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[Pokémon] The Thinking Man's Guide to Destroying the World

Cutlerine

Gone. May or may not return.
1,030
Posts
13
Years
My apologies, bobandbill; I clean forgot to reply to your review. Thank you for pointing out spacing errors; they have now been removed, along with the superfluous 'they'.

Without further ado...

Chapter Twenty-One: Styrofoam Peanuts

On a black-velvet-topped cabinet, next to a black-duveted bed in a black-painted room somewhere in a black-painted hotel in a dark, disreputable district of Slateport, Darren Goodwin's phone was ringing.

"Hello?" he said, waking swiftly and answering it. Then: "You're joking, right?" There was a pause, and then he said: "Fine. I'll... I'll get right on it."

He hung up, swore softly and slipped out of bed. Once up, he donned suit, lab coat and green overcoat, and left the black-walled hotel as silently as a ghost. His contacts had informed him that his targets were no longer in Slateport.

Twenty minutes later, the Goodwin was speeding north in the first-class carriage of the 1.13 for Mauville.

---

"I can't believe that woman," fumed Sapphire, as we strode down the third-floor corridor at Mauville's Pokémon Centre.

"What was she talking about?" I asked. It seemed to me to be a girl thing – or at least, I couldn't see it.

It's not a girl thing. You're just a moron.

"She thought that you and I..." Sapphire looked physically ill, as if about to throw up. "That we were..."

I got it then, and had to confess that it was the most repugnant thing I'd heard in a long time.

"No!" I cried. "Surely not?"

"You're an insensitive buffoon for not getting it," Sapphire said, "but yes. That was it."

Would it really be so bad to be Sapphire's lover? Puck asked.

Are you insane? I thought back angrily.

You've been listening to me for days now. What do you think?

As he so often did, he had given me something I couldn't think of an answer to, so I ignored him, and turned to the door of room 74 instead. Sapphire swiped the card key through the lock, and we went in.

The first thing that either of us noticed was the conspicuously large double bed in the centre of the room, but we both pointedly ignored it. Sapphire sat down on it and sighed.

"OK, Kester, the usual choice. Cupboard or ball?"

Go for the cupboard, Puck said.

Why?

Look at it. It's a walk-in one, and it's huge.

I glanced at it surreptitiously. It seemed I was in luck tonight.

"Cupboard," I said.

"OK," Sapphire said. "Not the big one, though. You can have the other one."

She pointed to a different one, which was actually a credenza; it was long and low, and although I could have fitted in it, it would have been much like spending the night in a coffin.

"Can I ask why?"

"I need the big cupboard."

"Why? Everything you have is in the bag, and we're leaving tomorrow morning anyway."

"Because I refuse to sleep in that bed."

"I was psyched up to argue, but I can actually kind of understand that," I said.

I can't. It's probably a human thing, isn't it?

I think so
, I thought back.

Sapphire got up and went over to the door.

"Right," she said, "come with me. Let's see if they're still serving food."

They were – though they were about to close, and we ate quickly and under the irate gaze of a small crowd of disgruntled kitchen staff who wanted to throw us out and clear up. After that, Sapphire took Rono and Toro to the Centre's doctors, and, leaving them in the care of a licensed Nurse Joy, came back up to the room, where she and I entered our respective cupboards, bade each other a curt goodnight and shut the doors.

---

The boy with jade eyes sat on the bench, and waited for the midnight bus to Lantzarine Street. Beside him, a brown-skinned Pokémon crouched on the wooden slats of the seat, armoured head lowered against the drizzle. On his other side, a plump man in a blue shirt and sunglasses was reading a newspaper.

"Scott," said the boy, "where is this place, exactly?"

"Southeast," replied the plump man. "Out to sea, on an artificial island. Why?"

"Just curious."

The boy looked to his right, and caught a fistful of raindrops in one hand.

"When's our flight?"

"Tomorrow, at twelve."

"Cancel it and book a different one."

Scott looked up from his paper, the lenses of his sunglasses flashing in the streetlight.

"What?"

"There's something here," the boy said. "Something happening. I want to see it first."

"What do you mean?"

"There's someone here I have to fight."

Despite Scott's efforts to make him talk, that was all he would say; eventually, the man gave up, and went back to his paper.

The boy with jade eyes smiled to himself, and watched the rain splash into the puddles on the road.

---

At about ten o'clock the next morning, I rolled sleepily out of the credenza, fell a foot onto the floor and woke up with a jolt.

"Ugh," I mumbled, staring at the carpet. "What was that?"

Then I remembered where I was, and got slowly to my feet.

Good morning, Dracula, said Puck brightly. How was your coffin?

"Shut up," I said, heading to the bathroom. "You know I can't take this first thing in the morning."

Exhausted by the effort of this long sentence, I almost gave up halfway to the door; with a remarkable exertion of willpower, I dragged myself through, shut the door, and was immediately startled into full wakefulness by my reflection in the mirror.

Wow. Puck gave a low whistle. That eye looks nasty.

Yesterday, the area around my eye had been puffy, tender and bruised; today, the colours had deepened to a rich violet-black, shot through with red-yellow highlights. It actually hurt less, and the swelling had gone down a bit – but it looked incredible. I looked like I'd been set upon by a thug with a lead pipe.

That guy didn't need a pipe, said Puck darkly. He was a living weapon in himself.

"Thanks for that," I muttered, and started undressing.

After an extended and long-overdue shower, I emerged into the bedroom to find Sapphire up and considerably more awake than I had been. She had spread a map of Mauville out on the table, and was kneeling next to it with a pencil in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.

"Where'd you get that?" I asked.

"I've already been to breakfast," she replied. "And I brought some back with me."

"Any for me?" I asked hopefully.

"Get your own. Not now!" she added, as I headed for the door. "First, come here and look at this."

Sighing, I sat down next to her, and looked dutifully at the map.

"What am I meant to see?"

"The Spectroscopic Fancy Company HQ, right here." She jabbed at a small spot on the map, on a road named 'Zinfandel Avenue'. "That's where we're headed today. After going to the Gym, of course."

"OK," I said. "Can I have breakfast now?"

Sapphire glanced at the wall clock.

"You have fifteen minutes," she said, and I left the room at a sprint.

---

Half an hour later, the bus from the Centre pulled up in Mauville Central Depot; public transport was a welcome luxury after so much walking, and both Sapphire and I had agreed we ought to take it rather than walk. Twenty minutes after that, we arrived at the Gym, which was a massive concrete structure that resembled the love child of an electrical substation and a disused factory: its walls were blank and grey, and several of the windows on its upper floors were broken and boarded up; a complex series of wires swooped from pylon to pylon around the roof and perimeter, and some sort of machinery connected to a pair of smokestacks projected from one corner. The whole thing was surrounded by a tall chain-link fence with signs hung from it at intervals; these proclaimed it to be electrified, and also had a small and unpleasantly detailed picture of someone in intense pain being electrocuted.

"Charming place," I said, eyeing the signs with unease. "How do we get in?"

"Not sure," Sapphire replied. "Wait. Is that a gate?"

It was, but it too was electrified, and locked anyway.

"Bang on the gate and call for help," Sapphire ordered.

I stared at her as if she were insane.

"Are you crazy? No way!"

It won't hurt. You can't be electrocuted with me in you. I'll absorb it all and draw power from it. Delicious power.

"Go on," said Sapphire. "You're an Electric-type. It won't hurt."

I took a deep breath, then grabbed hold of the fence and rattled it; to my intense relief, I felt nothing at all.

"Hey!" I called. "Is this place open?"

A door on the Gym's façade swung open, and a tall, blonde man ambled out. A guitar hung from its strap around his neck, and his skinny chest was bare. He spotted us, and walked over slowly.

"Hey," he said. "That's pretty brave, touching the fence."

"It didn't hurt anyway," I told him. "Can we come in?"

"Sure," he replied. "You passed the test, after all."

"What test?" Sapphire asked, as he fumbled with a ring of keys.

"The fence isn't electric," he answered, pulling out the right one and unlocking the gate. He hauled on it, and it creaked open with a whine of protest. "It's just a test of courage."

"A test of courage, eh?" I remarked, coming in. "That's surprisingly clever for Wattson. From what I saw of him, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed."

And he was looking kind of dumb, with a finger and a thumb in the shape of an 'L' on his forehead, added Puck. It was probably meant to be a joke, but as usual I didn't get it.

The guitarist paused, then leaned close.

"Between you and me," he said, "that's just the spin we're putting on it. Wattson's been a bit crazy for years now, especially about hobos and electric fences. We've had to tell him we've electrified the border fence to keep him happy. There are real ones, though – but they're not strong enough to kill you. You need to get past them if you're here to challenge him."

"Very interesting," said Sapphire, "but we're not here to challenge him. We're here to speak to someone called Shawn about claiming the reward for returning him to Mauville."

The guitarist grinned.

"Hey, that'd be me!" he exclaimed. "I'm the second-in-command here, which means I do everything and Wattson sits around laughing like a madman. You must be Sapphire and Kester, right?" We nodded. "Cool names," Shawn went on, locking the gate and walking us over to the Gym. "Never come across them before. Which one of you is which?"

"I'm Sapphire, he's Kester," Sapphire told him.

"Coolio," said Shawn. "Well, come on in."

He flicked the strings of his guitar absently, and ushered us into a grim grey corridor that looked like it had been borrowed from a concentration camp; it terminated in a solid steel door with a tiny hatch in it, through which I got a glimpse of a massive hall painted a lurid shade of yellow.

"That's the proper Gym area," Shawn said, pointing at it, "but we're going in here."
We stopped at a different door, set into the side of the corridor, and passed through into a small, cramped office; it contained roughly half a forest's worth of stacked paperwork and files, and buried somewhere in the middle of it all was a desk with a computer on it.

"Sorry about the mess," Shawn apologised, "but with great Gyms come great responsibility, y'know?" He waded through papers over to the desk, opened a drawer and pulled out a little enamel badge, circular, with a projection on either side. "Catch!" He flipped it across the room, and Sapphire caught it in both hands.

"A Dynamo Badge?" she asked, genuinely shocked. "But... I can't accept this! I haven't beaten Wattson!"

Shawn shrugged.

"I've got some TMs if you want those instead," he said. "Wattson usually gives them to people who win the tournaments, but we haven't had one of those since he went mad. There's some Shock Wave here, and a couple of Charge Beam. Want one?"

Take Charge Beam, Kester, Puck recommended. We learn Shock Wave naturally, but it's a hard move to use right, and if you struggled with Double Team I don't think you'll get it right.

"Can I have a Charge Beam TM, please?" I asked, and a box flew through the air; I snatched it up one-handed, and put it in my pocket to look at later.

"Sapphire?" asked Shawn. "What do you want?"

Sapphire looked from the badge in her hand to Shawn, and then gave it back to him.

"I'm going to come back later," she said, "and I'll get that badge legally, thanks."

The guitarist shrugged.

"Whatever you want."

He showed us out, and waved a cheery goodbye as he locked the gates again.

"He was nice," I commented as we started walking again. "Pretty normal, all things considered."

"Yes," agreed Sapphire. "Are you going to use that TM, then?"

I pulled it out of my pocket and looked at it. The label read: POWER: MEDIUM. MAY RAISE POWER OF USER'S SPECIAL ATTACKS UPON USE.

"It's a good move," Sapphire continued. "You made the right choice for once. The more you use it, the more powerful your special attacks become."

"Special attacks...?"

Sapphire sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Physical attacks are... well physical in nature, like punching moves or hitting someone with rocks. Special attacks are non-physical, like psychic attacks or shooting thunderbolts. Left here, it's only another five blocks to Spectroscopic Fancy."

"How do you use a TM?" I asked as we crossed the road.

"We need to go to the Pokémon Centre to do that," Sapphire said. "I don't have a TM Case. You put the disc into a slot in the case, you see, and follow the on-screen instructions. Or you can do it via Pokémon Center PC, because those have TM disk drives."

"Oh. OK."

We walked on for a few minutes, watching the buildings gradually grow in height as we neared the city centre. Then:

"Sapphire, what are we doing when we get to this place?"

"We're just going to ask when the SuperBlast Module gets there, and what it is," she said.

"And they're going to tell us? Just like that?"

"They might," argued Sapphire. "It's worth a try, isn't it?"

"I suppose," I said, but I wasn't convinced.

The Spectroscopic Fancy building was one of approximately fifty nondescript grey towers that lined Zinfandel Avenue; tall, broad and inelegant, it looked like someone had built it before realising exactly what an eyesore they were making.

"Here we are," Sapphire said, glancing up at its somewhat overbearing façade. "Let's go."

There were automatic doors, which was good since I preferred them to revolving ones, and once these were navigated I found myself in a large, white-floored room decorated with a large piece of twisted copper hanging from the ceiling. Doubtless this was modern art, but I couldn't for the life of me tell if there was any merit in it.

I thought you had Taste lessons? said Puck.

Only until last year, I replied. We never got as far as modern art. That's pretty advanced Taste.

You had to take it to A-Level, I presume?

I guessed A-Level was the British equivalent of our Upper Qualification.

I suppose.

"Hi," said Sapphire brightly, striding up to the receptionist and smiling broadly at him. "Can I ask who I would speak to if I wanted to find out about a Y-38P SuperBlast Module?"

The receptionist sighed and uttered a long, drawn-out noise of exasperation.

"I keep telling you kids, it's coming on Thursday, and we'll deliver it on Friday. Now clear off."

"Huh?" Sapphire and I stared at him, nonplussed.

"I've told you already," he snapped. "Now get out!"

Mildly intimidated by the ferocious aspect of his face, we left the building, somewhat confused.

Well, that was unexpected, Puck said. Any explanations?

"Puck wants to know – and I would, too – if you have any idea what that was about," I said to Sapphire.

"Well... obviously, several other kids have been asking about the Module," she said. "Do you think that means that Felicity has been here?"

I shook my head.

"She left when she did, right? Besides, I'm sure she wouldn't have asked without that gun to reinforce the point."

"Fair point."

I'd actually be more concerned about this delivery that's taking place, Puck said. They said that after they received it, they'd deliver it. What does that mean?

I relayed his words to Sapphire, who nodded appreciatively.

"You're right," she said. "Who are Spectroscopic Fancy going to deliver it to? That's what we want to find out."

"How?" I asked.

"I don't know," she admitted grudgingly. "I can't think of a way."

"So we should just wait until Thursday, I guess," I said. "Er, what day is it today?"

I'd lost track since coming with Sapphire; it just didn't seem to matter much anymore.

"Sunday," she replied. "Five days to go. Then we'll turn up as it's delivered, find out what it is, and stop the Teams from getting hold of it."

"What do we do during those five days?" I asked.

Sapphire smiled.

"Remember what I told Shawn? That I'd be back to get the Badge legitimately?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"You're going to take on Wattson?"

"I am a Trainer," Sapphire said. "This is what Trainers do. I'm going to train at the Gym, and then challenge Wattson."

"Fine, fine," I replied. "Do I have to come?"

"No," she answered. "You're an Electric-type, you can't really train effectively at an Electric Gym. Go and... I don't know, amuse yourself somehow. Meet me back at the Gym at seven, OK?"

"Can I have some money?"

"Yes, but only if you promise to buy me some more Potions and stuff. Puck will know what to get, right?"

Yeah, you can trust me.

"He says yes, you can trust him."

"Good. I'll want status healers, too, but no balls. Hang on, I'll need to get some money out."

We found an ATM and soon the size of our available funds was larger by sixty thousand dollars. I wanted to get a glimpse of how much money Sapphire had in her bank account, but she moved in front of the screen so I couldn't see. It was almost certainly some insane amount that I could only dream of.

Her dad's the leading Pokémon researcher in Hoenn, Puck agreed, so she's going to be ridiculously rich.

"OK," said Sapphire, "see you later."

With that, she vanished down the street, heading back for the Gym. I watched her go, then spoke to Puck.

"So, what do people do for fun in Mauville?"

We'll start by buying the Potions, Puck said. They're more expensive than you think – after you buy them, you won't have nearly as much money left.

It felt good, walking down the street on my own with sixty thousand Pokédollars in my pocket; I felt free, as if there was no such person as Sapphire, and I was myself again, the old Kester Ruby of Rustboro rather than a weird, human-shaped Rotom in the thrall of a feisty travelling Trainer.

Look, a Pokémon Mart!

I looked as instructed, and found that Puck was right: there was the blue roof and rotating sign of the regulation Pokémon Mart, exactly the same size and shape as every other Mart in the country, and probably the world. There was a notice in the window, informing us that there were currently Eggs for sale, but that there was a limited stock, and it would be advisable to buy them now.

Let's go, Kester, Puck said, and I'll tell you what we need to get.

On the inside, the store was surprisingly large, stuffed to the brim with racks and shelves containing every conceivable aid to Pokémon keeping and training in existence; if I looked left, there were piles of magazines, from the famous Pokémon Weekly to the somewhat strange Rock Breeder Gazette; if I looked right, there were stacks of Potions of every colour and strength, along with a mass of items with abstruse functions unknown to me; above me, long strings of Poké Balls in various colours hung from the ceiling like bunches of onions; and in front of me, half-hidden behind a display exhorting the benefits of feeding your Pokémon Devo Flakes, was the clerk, sitting behind a glass counter full of yet more merchandise and reading a copy of Bug Maniac magazine. There were about five other people moving around the store, examining the extensive range of wares on offer.

When you're done gawping, Puck said, go over there and pick up ten Potions, five Super Potions and two Full Restores.

I looked around for anything that resembled a Potion, found them in the next aisle and pondered how to pick ten up in one go; I went back to the front of the shop, got a shopping basket and swept them in.

"Which ones are Super Potions?" I said under my breath.

Red, with orange lids.

I put five of them in the basket and asked the same about Full Restores.

They're the square green ones that look like they could fit into a mad scientist's genetic engineering machine... yes, those ones. Two should do it. Right, now go over there, to that box, and get a packet of Revives. Yeah, a five-pack should do it. OK, look for round bottles with long nozzles now. Status healers.

On Puck's recommendation, I got seven each of Parlyz Heal, Awakening, Antidote, Burn Heal and Ice Heal; the basket was now rather heavy, and I was beginning to wonder how much this was going to cost.

"Twenty-seven thousand, two hundred and fifty dollars, please*," said the clerk, sounding bored.

I gaped, but Puck warned me not to comment.

Kester, don't make a scene. It's not that much money, really. And we got a discount on the Revives, for buying the packet.

Gloomily, I forked over the money, and received a weighty plastic bag for my troubles. I walked out of the shop to find it was starting to drizzle again, like it had been during the night; I also faced the realisation that I was going to have to carry this bag around all day. I had no idea how Trainers managed to do it.

Don't complain, Puck told me, it'll be all right.

"I've only got thirty thousand dollars left, it's raining and I've got a very heavy bag to carry," I said. "I don't see how this is all right."

In some countries, thirty thousand Pokédollars is a lot of money, Puck said mildly. You could have a really nice meal out in England with that. Y'know, if you converted it to pounds first. Your currency's ridiculously strong, considering the decrepitude of the Hoennian economy. I mean, your inflation rate's amazingly low, isn't it?

"I don't know. Ask an economist."

I walked up the street in the rain, the handles of the carrier bag turning into wires and slicing through the palms of my hand in that unexpectedly agonising way that they do after the first five minutes.

Oh, Uxie's eyes, said Puck suddenly. She's here.

"Who's here?" I asked, but I had already seen her by that time. It was Felicity, wearing the same strange outfit that she had been when I met her in Slateport, and she was coming towards me, working her way purposefully through the crowd. I swore and turned to get away, but she was already right behind me, grabbing my shoulder and stopping me dead.

"Relax, Kester," she said, "I'm not working for the Aquas right now." She turned me around to face her. "I've got today off," she continued matter-of-factly, "because of the unexpected resistance you two and that hobo managed to put up. They've sent someone down to find Barry – that's the big idiot – and told me to just keep an eye out for you."

"What do you want?" I asked warily. I was ready to drop the bag, ThunderShock her and run if it came to it.

"Remember I said we needed to talk?" she asked. I nodded. "Now's our chance. Come on. You're buying me lunch."

Felicity took hold of my hand to stop me running off and led me away down the street. It was all very sudden, and, disarmed by her apparent lack of hostility (and also by the fact that she was actually holding my hand) I did very little to stop her.

I hope you trust her, said Puck, bringing me back to reality with a jolt, because I think you just scored a date.


*Assuming the in-game Pokédollar is of an equivalent value to the Japanese yen, the Trainer supplies cost £202.80, or US$329.49. Huh. Seems being a Trainer is a rich kid's game. Or maybe everything's more expensive in Hoenn. Yeah, that'd make sense, because otherwise the economy and relative pricing is not going to work at all in this story.
 
