shouted out from the crowd, like he was afraid they would find him.

Eric tugged on his shirt collar, pulling himself upright, but his cheeks were still flush. "I'm fine. I just had to step out for a quick moment--"

"There he is!"

Everyone except Eric looked behind him to see the approaching brute coming straight for him. Annie's heart started, and she even tried to stand, but both poochyena and Miles moving in front of her (toward Eric) sat her right back down in her chair. All she could muster was, "Eric, what's going on?"

The giant man put one hand on Eric's shoulder and twirled him around, grabbed him by the shirt, and jerked him closer. "Where's my money, princess?!"

Eric's hands clasped the man's fist, and he struggled to get out. "I zaid I vould get it to you whenever I geet out, okay--"

"I want it now--"

"Hold on."

Everyone looked at Miles now, whose voice was nothing but deadly. Even the brute's grasp seemed to loosen slightly, seeing this getting more interesting by the minute. The crowd around them didn't silence at all, but instead, were rowdier and shouting for a fight.

"Eric, tell me you didn't."

Eric hesitated, though he clearly couldn't turn around as the stranger still had him in his grasp. He still managed to rub his face anxiously. "Eric?" Annie only whispered, her fear getting in the way of her own voice.

Poochyena's barks were now aimed in Eric's direction. He inched around in Annie's lap, whimpering and pawing at her leg until he was as close as he could get, then barked some more. Annie didn't even try feeding him the medicine.

"Hey!" Miles yelled at Eric. "Did you bet on Mal and Marty losing a fight? Are you betting on these battles? Is this a muking game to you?"

Still no answer, no movement. The bookie's grip was much looser now, and he had a wicked grin on his face.

Miles put a hand on Eric's shoulder, twirled Eric right back around, and threw his fist right into the gambler's cheek.

"Eric!"

"Miles!"

"Miles, please--" Annie cried as Miles caught Eric from falling down the rows of chairs, and held him in his own grasps.

"What the f--" Matt's voice was heard from a distance drowned out by the crowd.

"What's going on over there?" Art said, peering around Jasmine. Annie could barely make out their voices over the hooting and cheering.

Poochyena started barking frantically at Miles now, growling and showing his teeth. The pokemon even proppred himself up on his two front paws again, despite his injured one undoubtedly causing him strife. Annie's arms wrapped around poochyena to hold him down, but tears now glittered her eyes as she tried her hardest not to let them spill.

"You bet on pokemon? On your friends losing? On pokemon hurting? How much did you bet, you spoiled ass--?"

"Everyone vas betting on 'im!" Eric shouted back, his hands grasping Miles' wrists. The bright red mark on his cheek also showed some bruising near his eye. "Ze vinningz vere small, so I bet on ze ozzer--"

"That don't mean a muking thing!" Miles said right back.

"Yeah, it does," the brute said and too easily zoinked Eric right out of Miles' hands and imprisoned him in a necklock with just one arm. "It means he owes me money, and I'm going to make sure I get it--"

"How much does he owe you?" Jasmine repeated Miles' question, who was fuming too much to even care at this point.

"Five hundred, cash," the bookie said at them. "In fact, if you want to see your friend again as you see him now, best get it to me within the next hour."

"I said I can get you the money myself--"

"You lost your bet and your rep, boy," he growled, flexing his muscles to choke him a moment. The man already turned around.

"Please stop!" Annie cried. Poochyena was on all fours now, his two front paws on the chair arm as he barked and growled and even drooled at the man, who was walking away already. The pokemon wanted so much to fight him himself, it seemed, but Annie just wouldn't let poochyena out of her grasp. "Please just don't hurt him. We'll get the money--"

"From what?" Miles snapped at her. He looked back at the flailing Eric and the brute's back.

Annie picked up poochyena and stood up on her two legs, glaring at Miles. She then looked at Eric with all the determination and seriousness she could muster. Didn't say a word until she made eye contact with his fearful eyes. "We're going to get it for you!"

“All I’m saying is, if time travel was a thing, I don’t think it would be so bad to alter the timeline,” Mal said as he dug through his berry pouch. “What makes Doc so sure that this is the default timeline? And what’s so superior about it anyway?”

“It’s about the chaos though,” Art argued. “Yeah, it would be great to go back and change slavery, but for you he knows he could get greate a nuclear holocaust in the present.”

“But he could just go back and stop himself then, he has a flipping time machine after all. If he isn’t even going to try it’s wasted on him.”

“Wasted on him? He invented it!”

“Yeah, and instead of doing something good with it he just hopped on a train and played Cowboy.”

“This is a movie,” Jasmine said. “A movie. Can’t you two just agree to be quiet?”

“A movie?” The two of them said in near unison.

“It’s more than just a movie,” Mal said. “It’s a masterpiece.”

“An outstanding piece of time travel and ripple effects!” Art declared, but his attention dropped. "What's going on over there?" Art said, peering around Jasmine. The three of them could barely hear the rest of the group over the crowd.

“Looks like there could be-”

“Yo, you’re that Mal kid, right?” Mal looked up, spotting the referee and his lazily spray-painted shit. “You got a special challenge, some other little brat is making a big fuss about fighting you, won't leave The Pit.”

Mal turned away from the scene nearby for a second. “Um, can I get a name or something?” He asked, stalling for time, as he observed the growing mess.

“Jason something,” The ref said annoyed. “Look, is this a yes or a no? I got a bunch of people who want to fight, I can’t waste my time on every snot nosed kid who thinks they're the next Blue Oak. This kid is invoking some weird rule I’ve never even heard of, apparently if you don’t accept you get booted, so hurry up and pick. The Pit is waiting.”

“Go, we can handle this,” said Art. “It can’t be that bad, right?” Jasmine nodded as the two walked over to the growing scene, leaving Mal with the impatient ref.

Mal did another take at his teammates, whatever was happening couldn’t be so bad, right? “Alright, I’ll fight him,” Mal said, popping Marty into his ball. “You need some anger management.”

“You need some shut the fuck up.”

“I’ve been told.”

-----

From The Pit Mal found his friend's seats, which were now completely empty, but at the moment he couldn’t worry bout that. As much as he wanted to take off and help, he was already in The Pit, and he didn’t want to piss off a bunch of drunken, violent metal heads with even violent, and possibly drunker, Pokemon at their disposal. So, for the moment, he pushed those thoughts away and refocused on the battle, on his Pokemon, and this Jason kid.

“Jason?” Mal asked hesitantly as he approached the only other person in The Pit, a slightly short kid with spiky hair, wearing a headband with the Team Aqua symbol on it. “You wanted to fight me pretty bad, eh?”

“It’s more I wanted to beat you,” Jason responded. “Your fighting is spazztic, and if I’m going to be the best Pro Battler in the world I need to get used to more unusual tactics.”

“This battle is just a practice for you?”