Last edited:

nokyo-chan

Oatmeal? Are you CRAZY?!
125
Posts
14
Years
Wow, this story is going really well. I noticed that you said something about how it only takes you an hour to fire out a chapter; apart from being extremely jealous of your awesome ability, I'm impressed - not many people can do that and achieve an extremely in-depth plot like you have here.

I noticed one mistake, and I think I called you out on it (for lack of a better phrase =/) earlier, but I wanted to point it out to you again just in case:

Felicity made a face, then span around and grabbed Sapphire by the neck,

The word you need here is "spun". "Span" means to measure.

And by the way, your references are hilarious, not to mention skillful. I mean, a Friday the 13th and a Rocky reference in two paragraphs? Only a pro could pull something like that off.

I've gathered several guesses as to what Pokémon our friend Felicity could have in her head, but rather than blurt them out all over the thread and look stupid if I happen to not have a single one right, I'll just wait (rather impatiently) for the story to reveal it.
 

Cutlerine

Gone. May or may not return.
1,030
Posts
13
Years
nokyo-chan, I think you're probably right when it comes to what Pokémon Felicity has in her head. It isn't that hard to guess. However, the interesting part is what's happening to it, and that's where the fun is. For me, anyway. Not, unfortunately, for poor Felicity.

Oh yes, and both 'spun' and 'span' are, in fact, acceptable preterite forms of the verb 'spin'. I kept meaning to look that up since the last time you mentioned it, and I finally did. So... yeah. That confusion's cleared up now.

And it's more like two hours per chapter, to be honest. It depends how deep into the writing zone I get, and how much I end up going back and changing. Also, being a touch-typist is extremely helpful.
 

JX Valentine

Your aquatic overlord
3,277
Posts
19
Years
I've been eying this story for weeks to be honest, but I never really got a chance to do much more than skim up until this point. It might take me awhile to get through all twenty-one chapters (well, twenty besides the one I'm about to review), but I can assure you right now that I will definitely be back.

Right off the bat, I can tell this is an awesome story. You have a pretty dynamic opening. The description is vivid enough to submerge us in a mental image right away, and something actually happens. As a reader, I actually want to know what this fuzzy ball of orange light is doing, who's chasing it (assuming of course that the Mightyena isn't wild), and why it's on the run.

Then, you introduce us to the second main character, and you do it in probably the most amusing way I've ever seen. Why, yes, I would like to watch my characters talk to their biological clocks and subsequently slam into a parked car like the derp he probably is get screwed over by fate. But seriously, Kester comes off as a pretty ordinary kind of kid – the kind who wants to just wake up, go to school, go home, and sleep instead of aspire to do something else with his life. Of course, I'm making an assumption without giving the second chapter or beyond a good look-through, but what I'm trying to say is this character is refreshingly perfectly ordinary. Not a trainer. Doesn't want to be a trainer. Has no intention of jumping at the call of destiny. Or he seems like it at this point, given his understandable flipping out over Puck.

And Puck. I always love Pokémon with sarcastic senses of humor, and Puck has that English dry wit about him. He's got a sense of pride about being a ghost, and although he's not outright making fun of Kester's every move, it's easy to tell Puck seems to be the smarter, wittier of the two – or at least he has a better handle on the situation on a practical level. In terms of adjusting to living in the brain of a human, not so much. (That is, I'm thoroughly enjoying how completely oblivious he is to the fact that Kester looks like he's talking to himself when addressing Puck and that this is considered all kinds of crazy in the human world.) Also? The entire scene where Kester wakes up after Puck screws around with his brain was kinda priceless.

So, yes. Watching these two interact looks like it's going to make this story incredibly interesting. It already has for the first chapter. And might I add that the reactions they had towards each other was pretty well done? It's rather nice to see a character freaking out that much over the idea of sharing a body with a Pokémon. The scene in the hospital was rather amusing in itself, in part because Kester's thought processes seemed to have shut down, resulting in the closest Puck will probably ever get to quoting Pulp Fiction. (I'm pretty sure comparing Puck to Samuel L. Jackson makes me a terrible person who needs to stop watching YouTube while writing reviews.)

In short, it was a pretty good read for a first chapter. It has a good balance of action and humor, combined with a plot that actually seems rather interesting. As a final note, I'd like to say I'm equally amused by how self-aware this seems to be. Looking at the PLOT Device in particular here. It almost feels like, thanks to that and the general tone of the story, that I'm looking at what will be a parade of subtle deconstructions – as in, something that's fully aware of any clichés it brings up but knows where to put that lampshade about them. With that in mind, I'll be back later to get through the other chapters.
 

bobandbill

one more time
16,876
Posts
16
Years
Ha, I quite liked the beginning scene of chapter 20 what with the Sableye finally doing something useful, and the hobo being all badass along with the use of Barrier as well (and then Barry breaking it, which amusingly happened in a fic of mine too only different person and move). I did at that point guess that the hobo was Wattson given the electric Pokemon he used so it was nice to see I was right about that. =)

Sapphire... seems to be sinking ever so slowly towards being even more unlikable given her constant treatment of Kester - not that it's making her a bad character but she's certainly making Kester's complaints about her even more and more warrented by the chapter - one certainly feels for him, and perhaps Puck is as well, or so I feel. I wonder what will come about of the lunch he'll have with Felicity... as a beside I also liked the guitarist character - he had a neat personality and manner of speech even as a minor character, so I wonder if we'll see him again (maybe when/if Sapphire takes on Wattson...). And hurrah for a Rocky reference complete with music renditions, among others. XD

I somehow feel Darren found out Kester and Sapphire weren't in Slateport anymore because they had 'returned' Watson, as a beside... It'll be interesting to see when he'll find them.

That was when he leaped out onto Kester's chest, and when his eyes began to glow.
The spell of his appearance was broken; the air trembled around him like a heat haze, and, wary for real this time, Felicity and her partner backed away. The glow grew brighter and brighter, a burning red beacon that obscured entirely the little gremlin, and they turned to run—
Needs a touch more (or less?) spacing imo between the first and second line.
Sapphire immediately whirled, trying to grab her, but the other girl was fast, far faster even than her, and she melted away beneath her fingers like fairy gold at dawn, or mist on the breeze.
This description actually felt a bit too wordy for my liking given the situation - it felt unnecessary and slowed down the pacing a bit too much given Sapphire had been held at gunpoint only a moment ago - at least I suggest removing one although to be honest either one still feels out of place for me. 'even' also sounds a bit unnecessary as without it it already tells us that Felicity is fast and faster than her.
It was made of stainless steel, and much like the back entrance to a dragon's lair, in that it was wide enough for three to walk abreast. It was also much, much longer than I would have thought possible,
That phrase seemed to crop up a bit too often in those two sentences and hence sounded a bit too repetitive - maybe remove one in favour for something else?
I repeated my little Astonish charade, and Holly's ears fountained blood; it dropped to the ground and lay there, motionless.
The fact the Abra's ears fountained blood seemed a little over-the-top to me from only two Astonishes (even if they are super effective against a rather frail Pokemon).
"Come back!" shouted the Psychic at our retreating forms. "Just give me a chance! I can do this!"
Given how convincing the Psychic had been to them (btw I was amused she got the trick working at the end of the chapter after they left), maybe having it as "...shouted the 'Psychic' at our..." might be an idea for very minor added amusement? A suggestion I suppose.
About half an hour later, we bumped into an old man, staring appreciatively up at the overpass.

"A road each for people and for Pokémon," he said to us as we passed. "Perhaps that is right and fair."

"Uh, whatever you say," I replied, and walked on.
This inclusion of the NPC amused...however the manner in which he appeared and was left seemed far too abrupt to me, and made it feel like it had been somewhat tacked on - the chapter would feel better with it either removed or edited to flow in more with the story's progression (which'd only take a bit more addition imo).
I can't say I wasn't expecting this, said Puck. It was pretty obvious. All that laughing, and those Electric-types.
Take Charge Beam, Kester, Puck recommended.
We'll start by buying the Potions, Puck said. They're more expensive than you think – after you buy them, you won't have nearly as much money left.
Some cases where the italicising wasn't done with Puck's speech (with the 2nd one it seems odd to me that 'Kester' wasn't italic'd).

Keep it up, oh speedy updater. =p
 

Miz en Scène

Everybody's connected
1,645
Posts
15
Years
Annyeonghaseyo

And I'm back for more, as I said I would be.

I've got to say that I'm really enjoying the story so far, and there's really not much I could point out plot-wise which I would necessarily deem a serious flaw in logic or characterization. Maybe a few small bits and pieces I think would have been better another way, but nothing major.

Firstly, and this, I must stress, is appraisal with slight critique sprinkled throughout, the entire scene with Natalie and how you handled her character and Kester's handling of the situation was done well, but I couldn't help but feel it to be a bit of an anti-climax. I'm sure you must have had something planned if she indeed had her eyes glued shut, but I'm standing by my previous statement that it would have been too entirely vicious, even for Sapphire. Anyway, the entire way she acted, all nice and such, felt just kind of…empty, anti-climactic as I've said, and I was surprised at how little conflict you had throughout the scene. In fact, it felt as though she was just an info-dump at how nice she was acting. I'm sure she would want to make up for punching him and all, but really, giving him all the information without some form of resistance, kind of like those naïve rich girls who let the spies in the house, was just overdoing it. But still, that's my opinion and it was really unexpected. Maybe it was there to give a break to Kester, but still… empty.

Besides that, the next few scenes were also quite entertaining, comedy asides (le gasp). The entire sequence of events from Rayquaza's death to Sapphire's mourning was done perfectly and I could really feel for her character you know? They way you portrayed her sobbing in bed silently to her sudden transition into a character with a thirst for vengeance was all too perfect, and exactly what I'd imagine a character like her to be doing. In short, you're almost flawless in her characterization, save for her treatment of non-Pokémon characters I mean. I get that she's mean, but she just seems a bit too anti-social. I attribute that to the fact that she rarely spends time around the normal people and she's a bit of a deadpan snarker, always having to explain the oddities of a trainer's life to Kester while experiencing it firsthand. It's basically a dead-end for her, having to act as a rational mouthpiece for the author, and it's a shame to see such a well-developed character being used solely for that. In fact, look at it this way because I have some form of proof. The two times when Sapphire was in a situation that was neither absurd, nor involved any form of exaggeration, her meeting with Steven and her moment of mourning, was when she was at her best, and were really my favourite parts, in terms of character, throughout the entire fic. Real character-defining moments if you catch my drift. So yes, sorry for sticking too much on Sapphire, but she really is my favourite character in this story despite only being a bit of a secondary protagonist, or in this case, foil.

Anyway, I'm going to give credit where credit is due and say that everything besides that was handled hilariously, now that I'm focusing more on the comedic aspect. The entire Magma existential crisis to Barry's awkward drunken episode was superbly funny. I'm quite partial to Barry's drunkenness, and also Fabien getting a grip on the situation by saying "I am the main character," in that self-help book tone was priceless. Quite possibly one of my favourite quotes besides the shotgun exchange from earlier. Also, the entire double-team episode had me figuratively in stitches. I'm glad that I do these reviews in the dark of night.

Final note:
Wasn't there a Circle of Hell for cowards? Puck asked. The sixth one? Oh. Wait. That was heretics. Er, never mind.
You're referencing Alghieri? I'm impressed. I've actually only read up till Inferno, so tell me, does Purgatorio actually have a place for cowards? Because cowardice almost seems like a cardinal sin.

So yes, anyway, thanks for making my day. Truly.


Looking forward to see how Kester's date turns out.
 
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Cutlerine

Gone. May or may not return.
1,030
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13
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Thank you all for your kind reviews. I have taken on board your criticisms, fixed several little things you pointed out, and, in response to your views on Sapphire, moved the important part concerning her forwards slightly in the story. Hopefully, it should come up in a few chapters, and we ought to see a positive improvement from then on.

I'm now going to post today's chapter before I completely ruin the story for everyone.

Chapter Twenty-two: Blintzkrieg

Of all the bars in all the world, why'd you have to walk into a pancake restaurant? Puck complained. How are pancakes romantic? Come to think of it, how can you even have a restaurant based entirely around pancakes?

Quiet, you, I thought back. Be a silent observer for once.

Neither Felicity nor I had known any of Mauville's eateries, and we had basically wandered around until stumbling across one that wasn't too expensive and seemed nice. Blintzkrieg, despite the alarming name, was a light, airy café on a street corner; the day was a warm one, and it would have been nice to sit outside and eat, but the rain during the night had wet the chairs, and so we were forced to take up a table on the inside, near the window for the sun.

"This is odd," said Felicity. "I didn't know restaurants like this existed."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Weird. Well, it'll be an experience, if nothing else."

That's it, lure her in with small-talk, Puck whispered. With this sort of attitude, you'll soon be mati—

This is not a date! I hissed back furiously. Shut up!

"Can I get you any drinks?" asked a rather smiley waitress, coming over with a notebook and pen.

Felicity scanned the menu for a moment.

"Green tea, please," she said.

"OK, one green tea" – here, the waitress made a scribble on her pad in the alphabet that only restaurant staff can read – "and for you, sir?"

"Er, Coke please," I replied.

"OK. Are you ready to order or...?"

"Can you give us a few more minutes?"

"Certainly." The waitress smiled broadly and left.

By the many hands of Arceus, said Puck floridly, that was the most forced smile I've ever seen. Does she have drawing pins in her shoes or something?

"What do you want?" I asked Felicity. I was trying hard not to stare at her, but it was proving difficult. She was a powerful eye-magnet, drawing my gaze with her damnable excess of beauty.

You say this isn't a date, Puck said, but your thoughts seem to suggest otherwise.

Stop looking at those!

If you don't like me listening in, you should think quieter.


"This is a pancake restaurant," Felicity said, interrupting our silent quarrel, "so I think we should have the Blintzkrieg."

I looked at the menu. The Blintzkrieg was a platter of fifty-seven different types of pancake, and the dish from which the restaurant drew its name; it was available in sizes that two, four or eight could share, or, if you were greedy, there was a slightly smaller version of it for the lone diner. It was also the most expensive thing on the menu, at $15,000 for the two-person version.

"Um... yeah, I suppose," I said, attempting an enthusiastic tone.

Oh, come on, Puck said. How gloomy do you sound? It's not even your money. Besides, this is how a date works: you treat the girl. Or the sexless cloud of plasma that identifies as female, if you're a Rotom, but it's the same principle.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" I asked Felicity, putting down the menu and leaning on the table. I was trying to convey a businesslike attitude, but I got the distinct feeling I was failing. She opened her mouth to reply, but just then the waitress returned with our drinks; we ordered the Blintzkrieg, and she left to go and see about its creation.

"I – I'm not sure where to start," Felicity said, once she'd gone. A faintly puzzled expression flitted across her face. I remember noticing at that point that she still hadn't removed her ever-present grey earpiece; in fact, I could, if I listened hard, hear a faint, fast-paced drumbeat coming from it. "Let me think a moment..." She took a draught of her tea, and I noticed her hands were shaking slightly.

She's afraid, said Puck, suddenly serious. Someone will find out and punish her for this, or at least she fears so. Not the Aquas; she's clearly not just an Aqua girl. Something's up here, Kester, and believe me, it's bigger than any Y-38P SuperBlast Module.

"Um... There's a man," Felicity began.

"Go on," I encouraged.

"Please don't interrupt."

"Sorry."

"Just stop talking." Felicity took off her sunglasses, and I flinched slightly. She looked ill – beautiful, but very, very ill. The whites of her eyes were severely jaundiced, and her eyes themselves were a shade of blue that didn't look natural. Dark circles ringed each eye, but they weren't the bags of tiredness you might ordinarily see; they were actual bands of discoloured purplish flesh.

"Oh my God," I whispered, putting one hand to my mouth. "Um – sorry." I took it away again hurriedly.

"It's all right," Felicity replied. "I know it's horrible."

"But... how did this happen?" I asked. "You looked fine when you, er, tried to kill us at Birch's lab."

Felicity looked faintly sheepish, and the surreality of the situation hit home: here I was, having lunch with a girl who less than a week ago had attempted to kill me, and who had tried to kidnap me yesterday.

"That's true," she said. "Like I said, there's a man. I don't know his name, but he calls himself Zero."

Zero? Anyone else smell melodrama?

"Zero?" I asked.

"Yes. Zero. He... actually, I don't know what he's trying to do." Felicity looked frustrated. "But he has some plan laid out, something that involves both Team Aqua and Team Magma, and you as well."

"Me?" I indicated myself in the way you do when people unexpectedly mention you, just in case they're mistaken.

"Yes, you." Felicity's words were spilling quickly out of her mouth now, uncontrollably; it was as if some dam within her had burst, and there was no stopping the wave that followed. "I don't know how, but I know that somehow he organised the insertion of that Rotom into your head. I know that Zero has planned this out in more detail than you could ever imagine – and that everything he plans happens exactly as he intended it. It's like chess, where the grandmasters can think several moves ahead. He's doing the same thing, only with real life. Whatever he's trying to do, he's incredibly good at it. I'm his mole within Team Aqua, and I'm certain you were meant to go to Team Magma. That was the only mistake he made. Somehow, you ended up on your own."

"Wait, slow down," I said, head starting to spin. "This is all his fault? All of this conflict over the goods and everything?"

"Yes. All of it," confirmed Felicity.

Whew. This is too heavy for a first date. Maybe you ought to save this for another time.

Puck, shut up!


"Zero is setting the Magmas and the Aquas against each other," Felicity continued. "I know that much. But I don't know why, or exactly how he's manipulating the Magmas right now."

"And this guy planned to put Puck in my head?" Whoever this Zero was, I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. The Rotom had been the catalyst for the whole series of unfortunate events that had consumed my life over the last week.

It's six days, actually, Puck corrected, sounding offended, and these events aren't that unfortunate, really. We could be orphans being pursued by an evil acting troupe. Now that would lead to a series of unfortunate events.

"Yes," Felicity replied. "He planned all of this. The only thing that he got wrong was that Team Magma failed to capture you. But his plan has recovered, and I don't think he needs you with him."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked abruptly. "You're working with him, aren't you?"

Felicity pointed to her eyes.

"I'm working for him," she told me. "Not with him. I have no choice."

"He did that?"

"He... poisoned me," Felicity said hesitantly. Her yellow eyes were shiny, as if she were on the verge of tears. "I'll die unless he chooses to heal me," she said, and the words sounded like they were forced through one of those lumps of clotted emotion that sometimes congests the throat. "He said he would – he said he would do that if I helped him."

I stared, not knowing what to say. Team Magma, Team Aqua, Sapphire, Devon; I'd sampled many flavours of evil over the last week, but nothing to rival this one. I couldn't quite grasp that this was real life; it felt like a scene from a film, or a play. This did not really happen – it could not really happen. People like Zero, who enslaved people and took their own lives hostage, just couldn't exist.

A tear traced a silver line down Felicity's cheek.

Kester, said Puck despairingly. There's something seriously wrong with your dating technique if you make the girl cry.

Can't you ever be serious? I thought angrily, at the same time as asking Felicity the question that only idiots ask of those who need consolation: "Are you all right?"

"Fine," she said hurriedly, wiping it away and forcing her voice back to normal. "I'm fine." She glanced over one shoulder, saw the waitress returning and put her sunglasses back on.

The Blintzkrieg was truly vast. When the waitress put it down, she gave a sigh of relief, and I swear the table groaned slightly beneath its weight. Fifty-seven types of pancake is a lot however you look at it, and when they're all on one plate it's the sort of sight that makes your jaw drop and your brain explode.

That is a lot of pancake, Puck said in tones of awe. How very fattening, and how singularly unromantic. Mind you, I hate human food anyway. Give me a nice car battery to suck on, that's what I say.

"Wow," said Felicity, staring at the plate. "I... fifty-seven pancakes is a lot more than I thought." She smiled self-consciously, admitting her mistake in ordering it, and I tried and failed not to laugh; soon, she was laughing too, and it almost seemed like a date after all.

How very romantic comedy, Puck yawned. Please stop it. I'm more of a Tarantino man myself. He chuckled. Hey, you know what they'd call this dish of pancakes in Holland? A Royale dish of pancakes.

Our good humours restored, we made as much of an inroad into the Blintzkrieg as we could. I recall sampling jeon, pannekoeken, laobing, galettes, funkaso, okonomiyaki, bannocks and, of course, blintzes, amongst many others that I can no longer remember; it took us nearly two hours to work through the lot, with frequent breaks to recover, but I enjoyed it. Just five minutes into the feast I decided that, when she wasn't trying to kill or kidnap me, Felicity was a very nice person to be around. And she was beautiful, which was a bonus.

Actually, I don't think she's especially nice. It's probably got more to do with the fact that everyone else is horrible to you. But still, if you're looking for a potential mate, then there's no doubt—

I refused to listen to any more, and plunged into a chapatti instead.

While we tackled the Blintzkrieg, our conversation veered away from Zero, and moved instead to more mundane things. I ended up telling Felicity all about myself and my life before Puck; however, as I would realise later, she in fact told me nothing about herself. Whether this was intentional or whether I just talked a lot I don't know, but knowing what I do now, it's hard to imagine that she would have revealed her identity then without a fight.

When at last the plate was cleared, and the Blintzkrieg no more than a fond and rather fattening memory, Felicity and I sat back and resumed the topic – reluctantly, because we were enjoying ourselves – of Zero and his mysterious plan.

"What else do you know about this Zero guy?" I asked. "Would he be able to get Puck out of my head?"

Am I ruining your date that much?

"I think so," Felicity replied. "He can do anything he wants. But he wouldn't do it, though. Not unless you agreed to work for him."

I grimaced.

"I'd rather not."

Felicity shook her head.

"You definitely wouldn't. Kester, I told you all of this because you have a right to know – you've been screwed over by Zero almost as much as I have. I didn't tell you because I wanted you to go after him. That would get you killed."

"That's it? You told me all of this just because I have a 'right to know'?" I felt oddly cheated, though I couldn't say exactly why. "You must expect me to do something, surely?"

Felicity took off her sunglasses and looked at me for a long moment.

"I expect you to be careful," she said at last. "You have a deal with Sapphire Birch, didn't you say? To help her find out the secret of those goods?" When I nodded, she continued. "When that deal ends, ditch her, or she's going to end up dead. This mess isn't going to end then – the Devon goods must be the tip of the iceberg; there's got to be more to Zero's plan than just them. Once you've done that, come and find me."

"Why?" My heart rate had suddenly soared; I knew what she wanted me to do, and it sounded even more dangerous than what I was currently doing with Sapphire.

"Because Zero has to be stopped," she said simply, "and I can't do it on my own."

I could see how much it hurt her to have to ask for help; there was a strange sort of pain in her eyes that I hadn't seen anywhere before, and I somehow knew instinctively what it meant. It was the easiest decision I had ever made.

"When this is over," I said, "I'm going home. Zero's not my problem."

Felicity stared at me in mingled shock and horror.

"No," she said, shaking her head, "no, you can't – you can't do that!" She slammed one fist hard into the table, making the remainder of her tea leap out of its cup and plunging the restaurant into silence. She looked around at the staring faces, then stood up sharply. "You'll come to see it eventually," she said in a low, cold voice. In her anger, her foreign accent came through stronger than ever. "He is your problem. If you think going home will solve anything, you're a fool. I always thought you were, but I gave you a chance today. I guess I was right after all."

With that, Felicity stormed out, and I became aware that every pair of eyes in the room was staring at me. I sighed deeply, and asked for the bill.

Well, Puck said. You sure do know how to make a lady feel special, Kester.

---

Darren Goodwin sat on a bench and stared at the wet grass. What, he wondered, was he supposed to do now?

He had made enquiries at all of the central Mauville Pokémon Centres – the ones you would stay in if you wanted to be within spitting distance of the Spectroscopic Fancy Company building, where he presumed the kids would go – but had found no trace of his quarry. He had even made enquiries at the Spectroscopic Fancy building itself, but the receptionist had just told him that lots of kids had been in to ask about the SuperBlast Module, and he couldn't be expected to remember them all. Dispirited, he had retired to an inner-city park that seemed to have taken a heavier load of rain than the rest of the city last night, and sat down to ponder his next move.

Beside him, the Raiders bobbed and swayed, swapping positions in their everlasting magnetic dance; one of them suddenly span around in circles and, in collaboration with its companions, emitted that indescribable electronic sound again. Darren looked up sharply, and saw a flash of blue and white moving swiftly down the street on the other side of the park's border fence. It took a moment for him to recognise her out of uniform, but then he got it: it was the Aqua girl with the freakish powers.

There was as good a start as any, he reasoned, and he leaped up to cross the grass, vaulting the iron railings and running up the wet pavement to catch her.

"Hey!" he cried, when he was a few steps behind her. "You!"

She turned, and though he could not see her eyes behind her blue Aqua glasses, the Goodwin thought he detected a hint of fear. He reached out to grab her, but she suddenly put on a burst of speed, and glided away as if on wheels.

Darren frowned, slowed and stopped, watching her vanish around a corner and knowing he couldn't catch her. How did she do that? How could she move so fast, and how had she come back to kill him mere seconds after being shot and bludgeoned in the head?

He sighed, frustrated, and rammed his hands deep into his pockets.

"There's something I'm not seeing here, Raiders," he said aloud. "What is it?"

The Raiders made no reply, merely spinning around a little instead. Darren sighed again, and wished he was at home.

"Come on," he said. "I need a coffee."

Off they went, man and Pokémon, down the street at a disconsolate trudge.

---

She's late.

"I didn't expect her to be on time."

Half an hour late?

It was half past seven, and I was shivering in the cool twilight air outside the Gym's locked gate.

"She did say seven, right? Not half-seven?"

I know what she said, and she said she would meet us at seven.

"Do you think something's happened to her?"

Like getting killed in a Training accident? That would be inconvenient – she's still got our Master Ball.

"How nice you are."

Yeah, I'm just the best.

Since I had no idea whether that was self-deprecating irony or not, I struggled to come up with a response; thankfully, I was spared the effort by the sudden appearance of Sapphire and Shawn the guitarist on the other side of the gate.

"Hey," I said. "You're late."

"It took longer than I thought," Sapphire replied as Shawn unlocked the gate. "It's good, though. I haven't really done proper Gym training before." The gate swung shut behind her and she waved goodbye to Shawn. "Most of the people there are much stronger than me, but I've managed to raise Toro to about Level 17, and Rono to three levels higher than that."

Good going
, said Puck approvingly. I like it. It'll take strategy more than levels to beat Wattson, though. Even if he's a lunatic, he's going to be a wily old customer.

We started to walk, Sapphire leading.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The nearest Pokémon Centre," she replied. "What did you do today?"

Somewhat surprised that she was taking an interest, I had to think about what I would say in reply. I had already decided not to tell her about my meeting with Felicity; it didn't have to concern her, after all. We would go our separate ways after finding out about the Module.

"Um... nothing much. Just wandered around, got some lunch, bought all of your Trainer stuff." I held up the bag.

"Oh, thanks. Shall I carry that?" I handed it over before she changed her mind, but gave her a strange look. She seemed far too happy and nice to be the real Sapphire, and briefly I wondered if the pod people had landed.

They make emotionless clones, not happy ones, Puck pointed out.

Oh yeah.

"Why're you so nice?" I asked suspiciously. "What's going on?"

"I'm just... happy," she replied sunnily, smiling and swinging the plastic bag around with such wild abandon that she almost broke my leg. "I've had so much fun. And done so much."

I give this mood... four hours to evaporate, Puck estimated. Or until something happens to irritate her.

"Hey!" cried a voice from behind us, accompanied by the sound of rapid footsteps on tarmac. "You two!"

We turned to see a young man, probably my age or a little older, running down the pavement towards us. The first thing that struck me about him was that he didn't seem real; he looked almost like a lonely artist's drawing of a vampire, with longish black hair, pale skin and impossibly vivid green eyes. He was dressed in slim black jeans and a black jacket, giving further weight to his hailing from the ranks of the undead, and his black sneakers had a logo with a star and English words on them. I raised my eyebrows; he had to be either ridiculously widely-travelled or foreign.

"You two," he repeated, stopping a few feet away and leaning on his knees while he got his breath back. "You're Trainers?"

"I am," Sapphire said. "Why?"

"There's something different about you," he said. "Unless I got the wrong person... no, I'm sure I'm right."

"What do you want?" Sapphire asked, ready to leave. The stranger straightened up, and I was surprised to see he was only as tall as Sapphire. I had been under the impression that vampires were taller than normal people.

He may not actually be a vampire
, cautioned Puck. I'd be careful before I go around accusing people of being soulless haemivorous corpses. Mind you, that's quite similar to being a Ghost, and that can only be a good thing. Still a bit fleshy for my liking, but...

I tuned his ramble out and returned my attention to the conversation.

"A battle?" Sapphire was saying. "Now?"

"Yes," the man in black replied. "I mean, I know I'll win, but there's something odd about you two."

"Like what?"

"I don't know," the stranger said. "But I want to battle you." He brushed a hunk of hair from his right eye so as to be able to give us an earnest look, but it flopped back again straight away. "Please?"

"Sorry, no," Sapphire said. "We don't have time. Do we?" She looked at me pointedly.

"Er, no," I said hurriedly. "We're... really busy."

We turned and walked away, but the man in black caught up and grabbed Sapphire's arm.

"Wait," he said. "Come on. It won't take a moment."

"I said no," snapped Sapphire, rounding on him, "and I meant no. Now get lost!"

His strange eyes flashed with something dangerous that I had never seen in human eyes before, and the stranger turned on his heel, stalking away without another world.

"What was that about?" I wondered. "He was really weird."

"I don't know. A crazy guy. Doesn't matter." Sapphire's good mood didn't seem to have sustained any lasting damage from the man in black's intrusion, and the remainder of our walk to the Pokémon Centre was, oddly enough, quite pleasant.

---

"They wouldn't fight me," the boy with jade eyes said, looking out of the aeroplane window. "Can you believe it, Scott? Trainers who wouldn't fight?"

Scott agreed that it was indeed unusual.

"There was definitely something odd about them," the boy went on darkly. "I'm willing to bet that if you meet up with them, you'll want them for the competition."

Now Scott was interested.

"Oh yes? They're good, are they?"

The boy with jade eyes threw up his hands.

"I don't know. They're different, or one of them is at least. I didn't get to fight them."

"So you don't know if they'd be good for the contest or not?"

"Trust me, Scott." The jade eyes whirled away from the window and locked onto Scott's sunglasses. They seemed to burn through the black plastic and deep into the skull behind, like a pair of green blowtorches. "They'd be good."

"W-well, they're gone now," Scott said, flinching away from the sizzling impact of his look. "We'll probably never see them again."

"No," replied the boy, returning his attention to the clouds again. "No, we'll cross paths again. I'm not sure when, but I know we will."

Scott restrained himself from asking how the boy with jade eyes knew all the things that he did, and went back to the in-flight movie with a sigh. The kid was good, but he'd be glad to get away from him when they got there.
 
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Miz en Scène

Everybody's connected
1,645
Posts
15
Years
Pryvit

This'll probably be my shortest review since this chapter didn't have much in terms of mistakes nor content and I was primarily concerned with how Kester's date went. In any case, your update schedule is amazing, and I'm going to reiterate bobandbill here by saying, "Are these pre-written or do you actually write these on the spot?" If you do in fact write your chapters daily, I am in awe. Most of us struggle with a chapter a fortnight, let alone a day.

To begin with the review proper, the pancake house scene is the furthest place, I think, that Kester's going to get with realising his Felicity fantasies, unless of course something unexpected happens further down in the story. As a whole, the scene was enjoyable. Not much in terms of humour but wholly enjoyable nonetheless because here you're just having two teenagers having breakfast for tea, in what you could call a perfectly normal situation, quite a refresher from the past few day of mayhem. It's also quite the reveal for Felicity because, here, the reader's not seeing her as the single-minded, mission-obsessed antagonist. She's really more of one forced into cooperation, but I digress.

Also, slight nitpick here but:
I refused to listen to any more, and plunged into a chapatti instead.
Chapati is a pancake now is it? Not where I'm from. It's more a bread, really. And I can assure you, it's as much a pancake as tea is coffee. That is to say, slight relation with subtle differences.

Anyway, quite a few amusing bits here and there but nothing noteworthy. Overall, a good chapter in terms of pushing the plot ahead. I'm sorry for the lack of a review, but I didn't really have much to touch on beyond that. Not much even on Sapphire which I haven't already said. So yes, I will be eagerly awaiting the next release. Also, I hope that these frequent updates won't end with half-term…
 
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icomeanon6

It's "I Come Anon"
1,184
Posts
16
Years
I've just read the first two chapters, and I'm most impressed. It's been a while since I've read a Pokemon fic that felt this original, which is odd because many of the individual aspects of the story are so conventional. The stranger inhabiting the main character's body is nothing new, the whole deal with Magma/Aqua and the Devon Goods are straight out of the game, and the idea of a human having a Pokemon's power has also been done. Make the stranger a Rotom and put it all together, though, and you have gold.

The first thing that really caught my attention was the way the narrative was split apart at the beginning of the first chapter, and the threads gradually got closer together until Puck actually enters Kester's body and the threads converged. Very clever use of structure. It feels like a collision both because of what's actually happening and how you lay it out.

Character-wise, I'm seeing some really good signs. Kester and Puck have good chemistry, and most importantly their interactions are funny. I also like Kester's mom, even if the whole checking to see if the kid is alright and then grounding him routine is a little cliched. The best touch in terms of character, though, is undoubtedly Puck's English nationality. People often forget that the Pokemon world's geography and history at large is mostly like ours, and it makes more opportunity for humor.

If there's one thing that I thought was a little out of place, though, it was the name of the "P-L.O.T. Device." Judging by its name, I'm going to guess that it has some importance later, but when I first read it I thought it seemed closer to straight-up parody, which I didn't think you were going for. Not a big issue, and probably something you can't change now, but I felt I had to say it.

It seems I have a lot of catching up to do, and I'm looking forward to it!
 

Cutlerine

Gone. May or may not return.
1,030
Posts
13
Years
Pryvit

This'll probably be my shortest review since this chapter didn't have much in terms of mistakes nor content and I was primarily concerned with how Kester's date went. In any case, your update schedule is amazing, and I'm going to reiterate bobandbill here by saying, "Are these pre-written or do you actually write these on the spot?" If you do in fact write your chapters daily, I am in awe. Most of us struggle with a chapter a fortnight, let alone a day.

To begin with the review proper, the pancake house scene is the furthest place, I think, that Kester's going to get with realising his Felicity fantasies, unless of course something unexpected happens further down in the story. As a whole, the scene was enjoyable. Not much in terms of humour but wholly enjoyable nonetheless because here you're just having two teenagers having breakfast for tea, in what you could call a perfectly normal situation, quite a refresher from the past few day of mayhem. It's also quite the reveal for Felicity because, here, the reader's not seeing her as the single-minded, mission-obsessed antagonist. She's really more of one forced into cooperation, but I digress.

Also, slight nitpick here but:
Chapati is a pancake now is it? Not where I'm from. It's more a bread, really. I may not be Indian, but Malaysia's a mix of races besides Malay, so Chapati's pretty common. And I can assure you, it's as much a pancake as tea is coffee. That is to say, slight relation with subtle differences.

Anyway, quite a few amusing bits here and there but nothing noteworthy. Overall, a good chapter in terms of pushing the plot ahead. I'm sorry for the lack of a review, but I didn't really have much to touch on beyond that. Not much even on Sapphire which I haven't already said. So yes, I will be eagerly awaiting the next release. Also, I hope that these frequent updates won't end with half-term…

I know chapatis aren't technically a pancake; I come from an Indian family on one side, after all. However, I was struggling for different types of pancake by then, as I'm sure you can tell by the dubious pancakeosity of some of the things on that list. And besides, I figured a pancake restaurant in Hoenn, of all places, probably wouldn't know the difference. I did at least leave out roti and parata.

If you can think of any other kinds of pancake that I can replace it with, I'm more than happy to alter it - but my pancake well is dry, I'm afraid.

As for the updates ending with half-term... well, my half-term ended last Sunday evening, so unless someone else has been writing these, my updates aren't going to slow until I need to kick-start some AS revision.

And yes, to repeat myself: I write each chapter in the space of a day or two. Collecting up all the scattered few minutes I spend writing probably adds up to a couple of hours or so. Being a touch-typist helps, as does a lot of experience in writing a lot of text ridiculously fast.

I've just read the first two chapters, and I'm most impressed. It's been a while since I've read a Pokemon fic that felt this original, which is odd because many of the individual aspects of the story are so conventional. The stranger inhabiting the main character's body is nothing new, the whole deal with Magma/Aqua and the Devon Goods are straight out of the game, and the idea of a human having a Pokemon's power has also been done. Make the stranger a Rotom and put it all together, though, and you have gold.

The first thing that really caught my attention was the way the narrative was split apart at the beginning of the first chapter, and the threads gradually got closer together until Puck actually enters Kester's body and the threads converged. Very clever use of structure. It feels like a collision both because of what's actually happening and how you lay it out.

Character-wise, I'm seeing some really good signs. Kester and Puck have good chemistry, and most importantly their interactions are funny. I also like Kester's mom, even if the whole checking to see if the kid is alright and then grounding him routine is a little cliched. The best touch in terms of character, though, is undoubtedly Puck's English nationality. People often forget that the Pokemon world's geography and history at large is mostly like ours, and it makes more opportunity for humor.

If there's one thing that I thought was a little out of place, though, it was the name of the "P-L.O.T. Device." Judging by its name, I'm going to guess that it has some importance later, but when I first read it I thought it seemed closer to straight-up parody, which I didn't think you were going for. Not a big issue, and probably something you can't change now, but I felt I had to say it.

It seems I have a lot of catching up to do, and I'm looking forward to it!

Thank you for the review. The P-L.O.T. Device has no significance further on; it's just a small joke. I don't think it's out of place, considering the number of times Puck breaks the fourth wall, or the number of references that are dropped in.

Oh yes, and I'm aware that the clichéd parts of this story are clichéd. I just use them anyway, either because they're funny in themselves, or because they're funny because they're clichéd. They're just a different-shaped brick in my Lego model of narrative.

Wait. That was a stupid analogy. Forget that. I hope you continue to enjoy the story.
 

Cutlerine

Gone. May or may not return.
1,030
Posts
13
Years
You're referencing Alghieri? I'm impressed. I've actually only read up till Inferno, so tell me, does Purgatorio actually have a place for cowards? Because cowardice almost seems like a cardinal sin.

There are no Circles in Inferno for cowardice, but I'm not sure about terraces of Purgatorio. If I remember rightly, the terraces of Purgatorio simply correspond to the deadly sins, so there shouldn't be.

Anyway:

Chapter Twenty-Three: A Hobo's Fighting Spirit

"I see. Yes, that's quite all right. No, it's excellent news, really."

Deep, deep beneath the surface of the earth, the man in the ruby-red trenchcoat had his feet up on the desk and his ear pressed against the phone.

"Well, thank you very much," he said. "Frankly, you're saving us here. If what you say is true, the blues are close to theirs already. A meteorite, you say? No? I don't quite... A Meteorite? With a capital 'M'? How is that diff... Oh, is that so? That's quite clever, isn't it? Well, thank you again. Goodbye."

He put down the phone and pondered for a moment, throwing pieces of dried meat into the blot of inky blackness that skulked in the corner of the room. Occasional snaps told him that the creature within was succeeding in catching them.

"All right," said Maxie at length, sliding his feet off the desk and sitting up. "Tabitha!"

A tall, hooded figure in red stepped into the room.

"Yes, sir?" he asked. Maxie looked surprised.

"Who the hell are you?" he roared. Sensing a temper coming on, Tabitha replied in his most soothing tone.

"Tabitha, sir."

"I thought... What the hell? Tabitha's a woman's name! I wanted the other Admin, the pretty young one. Go and get her!"

"Yes, sir." Tabitha turned to leave, but Maxie called him back.

"Wait!" The Magma Administrator looked patiently in the direction of his boss. "You'll do, you'll do," decided Maxie, with a considered nod of the head. "I need you to do some research for me. It's about these things called Meteorites..."

---

Monday and Tuesday were, for the first time in ages, pretty normal. Sapphire was out at the Gym all day, and I was left to my own devices; I spent most of Monday asleep, purely because I had that luxury, and the better part of Tuesday exploring Mauville. I'd never been there before, and I have to say I was a little disappointed: from the name, I was expecting a lot more purple than I got.

Other than that minor chromatic deficiency, however, I found I rather liked Mauville. Smaller than Rustboro and Slateport, yet larger than Dewford, it was just the right sort of size for wandering around. I found parks and clubs, clock towers and skyscrapers, all within a comfortable walk of each other, and I took pleasure in the continually varying scenery. The weather brightened up, too, returning to gloriously clear blue skies, and so, taken in all, it was a thoroughly pleasant day.

Then came Wednesday. What is it about Wednesdays that makes them so awful? Maybe it's because it comes in the middle of the week, a halfway point between weekend and weekend where you look back with pride at how far you've come, but forwards with dismay at the long slog ahead of you; maybe the day's just bitter because no one pronounces all three syllables of its name, as they do for Saturday. Either way, Wednesdays in my experience are generally days of despair, and this one was no exception.