“These are just stepping stones for me,” Jason said, gesturing toward the crowd. “You’re just one more step toward my true glory.”

Mal nodded, silently judging him, more excited for the match than before. “Well, you should be careful, cause after I rain on your parade those steps might be a bit slippery.”

Jason gave mal a look of pure confusion, about to comment before another voice interrupted him.

“That made absolutely no sense,” said the referee. “If you two are done with your terrible trash talk, please flip the coin and let me get on with my job.”


-----

“Alright ladies and fuckers, to my left, or maybe you’re right, or center. Never mind who cares. Battle begin.”

Jason sent out his Pokemon first, a Gligar, which flew to the top of the dome and hung off the fenced top by his feet.

Ronin turned his head to look at Mal when he entered the field, looking for some kind of reassurance. “You got this buddy, I believe in you.” Ronin nodded, turning to face his opponent, though stumbling slightly as he took his stance.

“Darn, you made a smart choice,” Jason said as he read his Pokedex. “Jazz, Screech and U-Turn.”

The Gligar dropped from the dome, a violent wound wave screeching out of his mouth as he flew over Ronin, causing the Dewott to flinch before Gligar barreled into him, quickly turning back towards Jason, returning into his Pokeball.

“Waut, come on out and crush some heads.”

In Gligar’s place an Elekid popped out, sparks twitching between it’s plug like horns, arms turning as it pumped up it’s electricity.

This time Mal didn’t wait for Jason to make a move, commanding Ronin towards Elekid with an Aquajet. Elekid braced itself, bringing up a wall of Sparks to meet the body of water propelling towards him.

“Switch to Razor Shell now!” Mal shouted, Ronin popping out of his Aqua Jet, flipped above Elekid and hacking at his back with a dual Razor Shell. “Water Gun!” Before Elekid could even flinch from the Razor Shell Ronin sent him flailing forward in a blast of water.

“Thunder Wave!” Elekid calmed nearly instantly turning the Water Gun against Ronin as a current of Paralysis surged through the wave, sending Ronin onto his knees.

“Water Pulse!” Mal said in slight desperation, but the rings of water were easily dodged by Elekid, jumping through them and speeding right towards the imobile Ronin.

“Electro Ball!” Jason shouted, almost giddy. Elekid spun his arms as he charged Ronin, a ball of electricity building up as his speed increased, tackling it into Ronin’s chest head first, sending him skidding across the floor of The Pit, barely any HP left.

Mal cringed, Elekid was too fast in general, this was the third nail in the coffin as far as Mal could tell. It was too bad, Ronin would be crushed if he lost his first real battle.

“Let’s make this fun, there is no kill like overkill,” Jason said, giving Mal just enough idea to react to. “Waut, Screech.”

“Encore!”

Before the second wave of sound could leave Elekid, Ronin already had raised his hands, sending a wave of psychic energy right at the Electric Pokemon, sticking him in a loop. With barely any energy left Ronin stood up, a seemingly unending Screech circling around him. “Let’s finish this, quick. Aqua Pulse.” Ronin nodded, gritting through the paralyzing pain, propelling himself forward with an Aqua Jet, the Jet spinning as he sent ring after ring of Water Pulse to increase the speed.

Jason screamed attacks at the other end of The Pit, none of them able to reach Elekid as it continued to Screech, only stopping to take a solitary breath, before Ronin crashed into him. The Aqua Pulse sent them both to the ground, Ronin dizzily standing up, his own attack confusing him, still getting blasted in the face by Screech. Ronin grabbed a single shell, finishing off Elekid without a word from Mal.

Ronin looked back to Mal again, this time the Pokemon smiled, even though it was barely able to stand through the pain and confusion. “Good job, but don’t get too cocky now.” Ronin nodded, bring up his shells again, not a single sway as he did so this time. “Good job,” Mal mumbled to himself.

“One Point to the kid who could be in any directional placement for you,” the referee said. “No point to the other one, whose direction has no effect.”

Jason gritted his teeth, grabbing a third ball from his belt and chucking it into The Pit. “Crabhammer!” he commanded before the Kingler was even fully emerged, the Pokemon slamming his half-formed pincer onto the barely standing Dewott, causing him to faint. still though, the otter was smiling as he lay their.

“One point to the-”

“Shut up!” Mal and Jason said in unison.

“Alright. If you need me I’ll be in the back playing Tomb Raider.”

“Chan, I choose you!”

"So, you wanna tell me what your grand plan is?" Miles said, with a vague hint of frustration in his voice. The look on Jasmine's face suggested that Miles wasn't the only one.
"I don't have a plan," Annie shot back. "But I do know that we aren't just leaving one of our friends here, alone, at the mercy of a man built like a Bouffalant."
Miles slid a hand down his face. "I know, I know. You're right. But we're now tied to this out-of-the-way bar and its limited surrounding area to find a way to come up with five hundred Euros."
"He sure doesn't have the hair of a Bouffalant..."
"Focus, Art, if you don't mind," Miles said, the impatient edge returning to his voice.
"Sorry, sorry. Listen, I think I have one lead, at least. How about I go ask him, and you guys fan out and just... ask around, I guess? It's not much, but as you said, Miles, we have precious little to go on."

Miles simply nodded; Annie smiled and gave a quick thumbs-up. Art watched them leave as he scanned the tables, looking for his man - until he noticed that Jasmine hadn't moved from her seat, apparently deep in thought. Art approached her nervously.
"Er... Jasmine?"
If she was startled, she didn't show it; she just blinked and turned to look at him.
"Are - are you in on this?"
There was a pause before Jasmine answered, sounding a little annoyed. "Yes, Art, I am. I've been listening to everything that was said. You suggested we spread out; Miles and Annie have done so, and you were clearly about to, which leaves me to cover this area that we've been sitting at for the last five minutes. Any more questions?"
She's got a point. "... N-no," Art said sheepishly. "I'll, uh... I'll go. Good work. Sorry."
Her expression softened. "You're going red again, by the way."
Art moved very quickly to the other side of the room.

"I wake up every morning feeling awesome!
Even though I slept on the remote again last night..."
It just wouldn't be right to interrupt a song like this.
"Time to tear up another day,
the Bong Strad freakin' way!
Like an imploding star, like a burning car, my style shines so bright!"
It was a little amateurish, but Art couldn't help but smile at the lyrics.
"Please stop trying to handle my style,
'Cause you can't - no you can't - handle my style.
Seriously, quit trying to handle my style,
Unless you're a lady! Then you're cordially invited to have a giant slice of my style!"
The large man replaced the microphone on top of the karaoke screen. Art joined the very scattered attempt at applause as Strad stepped down, and got up to approach him.

"Well! If it isn't my favourite guy-who-I-played-poker-with-and-then-got-caught-The-Cheating-but-he-let-me-get-off-scot-free-and-then-helped-me-check-a-mah-emails!" Strad said. "How's it hangin', Garfunkel?"
Art wasn't entirely comfortable around Strad, but their last encounter had seemed to end on a positive note, so it was with some confidence that he responded.
"It's hangin'. Nice job on noticing I share my first name with a musician."
"Musician? I was thinkin' of that cat who hates Mondays."
Art rolled his eyes. "Yeah, OK. Listen, are you... pretty well acquainted with most of the people who hang out here?"
"Here? At the bar and karaoke stand? You could say that. If you're talkin' about that fighting cage, then, uh... nuh-uh. Not that I couldn't beat the everloving snot out of anyone who dared to handle my style, of course."
"Mm-hmm. I'm looking for a quick buck, basically, and..." Art thought of Mal, probably in the middle of an epic match, and of the disapproving Miles. "... There's no need for me to enter that arena. Know of any other prospects?"
Strad opened his mouth, and was immediately cut off by Art's afterthought. "Legitimate prospects."
Strad closed his mouth again and thought for a moment. "I guess that rules out fleecin' folks in Texas Hold 'Em using your own dang The Cheat. Hey, Bubs, you got any work you need done?"
The bartender, wiping out a glass with a damp rag as all good bartenders do, glanced over at Strad. "A decently-sized list, actually. TPin' the Stick, throwin' rocks through Old Man Marzipan's windows, stealin' stuff from my own dang bar... yeah! Get any of that stuff done for me, and I'll make it well worth your while!"

Three hours later, Art stumbled in with a basket full of what Bubs had referred to as "Grumblecakes"; they just seemed to be day-old muffins as far as Art could tell.
"I got... these things..." Art panted.
"Wow! That's the last thing on my to-do list!" Bubs said, pleased. "A jorb well done."
"I think one of those Skorupi broke the skin."
"Here's your well-earned dime! And by dime, I mean seventy-five big ones. Euros. Not dimes."
"I need medical attention."
"Come back soon! We're always awesome!"
Thank goodness Cass knows something about poisons and antidotes.

"Whaddaya mean, can you go in and talk to him!?" the huge bookie roared. Art trembled slightly but stood his ground.
"Look, we're getting the money together. I just want to let him know things are going okay."
"And what's supposed to stop you two from tryin' to gang up on me while my back is turned?"
"How?" Art asked. "You're enormous. Eric and I are both built like stringbeans."
The bookie stroked his chin. "How much you got so far?"
"Er. Seventy-five?"
"One hundred. And then I might consider it."
Art hesitated, then swore inwardly as he reached into his wallet and added several of his own notes to the wad Bubs had given him. He held it out to the bookie, who snatched it and counted it silently. Then, without warning, he seized Art's arm and pulled him - less roughly than he had Eric, but not gently by any means - to one of the locked rooms in the back. He undid the latch and shoved Art inside.
"Gimme a shout when you're done," he said gruffly, "and hope I hear ya."

It took some time for Art's eyes to adjust to the dark room, but he could already see the corner that a human-sized, foetal position-shaped blur sat. "Eric?"
"Oui." He sounded really tired.
"I, uh, I got some of the cash for that guy outside. Like, a fifth of the debt. We'll have you out of here soon, ok?"
No response. Art moved closer. "So... that's good. Right?"
"I suppose so."
"... Loving the enthusiasm here."
"'Ow can you do zis?"
Art stared at him incredulously. "What are you on about?"
"'Ow can you come back for me after ze burden I 'ave been?" Eric asked, increasing desperation in his voice. "After I bet exorbitant amounts of money I do not 'ave, against my companion zat I should 'ave 'ad confidence in, on a blood-sport my other companion is morally opposed to! And zat 'as only been while we 'ave been 'ere!"
"It was only an accident," Art paraphrased, "and she'd never hold it against you. Or anyone else."
"Wha-?"
"Annie. I couldn't say what Miles or any of the others think, but she's hell-bent on getting you out of here."
Eric looked at Art, head tilted to the side. Art shrugged. "True story."
Any reply of Eric's was cut off by the sound of his mobile phone. Out of habit, he flipped it open.
"Look at zat. A signal for ze first time in ze last week. What's zis...?"
Eric almost dropped the phone in shock as he read what was on the screen. Art grabbed his shoulder. "Eric, wha- ?"

Before any more could be said, the duo heard the door's latch click and the door creak open.
"If you girls are done makin' out," the bookie growled, "yer debt's been paid. Get outta here."
A shaking Eric and a wide-eyed Art almost ran out to the bar where Miles, Annie and Jasmine awaited them. Annie's immediate reaction was to embrace Eric tightly.
"ERICIWASWORRIEDABOUTYOUAREYOUOKAYHEDIDN'THURTYOUBADLYDIDHE"
She quickly transitioned to Art. "Art we did it, I did some waitressing for the bartender and then on my break I sang Pokemanz on the karaoke machine and it turns out people really liked it so they gave me really good tips and asked me to sing other things and I made like seventy Euros!"
Art didn't even have a chance to respond before Annie turned her worried attention back to Eric. Art glanced over at Miles, whose outfit was noticeably missing some details. "So, I take it you sold your shades and dog tags?"
Miles nodded, frowning. "Only got fifty Euros, too. C'mon, Ans, bring him to the table and let's get some food in him, it looks like he needs it."

"Seventy and fifty?" Art muttered. "Plus my hundred, that's... that's two hundred twenty. Where did -"
His gaze fell on Jasmine, who was also on her way to the table. "Where did you get two hundred and eighty Euros single-handed?" Art asked incredulously. Jasmine's head turned to face him.
"You haven't seen me when I'm really being persuasive, have you?" she said with a smirk.
"Persuasive?" Art glanced at the table he'd left Jasmine at earlier. "Did you even move? You were still sitting over there when I came in with all those Grumblecakes."
"What-cakes?"
"Well, they're actually day-old - no, focus! How on earth did -"
"Art." Jasmine's voice was now firm as she fixed him with a steely glare. "Please. Drop it."

“Force Palm!” Mal said for the upteenth time.

The fight was getting tedious, Chan was fast enough to dodge most Kingler’s heavy hits, but her attacks were barely scratching Kingler, and every move left Chan a bit slower to react. This time it caught up with her, causing her to try and counter the Crabhammer slamming down about her, barely able to roll away from it as she was overpowered.

“Quick Attack!”

“Vice Grip!”

Chan disappeared like a ghost, appearing right behind Kingler, landing right on top of Kingler, stomping his head like a dance, almost oblivious to the claw coming towards her. “Get out!” Mal shouted, showing too much of his emotion for the upteenth time. Chan responded by flipped off of Kingler’s head, recklessly diving through the pincers as they closed.