It started well – deceptively well. Sapphire invited me to come to the Gym with her, because she was going to challenge Wattson. I accepted, we arrived and she led me into the yellow room at the back that I'd glimpsed on Sunday. Despite the grim exterior, this area of the Gym was pretty nice inside; I'd have classified it as Neo-Classical in design, but Puck stopped me.

I've had quite enough of that, he snapped irritably. I really hate it when you steal my descriptions of architecture.

The room was punctuated by a series of electrified fences, blocking off the way to Wattson; the man himself sat on a large beanbag at the back of the room, the long-suffering Shawn standing next to him and occasionally making comments that were lost in the sound of the old Leader's raucous laughter. Around us, and scattered about the huge room in between the fences, pairs and quartets of Trainers were battling each other or simply teaching their Pokémon moves. Gouts of fire, flashes of light, and, above all, bursts of electricity kept erupting with roars or crackles; I saw a scarred white creature, armed with a pair of formidable talons, duelling with a huge, blade-covered snake, and some sort of long-haired serpent coiling around a furious Electabuzz, pulses of transparent energy bursting periodically from its brow. It was quite a spectacle, and I stared around, entranced, for a good five seconds before Sapphire tugged at my sleeve and recaptured my attention.

"Come on," she said. "I have an appointment."

"OK, OK." I glanced around as she pulled me to the first gate in the fence. "This is all... well, it's amazing, isn't it?"

"If you like it so much, why'd you never become a Trainer?" asked Sapphire cattily, showing a nearby guitarist a ticket of some sort, along with her Trainer Card. He opened the gate for us, and we went through.

"Oh, I wouldn't like to do it," I replied, horrified. "No, not at all! Way too dangerous. But it's cool to watch."

Sapphire sighed.

"I don't get how someone like you can exist," she said. "Do you really have no aspirations at all?"

I thought for a moment.

"No," I concluded, with a bright smile. "Not really."

Sapphire sighed again, and we reached the final fence. Here, Shawn himself wandered over to us.

"Oh, hey Sapphire," he said, idly picking at the strings of his guitar. "And hi, er—"

"Kester," I reminded him. "My name's Kester."

"Right," Shawn said. "Kester. So, Sapphire, you're going to take on Wattson today, hm?"

"Yes," she replied. "Can you let me in?"

"Yeah, sure." Shawn unlocked the gate, let Sapphire through, and shut it carefully in my face. I walked into it and felt a faint tingling, but no pain.

Mm-mm, said Puck happily, that's some good electricity. So much better than that stuff going round in your brain.

"Hey!" I cried, "why'd you shut it?"

"Challengers only beyond this point." Shawn locked the gate again and started playing with his guitar. "You can watch fine from where you are."

I glowered at him ineffectively, then took a step back to see better.

Wattson's beanbag was positioned at the back of a bright yellow stage, the steps of which Sapphire was currently mounting; the lights reflected so harshly off the polished surface that I felt I might well develop snow blindness if I looked at it for too long. The old man got to his feet at her approach, and smiled amiably.

"It's you," he said.

"Yes," Sapphire agreed. "It is me. Whatever you mean by that. I'm here to challenge you to a battle – I have an appointment?"

Kester, Puck said, do you think you could walk into the fence again? I want a bit more of that stuff.

"No," I replied. "I categorically refuse to engage in active self-harm purely so you can have a snack."

You've a heart colder than Estella's, Puck said, with an aggrieved air. Fine, I guess I can't make you.

"That's right," I said, feeling very self-satisfied. It was good to be in control.

"Does she have an appointment?" Wattson asked Shawn. Shawn nodded.

"Yeah, she does," he replied.

"I just said that!" protested Sapphire, but Wattson simply turned to her and laughed loudly into her face.

He really is crazy, isn't he? Puck remarked.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Total nutcase."

"What sort of strength?" Wattson said, taking three steps back and pulling out a Great Ball from his pocket. "Which team do I use?"

"I'm going to use two Pokémon," Sapphire told him. "Level 22 and 24, respectively."

She had already told me that she didn't plan to use the Sableye. He was too strong, and too unreliable.

"That's all right," said Wattson, smiling broadly, replacing the Great Ball and drawing out another. "I'll use two weaker ones, then."

Sapphire took Rono's ball from her belt, and tossed it down on the ground; the Aron was visibly agitated, shifting anxiously from foot to stubby foot. Wattson sent out a smaller version of the Electrode he had used before, with angrier eyes and no mouth: a Voltorb.

"If you're ready," Shawn said, holding out one hand. "The match begins – now!"

He dropped his hand, and immediately two conflicting voices rang out:

"Mud-Slap!"

"Go round and round!"

Rono kicked up a cloud of dirt from somewhere, but the Voltorb was already moving, whizzing around the arena in a blur of red and white; Rono's attack missed, and the Voltorb settled into a steady orbit around him, circling like some weird cross between Poké Ball and shark.

"What are you doing?" asked Sapphire.

"Wahahahahaha!" laughed Wattson. "Round and round and round and round!"

"Oh, God, you really are insane, aren't you? Rono, wait for it, and Headbutt!"

It took him a couple of tries, but eventually the Aron managed to land a solid hit on his whirling opponent; it flew backwards like a thrown ball and bounced off Wattson's broad chest. As it landed, I could see whatever vitriol simmered in its eyes flaring; it obviously didn't like being maltreated like that.

"All right, all right," Wattson said. "Let's get down to business. Spark!"

"Mud-Slap and dodge!"

Just as the Voltorb zoomed forwards, plastic hide glowing, Rono's dirt-cloud appeared; the spherical Pokémon vanished from sight and emitted a high-pitched grinding sound that I took to indicate distress. At the precise moment that it emerged from the muddy mess, spattered with brown and looking somewhat confused, Rono curled up and rolled to the side. The Spark dissipated on the surface of the Voltorb, and Rono took the chance to give it a judicious Headbutt.

"Oho!" cried Wattson, producing an enormous pink umbrella from somewhere, unfurling it and advancing on the Aron. "What's this?"

"I'll take that," said Shawn gently, relieving him of his weapon and pushing him back a few steps.

"Finish him!" Wattson shouted. "He's almost gone!"

This was patently a lie, but it seemed to convince the Voltorb; despite its injuries, it narrowed its evil little eyes and rolled towards Rono once more. This time, the Spark hit, yellow electricity arcing over the surface of his steel skin; as the Voltorb rolled back, preparing for a second blow, he staggered back a pace, squeezing his blue eyes shut in pain.

"Keep going," Sapphire said softly. "Come on, Rono. Another Headbutt."

She really does like that Aron, observed Puck. How sweet.

Rono jumped forwards unenthusiastically, and caught the Voltorb a glancing blow. The latter monster was so light that even that small hit threw it back about a metre; it landed in between Wattson's feet. The Gym Leader picked it up and examined it minutely.

"Some new kind of apple?" he pondered, scratching his head. "I wonder what it t—"

"No!" cried Shawn, darting forwards and dashing the Voltorb from his hand, moments before it would have reached his lips. "No, don't eat that!"

Wattson gave him a long and inscrutable look, then nodded firmly.

"Yes," he said, appearing to regain some modicum of sanity. "I should... this is a battle, yes?"

"Yes," called Sapphire.

"Right. Yoghurt, SonicBoom!"

The Voltorb spun rapidly on its axis, and a deafeningly loud crack rent the air; it seemed that whatever had happened, its focus was on Rono, because a strange, unnatural vibration passed through his body, and a massive crack appeared in his rocky underbelly. He gave a weak, gravelly cry, and Sapphire cried out:

"One more! Just hang in there for one more move, Rono!"

Rono didn't seem to be able to move his back legs, but he dragged himself forwards and waited, eyes following the Voltorb as it pursued its rapid path around the stage.

"Finish this," Wattson said, "Spark it."

The Voltorb darted forwards, towards Rono's unmoving form—

—and was met with a resounding smack of steel on plastic, the Aron's head swinging forth to crash into his opponent's face. The Voltorb cracked from top to bottom, and as it flew backwards, something hot and glowing started to trail from its forehead. Wattson recalled it hurriedly, and it was back in the ball before it hit the ground.

"Yoghurt is unable to battle," called Shawn. "One point to Sapphire Birch."

Good call on Wattson's part, Puck said. It was about to go off, and that's never a good thing.

"Go off... like a bomb?"

No, like a freaking lollipop lady. Yes, like a bomb.

"All right, all right," I said, stung. "No need to be so... nasty about it."

Wattson threw down a ball that disgorged another ball – or so I thought. The Pokémon that emerged was featureless, spherical and made entirely of steel; it had one large, staring white eye, which appeared to be painted on, and when it came out everything made of metal started to float towards it.

"Rono, come back!" called Sapphire, and he flew towards the ball; however, the magnetic Pokémon's field seemed to draw him back, sliding slowly across the floor with a grinding sound.

Magnet Pull, Puck said appreciatively. Wattson's a nutter, but he's a clever nutter.

"What's going on?" I asked.

That thing's a Magnemite, Puck told me. They're magnetic. Rono's made of steel...

"So he's stuck out?"

That's right. And since it's an official League match, Sapphire can't use an item to heal him... I should think he's screwed.

As I watched, a bolt of lightning lanced from the Magnemite's unblinking eye to Rono's face; the Aron's limbs convulsed, his eyes shut and he slumped down onto his cracked belly.

"Rono is unable to fight," said Shawn, playing a little celebratory riff on his guitar. "One point to Wattson."

Damn, Gina, said Puck, this lightning so deadly!

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

You are so little fun that I think there must be something wrong with you. Ever been to see a doctor about it? Or maybe a stand-up comedian would be better. Or maybe even just the Internet. Heard of it?

Sapphire looked upset, but sent out Toro without saying anything.

"Ember!" she ordered.

Good move. Magnemite has high defence, so it's more likely to survive Double Kick than Ember, despite being weak to both.

I didn't get that, but I did note with some surprise that Toro was able to defeat the Magnemite in a single hit with Ember; the flames flared up in what I recognised as a critical hit, and they packed enough punch to make the sphere pass out. This didn't make it close its eye, but it fell straight down like a lead weight, cracking the plastic covering of the stage, and rolled away to come to rest stuck to Rono.

"Gigaremo is unable to battle. Sapphire Birch wins the match!"

"Wahahaha!" laughed Wattson, and sat heavily down on his beanbag. "You ended up giving me a thrill!"

"Who's he talking to?" asked Sapphire, for he was looking intently at the light fixtures.

"You, probably," replied Shawn. "Here, have one of these things." He handed her a Dynamo Badge, and this time she accepted, staring at it happily for a moment before pocketing it.

Like I said, Wednesday began deceptively well. Sapphire won her match, very few weird things happened; all in all, it was good – especially since I later learned that it was rare to beat a Gym Leader straight away like that. I guess it helped that Wattson wasn't in his right mind.

Now I'm going to start on the bad.

---

Fabien stopped in front of the Mauville Memorial Centre, turned to face his colleagues, and cracked his knuckles in the manner of one about to do something decisive.

"OK, gang," he said, "let's split up and look for clues!"

Goishi gave him a look, and he hastily elaborated.

"What I mean is, Blake and I are going to go and look for the Rotom-kid in here" – he indicated the Memorial Centre, three floors of prime shopping and dining opportunities – "while you are going to search the Gym, and the Pokémon Centres."

The Golbat stared at Fabien, depressed, then, unable to muster enough emotion even to protest, flapped off to find the Gym. Apparently, he thought, he was Velma.

The Magmas had, much like when Kester had first bested them, spent some time constructing a large and elaborate reason for their defeat; that is to say, Fabien had spent some time constructing a large and elaborate reason, while Blake nodded and admired it, and Goishi closed his eyes and thought dark and exasperated thoughts. The explanation thus devised was this: the boy had, using the not inconsiderable resources of Team Aqua, hired a large quantity of actors of the same age and general build as himself, and, utilising hair dye, make up and many sets of identical clothing, had disguised them so that, in the dim light of sunset, they might be mistaken for him. Blake had then asked why he had done this; Fabien's reply had been that, of course, he had wanted to throw them off the scent and frighten them. Fabien had been somewhat less clear about precisely how the Rotom-boy had known that they were lying in wait up the path, but it was generally understood amongst the three Magmas that Fabien was almost certainly correct.

Once this explanation had been provided, they had been able to laugh at how foolish they were and climb down the support in peace. However, they had been chased back up again by a pack of wild Manectric that seemed averse to allowing them safe passage through their territory; with this and other obstacles, it had taken them rather longer to get to Mauville than they would have liked. 'Longer', in this case, signifying several extra days.

From there, they had swiftly reached the city's main shopping centre, the Mauville Memorial Centre – although what it was a memorial to was something that no one could have told you – and that was where Fabien had conceived a plan to split up and search for their targets. He and Blake would search the Memorial Centre, and Goishi would search at the Gym and Centres.

Fabien strolled into the mall, and inhaled deeply, taking in the scents of sophistication and civilisation that gathered in the air around him. It was good to be back in a city, he decided.

"Right, Blake," he said. "A light meal, and I think we'll be ready to proceed, don't you?"

"A'righ'." His partner nodded his assent, and they went off in search of food.

---

Barry came to in the back of a moving van, slumped against one wall. He immediately divined that his shoulder hurt, and gave a corresponding groan of pain; a second or two later, he worked out that his neck also hurt, due to his position, and made a second groan of equal or greater value.

"Is this a hangover?" he wondered. "No... I wasn't drunk..." He snapped his fingers. That was it – that weird white Sableye had blasted him with a Power Gem. Or it might have been a wrecking ball; judging by the pain, it could have been either. "Where am I?" he asked, banging on the van's wall.

"Quit it," came a terse reply. "I'm taking you to Mauville, moron. You got beaten up by those kids."

The tone of the voice so clearly conveyed contempt that Barry was forced to consider the prospect of it being what is commonly known as 'scathing'; after a moment's reflection, he decided that, regrettably, it was. He let out a long sigh, and settled into a marginally more comfortable position.

"Did we get them in the end?" he asked.

"What do you think?"

Barry was silent for a moment. Then, hopefully:

"Yes?"

"Dear God. Is this what our organisation's come to these days? Hiring lobotomised monkeys as grunts?"

"Shut up," Barry rumbled.

"Or what?" the voice countered. "I don't have to drive you to Mauville, you know. I could drop you off here, if you'd prefer, and then you can walk and explain to Matt why you're late."

Barry's manly heart sank; it was a piteous sight to behold, like an ageing dog that can no longer refuse to be dressed up by small girls in a hat and coat.

"Matt's in Mauville?"

"Yes, questioning your partner. She's not going to be happy with you." The voice sounded almost gleeful, and Barry wondered who his driver was. "Word is, though, she's the one in charge of your group. You turning soft for a pretty girl, Barry?"

"Tchaikovsky?" asked Barry in a low growl. "Is that you?"

"Do Gyarados eat ships?"

Tchaikovsky was not, as one might have thought, a 19th century Russian composer, but a driver for the Aquas whose path had crossed Barry's many times in the past; an incurable smart-aleck, the diminutive Johtonian had never really been highly esteemed by the giant, and indeed over the years had become an object of positive loathing. He was also something of a fan of twentieth-century British music.

"Does Matt want to talk to me as well?" Barry asked.

"You better you better you bet," sang out Tchaikovsky. "After all, from what I gather you actually had the kid in your hands before you got beaten up by a Sableye. Of all the things...!"

"It was a strong Sableye," Barry rumbled defiantly.

"'Strong', in this case, meaning something different to what it usually does, I suppose," Tchaikovsky replied. "Seriously, Barry, did you ever know a Sableye to be strong?"

Barry thought about it, and concluded that the one he had met yesterday did indeed fit neatly into that category.

"Yes," he said.

Tchaikovsky made an exasperated noise.

"Honestly," he said. "I don't know why you don't just carry a gun. Shoot these things. Felicity's a smart girl, she knows what she's doing. But you, you rely too much on your strength."

"Shut up."

"Not now, I'm just getting into this speech. Where was I? Oh yeah: you know what they say about this sort of thing, don't you? Happiness is a warm gun. That's what they say."

"That's a Beatles song," Barry pointed out, in an uncharacteristic flash of insight.

"Well... the Beatles had it right, then," Tchaikovsky countered. "They were smart boys."

"Huh."

Barry didn't know enough about the Beatles to know if they were smart or not, but he wanted to give the impression that he did, and that he disagreed with Tchaikovsky on that point.

"I'm guessing that by 'huh' you mean you don't know anything about the Beatles," Tchaikovsky said. "Which is quite difficult; are you sure you don't know? Perhaps you have some sort of memory problem. You probably ought to get your head checked, by a jumbo jet. That wouldn't be easy, I suppose – but then again, nothing is, is it?"

"What're you on about now?" growled Barry. Tchaikovsky snickered.

"Never mind," he said. "Some day you'll find what I meant. You know, caught beneath a landslide, in a champagne supernova."

"You're doing that... that thing you do again," Barry said. "Stop it."

"Or what? We've come right back to my threat to make you walk."

Barry sighed, and forced himself to shut up. There was no point talking to Tchaikovsky. The little man would run verbal rings around him. Instead, he decided, when the van stopped, he would rip him from the driver's seat and beat the living daylights out of him.

Comforted by this thought, he settled down in the back of the van to wait.
 
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Xilfer

Just won't die.
1,880
Posts
13
Years
Hey again, it may not have occured to you but i've been following your story since it started, it's amazing! i'm not one for details or reviews. but your story is just something else! it's funny and serious at the same time, and i can't stop telling myself "Poor Kester" sometimes, anyway, i just finished your latest chapter, all your work is just great! making Puck english and adding all those english literature comments and such was one of the bests.

Puck's comments are sometimes the best bit and he's by far my favorite character in the story, and i like how you made Sapphire so cruel and annoying, and it's hilarious how poor old Kester has no control of his situation at all. anyway, the true purpose of this post: PLEASE IN GOD'S NAME MAKE ANOTHER CHAPTER! PLEAAAAAASE! ILL DIE WITHOUT IT! XD.
 

Cutlerine

Gone. May or may not return.
1,030
Posts
13
Years
Xilfer, this one's for you.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Bad Day Bad Day Bad Day!

First off: have you ever tried to separate a Magnemite and an Aron?

It's not easy, let me tell you that. I got recruited to help – which basically means that I grabbed Rono and Shawn grabbed Wattson's Magnemite, while the two Trainers stood around and did nothing at all to aid us. The little steel ball had a lot of power in it, because it took the better part of twenty minutes to work the damn things apart; they were stuck as fast as two limpets that had accidentally suckered themselves to each other.

As soon as we had them apart, Wattson recalled his Magnemite, which nullified the magnetic field instantly; I tumbled over backwards and down the steps to the stage, with Rono's hard, heavy body crushing my ribs and belly. I lay there, winded, until Sapphire recalled him, and then slowly got back up.

"Couldn't you have recalled your Magnemite earlier?" I asked Wattson, aggrieved. "You know, like before it got stuck to Rono and I had to try and prise them apart?"

"Wahahahahaha," laughed the old Gym Leader. "You ended up giving me a thrill!"

I turned to Sapphire, ignoring him and trying to quell the rage building up inside me.

"We should go," I said. "Rono looks like he could use the Pokémon Centre."

"Thanks, Shawn, Wattson," Sapphire said, nodding at me. "It's been absolutely a pleasure to meet you."

"All mine, Sapphire," replied the guitarist. "And I'm sure Wattson's delighted, too."

"He certainly seems it," I muttered under my breath, listening to his laughter; Puck chuckled.

You're getting the hang of this joking lark, aren't you? he remarked happily. Well, good for you.

We made our way back out of the training hall, and upon entering the Gym's little entrance corridor, were immediately confronted by a five-foot-tall blue bat, its great mouth spread wide and about a metre and a half of tongue lolling out and lying on the floor in a lazy coil.

I never forget a face
, said Puck, but in his case, I think I'm willing to make an exception.

"Ee-ee-E-E-E-eek," it said malevolently, and I raised my hand to ThunderShock it; before I could do anything, it whipped its tongue through the air and vomited out a stream of sparkly lights. Surprised at this sudden move, I stood and gaped while they hit me in the face. It didn't hurt, but almost immediately, I felt like I was suffering the effects of deciding to get drunk on a roundabout: dizzier than any rational human being can ever want to be.

Oh dear, Puck said. Seems you've been confused.

I'm not entirely sure what happened next, because I did a lot of walking into walls and tangling my feet together; none of my limbs would do what I want, and all of them had their own ideas about who we were meant to be attacking. At one point, I even managed to ThunderShock myself in the face, which was, though not unduly painful, very annoying.