“No!” Mal screamed as Chan’s leg was caught, her tiny body thrown aside like a piece of trash by the Kingler. “Chan?” Mal said, his voice filled with fear. The Riolu hopped off the ground, cringing slightly as the pain in her foot spiked, but smiled cheerfully again, Mal sighed in relief.

“Ri!” The little cub whimpered as she tried a little gig, almost falling to her knees in pain. Mal grabbed at his Pokeball, ready to bring her back. It was too soon to send her out, especially here, she wasn’t like Marty or Ronin, she wasn’t as experienced.

“Come on, just get it over with,” Jason complained. “You’re overpowered, you’re trying to scale the wall of china with a paperclip and yarn.” Jason chuckled at his joke. “And a pretty dense paper clip too.”

Mal gritted his teeth, putting the Pokeball back onto his belt. Across the field Mal could see Chan’s smile waver for a moment, picking up on the negativity in the comment. In a single moment his fear turned into rage. Mal was fine with people mocking him, but his Pokemon were different, Chan especially so. I won’t let her smile be fake, not ever Mal thought as he stared at Jason. You will regret this.

“Chan, time to get dangerous,” Mal said, hoping he wouldn’t regret the oncoming plan. “Force Palm!”

“This again?” Jason said, faking a yawn. “Crabhammer!”

Chan charged at the Kingler, fists ready as Kingler slowly raised his left claw in anticipation.

What Jason’s Kingler lacked in speed it made up with timing, the entire battle it had taken a grand total of two steps, but it’s ability to track movement was top notch to the point where movement was unneeded. Even with her speed Chan could barely slip through him, always barely escaping a Vice Grip as she fled back away, Kingler content to wait for her to make the moves.



“Stop,” Mal ordered right as Chan got to Kingler, Chan stopping right under the Craphammer, afraid and confused. “Counter.” Chan’s eyes turned dead white, her body going limp at the command, Kingler’s swing already too far in motion for Jason to stop it.

“Still won’t be enough!” Jason shouted to Mal, his voice quivering ever so slightly.

From the start of the battle Mal made it clear he was afraid to let Chan get to hurt, but Jason had pushed his buttons. Chan would never grow if Mal held her back, “What doesn’t kill you.” Chan disappeared under the enormous Claw, foam fizzing around the impact sight. “Makes you hit harder.” The claw flew into the air like it weighed nothing, Chan grasping tight to the end of it, wielding Kingler’s wall of a body like a flail as she rose from the ground, spinning him almost casually. After the fourth spin Chan let him go, sending the Pokemon flying into the wall.

“What did I say?” Jason asked triumphantly. “Not even that’s enough to take down my man!”

“Step two,” Mal said to himself as Kingler crawled back to the field, at least this time he was scratched and slightly bruised, but it was nothing compared to how Chan looked. The Riolu was panting hard, her fur frayed and torn, little blood stains speckled over her from cuts.

“Quick Attack!” Chan bolted forward, her dead eyes locked right onto Kingler’s aura, and every little moment it made.

“Still at it? Well, I guess this beats...beating a,” Jason paused, not even paying attention to Kingler, knowing he would counter the move on his own. His confidence in this match was overwhelming to Mal. Even at his peak Mal had doubts, fear, but Jason was committed to his Pokemon and himself. “I just can’t think of the word.”

Kingler went to work as Jason spaced out, focused solely on finding the word, Kingler sending a dual blast of Bubble Beams to surround himself, ensuring Chan couldn’t get in without taking her final bit of damage.

“Don’t stop. Vacuum Wave. Slide.” Mal said in his awkward, yet somehow understandable, shorthand.

“Giver Upper? No too awkward.”

Building off the momentum of Quick Attack, Chan started to twirl, a gust of air surrounding her as she approached Kingler. Without stopping Chan released the wing, blasting away the protective bubbled with a fist shaped wave of air, sliding underneath Kingler’s body as full speed, popping up behind him.

“Reversal!”

“Forfeiter! Wait is that a wo- Vi-Grip!” Jason came back to just in time to see Chan preparing her attack, stuttering out his command just seconds too late.

Chan closed her eyes as she gathered her energy, every bit of pain and injury converting itself into more damage, her body glowing red and black as it powered up. The aura faded from her body, collecting itself completely into her right fist, a bloody, bruised fist forming from it. Kingler desperately tried to get his claw to close in time, knock her out before it could finish, but Chan’s eyes opened, right as the enormous claw started to close. The fist slammed into Kingler’s belly, a devastating Uppercut sending him flying into the air, followed by Chan appearing back on his flying body with a Quick Attack, slamming Kingler straight back down, already unconscious before he hit the floor.

“Gotcha,” Mal said, smiling as he caught Jason’s confidence drop again. Chan stood next to the Kingler shaped pit she had made, panting heavily as the Reversal-fist disappeared. As her eyes changed back to normal she smiled, attempting a victory dance, only to stop shortly into it as she realized how little energy she had left in her. “Rest while you can.” Chan nodded, laying back against the wall and going into meditation mode, trying to scavenge any energy she could before Jason made his next choice.

“You got lucky,” Jason lied, though it was mostly to himself. Mal just smiled, taking an odd pride in his work. It wasn’t so much the victory that made him feel good, but the moments where he put his own insecurities on his opponents, sapping away their confidence for himself. “Don’t count on luck to keep you going.” Jason grabbed another Pokeball, nearly crushing it.

“I don’t believe in luck,” Mal said as he looked over at Chan, glancing down at his belt, his team. “I believe in them.”

“Boo!” came a shout from the crowd. Apparently being sentimental didn’t agree with them.

“Durden, put this doggy down.”

Mal put his hand up as a Tyrogue formed in The Pit. “Wait, you’re using four Pokemon? I only have three? How is this fair.”

“Rules are rules,” Jason said. “I told the referee very clearly that I was requesting a four versus four.”

“He did.” Came a shout from a cracked door. “Dammit Laura stop drowning!”

“See? Not my fault you didn’t ask.”

Mal just shook his head. “Fine, take six Pokemon if you need to.”

“Chan, Prankster time.” chan perked back up, having gathered a bit of energy and health back from her calming rest.

“Durden, Mach Punch!”

“Chan, Agility, Iron Defence!”
Chan vanished as Tyrogue (Durden) slammed his fist into what was now empty air, Chan safely behind the Pokemon, a metallic shine flashing over her body as she disappeared again.

“Keep it up!” Mal shouted, leading to the field being covered with a disappearing gleam of metal as Chan spammed stat increases, not even Tyrogue’s quickest moves able to keep up with her.

“This is just dirty.”

“But completely legal,” Mal said.

“That is correct,” the ref shouted through the door. “Oh come on I totally made that jump!”

“I can only use the ability once anyway, so don’t worry too much.”