I was vaguely aware that something was happening to my right, where Sapphire was; she'd tried to turn back and get into the training hall again, I think, but somehow the Golbat stopped her.

That is one mean stare that Golbat's got, Puck remarked, as I smacked my face against the wall. Probably because it's using Mean Look, but you know.

"No, I don't!" I managed to say, through lips that didn't seem to recognise words.

Toro appeared. That was the next thing I remember. However, she didn't stay out for long; the Golbat swiped at her head with one wing, and she crumpled to the floor, instantly defeated. I had no idea why, and I didn't really care, because I was trying to stop punching myself.

Stop hitting yourself, stop hitting yourself, said Puck. Heh. Did you ever get bullied and have someone punch you with your own fist while saying that? I didn't – no one bullies a Ghost, and I don't have fists anyway – but I'm fairly certain of its prevalence amongst humans.

"I'm trying to stop!" I answered, anguished. "I really am!"

I believe you, Puck said. I'll always believe in you. Unless you do something stupid, in which case I'll inform you of it in no uncertain terms.

"Be more helpful!" I blundered forwards and, by sheer luck, crashed into the Golbat; together, we tumbled to the floor. Its heavy wings beat against my back, and my electricity crackled along its tongue; it screeched in pain and threw me off, struggling back to its feet. I tried to get up and ended up kicking Sapphire in the leg. Unprepared for the blow, she fell over too, and she, Toro and I co-existed in an undignified tangle of limbs for a short, uneasy period of time. The reason for its being short was this: once we had all been incapacitated, the Golbat lurched forwards, wrapped its tongue around my waist and dragged me away down the hall.

Your health is slowly being sapped, Puck informed me brightly. This is the move known as Wrap. Or maybe he's just got his tongue wrapped around you, I can't really tell. It's almost the same thing.

"You're no help!"

We're confused. We can't do anything. It'll wear off soon, don't worry. About the confusion, that is. You probably should worry about this whole kidnapping business.

The Golbat headbutted the Gym door open, and flapped out; it struggled and strained, and managed to lift me into the air. It flew away, misjudged the height and let me smack headfirst into the fence.

"EEEEEK!" it said angrily, dropping me a swift and painfully-terminated six feet to the ground; at this point, Sapphire and a couple of other Trainers burst out of the Gym, and, deciding that it would prefer to survive to fight another day, the Golbat flew off hurriedly. A large, four-winged Pokémon with massive eye-shaped antennae erupted from its ball and rapidly gave chase.

I picked myself up off the tarmac, the last vestiges of confusion swirling in my head. I clung to the fence for stability, and blinked sluggishly as a barrage of questions assailed my ears. 'Are you OK?' was the one that I heard most often, and consequently the one I answered first.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, head clearing. "I'm fine."

"Did that Golbat just come in here and—?" asked a kid a few years younger than me, the one who'd set the four-winged Pokémon on the Golbat's tail.

"Yeah," I replied. "It beat up Sapphire's Combusken, confused me and then just – took off." I made a little motion with one hand. Maybe I was in shock, maybe I wanted to make myself seem cooler, but I was making very light of this indeed.

"We should tell Shawn about this," said another Trainer.

"No, the police!" argued the first.

"Kids," I said, and when they glared at me regretted it. "I mean, guys, let's just... be cool."

Be cool, honey bunny, Puck said, in a deep American-accented voice. Be cool. Then, as usual after he made an abstruse referential joke, he laughed quietly to himself.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," said Sapphire forcefully. "We're both fine. That Golbat... we've met it before. Kester has, anyway. It's our business."

With a jolt, I realised she was right: the Golbat had to be the Team Magma one that had attacked me last Monday, in the back alley in Rustboro near where Puck had stashed the goods.

That sounds so cool, Puck said. 'Where Puck had stashed the goods.' I feel cooler than Huggy Bear.

Who? I thought back, as the four-winged Pokémon returned; it moved slowly, bleeding from a series of small, crescent-shaped cuts on its belly.

"You didn't catch it, then?" asked its Trainer; the Pokémon buzzed dumbly and I wondered if he'd really expected an answer. He was talking to an insect, after all. He sighed, sprayed a Potion on it and recalled it. "You're sure you can handle this yourselves?" he asked of Sapphire and I.

"Yes."

"Yeah."

He exchanged glances with the other Trainer; they sighed and said:

"All right."

Then they turned and went back to the Gym.

Who brings a Masquerain to an Electric Gym? Puck wondered. They're so weak to those moves. Unlike diamonds, which are forever.

"Come on," Sapphire said, looking around in case the Golbat returned. "We should leave. Team Magma have caught up with us, it seems – and the Golbat's using different tactics now. It's not taking any chances."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Let's get back to the Centre."

As we walked down the street, a thought struck me.

Puck? I just got your last reference!

To
Diamonds Are Forever? I thought you might – I seem to remember you knowing who James Bond is.

Well, yeah. The world is not enough to contain his fame.

Oho! Puck seemed genuinely impressed. That's good, Kester. Knowing that you can actually make jokes gives me a quantum of solace.

We both burst out laughing then, much to Sapphire's surprise; she gave me an odd look, and I shook my head, pointing to my brain. She rolled her eyes and ignored me.

OK, OK, I thought. Let's have a competition—

—To see who can reference the most Bond film titles? Puck asked. You're on! Time's up when we run out of films, and you can't use any of them twice.

Fair enough, I agreed, and immediately started thinking of ways to relate the things I was seeing to James Bond.

Don't rush it
, Puck cautioned. Let it come naturally. This is going to be fun, and it'll be best if we do it at a natural sort of pace.

"Right," I said aloud, and schemed all the way back to the Pokémon Centre.

---

Goishi landed with a clatter in the centre of the table, scattering dishes and leaving a splatter of saliva over Fabien's lobster terrine.

"Oh, come on!" cried Fabien, who was mere moments away from taking a mouthful, and now put down his knife and fork in disgust. "You know that's my favourite!"

The Golbat eyed him with the sort of distaste usually reserved for foul and unidentifiable gunk that attaches itself to the sole of one's shoe, and said:

"Eee-ee-EEEE-eek."

Fabien listened intently, then asked:

"So they were at the Gym? Then why didn't you catch them?"

Again, the withering stare; Fabien, completely impervious to it, nodded and smiled.

"I see," he said sympathetically. "It was obviously too much for you."

"Excuse me, sir," interrupted a waiter as politely as possible, unwittingly forestalling any retribution on Goishi's part, "I'm afraid I will have to ask you and your friend to leave. You can't bring Pokémon in here; not non-domestic ones, anyway."

He cast an unloving look at Goishi, who, affronted, slapped his cheek with the tip of his tongue; Fabien and Blake rose hurriedly, tossing a few notes onto the table to cover their ruined meal, and left before things got out of hand.

"Honestly," Fabien said despairingly as they trudged through the Memorial Centre, "you really must be more sensitive, Goishi. That man didn't deserve that."

Goishi gave him up as a lost cause and shook his heavy head.

"Fabien," said Blake.

"Yes?"

"I've acciden'ally stolen a fork."

Fabien looked. He was right: the utensil was still clasped firmly in Blake's meaty hand, and Blake himself was staring at it as if trying to figure out how it had got there.

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Do I take it back?"

"Too late now," sighed Fabien. "Just... put it down somewhere. In that bin, that'll do."

Dutifully, Blake tipped the fork into the bin, which drew the ire of an old lady wandering nearby; she addressed them in no uncertain terms about the moral wickedness of failing to recycle metal items, and chased them down a flight of stairs, laying about their heads and shoulders with a stout umbrella.

Goishi flapped lazily along above his two masters, watching them flee the Centre in a panic, and sighed. He missed Stheno.

---

You may recall I said that Wednesday was an awful day, and be wondering quite what was so bad about it beyond having to separate Rono from the Magnemite and almost being kidnapped by a Golbat. I might well respond that that was bad enough – but it did actually get worse, and it started when we retired to the Centre's living-room after lunch to see if there was anything on TV.

Sapphire and I were the only ones there – generally, Trainers were out for most of the day – and had thus managed to gain control of the sofa directly in front of the TV.
Comfortably seated and feeling almost normal, we flicked on the television and stared in surprise at the screen.

Hey, Puck said. It's our old friend from Slateport.

There he was, topping the news, his sharp eyes shining like factories far away; he was grinning wildly into the lens of a CCTV camera, while his cohorts tore up books behind him. Talking over the frozen image was the voice of Gabby van Horne, Hoenn's favourite newsgirl and one half of a partnership with the country's most famous and reckless cameraman, Tyrone de'Medici.

Seriously? He belongs to the House of Medici?

"Ssh," I hissed. "I'm trying to listen."

"...attacks have spread to Verdanturf and Mauville over the last few days," Gabby was saying. "Professor Birch is currently working with the Pokémon Rangers in order to try and find out what exactly is agitating the Sableye, and how best to calm them down."

"Kill Stripe, that's my guess," I muttered. "He's the one stirring them up. I thought I'd got him back in Slateport, but I guess he never dies. Just like tomorrow."

Oh! Puck cried. You sneaky—! I'll have to keep my guard up against you.

"This is bad," Sapphire said. "We let those Sableye out. Aren't we kind of responsible?" She looked at me, worried. I shrugged.

"Is it our fault that the lead Sableye's crazy?" I asked.

"I guess..."

"Besides, what do you care? You're fairly abusive as it is." Sapphire looked hurt.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"...the first recorded injury," Gabby said, which snapped us out of what would doubtless have been a long and protracted argument. "Mrs. Deagle, 52, of Verdanturf, was thrown from a first-floor window by her stair-lift, which had been altered to run at dangerously high speed by the Sableye. She is currently in hospital, where her condition is said to be critical."

Mesprit's pink pigtails, Puck exclaimed, this joke is rapidly becoming my favourite. And you still aren't getting it, you moronic Hoennian meatfaces!

Sapphire and I exchanged a vaguely guilty glance.

"Is that our...?" she asked.

"No," I said. "Can't be our fault. We were just escaping, right? Couldn't be helped."

"Besides," Sapphire added, "they can't know for sure that it was the Sableye, can they?"

"The tracks of several Sableye were found nearby, and tufts of hair confirmed to be from the Darkness Pokémon were caught in some mechanical parts of the stair-lift," Gabby went on, "marking them out as the obvious perpetrators of the crime. It is still uncertain why this gang of Sableye have developed criminal tendencies, but early studies indicate that there is a leader among them, instigating the violence. We'll bring you more as it comes."

Wow, said Puck mildly, it's like this broadcast was tailored for you, the way it answered Sapphire's question like that. You might even say it was... for your eyes only.

"Now is not the time, Puck—"

It's always time for a Bond joke, Kester.

I ground my teeth and wished I'd never entered into the stupid competition; it was doing nothing but encouraging him.

Didn't your mother tell you never to grind your teeth?

I tuned him out and returned to the news, but Gabby was talking now about the battle to cope with 140,000 Libyan refugees heading into Egypt and Tunisia, which should, in all fairness, have probably been on as the main story. In Hoenn, though, we're pretty much unaffected by the events in the Middle East, or anywhere else for that matter, and local news like enraged Sableye tends to top the bill. Our UN representative, if the rumours are to be believed, spends most of her time playing Chinese checkers against her Sinnish counterpart.

"Still, this stuff... it is pretty bad," I said, worried. "OK, this might be partially our fault."

"We should do something," Sapphire agreed.

We looked at each other for a moment, hoping the other had an idea. In true form with days that get worse and worse, neither of us did, and we ended up doing nothing except feeling guilty and watching TV for another hour. After the news, during which we learned that British researchers had just created the highest-resolution optical microscope ever, we sat and suffered through an hour of daytime television, with the result that I felt myself to be in serious danger of a brain haemorrhage.

"We can't stay here," I said, determinedly turning off the TV. "It's going to kill us. Well, it's going to kill me, anyway."

"You're right," said Sapphire. "We should... go and do something about those Sableye?"

"Yeah, all right," I replied unenthusiastically. "I guess we could do that. I don't suppose it said where they were?"

"If you were listening, you would know that that woman's house is in Panzini District," Sapphire told me. "If we go there, wander around and ask someone, I expect they'll know where it is. They won't still be there, but you don't study wild Pokémon for seven years without learning how to track them."

With that, we hit the road. Guilt is, I find, one of the most powerful motives for anything, and also certain to ruin your day.

At around a quarter to three, we arrived at the house of Mrs. Deagle, which was a fine old detached property that would, given fifty years without love, have made a good haunted house; unsurprisingly, there was a ring of police tape around it, and a white marquee erected over the spot in the road where the fateful stair-lift had crashed. The scene of crime officers buzzed around it like flies on a corpse, and a few policemen stood around the perimeter, explaining to us and to everyone else who had come to see that we couldn't come any further, and that it would be preferable if we would all leave. Being Hoennian cops, they were significantly less polite than this, but the message was essentially the same.

"Come on," said Sapphire, "let's get around here."

We skirted the crowd of onlookers, and managed to get to the left-hand side of the house, where a Sableye-sized hole had been cut into the wall. I had no doubt that the stair-lift was on the other side.

"Hey! You kids!" cried the policeman whose unfortunate duty it was to guard that spot. "Get outta here!"

"Just going," Sapphire said, flashing her lopsided grin. "We've seen all we need to, thanks."

She walked off down the street, and I turned and ran to catch up.

"Wait!" I said. "What do you mean, you've seen all you need to?"

"They went this way," Sapphire said, pointing down the road. "Sableye like hard surfaces like stone and jewels, so they haven't used the gardens. Look. There's black fur on the fence-post there."

I looked. There was, and I gave an impressed whistle.

"You know your stuff," I said admiringly.

"Yes," Sapphire replied, without the slightest trace of irony, "I do."

I followed her down the road and towards a commercial area in the south of the district. There, the trail ran out, destroyed by the passage of cars and pedestrians; the Sableye could have gone anywhere from here.

"Damn," I said. "Are you sure there's nothing?"

"Nothing," Sapphire said, looking annoyed. "That's really annoying."

Yes, I'll bet it is, Puck said. This is where you need the services of a Ghost.

"Puck? What was that?"

Well, I can sense them, of course, he replied smugly. They're Ghosts, I'm a Ghost. There's a deep connection there. Spiritual, baby.

"Whatever. Where are they?"

"He can feel their presence? They're near?"

I shushed Sapphire and listened to Puck.

I know where they are, he told me. You might call me Dr. Know.

"That was awful," I replied, "but I appreciate it's difficult to get that one into normal conversation. Where are they?"

Well, the leader one's quite smart. You know, for a Sableye. So he remembers you, and not too fondly. Consequently, when he sensed your Ghostly presence, he decided to head this way with a gang of about... oh, maybe fifty friends?

"Oh God," I said, ramming the heel of my palm into my forehead. "Sapphire, we need to get moving."

"Why?" she asked, and I told her. "Oh," she said. "That seems reasonable, I suppose."

Someone shrieked from up the road. My head snapped around to face the direction of the sound, and I saw them coming: they moved along the walls, like they had in the lift shaft, swarming over the shopfronts and dropping down occasionally to bounce around on the heads of frightened passers-by. People were backing off and running, or staring in shock; the cars just kept rolling past, oblivious to the chaos that reigned on the pavement.

Then I saw Stripe. He was at the head of the column, grinning like a madman and, disconcertingly, gripping a Bowie knife between his teeth.

Seems like he's been learning while looting those shops, Puck said. Kester, I think we might want to consider running.

"Sapphire, let's go," I said.

"Yes. Definitely," she replied, and we ran.

A great chattering whoop went up from the Sableye, and they doubled their pace; the street degenerated into chaos, a blur of fleeing pedestrians and cars swerving violently to avoid them; the screech of brakes, frightened cries and the shrill battle-shout of the Sableye filled my ears for a brief instant before being blocked out by the thumping beat of my heart. A surge of energy washed over me, and somehow I ended up in front of Sapphire. I forced my way between a couple of slow fat people, and into an alleyway. Thinking back on it, heading for a dark, enclosed space – in other words, home turf for Sableye – probably wasn't the best of ideas, but at the time I just wanted to leave the chaotic muddle of the street without getting hurt.

The alleys snaked and twisted around like fighting vipers, and I ran down them blindly, without thinking; some quirk of fate brought me out near Blintzkrieg, and I burst into the bright light of day with a strange, high-pitched cry of relief. This, combined with the wild-eyed, dishevelled look of me, frightened a cluster of teenage girls and sent them rushing over to the other side of the street, casting me strange looks.

They should be in school
, Puck remarked. It's what, quarter past three? Oh wait, maybe the schools have closed now. When I went to school, the day ended at quarter past six. A real man's working day, that was.

I was too out of breath to reply, or even doubt that Puck had ever actually attended school; I flopped down onto a nearby bench and tried to get my breath back.

"We're – safe now – right?" I panted after a moment or two.

I think so. They should have lost you in the confusion. You'll live to die another day.

"Very – funny," I replied, as sarcastically as I could given the small amount of breath I had to work with. "You never – know – when not to – make – jokes – do you?"

There isn't much else for me to do
, Puck pointed out. I'm kind of stuck in your head, if you remember.

"Shut up."

I looked around at the passing traffic. The mess I'd escaped from seemed very far away; everyone here was calm, safe in the security of habit. No monsters were after their lives, and no evil organisations wanted to capture them. No one here was secretly watching another, stalking them until the moment was right to pounce; the street was just a chance combination of lives, coming together once in a unique combination that would break apart when someone turned the corner, and would never form again. I had a brief but profoundly philosophical moment of longing for the random vagaries of everyday life, and then I sighed, the feeling melting seamlessly into a strange, ineffable sadness.

I thought Hoennians were Buddhists?
Puck asked. Shouldn't you therefore not believe that any event is random?

"I'm not really much of a Buddhist," I replied, drawing a strange look from a man walking his Growlithe. "I drink alcohol, for one, and I eat meat, and I never meditate... you know how you can be a nominal member of a religion, and not really be a proper member?"

I see, Puck said. It's like that. Among the Pokémon with higher rational abilities, there are lots like that as well; I can see it applying to humans.

"Pokémon have religions?"

They're the same ones as yours. When you go back to people as wise as Siddhattha Gautama or Jesus Christ, there isn't any difference between human or Pokémon; we're all just looking for something to believe in. Puck sounded pensive, perhaps even sad. It's the price we pay for intelligence: we have to believe. Have you ever met an Alakazam? They're very clever, but they've choked on their own intellect. All of them are fundamentalists about one thing or another; either that, or they're insane. Puck sighed. It's a pity that being smart isn't a guarantee of wisdom. There's nothing so valuable in this world, or anything so universally overlooked.

I was genuinely moved by his little speech; there was something about its sincerity and emotion that struck home deep within me, a little bell in my heart chiming the same note as his words. Perhaps it was just because it was so unlike him to engage in serious conversation, or perhaps I was just so new to philosophical discourse that I was overwhelmed by this brief taste of it, but I felt a rush of something new inside me.

"Anyway," I said, after a brief pause, "we should see where Sapphire's got to."

Yes, agreed Puck hurriedly. I hope she got away.

"She will," I replied. "The Sableye were after me, right? They'll live and let die when it comes to her."

Wha—? It's so unexpected when you make jokes! Puck cried, and, smiling to myself, I got up and went in search of Sapphire.

---

In a long, dark alley behind a small, dark bar, a short man in a hooded coat dialled a number on his mobile telephone.

"Yeah boss, it's me," he said. "Tchaikovsky."
 

Cutlerine

Gone. May or may not return.
1,030
Posts
13
Years
By Omlet's papa spook, I hate this chapter; it's honestly the worst thing I've written since the start of 2010 - and that includes my Theology essays. Bleah. Here it is anyway. I'll give the next one my best shot to bring it back to the usual quality.

Oh yeah, and there won't be an update on Sunday; instead, the next update will come on Tuesday. This is so I can devote this entire weekend to my brand new copy of Pokémon Black Version, which I should come into possession of at around 4.25 tomorrow.

[clears throat] Uh, one more thing: the title is the worst pun I've ever made. Really.

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Convergence of the Main (Characters)

The thing was on the move.

It tore across the country at blistering speed, easily outpacing any human fool enough to try and catch it; swooping from the heights of the Madeira Mountains, it shot southeast, heading for Mauville almost as the crow flies, and from there straight south to Slateport.

In a Poké Ball on a train was not the most dignified way to travel, but the thing cared not; it possessed roughly the same level of intelligence as a watermelon, and was content as long as it had something to chase.

And it did: Maxie had sent it and his most trusted Administrator to secure the SuperBlast Module, and before Thursday was out, they would be travelling back to the mountain, prize in hand.