Mal allowed himself to take a breath. The match was like the opposite of the last one, allowing him to sit and wait while Jason pulled out his hair in frustration. In reality this match meant nothing, Chan was a goner no matter how many defence boosts he got, it was a test mostly. After sheltering Chan for so long he needed to test a few limits, figure out how much she could take, offensively and defensively. The days of relying on Marty were over, Mal had put his faith in Ronin, and Chan deserved the same treatment.

The test couldn’t last forever though, Mal knew Chan was happy to push herself and had energy to spare no matter what, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have limits. Plus, it would just be mean to make the Tyrogue keep doing the same song and dance. Along with Jason's increasingly defeated commands hitting a bit to close to home for Mal to continue. And the crowd was growing tired, and pissing off the Metal Army was nightmare fuel enough.

“Hey, remember earlier?” Mal said, snapping out of his observation mode. “When you told me I should give up because we were getting nowhere?”

“Yes,” Jason said bitterly. “I remember.”

“I’ve had a change of heart.”

Jason stared at Mal, confused.

“Chan, go in with a Brick Break. Slow.”

Chan stopped moving, appearing straight in front of Tyrogue. completely unmoving as she raised her fist, taking her time as she landed her blow, making sure to hit the perfect spot on the tiny fighter. It wasn’t over though, as Tyrogue buried his fist into Chan’s gut as he spiraled into the ground, putting all his remaining energy into the hit. The two Pokemon both fell to the ground, completely unconscious.

Jason returned his Pokemon, stuffing the ball into his pocket with frustration, but Mal saw him whisper something into it. Mal couldn't help but feel sorry, sure he lacked confidence a lot, but at least he won, at least his Pokemon came back happy. Jason had gone from the top of the world to clinging onto the edge.

“You did good, Chan,” Mal whispered into the Pokeball. “I’m sorry I underestimated you for so long.”

“Jazz, finish this.” The Gligar nodded, taking back his perch at the top of the dome.

“Marty, kill it with fire.”

“Quil…” Marty growled weakly.

Mal frowned when he saw Marty emerge, his body was already shaking, the cuts and bruises from the ages of soloing the ring, and cage, showing their toll. Mal didn’t have time to screw around with the last battle, or it might be more than just a faint at the end of it. If there was any chance that Marty would acknowledge the situation and let Mal forfeit he would, but that was a futile pipe dream.

At the other end of the field Jason looked content. Already he had learned not to get too cocky, but seeing Marty the way he was put some confidence back into him, some hope that he might win. Even if Mal had already technically beaten him.

Commotion in The Pit drew their attention. Jasmine walked over, leading the group by a few steps, and making sure Murtle had come back from putting Jasmine's wallet in the suitcases. Nothing quite so secure as keeping emergency cash between dimensions.

They walked in to the referee calling "Alright, fuckers, Mal wins with three out of four knockouts!"

"But I knocked out all of his!" another boy said.

"He knocked out your three first."

Jasmine rolled her eyes and pushed forward, ignoring Miles shouting after her, asking what she was doing. The rest of the group tried to push after her, only to be shoved out by people crowding forward, calling for a trainer fight, this time.

Jasmine popped out of the masses and stumbled forward a step, an invisible hand on her shoulder keeping her from falling flat on her face.

The commotion stopped when the other guy, the ref, and eventually Mal noticed she was there.

Jasmine smiled. "Need a win?"

Mal blinked at her. The ref was faster on his mental feet. "Tag team match?"

Jasmine nodded. "Yes."

Mal snapped out of it with a small headshake. "Wait, what?"

"That's not legal!" the other guy yelled over the suddenly much louder crowd.

"It's four vs four pokemon," the ref yelled back.

Jasmine held out her hand for Mal to hit. "Tag out, Nine. Let's take him."

Mal blinked and stepped forward, slapping her palm with his and walking towards outside of the ring. She stepped up, taking his place in the arena.

"Jason vs Princess, begin!"

A clock counted down to signal when she could pick her pokemon. She snapped her fingers, and Murtle appeared over her shoulders.

"Let's take him down."

The apparently named Jason snorted. "First I'm fighting some half rate, now a girl with a ghost. C'mon princess, fight!"

"Murtle, rain dance."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Not even gonna do anything? Jazz, Faint Attack."

Gligar was slower from the rain, giving Jasmine just enough time to smirk in a way that made Jason's face begin falling. "Ice Punch."

Murtle's hand lifted into a fist, frost forming quickly around the ghostly appendage and gaining thickness by the second from the continued downpour. Gligar kept getting closer, but left its defences open for one single hit. Ice punch connected, interrupting the attack before it had even hit ten percent intensity.

It was sent flying back against the wall, battered but not out yet. Murtle was swaying in place, the dark attack having done some damage. Jason puffed out his chest, glaring at the field. "Faint Attack again, Jazz!"

Jasmine sighed. "You really want to try that again?" Not giving him time to answer she called out, "Turn this into a snowstorm, Murtle, and give 'em another punch."

Icy Wind swept the field, slowing Gligar down even farther and causing him to be weighed down by wet, heavy snow mixed with the rain still falling. The second ice punch didn't give him half a chance.

The snow and wind stopped after it had piled up an inch thick over Gligar and the resulting structure had collapsed once Jason recalled the pokemon. Murtle bounced along as it floated back, happy at getting a chance to battle for once.

"Match to Princess and Mal. Now get outta here and clean this up."

While it was tempting to bring Roy out, Jasmine figured it was best not to make this place unbearably humid. Bows and ruffles tended to collapse under humidity, and hers had remained mostly unscathed.

Miles was standing on the sidelines, one eyebrow raised. "The hell was that?"

Jasmine just grinned at him. "The reason I'm going to take you down."

Annie and poochyena both stared in the direction of the arena with bewildered expressions that looked so much alike, it was uncanny. Watching Jasmine saunter off the field as if it was completely normal to win such a battle in two seconds. Watching Mal carry his injured quilava in his arms with a downcast face. Watching Jason Mason shouting vulgarity in their direction.

Wait.

"Marty..." Annie's eyes locked on the quilava, and she hurried past the content-yet-proud Jasmine and fell into step with Mal. "How is he--ohhh, he needs a PokeCenter real bad."

A water droplet suddenly splashed onto quilava's stomach, and Annie looked up at Mal's face, though he was very carefully hiding hit from view. She put a hand on his arm. "Mal?"

"Annie, where's that kit." It wasn't a question. Miles had approached them, eyes only on the knocked-out Marty. She pulled Jasmine's kit out of her bag and opened it for him to dig through.

"Well?" Mal said, his voice wavering. "I suppose you can say it."

Miles' eyes flashed up at Mal's bowed head for only a brief instant so he could apply an ointment to Marty's wounds. "Say what?"

"I told you so." There was an uneasy silence before Mal finally turned his face up at Miles. "Say it already. The silence is deafening."