---

As dawn broke over Slateport City, a tall, thin man with an eyepatch and a wooden leg stood next to a short, fat man with the opposite eye and leg missing; both wore the blue suits and sunglasses of Team Aqua, and also large, ostentatious black hats with the Aqua logo on them. Their names were Hans and Molasses, and they were watching the long, low building next to Angel Laboratories where deliveries were loaded up to be driven away. Attacking Angel itself was out of the question; their security was Devon-standard, and consequently the only option was to hijack the delivery truck as it left the compound.

Molasses, the small one, gestured with a hook-hand.

"Not long now," he grunted.

Hans, the tall one, nodded.

Around the area were arrayed thirteen other Aquas, each slightly lower-ranking than the last. Like Hans and Molasses, they were wearing the full dress uniform of the Team: hat, hook and wooden leg; eyepatch, suit and sunglasses. Before sunset fell over Hoenn, they would be back at Aqua headquarters, and they would have succeeded just as much as the Magmas.

---

"Kester, I swear I'm going to push you into the traffic if you don't stop complaining."

"I'm not saying anything!" I cried in protest, spreading my hands wide.

That's true, affirmed Puck. You're too busy trying to think of Bond jokes.

"Well, your eyes are complaining," Sapphire replied waspishly. "Look happier."

It was ten o'clock on Thursday morning, and we'd been hanging around the deliveries entrance to the Spectroscopic Fancy building since dawn. Sapphire had woken me at some ungodly hour much as the Bellman's crew had pursued their target – namely, with forks and hope. She had, typically, displayed zero gratitude for my tracking her down the day before and finding the way back to the Pokémon Centre. As a result of this and the whole 'waking me up by jabbing me with a fork' thing, our relations were more strained than usual today.

"Look," I said, "I'm resigned to the fact that you and I don't get along. That's cool now. But I don't want to be blamed for things I haven't done!"

Sapphire waved my words aside.

"Fine, fine," she said. "You're not complaining."

"Thank you," I replied, in a tone that I hoped conveyed slightly ruffled dignity. "Now, let's all calm down and wait for the SuperBlast Module to arrive."

---

Darren Goodwin leaned against a pilaster on the surface of a large building whose architect knew the Classical orders well and used them to great effect; a plaque beside the door proclaimed it to be the head office of the Mauville Times. No one challenged him, and if they had they would have swiftly been sent on their way by the threat of the Raiders, hanging in a loose cloud above his head.

The Devon researcher was watching Kester Ruby and the Aqua girl. They were just around the corner from him, and so laughably unaware of his presence that he almost smiled. He had been told that, since he was in the area, he might as well oversee the delivery of the Module; happily, though somewhat unexpectedly given its nature, it seemed his targets also had designs on the device, and so he had decided that, once it had been delivered safely, he would use the Raiders to force the Aqua girl to return the Master Ball, take possession of Kester, and then bring the girl in for questioning.

Darren sighed, and closed his heavy eyelids for a moment. It had been a long week, and he missed the sound of his wife's voice. But it would be over soon. He would be home by tomorrow morning, and then they would celebrate the delayed anniversary of their third year of marriage together.

And if fate conspired to lead events in a different direction, then Darren would use every power available to him as a Goodwin to alter it.

---

As soon as the truck rumbled out of the garage, the Aqua grunts sprang into action: a blue Aqua lorry was swiftly backed up by the entrance to the car park, and as soon as the truck passed through the gateway, the waiting lorry reversed sharply, lowering its rear ramp and scooping the truck neatly into its interior.

Shouts and gunshots sounded from near the Angel building, and Hans glanced back to see the black-clad security forces of the Laboratories emerging from strategic points around the area.

"Close the door!" he yelled, and two grunts burst from hiding to slam the lorry door shut on the truck, which was trying and failing to reverse. As bullets sang through the air, the Aquas alternately fled and returned fire, grabbing onto a series of straps attached to the side of their lorry as its engine turned and roared.

The Angel men poured into black cars and gave chase as soon as the lorry began to move, and soon the entire conflict had moved into the street, where the traffic parted before the chase in a storm of blaring horns and screaming brakes. Those that failed to do so were tossed aside by the lorry's reinforced front.

So much fire was now being traded by the Aquas and the Angels that the air between the cars and lorry now seemed to be primarily composed of metal and noise; round holes opened up on the lorry's rear, but its girth prevented any bullets from finding their mark on the Aquas themselves. Similarly, the armoured Angel cars were more than enough protection to render the Aquas' firearms useless. Neither side could accomplish anything by the senseless shooting, and both sides' driving suffered from it: the Angel cars almost crashed multiple times, and the Aqua lorry did crash at least twice – though it was so huge that it merely bulldozed the lampposts and smaller vehicles that had the temerity to stand in its way.

Then came the decisive moment: a corner. The lorry slewed around to a concerto of furious brakes, tipping and turning in a wholly unsafe manner; the Aqua cars tried to pull ahead of it, but were stopped by the unexpected rupturing of the lorry's wall. It seemed it could not take the weight of the Angel truck leaning against it, and so the delivery vehicle burst through, hit the ground with wheels spinning and sped off back in the direction of the Laboratories.

Immediately, the lorry bounced wildly back to a fully vertical position, flinging grunts high into the air; they rained down like confetti, slamming with cries of pain into cars, tarmac and even roofs. By a strange quirk of fate, it seemed none were seriously injured, although several had lost their peg-legs, and they made their bruised way back to the lorry to turn around and give chase to the now-fleeing Angel vehicles.

The truck with the Module in was in the lead, with the three Angel cars surrounding it to prevent attack from the back and sides. The lorry, after a surprisingly sharp turn, lumbered along close behind, much faster now that it lacked its bulky cargo. Between it and the cluster of Angel vehicles, the air was almost a solid wall of bullets – but they might as well have been blanks for all the damage they did to either the cars or the lorry. Neither the Aquas nor the Angels knew entirely why they were still shooting, but both sides were damned if they were going to give up before the enemy.

The lorry rammed the rearmost Angel car, and the smaller vehicle shot forwards to crunch into the back of the truck; however, it was entirely undamaged, and the chase continued apace. The continuous blam! blam! blam! of gunshots; the shrieks of fleeing motorists and pedestrians alike; the roar of the great lorry's engine; the sounds of the chase spewed out across the street in crazy waves that battered at the eardrums and demanded to be let in.

The truck tore back into the car park, braking hard and drawing long black lines of rubber across the asphalt; it slewed across three parking spaces, obliterated a parked car and slid neatly into the open door of the loading building. The three Aqua cars pulled up neatly outside the front doors, and their occupants each leaned out of the nearest window and started firing with gusto.

Hans and Molasses, in the cab of the lorry, looked at each other with unease. This was not meant to happen; in fact, nothing since the truck had fallen out of the side of the lorry had been meant to happen.

"Stupid cheap armoured lorry," muttered Molasses under his breath. "That's the last time we buy from Notorious Evans."

"I told you he was called 'notorious' because he's notorious for selling weak-walled lorries," replied Hans, though in fact this was a complete fabrication; Notorious Evans was notorious purely for being somewhat shady, and employing underhand tactics at the Slateport Citywide Horticultural Show.

This was all they had a chance to say, because at that moment the lorry's supposedly unbreakable windscreen broke, and they had to duck a storm of glass and bullets and throw the lorry into reverse. Seconds later, the Angel truck re-emerged from the garage, this time with the noticeable addition of a green-haired man in a blue suit standing on the roof. This was not the most alarming thing about him, as noted by Hans as he reversed the lorry furiously up the road; no, the really troubling thing was that he had a very large gun in his hands, of the type generally known to those who know them well as the 7.62mm M134 General Electric Minigun.

This development was both unexpected and unwelcome. The Minigun was far too large for one person to hold or wield safely, but, like Blain with Ol' Painless, this man appeared to have no trouble doing so.

"This cannot be happening," Molasses said, and then the blue-suited man opened fire.
How he stayed upright on the moving vehicle, firing a gun more usually mounted on a helicopter, will forever remain a mystery; we will not even touch on the implausibility of him being able to operate the Minigun and keep his arms in their sockets. This was Angel Laboratories, who were as corrupt as Devon and five times as insane; if someone threatened their products, they fought back with all available resources. And as acting head of the company, it was only natural that Usher House would defend it to the death.
We shall not dwell on the results of this attack too much; we shall pass over the whine and hiss of bullets, the rending of steel and the hilarious cries of incredulity that the fleeing Aquas made. What is more important is the conclusion to the episode: namely, that the Angel truck and its accompanying trio of black armoured cars sped past the ruined lorry, and that as they turned onto the motorway the police turned up outside Angel Laboratories.

---

"Yes," said Felicity. "Goodbye, sir." She put down the phone and glanced across at Barry. "Change of plans," she said. "We're going to Spectroscopic Fancy."

---

I could tell the truck was from Angel because Usher was standing on the roof, impossibly maintaining his balance against the wind and carrying a gun that was far too large for any normal person to even lift. It tore around the corner at breakneck speed, and behind it came a battered-looking green car and an ominous cloud of darkness.

"Sapphire, I think the goods have arrived," I said, somewhat redundantly.

The truck screeched to a halt outside Spectroscopic Fancy, but it seemed no one from the company was willing to get involved. Consequently, the cloud of darkness went unopposed as it growled, coiled and sprang up onto the truck's roof. Usher swung the gun around towards it, but a massive black-grey paw emerged from the cloud and swatted it away like a matchstick.

I don't know why I did what I did next. It was a stupid thing to do, and against every cowardly bone in my body. But I did it anyway, out of pure instinct: I ran into the road and screamed an Astonish.

For a brief moment, everyone froze: the cloud of darkness, tilting slightly towards the sound; Usher, staring at me in surprise; Felicity and her partner Barry, getting out of their car. There was no sound save the lingering echo of the Astonish, and no movement at all.
Then Sapphire appeared on the roof of the truck and hauled Usher out of the way, and the spell broke. The cloud of darkness leaped down from the roof to land in front of me, leaving a woman behind it on the roof; simultaneously, Felicity's gun snapped around to point at my face, and Barry launched himself towards the truck.

Kester, Puck said, this guy hates me, and he remembers my scent. He can also kill us any time he likes, so GET OUT OF THE WAY!

I was startled into obeying, darting left just as a set of yellow teeth clashed together where my head had once been; Felicity fired reflexively but missed, and the blast whipped away part of the dark cloud for a moment, revealing a huge, shaggy head like a wolf's. Then the cloud reformed, snarled, and started chasing me.

I ducked between the Aqua car and the Angel truck, and the shadowy monster tried to follow. Felicity fired again, though, and something within the darkness ruptured: blood splattered over the bonnet of the car, and the monster gave a spine-chilling yowl of pain as it pulled back. I sighed, relieved, then found myself staring down the barrel of Felicity's gun.

"In the car," she said. "Now."

Barry had never fought Courtney before, but he had, of course, heard of her. Everyone had; everyone knew the rumours about her.

In the last five seconds, Barry had been able to confirm almost all of them.

Courtney hadn't spoken to him since she'd dropped from the back of Maxie's Pokémon. They both wanted the truck and its contents, and both were willing to fight to it – to the death, if necessary. Hence, the battle had begun as soon as Barry tried to stop her opening the truck's doors. She had taken up a knife; Barry had made fists. The wordless communication that this fight was serious passed between them, and then they had started.

It was hard, and Barry knew that he was losing, but he had to hold her off; there was no way that he could let the Magmas get hold of the Module. Whatever it was, it was far too important. But Courtney moved around him like smoke on the breeze, tracing red lines across his skin like a child scribbling on the walls; none of his punches connected, her slender frame intangible beneath his fists. In this situation, there was only one thing that could happen: Barry lost it.

Like a wounded bull, he bellowed and threw himself bodily forwards at where he thought Courtney might be; naturally, he missed and fell face-first onto the steel roof of the truck. Surprised, Courtney paused, knife raised to slit his throat – and then the truck started moving.

---

Sapphire and Usher ducked down beside the truck's cabin, on the other side to the driver's seat; this was crucial, since that was not the side that Courtney chose to climb down to knock out its occupant. There, as the sounds of battle rained down upon them from the roof, they conferred together without words, formulating a small plan and putting past differences temporarily behind them. Perhaps it might have worked had not Darren Goodwin chosen that moment to storm around the corner.

He grabbed Usher by the lapels and dragged him to his feet.

"You," he said, "wait around the corner. I'll see to it that neither of them get it."

It was at this point that Sapphire noticed the thing floating above the Devon researcher. She might have called it a Magneton if it had been composed of just the three orbs, but, comprising as it did around nine individual Magnemite, she wasn't entirely sure what it was.
"Raiders," Darren snapped at this strange apparition, "hold her for a moment."

Before Sapphire could react, the ring of floating balls encircled her in a tight spiral, lines of lightning crackling into life between each one, sealing her into a cage of electricity. Her hand paused halfway to her belt; any wrong move here would result, no doubt, in death by electrocution.

Darren climbed up into the cab of the truck, pushing the driver onto the passenger's seat, and was about to start the engine when the cloud of darkness exploded on the other side of the truck, and the biggest Mightyena that Sapphire had ever seen flew out of it to land with a crunch on the tarmac.

---

Kester, said Puck urgently, you want to get through this alive?

Yes?

Obey Felicity, get in the car. Trust me on this.

I did, and she locked the door behind me before slinging her gun over her back and beginning to climb onto the roof.

Now, get in the driver's seat.

"O-K..."
I shuffled across, over the gearstick and into the driver's seat.

Now, hold onto the wheel. Don't worry about the driving, that's up to me.

"What driving?" I began, but it was too late: I'd touched the wheel, and sparks crackled between me and the plastic as Puck's powers of possession sprang into action. The engine snarled, and before I'd even registered that we were moving we'd backed up and started hurtling forwards.

Now I saw the reason for Puck's urgency: the monster in the dark cloud had been coming back, apparently unharmed by the shotgun wound, and he had decided we should—

"Puck!" I screamed, trying to let go of the steering wheel and failing. "Puck, this is a really bad id—!"

CRASH!

The impact distracted Courtney for the single moment Barry needed; he leaped up and was about to punch her when the truck leaped forwards beneath them. In a hopeless tangle, they tumbled over the edge, landed on the Mightyena and struggled back up just as the truck pulled away. The unfortunate Mightyena had just managed to get to its feet, but their combined weight forced it back down and knocked its head against the tarmac, sending it to sleep with a startled yelp.

"After the Module!" Barry roared, though to whom he spoke was anyone's guess; Courtney's knife came up, and it was likely that blood would have been spilled on both sides if a voice had not rung out at that moment:

"STOP!"

Once again, all the combatants froze at a loud noise. This time, however, all eyes turned to Usher, rather than to Kester – who was in no condition to speak right then, anyway. He stepped forwards from the pavement into the silence, and asked pleadingly:

"Will somebody please tell me why all of you people want our Module so much?"

Both Courtney and Barry opened their mouths, but neither of them could actually reply. Felicity watched them from a distance, unimpressed; she knew, or at least had an idea, but she wasn't going to tell them.

"I don't know," admitted Barry at length. "But it's important!"

"Why? Why would you want an arcade machine that much?"

"What?"

The shout came from Sapphire, Courtney, and Barry; the latter two stormed over to him, and pointed at the truck, which Darren had stopped a few yards down the road to watch the fireworks from.

"In there," snapped Courtney, "you've got an arcade machine?"

"Well, yes," replied Usher apologetically. "It's a new model for Spectroscopic Fancy. They supply them. In fact, this one's for the Mauville Game Corner."

"I don't believe it!" rumbled Barry, stomping across to the truck and ripping open the door; he hauled out the large crate within and kicked it to matchsticks. Then he fought valiantly against the polystyrene, and stared with mingled disbelief and fury at the Y-38P SuperBlast Module. "I don't believe it," he said again. "It's an arcade machine." Then: "Damn it!" He kicked the screen in and thundered back to Usher, at whom he howled in rage for a moment before leaving to find something to beat up.

Courtney was more reserved; she looked around, sighing, and recalled Maxie's battered Mightyena, now bereft of its shroud. She swore quietly and walked off, rubbing her forehead with one hand.

Usher watched them go with a bemused look on his face, then hurried over to the Angel truck to confer with Darren Goodwin.

For her part, Felicity looked on and felt vaguely sick. It wasn't just that all the action and effort had been for this anticlimax; it was more the sensation that her arms were no longer working. Neither, it seemed, were her legs. Slowly, very slowly, they crumpled beneath her, and the shotgun slipped from her hands. The ground rose gently up to meet her, a soft grey pillow for her aching head, and her eyes slid shut as the world swam before them.

---

"That was... odd," remarked Fabien.

"Yeah," agreed Blake. "I don' get why Cour'ney said we weren' to 'elp 'er, though."

"Pride, my friend, pride."

They were just around the corner, peering around a wall and trying to establish exactly what had just happened and why; unfortunately, neither of them could come up with an explanation.

"Well," said Fabien eventually, "I guess we could catch that Rotom-kid now, while he's still unconscious."

"There's a thought," Blake replied.

They advanced from hiding, and across the street in her electric cage the Aqua girl's eyes widened.

"Usher!" she yelled. "There are more Magmas coming!"

Fabien looked up the road to see the blue-suited man look up sharply; from the door of the truck next to him came an all-too familiar figure. It was the shape of the Devon researcher who had bested them back in Slateport.

"Blake!" cried Fabien. "Run for the car!"

"That didn' work last time!" said Blake, but he did it anyway; unfortunately, the Rotom must still have been awake as the boy slept, because the car drove away at their approach, coughing black smoke and trailing the bumper from its smashed-in front.

The researcher shouted something, and his many-headed Magneton ceased their embrace of the Aqua girl and flew over to him. Together, they and their master ran towards the two Magmas.

"Goishi!" cried Fabien. "Distract them!"

"...eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-EEEEEEK!" came a shrill cry from above, growing steadily louder and louder with the descent, and then a bolt of blue and purple lightning shot across their field of view, snatched up the Aqua girl in a blur of pink-grey tongue, and vanished again.

"No!" said Fabien, aghast. "I meant distract the resear— never mind! Blake! Cover us!"

The two Magmas took to their heels and fled, Blake firing wildly behind them; since they had recently had quite a lot of practice at running away, it was not long before they were several blocks away, and alone once more.

---

An arcade machine.

It couldn't possibly be. This was what the two Teams had been after all this time? A new type of arcade machine? It just couldn't be. And yet... it was.

Sapphire didn't even really need the Magneton-thing to hold her in place; she was glued to the floor with shock. An arcade machine...

There had to be a trick. Someone had set the Teams up. They hadn't been expecting an arcade machine, after all. With a strange sort of horrified calm, Sapphire realised that the mystery of the Devon goods was nothing, just a small step in some larger plan.

No sooner had she come to this realisation than the Magmas turned up, and from then on everything became very confusing. She was released, and then suddenly captured in exactly the same way Kester had been the day before; however, Sapphire was still too shell-shocked to feel embarrassed or even angry.

An arcade machine...

How was it possible that something could have gone so horribly wrong as this little adventure? It had seemed relatively serious, but for the object the two Teams sought to turn out to be nothing more than some stupid video game... it was beyond belief.

Snap out of it!

Sapphire opened her eyes, and that was when she realised that the drama wasn't yet over. Below her was Mauville, a child's playset stretched out from horizon to horizon, and all around her was the clear blue sky.

And then Sapphire swore, and gulped, and looked up to see her captor, the Magma Golbat, and the thick python of its tongue twitching and straining at her weight.

Then she swore again, drawing the attention of the Golbat. It tightened its grip around her a little, then a little more; in between her struggles, Sapphire's last thought before she blacked out was that she hoped to God it knew when to stop. Otherwise, she reasoned in that calm second before complete unconsciousness, she would probably die.

---

"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Maxie furiously, throwing over the coffee table. A subordinate dashed forwards to clear up the mess, but was swiftly moved to a prone position on the floor by the application of a fist to his face. "Some benefactor you are!"

Zero regarded him with eyes that contained something Maxie didn't recognise.

"It seems I was misinformed by my Aqua mole," he replied. "Don't worry. I shall have them... suitably punished."

"What the hell does that mean?" roared the Magma boss; he made as if to strike Zero, but something held him back.

"Don't you see what it means?" Zero said quietly. "It means that this entire thing was an Aqua scam."

"But they seemed surprised... No!" Maxie looked, if possible, even angrier than before. "You're right! It's just like those damned pirates to pull off a trick like this."

"I suggest you move forwards with the effort to find the orb as swiftly as possible," Zero told him. "The Aquas must be heading towards war."