However, Miles continued to stand silently, treating the quilava. His paws twitched whenever a tender spot was touched, and a whimper sounded when he was too rough. Marty's head reared back over Mal's arm either from pain or from sleep. Whatever the case, Annie's poochyena leaned forward and sniffed the quilava now that it was in range.

"It was you who said this was bad news," Mal continued, voice low. "It only hurts them. Battles aren't games, right? It's only a game until someone gets hurt. And this time, everyone did."

Miles looked up at him when Mal's shoulders drooped another two inches. Annie watched Miles, hoping he would make some sort of comfort to their friend. Righteousness aside.

To her relief, Miles ever-so-lightly pushed his shoulder so Mal looked back up at him. Miles smirked. "You kicked his ass. Expected no less."

Mal smiled and looked down at his quilava. "Yeah." He nodded, his expression brighter when he looked back at Miles' encouragement. "Yeah, we did, didn't we?"

"We'll make a stop by the pokemon center before we head out," Miles said, sticking a large band-aid on quilava's shoulder.

Annie whimpered.

"Aaand perhaps spend the night as well," Miles added.

She grinned, closing the first aid kit when Miles dropped his hands to his side. After stuffing it back into her bag, she resumed carrying poochyena with two hands. "This little guy could use a stop there too, I think."

"Little guy's looking a lot better than he did before," Miles put in as the three of them walked back toward their group.

"He does! Jasmine's first aid kit, I swear, is ten times better than the one I had. It works miracles," she said with the widest eyes.

"Where'd you find the little guy anyway?" Mal asked.

Annie made the largest gasp as she turned around and proceeded to walk backwards as she told this story. "Oh my gosh, it is the saddest scariest mostawful thing--" Annie didn't notice, but Miles made the here-we-go-again look, a small smile playing on his lips.

----

"Hello, and welcome to the Pokemon Center. We restore your tired Pokemon to full health. Would you like to rest your Pokemon?"

"Yes, please!" Annie said, setting poochyena on the counter. She also set her other pokeballs on the counter as well. "These, too! It doesn't hurt for a good check-up once in a while--"

"OK, I'll take your Pokemon for a few seconds."

The nurse took the three pokeballs plus poochyena and set them down behind her. A machine whirred.

The nurse turned around with a bright smile. "Next!"

Mal walked up to the counter.

"Hello, and welcome to the Pokemon Center. We restore your tired Pokemon to full health. Would you like to rest your Pokemon?"

"...er. Yes?" He set his pokeballs on the counter.

"OK, I'll take your Pokemon for a few seconds."

Rinse and freaking repeat.

The seconds seemed to drag on for a long while. Everyone ended up sitting in the lounge area while they waited, but it wasn't too much of a bother as everyone had stories to share to catch everyone else up. Eventually everyone new of the newest pokemon additions, the adventure into the Champ's Cage, and the surprise rescue they made for Eric. Annie went on and on about the many song requests she got while waitressing.

"And you scrounged up 500 euros from waitressing, singing, selling, and battling? Woah..." Mal blinked, letting it all process as he stared out the window into the blackest night. "We could start a business."

"The Irish-American-Australian-Frenchian-Pakistani... Incorporation?"

"More like the Irish-American-Australian-Frenchian-Pakistani Circus."

"Vy doez Irish get to go first?"

"The Mysterious Inc.?!"

"Kingdra Corp!"

"None of us have a kingdra to begin with..."

"WHATEVER: Doing whatever-you-want whenever you want it for whatever reason. We really don't give a whatever."

"I can't believe that's our best suggestion yet..."

"Well, if it isn't the Malakazam!"

Everyone looked up, recovering from the many laughs, as Matt walked inside, his jacket apparently dripping with rain. He was grinning, despite the fact Annie was worried he would catch cold. "I didn't even know it was raining outside. It's so dark..." Annie said, swinging her leg beneath her on the couch to get a better view.

Matt shrugged, laughing it off. "Bah, it just started. It's not raining that bad. It's just a long walk from the bar to here. Gotta say, Maldawg, you were pretty fucking awesome tonight."

"Thanks--"

"Sang the best beer song tonight! My haaat, it haaas three cornersss-- holy hic!"

Annie fell back into the couch and inevitably leaned against Miles as she drug her foot back out from under her. "Is he drunk..." she muttered.

Matt turned about until he somehow magically ended up plopping himself on the armchair's arm next to Mal. He swung an arm around Mal's shoulder and continued singing, though not in... English. "Il mio cappello ha tre punte!"

"We didn't leave that long ago, did we?" Annie asked.

"Well... I guess he could've gotten drunk in that time," Art said, almost too eager to jump on that math problem as he looked away and started drawing numbers in the air with his finger.

"Iiiii'll give you a hint!" Matt said, leaning forward. He waved his arms wildly toward himself. "Come in, though! It's a sssssecret shhhhh."

Everyone gave each other strange looks. Jasmine didn't seem too bothered by the command, however, and continued to sit back in the other couch. Miles also wasn't too keen in moving. Of course, the whisper was loud enough that the entire pokecenter could hear him.

"I'm...Batman."

"Okay, he's drunk."

"I didn't smell anything on his breath, though," Art said, still leaned forward. His nose was scrunching and un-scrunching as he tried to reach for any sign of alcohol. "Yeah, I'm not getting anything."

"The rain could've washed it off?"

"The rain doesn't wash alcohol out of your breath, Ans."

"Okay, okay. Come in again," Matt said, waving his hands again. Everyone minus Miles and Jasmine leaned forward. "Never talk about the thing. The thing is a secret thing that must never be talked about. Shhhhh."

Silence.

"Okay, maybe I'm catching cold from the rain," Art said, rubbing his nose and making a looong sniff in hopes of clearing up what's already obviously clear.

"Non, I can recognize ze stench anywhere," Eric said, leaning back in his chair with a little pride etched in his face. "Eet eez zere, but barely. He didn't drink that much. Just enough to put on an act, I imagine."

"An act?"

"Oh." Everyone looked at Mal and he scratched his head. "Rule #1 of -- uh. the thing. the beer song. Don't talk about it."

Matt suddenly slapped Mal upside the head. "SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH."

"Thank you for waiting. We've restored your Pokémon to full health. We hope to see you again!"

"Music to my ears!" Miles said, the first on his feet. Annie followed him with the rest of the gang as they arrived at the counter. The nurse handed out everyone's pokeballs. Well, she tried. After walking away from the counter, everyone looked at the pokeballs they held.

"I think I have one too many."

"I imagine poochyena's in one somewhere..."

"Where's Marty--why do you have Marty?" Mal asked, glaring at Eric's hands.

"Ze same reazon you 'ave a larvitar, I imagine," Eric replied.

"But I have larvi--oh, wait." Miles looked at Annie, holding it out to her with a sly grin. "It's not larvitar."

She pouted, yanking the muk from his hand.

The gang exchanged the pokeballs until everything was put right. The mysterious pokeballs had to be let out, however, as the new pokemon were unfamiliar to everyone. Mal's Dewott now jumped around his feet, and Annie's poochyena...

The poochyena ran away.

Annie half-ran after it, but it ran too quickly out the door, barking wildly into the now-pouring rain. She stood in front of the door, staring out the window at the pooch. He ran in circles and howled into the night. Then it broke into a run down the sidewalk.

"Poochyena..." Annie followed it down the line of windows until she couldn't anymore due to a wall hitting her in the face. She rubbed the tender bruise on her forehead turning around solemnly. She stared at pokeballs in her other hand, including the muk ball, and put them all back in her bag.

"Can't catch them all, Ans."

She nodded, pausing in silence for a moment. Then she slapped a smile on her face and looked up at him with a ^_^ "I'm glad he's feeling better! He's a tough soldier, that one."

"Hello, and welcome to the Pokemon Center. We restore your tired Pokemon to full health. Would you like to rest your Pokemon?"

"Yeah, all four."

"OK, I'll take your Pokemon for a few seconds."

"Hey, it's that punk kid you squashed during karaoke night!" Matt shouted, shoving a pointing finger in the boy's direction, swaying a bit. Jason turned around and looked at them, though his eyes landed on Mal. Then Jasmine. His eyes narrowed. "How's it feel to suck, loser moser--"

"Shut the fuck up," he snapped.

"Hey, you put up a fair, er.. sing-off," Mal said awkwardly. "I don't know the last time I was pushed so hard." He walked up and held a hand out.

Jason's eyes shot down at the extended hand then up at Mal. He shook it. "Next time, though -- and there will be a next time -- you'd better hope you have the same luck."

"It wasn't luck," Mal said, patting the pokeballs on his belt, "but I'll sing the best fucking song you'll have ever heard."

"The slowest ballad, I'm sure. I'll be sure to jazz it up for you."

"Word," Matt said, throwing out drunken gangster signs in awkward angles.

"Keep this up and you'll be rockin' the charts," Jasmine put in.

Jason looked over at Jasmine, not really eager to say anything. His face seemed to flush a bright shade of pink, though, and he turned around at the counter. "How long you got, doc?"

"A few seconds!"

He groaned, his head falling into his arms on the counter.

"Where are you headed, Jason?" Annie encouraged, sensing the awkward silence between everyone. "If you're headed to Warsaw--"

"Nah, I'm headed a different way," he said quickly. He looked up and squinted his eyes at her. "You remind me of someone. Did you dye your hair?"

"O: No! No, I haven't, but I was considering a bright red shade! Kind of like Ariel from--"

"No, don't. Don't do the red thing." He turned back around, finding courage to face the group again, when he jumped out of his skin. "HOLY SH--"

Murtle the haunter cackled and vanished as soon as he had appeared.

Jason ran a hand through his hair, recovering himself. "He also looks familiar."

"Iz 'e okay?"

Jason's eyes widened, and he jumped back into the counter when he noticed Eric was an existing member of this group.

"I sense you're having an odd attack of deja vu," Art said, studying him.

"YOU LOOK JUST LIKE SOMEONE FAMILIAR WHAT IN BLAZIKEN--"

"Dude." Mal put a hand on Jason's shoulder and shook him until Jason looked at him. His eyes got wider, if that were even possible, and both hands through his hair this time. "Hey, don't let it get to you. It was an awesome battle. Go get some sleep, man--"

"wtf am i eleven again what the hell man--"

"Hey, Sunshine," Matt cooed, swinging an arm around Annie's shoulders. He pulled out a deck of cards. "Care to share a cig wit me?"

Jasonmind = blown.

"Okay, I gotta jet," he said, turning around. "Are my seconds over yet?"

Right on cue: "Thank you for waiting. We've restored your Pokémon to full health. We hope to see you again!"

Jason picked them all up and put them away. He turned around but was stopped by Mal standing in his way. "Hey," he said and gave a hearty nod. "Until our next battle."

Jason straightened himself, completely recomposed into the man they had originally seen at thesecretthing. He smirked and nodded. "Until next time. Oh--" He turned around and looked at no one except Jasmine. His cheeks turned pink again, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He gulped. "You did good, by the way."

The corner of Jasmine's mouth lifted in a sideways smile.

Jason's face relaxed a bit and he made that same-old confident, prideful look. "Don't be surprised if I end up challenging you, too! The only way I can be the best is if I beat the best!"

"That's great, kid," Jasmine said, not really surprised at the dramatic change in tone. "Don't get cocky."

Jason tipped his hat at Mal again -- 'cause he totes has a hat -- and walked out the door, tripping on his way out into the pouring rain.

Everyone looked at each other. Matt was even watching Jason leave, sitting in silence with everyone. Finally, Miles broke the silence. "I guess we'll just camp out here for the night." He led them all back to the lounge area they were at. "Not really in the mood for renting rooms right now, and I guess it would be a Bad Thing if you guys slept in the rain." He fell down onto his spot on the couch.

Annie settled in next to him again as everyone else resumed their spots, too. Matt, however, was still standing, hands shoved in his pockets. "You guys are leaving, then? Warsaw, was it?"

Mal looked up at him. "You headed there?"

Matt shrugged. "Just.... I think Jason took the words out of my mouth, so to speak. Until next time--"

"Hold on." They all looked at Annie, who bit her lip with embarrassment. "I mean..." Her shoulders lifted up to her ears. "Are you in the festival, too?"

Matt pulled out his box of cigarettes this time and took one out.

"We got space in the back," Mal said suddenly, hopping on the bandwagon, "of the truck, I mean. We got space in the truck. We're going the same way, anyway. Might as well stick together, eh?" He looked at Miles expectantly.

Miles took a long moment before noticing that Mal was waiting on him. "Hm? Oh. Yeah. Especially if you can drive."

"Oh, you can tag-team-drive!" Annie squealed.

Matt smirked and was about to light a cigarette when a fierce, "NOT IN HERE YOU DON'T!" sounded from the counter. He begrudgingly stuffed his lighter back into his pocket.

"Sounds fun," he finally said.

"So that makes us the Irish-American-Australian-Frenchian-Pakistani-Italian Incorporation... yes?"

----

Splash! Splash!

Annie held her feet out over a puddle in front of the bench she was sitting in. She would occasionally splash the puddle, if only a little, just to see how big and small of splashes she could make.

SPLASH! SPLASH!

"MUK! MUK!"

Annie didn't pay him much attention, but the muk was almost too excited about the idea of playing in the rain. He had to play in every single puddle he could find. Sometimes, he'd come back toward her just to wave his hands in excitement before finding a new puddle. "Be careful, Melon," she would say, if only half-heartedly.