"Wait," said Maxie, reining in his temper with a tremendous and very visible effort, "what about proof? We have no proof that this was an Aqua scam."

Zero had already thought of this.

"I will have my Aqua agent brought to you," he said. "She seems to have fallen ill recently, but I'm sure that won't matter. You can extract all the information you want from her."

Maxie nodded; the prospect of a little light torture seemed just the thing to vent his spleen on.

"All right," he said. "We'll do it."

---

"You understand," Archie said, leaning forwards in his armchair, "this is a serious oversight on your part, Zero."

Zero nodded.

"Yes," he replied. "But listen. I do, in fact, have a plan for just this contingency..."
 

Xilfer

Just won't die.
1,880
Posts
13
Years
How do you DO these things?! you're the best storywriter since J.K.Rowling!

I really like the speech that Puck gave off on the bench after the run from the Sableye, that was good, and rather true. Cleverness isn't a garauntee of Wisdom.

Anywho, your last chapter, i must admit was EXTREMELY surprising, an ARCADE MACHINE?! where did you get that idea from? haha! looks like it's all part of some bigger plan.
 

Cutlerine

Gone. May or may not return.
1,030
Posts
13
Years
I'm not sure your statement regarding the quality of my writing is true, but I'll accept the compliment anyway. As for the arcade machine thing... that was thought up a long time ago, when I was just starting this story.

Oh yeah, and I'm a few hours late; English coursework, the cartoon for the school magazine and Pokémon Black conspired to ensure this chapter wasn't entirely finished until five minutes ago.

Chapter Twenty-Six: A Promise Once Made

When I woke up, I was sprawled over the steering wheel, with the hard plastic digging painfully into my ribs. Dull aches throbbed steadily all over my body, and there was blood on the dashboard.

I groaned and eased myself up into a sitting position, falling back against the seat with some relief.

"What...?" I began, forcing my eyes fully open and looking around. I had no idea where I was, but it wasn't Spectroscopic Fancy: in fact, it seemed to be a box made of steel, almost like the inside of the Master Ball. "Puck," I said suddenly. "Puck."

You called?

"What have you done?" I asked, in tones that revealed murder was not too far from my mind.

Saved our lives, that's what. They scared the living daylights out of you, but you're essentially unharmed.

"You rammed that... that thing in the cloud," I said. "I didn't even have a seatbelt on."

It was us or him, Kester, us or him. That effectively gives us a licence to kill.

"Stop doing that," I growled. "I've had enough." I pointed out of the window. "Where are we?"

In a freight container down near Eastfield Airport, Puck informed me. You've no idea how hard it was to get here.

"A freight contai—? Wait! Where's Sapphire?"

From what I saw as we drove off, I'm guessing that she's on the way to the Magma HQ. Y'know, on account of being captured by them and all.

"What?"

I sat bolt upright, felt pain flare white-hot in my abdomen and neck, and hurriedly slumped again.

"What?" I repeated, more quietly.

Oh, I knew you'd be like this, Puck said, sighing. You're so... so human, Kester.

"What does that mean? You're not concerned at all?"

Of course not! Puck protested. I'm a Rotom, and a noble one at that, maybe the freest there ever was. Humans are of no concern to me.

For the first time, I became aware of the gap between Puck's mind and mine; we weren't just different species, or even different animals, but entirely different orders of being: he was a strange thing born of plasma, and I was a mammal. However human Puck seemed to be at times, he couldn't be further from my kind without being dead.

Besides, he pressed on, you don't like her anyway. Just forget it, Kester. You fulfilled your obligations to her already – you found out about the goods. Well, you were unconscious by that time, but I heard it because I was in the car.

"You sounded so much more moral before," I told him. My voice was low; there was something in me struggling to make itself heard, and I was suppressing it as best I could. "When you talked about religion yesterday, and when you told me to go comfort Sapphire."

Because we had to!
Puck said violently. To stay with her and maintain the cover!

"What cover?" I shouted back.

There was a long silence.

That's none of your concern, the Rotom said at length. It's entirely my own affair.

"Your affairs are my affairs," I replied coldly. "My head, my rules, remember?"

It would put you in danger—

"And I'm not in danger already?" I cried. "Puck, I'm in a stolen car in a freight container in an airport warehouse, with Team Magma and Team Aqua after my head, as well as the Devon Corporation. I've been in danger since last Sunday!"

Fine. Puck's voice was colder than anything I'd heard before; colder than Sapphire's, colder than Felicity's. It didn't sound truly human, and I wondered if this was what thoughts were like: raw emotion, undiluted by words. Do you want the truth, Kester? Is that what will satisfy you? Well, here it is: I'm no friendly trickster Rotom who happened to land in your head and makes stupid jokes all day. I live in the real world – more real than yours, at any rate. I'm a professional thief, and I came to Hoenn to hide after a heist went wrong in Italy. As soon as I hit Lilycove, that Zero guy approached me to steal the Devon goods, and told me he'd turn me over to the authorities if I didn't. I stole them, but like Felicity said, that guy has everything planned out beforehand: he knew I'd be chased into the P-L.O.T. Device and end up in your head. And that, Kester, Puck told me, that is your truth. Do with it what you will.

I sat there for a moment, head spinning, and aching with every revolution. I closed my eyes, and thought for a long, long moment.

"I'm going to find Sapphire," I said quietly, and got out of the car.

What? No!
cried Puck. Don't do that!

"Why not?" I asked in a voice lacking tone, pushing open the door and stepping out of the container into bright sunlight. "After all, you only live twice."

---

Loading...

I stared at the computer screen for a moment, waiting for the little bar to fill up.

TM detected: TM57 (S) -- CHARGE BEAM.
Is this correct?


"Yes," I said, and clicked it.

Point Tutor Unit at Pokémon and click 'Continue'.

I obeyed, with a small amount of contortion, and a few moments later I was walking out of the Pokémon Centre, Sapphire's bag slung over one shoulder and a new move burning in my mind. I was refreshed in body, having used one of Sapphire's Full Restores to fix up ribs that I thought were probably broken, but my mind remained stubbornly out of sorts.

Kester, for the last time, Puck said despairingly, don't do this.

"Doesn't matter to you, does it?" I replied, drawing odd looks from passers-by and not caring. "If I die, you go free."

You're the perfect cover, he told me. The way things are right now, I won't be able to show my face anywhere for another six months. This is the only place no one can find me.

"So you lied about wanting to leave, as well?" I asked. I thought I should feel angry, but I didn't. I felt empty, as if I'd been sick until there was nothing left within me. I didn't know if I was worried about Sapphire or shocked or what, but I knew I wanted to get her back. The two Magmas who'd tried to apprehend me in Rustboro hadn't been the best criminals in the world, but their Team hadn't attained its power through being idiotic, and I was willing to bet that they had more threatening people on their side.

Yes, of course! Puck snapped. It doesn't matter, does it? You humans lie continuously, why can't I?

"Because it's wrong," I replied, turning a corner.

You don't even know where Sapphire is, Puck said, changing the subject.

"You said she was on her way to the Magma HQ," I said. "And everyone knows that that means Lavaridge."

She could still be in the city
, Puck reasoned. Then you'd never find her. So you have about as much chance of finding her as of finding Nemo. Though of course they did find him, in the end. Wait. Now is not the time for jokes.

"Make all the jokes you want," I said. "No one laughed before, and no one's laughing now. The Magma grunts will know where she is, so we'll find them first. And I've got a feeling I know how to do that."

I rounded another corner, and was immediately turned back by a policeman in a fluorescent jacket; behind him, a police barricade sealed off Zinfandel Avenue.

"What happened?" I asked him, looking past the barrier at the wreckage of the street. It was splattered with dabs of thick dark blood, from the giant Pokémon's wounds, and the Angel van was still there, dented, battered and full of bullet-holes. Usher's improbably large gun lay on its side a few metres away.

"Aquas and Magmas," the policeman replied. I did a good show of looking surprised.

"Aquas?" I asked sharply. "Was there a girl about my age, very pretty, long white hair, in a Team Aqua uniform here?"

The man narrowed his eyes at me, crumpling his weather-beaten face into something that resembled a weathered piece of limestone. My heart rate soared; this was a gamble that would only pay off if someone had seen Felicity here...

"There was," he said. "How did you know that?"

I held in a sigh of relief, and looked worried instead.

"She's my girlfriend," I told him. The cop looked surprised at this, then made the face of one about to impart unwelcome news.

"I'll get a car to take you to the hospital," he said, deciding not to tell me. "Come with me."

---

Smooth operating, I have to admit, Puck said grudgingly. I didn't expect you to get this far.

I was sitting on one of those hospital chairs that look comfortable but are, in actual fact, supremely ill-suited to sitting upon, looking at Felicity. She lay on a hospital bed, discoloured eyes shut and face paler than ever; it no longer had any colour in it at all, but was the pure white of fresh paper, or of clothes in washing powder adverts. A tube ran into a cannula in her arm, and its other end was connected to a bag of blood, since she appeared to be lacking a substantial amount of it. The ever-present grey headphone was on the bedside cabinet, the antenna neatly retracted and the whole switched off. If the situation hadn't been so serious, I might have compared it to that nasty business that happened last year, because something along these lines had occurred as a result of it.

"How can you talk like that?" I asked him. "As if nothing had happened?"

Because that's how we survive in this world, Puck replied. Live and let die.

"If that's a joke, you already used that film."

It wasn't a joke. Call that a joke? This is a joke.

I waited, but no joke was forthcoming. Puck sighed.

That, he explained patiently, was the joke. Never mind.

"I don't get it."

I said never mind.

"Explain it."

You never ask me to explain my jokes. I'm touched. I might not have got his jokes, but I picked up on the Rotom's ironic tone immediately. I chose to do nothing about it, though, and let him explain. Look, there's this film called Crocodile Dundee, yes? The eponymous hero is cornered at one point by a mugger with a knife, but he laughs and goes, 'Call that a knife? This is a knife' and pulls out a much, much bigger knife. It's a classic film moment, like when the alien comes out of Kane's chest.

I genuinely wished I hadn't asked; put like that, it made Puck seem clever, when right now I wanted to be able to think he was stupid, and that he was advocating the wrong course of action.

The doctors had said they didn't know what was wrong with Felicity; the only symptom she presented other than the discoloured eyes and skin was the fact that about a litre of her blood seemed to have been replaced with mineral water. They had told me this much earlier, in between asking me about her family; it seemed she didn't carry an I.D. card, and I had told them she was an immigrant and that her family hadn't come over with her.

"Kusou," Felicity murmured, stirring. Immediately, I got up and went over to her.

"Felicity," I said. "How are you?"

Her eyelids fluttered open, and the yellow-and-blue orbs behind them settled on me.

"Kusou," she said again. "Of all the people... where am I?" She tried to sit up, but she was so weak I could hold her down just by resting one hand on her forehead.

"In hospital," I told her. "You've run out of blood, it seems."

Felicity's eyes flicked over to the blood bag and back.

"I am glad," she said simply. "I don't want to turn to water." She regarded me with distaste. "I don't have to thank you, do I?"

"No," I told her.

As I told Milton's Paradise Lost, Puck said, get to the point already.

"I need to find those two Team Magma grunts who've been tailing me," I said. "Do you know where they would be?"

"Why should I tell you anything?" Felicity asked calmly. Her eyes were full of winter.

"You can't really refuse," I pointed out mildly. "I mean, I could kill you right now."

She uttered a hollow laugh.

"Even if you wanted to, you could not. Not while I am like this."

I had no idea what she was getting at there. Did she mean I didn't have the stomach to kill her? That was right, of course. I could no more kill her than myself.

"Just tell me," I said. "Tell me and... and I'll help you."

Felicity's eyes widened slightly.

"Promise me," she said. "Then I'll help you."

I hesitated.

Palkia's claws
, Puck said, don't do that! You're in enough trouble as it is.

That decided me. I'm slightly ashamed of it, but I did it purely to spite Puck: I held out a hand and she shook it weakly.

"Deal," I said. Felicity managed half a smile.

"Fine," she said. "I know exactly where they have gone. This is part of Zero's plan, and he told me this much. They have caught Sapphire, haven't they? She will go to Lavaridge, to the Magma base. They will figure out that you are captive to that Master Ball, and when you get there, they're going to recall you with it. Then you'll be theirs."

I made a face.

"When does this train leave?" I asked.

"That's easy enough to work out?"

"You know the train, don't you?" I said. "Which train are they taking, Felicity?"

Felicity blinked.

"The next express one," she replied, as if it were obvious. "Which, if I am correct, leaves Crescelton at half past four."

I looked at my watch, and realised it had broken in the crash; I glanced over at the clock above the door, swore, apologised, thanked Felicity and left at a sprint.

Behind me, the clock ticked, and the minute hand rolled over onto fourteen.

---

Fabien looked at the station clock; it read fourteen past four, and he sighed and tapped one foot.

"This'll show Maxie," he said, to cheer himself up. "Think of it, Blake! Courtney fails completely – and we capture the Aqua handler!"

"It's good, ain't it?" agreed Blake.

The two of them were standing on Platform 4 at Crescelton, a small station in the northeast of Mauville's Bannine district; the only object of note on the premises was the wrought-iron lamppost in the centre of Platform 5, which Fabien had been staring at for a while and had been unable to divine the purpose of.

Goishi had found them cowering behind a dumpster after a protracted search that almost merits its own story. He had met with a homing Tranquill that had got seriously off-course and circled halfway around the globe looking for Castelia City; he had spoken with something that might have been the ghost of Solomon; he had fought off the unwanted attention of a harlot Zubat of low repute in a back alley; and he had even come close to crashing into a large man on a flying motorbike. It seemed to him that all the strange things in life had collected in the air above Mauville, but he hadn't pondered the matter further. Life was too short – especially so in his case, since he was seven years old and due to die in another three. If he could evolve, he would easily make twenty at least – Crobat were significantly more long-lived than their blue pre-evolutions – but given his opinions of Fabien, he had long ago resigned himself to an early death.

Returning from that digression, he had found his two comrades behind a dumpster, and he had presented them with the Aqua girl; they had then congratulated him – for once – and divested her of her four Poké Balls. A quick search through her pockets had revealed her identity to be Sapphire Birch, daughter of Alan, which was surprising but of no real consequence.

They had made enquiries about the next express to Lavaridge, and proceeded to Crescelton Station with all possible speed, stopping only to purchase a large steamer trunk on the way. Hopefully, Fabien thought, the money used could be claimed as expenses from the Team, because it had been his credit card they used, and the trunk was rather on the dear side. Now, they were arrayed along the station, two men, a bat and a girl, in various attitudes: Blake was standing, Goishi was fluttering gently, Sapphire was curled up within the trunk, and Fabien, for reasons best known to himself, was striking such Anglo-Saxon attitudes as would have rendered the King's Messenger himself green with envy.

"Whatcha doin'?" asked Blake, in some confusion; Fabien lowered his hands and was about to give a response when some primaeval instinct warned him that danger was behind him. Perhaps he caught a reflection of yellow light in the glass of the lamppost, perhaps he felt the static charge in the air, perhaps he was even experiencing the awakening of some latent criminal wisdom, but he flung himself flat on the floor just as a lemon-coloured beam of crackling energy blasted by overhead.

Blake rounded on this intruder, whipping his gun from its concealed holster; around them, the few other people waiting for the train suddenly found more important places to be.

"We had this discussion last time we met," the Rotom-boy said, stepping out onto the platform from the station doorway. "Which is faster, lightning or bullets?"

Fabien climbed back to his feet indignantly, ramming his hat firmly back onto his head.

"Now, look here," he began, but the Rotom-boy made a gun of his hand, extending thumb, index and middle fingers while clenching the others, and fired another noisy bolt over the Magma's shoulder. He gulped and shut his mouth as his attacker glowed orange slightly.

"What was that?" he wondered aloud, then seemed to hear an answer from somewhere. "Oh, I see. It raised the power. Anyway," he continued, returning his attention to the Magmas, "give me back my friend. Now. Or I'm going to have to shoot you."

Fabien glanced at Blake, and Blake glanced at Fabien. Mental calculations were made, the answers multiplied by three and then tested to see if they conformed to the laws of propriety; the object of their rapid thoughts was simple: to see if the Rotom-kid would kill them or not. After a moment, Fabien had three reasons in mind why he, in fact, would.

Point one: their value. They were inordinately low in the Magma pecking order, and no one would mind particularly if they died.

Point two: this kid worked for the Aquas. They hated the Magmas, and didn't baulk at killing them.

Point three: he was clearly a criminal genius. The way he had fooled them with his 'identical actor' stunt back on Route 110 was proof enough of that. Someone so hideously intelligent and amoral was certain to have to include murder in their plans at some point – and so it was likely that killing anyone would probably not cause the Rotom-kid to lose any sleep at night.

Fabien gulped again.

"Fine," he sighed. "She's in the trunk." He gestured.

The Rotom-boy went over to it, and found it locked.

"Open it," he ordered, and Fabien did so. Then he stepped back, and the Rotom-boy hauled out Sapphire's sleeping body from within. "Her Poké Balls, please."

Please. How pleasant the boy was, Fabien thought, as he gave them back. It was almost a pity that he now had both hands full, and so was unable to resist the attack he was about to order.

"Goishi!" cried Fabien. "Now!"

The bat looked startled, and the Rotom-boy dropped Sapphire Birch reflexively to zap him between the eyes with another line of yellow light. Goishi gave a cry halfway between a scream and a sizzle, flew backwards about five metres and came to an unhappy rest with his head rammed into a trash can.

"Thunderball," grinned the Rotom-kid. "One point to me."

Fabien stared at him. How had he ever hoped to outwit this guy? Not only had he swift reflexes and excellent forward planning skills, he was able to make referential jokes at the drop of a hat. Truly, he was a criminal to give Maxie himself a run for his money.

He was still staring when Blake waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of what appeared to have been some sort of trance state.

"Fabien, 'e's gone," the big man told him. "An' 'e took Birch with 'im."

Fabien looked from Blake to the trunk to his fainted Golbat, gave a despairing sigh and flung himself theatrically onto a bench. Once again, and without any apparent effort on their enemy's part, they had been well and truly thwarted.

---

For the second time that day, I sat at the bedside of an unconscious girl. In different circumstances, I might have counted myself a lucky man, but unfortunately both girls hated me with what is generally known as a vengeance.

OK, that was less dangerous than I thought, Puck admitted. I thought she'd be at Lavaridge already.

"Shut up. I'm not talking to you."

Shall I apologise? I'm sorry, Kester. There. I said it. Can we forget about this unpleasantness and go back to normal now?

"How can we? You're a liar, a – a world-class thief!"

Amongst other things, he said modestly. I am quite good, if I do say so myself. Forget the Mona Lisa – I had my eyes on the Sistine Chapel ceiling. Which was, in fact, the Italian job that went wrong.

"I can't tell if that's the truth or a joke," I said dispiritedly. "That means there's something wrong with you."

It's a joke. I stole it from somewhere else, but I'm not going to tell you where.

"Whatever."

"Uhhh..."

I looked over at Sapphire, who was stirring beneath the covers. Her eyes flickered open hazily, and focused blearily on me.

"Yo," I said. "Knight in shining armour, at your service."

"Kester?" She sat up slowly. "Where – what happened?"

"You got caught by the Magmas, I went and rescued you," I said. All at once, my frustration seemed to melt away; I felt like a hero from a storybook, a fairy tale prince. Unfortunately, I seemed to have inadvertently rescued the fire-breathing dragon rather than the princess, but it was still an accomplishment.

"You... I remember," Sapphire said. She looked around for something, and her eyes fell on the Poké Balls on her bedside cabinet. Taking up the Master Ball, she squeezed the two hemispheres that formed it and twisted; they fell apart and a surge of red light burst out, only to fade half a second later. "There," she said, setting down the ruined Ball. "You're free. Go home."

I stared at her.

"What?"

"You were right," Sapphire said awkwardly. "It's dangerous. You fulfilled your end of the bargain, anyway. And you saved me. So... this is my thank you."

"I..." I was completely at a loss for words.


'Thank you' would be a start.

"Thanks," I said. "Thanks, Sapphire. A lot." Then I took a deep breath, and continued: "But I'm not going anywhere. Not yet."

"What?" It was Sapphire's turn to stare.

"I'm not done here," I told her. "You can go on, if you like. But I'm in this too deep to back out now." I was thinking of Felicity. "So I'm not going home yet."

Oh, Giratina have mercy on us all, Puck said despairingly. The boy's serious.

Sapphire gave me a long look.

"You're not really a coward at all, are you?"

I shook my head sadly.

"I wish I was," I admitted. "It would make it so much easier to give up and go back."

"OK," replied Sapphire slowly, her eyes still searching my face for something. "Then I'll come with you."