It didn't take long for the rain to completely drench her, straight through her clothes. Goosebumps were everywhere, and she would rub her arms even though she knew it was doing nothing.

"Muk! Mukmuk! MUK--"

SPLASH! went the mud as a biker drove right by her and through a puddle. She spit out as much mud as she can, but that was about as much motion as she cared to make. Muk had flailed his way back over to her and leaned over the bench. "Muk?"

"I'm fine."

"Muuuuk. :C" He pat her knee. It didn't even faze her.

Annie looked away and down the road after the biker, the streetlamps the only source of light outside.

She couldn't sleep. That was the extent of it. The only reason she decided to step outside, despite the rain. The sopping newspaper on the other side of the bench had the weather forecast staring back at her, declaring the next week having chances of rain.

"What do you think, Annie?" Mama asked as Annie entered the kitchen. "Should it go here? Or the table?"

Annie crawled onto the stool and looked at the centerpiece on the island, Mama turning it this way and that. "I like it here! You can put sunflowers on the table so that we can be all happy for dinner!"

Mama laughed. "That's right! Because sunflowers--"

"--cast rays of happiness on everyone that looks at them!" they said in unison.

Mama put her hands on her hips and admired the pot of roses on the counter. Her budew waddled up and poured its plastic watering can over the centerpiece.

Headlights appeared in the distance. Not many cars were found around these parts, it seemed. "Melon," she said, but muk was already on his way to the side of the road.

There was a growl.

A howl.

"...muk?"

Annie looked up at where Melon was looking. She had to hold a hand up to help block some of the light from the oncoming car, but as they came closer, she could soon make out a small animal or pokemon running away from the vehicle. Annie jumped to her feet and made to run after it when her muk was already well on his way.

"MELON PLEASE COME BACK OH MY--"

"Ans? What are you doing out--"

Miles' voice was drowned out by the rain, however. Annie barely noticed him at all. Everything happened so fast.

So fast.

She closed her eyes and squatted all the way down, buring her face into her arms and shaking her head. Would she lose everyone? Do they all enter her life only to leave her again?

A whimper. The car drove past without a honk.

Annie couldn't tell if rain or tears were running down her face.

"Ans, what the hell are you doing out here? You're soaking wet, and we don't have a shower for you to use, you know--"

"They're all leaving," she sobbed, rocking back and forth. "They all just leave."

"The poochyena had its own life, and you helped it get better so that it can continue to do so." Miles grabbed her arm and pulled her up. "C'mon, let's go in and grab some tea. I bet you'll catch cold. And you're the one who'd nag everyone to come inside from the rain--is that your muk?"

"MUK! MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUK!"

Annie looked up, sniffling, when that purple animated blob bounced its way over, a little ball of fur in his arms. Annie squeaked, hands flying up to her face as she knew -- for sure -- tears streaming down her face. "Melon, you blubbering idiot!" she wailed, running up to him and falling to her knees, never mind the new scrapes she got in the process.

It was poochyena, but he wasn't hurt at all by the sudden liveliness he portrayed. He looked up from muk's arms, ears perked as he looked around him. His head was moving so fast, Annie could only see a yellow blur hanging from his mouth.

Then his eyes found Annie.

He jumped out of muk's arms, growling and barking at everyone as he ran around. He circled around Annie a few times before finally stopping in front of her, tail wagging frantically. His head lifted and he jumped a bit, indicating his gift.

A sunflower.

Annie sobbed a smile as she took it. "You shouldn't have!"

Poochyena barked. His tongue hung out as he panted then jumped straight into her arms. She hugged him tight.

Miles sloshed up from behind. "Guess not all of them leave, huh?"

Poochyena licked her face over and over as she stood up, laughing. "I think I'd rather have a nice hot cup of hot cocoa. What do you think, Cocoa?" she asked.

He howled.

"AW C'MON!"

"NO!"

"PRETTY PLEASE?!"

"NO!"

"WITH SUGAR AND UNICORNS AND SHIT ON TOP?!"

"...NO!"

This had gone on for hours. Matt wanted a drink. Matt wanted a cigarette. Matt wanted to piss in every body of water they passed because marking your territory fucking counts, man. Finally, the sign for PLONSK came up, and Miles pulled the truck over into a gas station to fill up. Miles patted his pockets for money and came up empty. "Anybody got any cash?"

Everyone looked down at their jeans to check, and Miles caught in the corner of his eye Jasmine, reaching into her purse and pulling out a very large note of money. She bent over and squealed. "Look what I found on the ground!"

"Aw man! You always have all the luck!"

"Eet eez not fair, you and jor money-finding abiliteez! Eet eez enough to make a man zcreem!"

Jasmine handed Miles the note and wandered off into the store where several screams were produced as (surprise, surprise) Murtle and Ariel came out of their Pokeballs. A faint giggle could be heard over the ruckus. Miles stretched and looked at himself in the reflective glass on the truck's door. His hair was getting longer than it'd ever been. Any longer and Annie would start to comment. Maybe a shave was in order. He shrugged it off and, with his shoulder-length hair under his hat, trudged into the store to pay for gas.

The line was long and the store was freezing. Miles' stomach rumbled aloud, and he wondered if others had heard it. He picked up a pack of crackers and began reading the nutritional value, mostly to see if they were vegan-friendly or not.

"NOBODY MOVE!"

Jesus Christ.

"THIS IS A ROBBERY!"

Miles looked up as two burly white punks stood up on the counter, holding guns. Miles clicked one of his Pokeballs and grinned to himself under his sunglasses as Megaman, boastful and imposing, emerged from his pokeball. The punks backed away. "HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE AIMIN' DAT CHICKEN BRO!"

"Oh, you mean this giant badass chicken that's about to kick your butts? Oh, I aim this chicken very carefully."

One of the goons aimed a gun at Combusken. "Disarm'em." Combusken used quick attack, gathering the guns in his hands. "And what do we do with guns, Megaman?" He spat out a ball of fire that melted the steel together in one giant lump. "Nicely done. Now please return their guns to them." Megaman reared back and tossed the flaming steel ball at the first goon. He caught it and screamed, dropping it into his partner's hands.

"You take it!"

"Naw you take it!"

"Naw you take it!"

"Megaman, could you please show them the door?"

Combusken nodded and picked the two thugs up by the backs of their underwear, readying a kick.

"Aaaaand launch."

"SKEN!" The kick landed on their asses, sending them flying through the glass window and crashing into a building across the street. Miles was next up at the counter. "Forty Euros in petrol, please."

The cashier had wide, glad eyes. "For you, Petrol is free, my friend! And crackers! Free crackers for your friends!"

Outside, Miles sat in the truck, eating his fiber-rich lunch. The others gathered back into the truck gradually. They were all staring at Miles incredulously. He held up one of the boxes of crackers. "Lunch, anyone?"