"Huh?"

Sapphire gave me her lopsided grin.

"Come on, Kester," she said. "You didn't think you could leave me out of this, did you?"

I smiled at her, possibly the first time I'd done so sincerely.

"I guess not," I said. "OK, here's the deal. There's this guy called Zero..."
 

Cutlerine

Gone. May or may not return.
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13
Years
Oops. Have to apologise for the delay again. Blame Pokémon Black. That, and History of Art.

I wonder if these chapter titles even have anything to do with the chapters any more?

Chapter Twenty-Seven: All The Pretty Faces

"Will you please tell them you're going to take me home?" asked Felicity. "I hate being here, and they won't let me leave unless someone comes to collect me."

She was sitting up in bed, a stick-thin figure of corpse-flesh limbs covered by crumpled sheets. I wasn't sure how it worked, but she was still extraordinarily beautiful despite her emaciation.

Really? Those creepy eyes put me off, Puck said. I mean, if you ignore the blue bit, she's got... GoldenEyes.

Shut it, I thought back. We were still not on speaking terms; I couldn't find it in me to forgive him. I hadn't told Sapphire about his past yet, and was not sure I was going to.

Huh. Everybody loves Ferris, but no one loves Robin. And really, what's the difference in character between us?

"We'll do that," I said to Felicity. "You'll want to come with us, I suppose."

She nodded.

"Yes. I am finished with those bumbling pirates."

It took me a moment to work out she meant Team Aqua, then I replied:

"OK."

Sapphire was hanging around in the corner, looking uncomfortable, as if she didn't belong.

"So," she said. "Shall we... make a move?"

"Find a doctor," Felicity ordered. "Tell them you're taking me home." I started to leave, and Sapphire stayed; Felicity sent her out after me with another terse command: "Leave then, so I can get dressed."

"I don't think I like her very much," Sapphire whispered to me as we left the room.

"She's... not well," I said defensively. "I think worse things might be happening to her than to me, and God knows that could make a demon of a saint."

Odd turn of phrase, Puck mused. Unexpected, like the Spanish Inquisition. He chuckled. No one expects the Spanish Inquisition! he shouted, then lapsed into giggles.

I gritted my teeth and ignored him. I didn't see how he could so easily slip back into his usual persona and pretend that nothing had happened between us; I certainly couldn't.

"Why are you defending her?" asked Sapphire curiously. I felt the sudden heat that accompanies the swift flushing of the cheeks.

"No reason," I said, far too quickly. "No reason at all."

Sainted Cobalion, that's the worst lie I've ever heard that wasn't part of a trashy film, Puck said. Sapphire gave me a long, even look, which made me increasingly uncomfortable the longer it went on, and then walked on without comment. Ah, the fair sex, Puck said fondly, so very perspicacious when it comes to matters such as these.

"Shut up," I muttered, and hurried after Sapphire's retreating back.

We located Felicity's doctor and wrangled a reluctant agreement to remove her from hospital care from him; then we returned to her room, where she was waiting for us, sitting on her bed and dressed in her battered blue suit.

"I need to go to the Aqua base before we do anything else," Felicity said. "All my stuff is there. Including normal clothes."

"What sort of 'anything else' are we planning on doing, exactly?" I asked, as we started walking out. Felicity moved oddly, as if on wheels; she almost didn't seem to move her legs at all. "You never actually said how we're going to take down Zero."

"Do you think this is part of his plan?" Felicity asked suddenly, stopping. "Do you think we're just furthering his cause?"

Sapphire and I exchanged glances.

Shrewd, remarked Puck. Insightful. A thought from outside the box. How many words can I come up with before you tell me to—?

Shut up, I thought.

There it is, he said with satisfaction.

"I don't know," I told Felicity. "But I managed to get away from his plan once. Maybe we can do it again."

"Maybe." She didn't sound convinced.

"Look," said Sapphire, "can we please just do something? This standing around is not getting us anywhere."

"If you know what you're doing, go ahead," snapped Felicity, baring her teeth in a curiously feline gesture. "I'm sure you can do this without me."

"You—!"

Sapphire's hand darted to her belt; I grabbed her wrist and yanked it back.

Cat-fiiiiight, sang out Puck. This could only be more entertaining if we were in some sort of weapons storehouse!

"Will you two stop it!" I cried, harassed. "Sapphire, stop being angry! Felicity, stop... um..."

I was suddenly and unpleasantly reminded of my time in Birch's lab, because they subjected me to a pair of withering death-stares that hit me so hard that I actually stumbled over backwards.

Ouch, said Puck, unimpressed. I can see this is going to be a fun trip.

---

"All right," Maxie began. "Have you found a Meteorite, then?"

Tabitha nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, go and get it, then," he said. Then, a thought striking him, he said: "Wait. How hard will this be to get? I don't want to have to divert anyone from the volcano project."

"Not very," Tabitha judged. "The only potential obstacle is this Cozmo guy, but by all accounts he isn't the most courageous of characters. He ought to be a pushover."

"OK, then," Maxie said. "In that case, you can have those losers we have looking for the Aqua's Rotom-kid. Go call them and get them sent up on the train."

"Yes sir," Tabitha said, heart sinking. Those two were notorious throughout the Team; a pair of clowns to rival anything you might see at the circus, they had bungled their way through over fifty disastrous missions during their years with the Team, and only maintained their jobs through consistent and well-timed unction. "Should I replace them, sir?"

"Oh. Yes, I suppose you'd better. Send..." Maxie's eyes roved around the room, searching for inspiration; at that moment, there came a knock at the door and Courtney walked in. His gaze lighted on her and he pointed. "Courtney! Organise someone to replace the two grunts we have tailing the Rotom-kid."

Somewhat startled, she blinked, nodded, and left again.

"No, don't go!" cried Maxie. "For God's sake, woman, you're too pretty to wait outside! Come in here until Tabitha's done, then say what you want to say, then leave."

Courtney came back in, suppressing a sigh. Maxie made a face that indicated the exasperation inherent in running an organisation like his, and spoke to Tabitha, keeping his eyes firmly locked on Courtney.

"So, Tabitha, go and get me this Meteorite. I'm going to build some sort of improbable machine to extract the power from it now, and I don't want to be disturbed until it's done. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly." Another man might have questioned Maxie's sanity, but Tabitha knew him better than that; the Magma leader was nothing short of a genius. A genius who was prone to objectify women and lose his temper, but a genius nevertheless. He nodded, gave a little bow, and walked out.

---

How much moxie would Maxie have if Maxie could mock sea? Puck pondered. Nah, I can do a better tongue-twister than that. Give me a moment...

"I hate you with a passion that eclipses rational understanding," I murmured in a flash of lyricism, and ignored him.

"I'm ready now," Felicity announced, emerging from the mouth of the alleyway that led to the Team Aqua base. She was wearing the same outfit she had the day she had accosted me in Slateport, and during our disastrous lunch at Blintzkrieg; the only difference were her shoes, which were blue and appeared to be made of either plastic or painted steel. "Let's go."

"Go where?" Sapphire asked.

"To Lavaridge," Felicity said, starting to walk.

"Why Lavaridge?" I asked.

"Because Team Magma is based there, and they are starting to make a move," Felicity replied without looking at either of us. "You won't know this, because they're forcing the police to keep it quiet, but they have killed Uriah."

Sapphire and I stopped dead.

"Uriah?"

"Uriah," she confirmed. "Evidently they don't want him interfering with whatever they have planned; I suspect they will have a hand in choosing his successor, so they can have a puppet figure and do whatever important thing it is they plan to do – or should I say, that Zero plans for them to do – without interference."

Moxious Maxie mocked Mickey...

Shut up! You're ruining our stunned silence!


"So, do we want to go to the train station?" asked Sapphire. I could tell she was trying very hard not to leap at Felicity's throat, and I liked it.

"Yes," Felicity replied. "Unless you would like to pay for plane tickets."

"I wouldn't," Sapphire said with forced cheer. "So I suppose we're going to the train station."

It wasn't far to the station, and we only had to wait fifteen minutes or so for the express to Lavaridge. In all, it could have been no more than an hour before we were sitting in a compartment full of uncomfortable silence, accompanied by two young men and a woman who looked in danger of suffocating on the tension we were generating.

"This should be nice," the woman said to one of the men, in an attempt to break the oppressive silence.

"Yeah," he replied quietly.

"Don't you think?" she persisted, turning to her other companion.

You've got to admit, Puck said admiringly, the girl's tenacious. I like that.

"I swear to God," I muttered in low, dangerous tones, "I have a view to a kill here, and I'm going to make good on it."

Whoa, Puck said. Another Bond joke, but... also a death threat. I can't tell if you've forgiven me or not.

"I haven't."

"Is it annoying you?" Felicity asked me. All eyes in the carriage turned to her, and she pushed her sunglasses further up her nose self-consciously. They no longer fully hid the discolouration, but it seemed to make her feel better.

"Um, a lot," I replied, shifting uneasily under the scrutiny of the three holidaymakers.

"Does it hurt?"

"Ah..."

I couldn't quite remember ever being so embarrassed before, save for during that business that occurred last year; I was bright red and as capable of sitting still as eating my own head.

"No," I managed eventually. "I don't – it doesn't hurt."

"OK." Felicity nodded, and we lapsed into silence once more.

That was some serious tension, Puck remarked. In fact, it's still pretty tense now. If I could get that knife off Will, I could probably cut it. But then I'd be contributing to the decay of the multiverse due to the escape of Dust, so, y'know, it might not be such a good idea.

"For the love of all that is holy, shut up!" I cried, and everyone stared at me again. If it was possible, I went even redder; I muttered something about a pestilential thief and a liar, and tried to retreat into the seat.

"He hears voices," I heard Sapphire explain apologetically. "They tell him... horrible things. We hope the water at the spas in Lavaridge will help him."

"I – I see," came the reply of one of the two men.

Crazy now, are you? Puck asked. Funny, because I'm sure we ruled that possibility out twice already.

Well, I am hearing voices, and they are telling me horrible things. Like how they're a liar and a world-famous thief who's managed to land me in more trouble than anyone should ever be landed in!

Hey, I thought you weren't a coward anymore? You said you were up to continue this quest.

I'm OK to stop Zero. That has to do with me, remember? And there's a chance I can get rid of you by doing it. However, I'm not OK to get involved with international art theft!

I thought we were going to put that behind us
, Puck wheedled. Let bygones be bygones. Or Zygons, if you're an ardent Tom Baker fan. Which I'm not, but only because he's a bit before my time. I'm a Tennant man myself – you always love the one you grew up with, don't you?

I have no idea what you're talking about—

It's the Doctor—

—and I don't care
, I finished. Now shut up.

I looked at my watch, and groaned silently. We had only been travelling for ten minutes, and there was at least an hour and a half to go.

---

"I got one question for you, Matt," Archie said. "Is he a Sicilian?"

Matt looked confused.

"No sir," he said, slowly and deliberately. "I believe they're from Admiral's Berth."

They were in the overheated sitting-room that was the Aqua Leader's private sanctum; the Admin was reporting to his boss about whether or not to promote a certain high-ranking grunt to the status of Administrator, and struggling, as ever, with the man's conviction that the Team was equivalent to the Family.

"No, not like that," Archie said, a trace of annoyance creeping into his voice. "Is he a Sicilian? Does he act like a Sicilian?"

"I honestly don't know, sir," Matt said. "I've never been to Sicily."

"Some consigliore you are," Archie replied dismissively. "Fine. Is he a man?"

"No sir."

"Then no."

"If I might be permitted to say so, sir, that's kind of sexist."

"What are you talking about?"

"You can't not promote her just because she's a woman, sir," pointed out Matt reasonably.

His boss swore floridly in fluent Italian. He was not actually Italian – he had been born in S****horpe – but he had learned the language many years ago, in the hope of one day carrying out a conversation with a Turkish drug dealer and a crooked cop in a small Italian restaurant, before killing them both.

"That's not what I meant," Archie said. "I meant, does this person possess manly qualities? Are they Administrator material?"

"Oh. Well in that case, yes sir." Matt smiled brightly and stupidly.

"Then promote her!" cried Archie. "You are a fool, Matt. A shameless fool."

"Right. Thanks then, sir," said Matt, and he turned around to walk out. As the door shut behind him, Archie put his head in his hands and gave an almighty moan, slipping out of character for a moment.

"At least," he said, trying to console himself, "she can't be any worse than him."

After a moment, he stood up and stretched, shaking lethargy from his body like water.

"I need a walk," Archie decided, and stepped out into the corridor. Immediately, and to his great dismay, he bumped into Matt, coming the opposite direction with a young woman in tow. She had a great mass of curly hair the colour of carrots, and a distinctly evil look on her face. Archie had pity for people like that. An evil-looking face often drove its bearer to a life of crime they would not otherwise have chosen. "Oh, Matt. Who's this?"

"This is Shelly, sir," said Matt. "The new Admin."

Archie inspected her with renewed interest.

"You're Shelly, are you? I see. Well, good to see you."

He walked past them both and would have made good his escape had not Shelly called out:

"Wait, sir!"

Archie stopped, gritted his teeth and turned around.

"Yes?"

"Don't you have any orders for me...?"

He thought for a moment.

"No," he said, "I'm sorry, but I don't."

"What about the W.R.I. stuff, sir?" suggested Matt helpfully.

Archie paused, struck. A sound thought, coming from him? Bizarre.

"Yes," he said. "Tell Shelly all about that. It will be her responsibility from now on."

And then, at long last, Archie was able to escape his incompetent Administrator and the confines of the headquarters, and get some fresh air on the coastal path above the beach.

---

The boy with jade eyes was restless.

He paced around the gardens like a caged lion; there was still a week until the official trials began, and though there was plenty to do he couldn't concentrate on anything other than the fight that had got away.

He passed a bed of hydrangeas, paused by a fountain that, in a phenomenally unsuitable clash of cultures, depicted Poseidon wrestling a Lapras, and continued down to the town. Despite its many attractions, there was nothing that held any interest for him; he cared not for cinemas, or theatres, or shopping malls. Right now, the only thing he craved was the battle that those two Trainers back in Mauville had refused him.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed, punching a wall and regretting it when his knuckles hurt. "I want to fight them!"

A blue-skinned Pokémon lumbered up to his side; being lamentably slow of pace on land, he had taken a long time to catch up with him. Usually, the boy would only keep Machina out of his Poké Ball, but he was currently training this creature and so had him with him instead.

"Coast," he said. "Coast, go and beat something up for me."

The creature – Coast – tilted his beaked face up towards him and uttered a long, questioning noise that sounded something like Currrrrr?

"Oh, for God's sake!" cried the boy, displeased. "Remind me never to train anything less intelligent than an Arcanine again."

Coast could understand this no more than he understood the previous command, and went Currrrr again.

"Nothing. Be quiet."

This Coast could understand, and he fell silent.

The boy with the jade eyes walked on, his Pokémon struggling to keep up. Everyone he passed on the streets was an expert Trainer – some were, perhaps, even as good as he was – but he didn't want to challenge any of them. There was only one battle he wanted to fight, and he'd left it behind in Mauville.

"If I were the main character," the boy told the armoured Pokémon as it plodded ponderously along, "I wouldn't have any of these problems."

"Currrrrr," stated Coast, blinking laconically.

"Why do I keep talking to you?"

The boy with the jade eyes left the town and started up the stairs that wound around the tower; at its peak lay the helipad, though there was no point going there. He'd signed the contract; he couldn't go anywhere until this was all over.

There were around a hundred and fifty steps, but though he wasn't particularly strong, the boy was used to extended periods of physical exertion and managed it in just a couple of minutes. When he got there, however, there was no sign of Coast; the reptilian Pokémon had fallen behind some time ago, since he was supremely defective with regards to stair-climbing.

A strong wind gusted into the boy's face, and his hair stood out in a fan behind his head; he narrowed his eyes against the cold air and squinted across the hard expanse of steel. The helicopter was gone today, and Scott with it; doubtless, he was searching for a few more competitors at the last moment. The boy wondered how long the contest was going to be – there were already sixty-three entrants, and all of them were either incredibly talented or incredibly experienced. None of them, as far as the boy knew, were from anywhere other than Hoenn, which was one reason he was keeping himself to himself. He wasn't entirely sure he approved of this country, with its rampant crime, cheerful insanity and singularly weak government.

"President Loganberry," he mused, "has a lot to answer for."

He turned and started back down the stairs. Halfway down, he met Coast struggling to reach the next step, and in a moment of compassion recalled him. There was no sense tiring him out before they got any work done, and it was time for a spot of training.

For despite his impatience, the boy with jade eyes had no intention of losing this tournament. He had never lost before, and he didn't intend to start now.

---

"Hot springs," mused Zero. "They're supposed to be good for illness."

"Lies," spat Courtney. "Lies, all of them."

They were leaning on a low stone wall, looking out over the sunset-illumined water. It was a mark of his trust that he was not wearing his trademark mask for once; it was tucked under one arm.

"You're not in a good mood," observed Zero.

"Of course I'm not," replied Courtney. "Do you know what I've been through today?"

"Yes," Zero said.

"Right. I forgot about that," Courtney said sourly, and flicked a piece of gravel into the pond.

"You can complain to me if you like, though," Zero offered. "I am human, remember."

Courtney's furrowed brow softened a little.

"I know," she sighed. "Sorry."

"It's perfectly fine," Zero told her. "We're moving on. I'll have it all over soon. No more Teams, no one left to oppress or oppose us at all. Just you and me, and the world's unresisting population under our feet."

Courtney smiled.

"God, I love you," she said with feeling, and leaned into his shoulder. Zero smiled, put an arm around her and gazed at the setting sun.
 

Xilfer

Just won't die.
1,880
Posts
13
Years
Waddaya mean if my statement wasn't true? why would i lie?

Anyway, good story again. so Puck's a theif huh? cool. i honestly don't have much to say now. except keep on rocking dude.
 

Miz en Scène

Everybody's connected
1,645
Posts
15
Years
It's nice to read a story in batches instead of having to wait a few days in between chapters, don't you agree?

So yeah, this isn't actually a review, I'm not in the mood for that right now, but it's more of a post with comments to show that I'm still reading and enjoying the fic. Now, comments:

"Wahahaha!" laughed Wattson, and sat heavily down on his beanbag. "You ended up giving me a thrill!"

"Who's he talking to?" asked Sapphire, for he was looking intently at his left hand.
Oh God, that… that actually came out quite dirty in the context its usually used in. I'm content to imagine that he drew a face on his hand with a sharpie, but the 'thrill' part… I'm not sure if this is supposed to be innuendo because I haven't seen any in this fic before this.

"Fabien," said Blake.

"Yes?"

"I've acciden'ally stolen a fork."
I can't help but wonder if this was a real life event for you. I mean, I've never been out of a restaurant in a hurry before, so I can't say that I've taken any cutlery with me before. Still, this line had me in stitches.

There he was, topping the news, his sharp eyes shining like factories far away; he was grinning wildly into the lens of a CCTV camera, while his cohorts tore up books behind him. Talking over the frozen image was the voice of Gabby van Horne, Hoenn's favourite newsgirl and one half of a partnership with the country's most famous and reckless cameraman, Tyrone de'Medici.

Seriously? He belongs to the House of Medici?
Yeah… I was going to point out the absurdity of having a Medici in Japan, but then thought better of it. Instead, I somehow managed to get from this Italian reference to Macri the BBC camerawoman from Angels and Demons. You making such a far-fetched reference like that is unlikely, but still.

And that's about it. I'm loving your plot twists, and I'm actually starting to see this as a sort of different version of the R/S/E story.
 

Cutlerine

Gone. May or may not return.
1,030
Posts
13
Years
Er... It isn't meant to be innuendo, but it is a little weird, now you mention it. I blame Game Freak. They wrote that line.

The whole 'fork theft' thing is sort-of based on a true event, yeah. But no one stole a fork. It's something I'm going to use in a future chapter, so I'll put the story in a spoiler.

Spoiler:


About the Tyrone de'Medici thing - I don't set my Hoenn in Japan. I visualise the Pokémon regions as existing in a sort of cluster in the middle of the Pacific, because there's some space for them there. The inhabitants are probably descended from the same root ancestors as the Polynesians and Indonesians. This, of course, is with the exception of Unova, which I think is somewhere west of Iceland.

I've just realised that this doesn't explain why there's a member of the House of Medici in Hoenn. Er, can we say he's a third-generation immigrant? (Hooray for mildly improbable backstory!)

Oh, and I'm glad that this is recognisable as an alternate version of the R/S/E story. That's pretty much what it's intended to be - only jazzed up quite a lot, and with lots of bits to fill in the gaps where there isn't any appreciable storyline. Oh, and there's a better dénouement.
 
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