I'm surprised they didn't just cite the existence of Gardevoir and then, in a perfectly serious voice, ask if anyone really believed that there wasn't someone, somewhere, somewhen, who tapped that.
Are we confident that pokemon and humans have compatible attachment points?
Are we confident that pokemon and pokemon do?
Like, I don't doubt that people would have tried it over the millenia, but there is the practical difficulties. Not to mention the species barrier, and the fact that our own population doesn't have an abundance of sheep traits.
Are we confident that pokemon and humans have compatible attachment points?
Are we confident that pokemon and pokemon do?
Like, I don't doubt that people would have tried it over the millenia, but there is the practical difficulties. Not to mention the species barrier, and the fact that our own population doesn't have an abundance of sheep traits.
I'm confident that someone, somewhere, somewhen, tried regardless.
And given the inherent mysteries surrounding Pokemon reproduction, along with the fact that Pokemon are demonstrably compatible under highly implausible circumstances, I'd certainly be willing to believe that at least some Pokemon would be capable of breeding with humans.
e: Oh, and apparently it is literally canon that no-one has ever seen a Pokemon breed. So no-one can say for sure that humans can't breed with Pokemon.
I...can we please move away from this train before a mod gets involved? We don't need to go any further here.
Anywho! Bets on the next bit of shenanigans going on with Flairwile? Is the pokeball actually the one Paul caught Flair with? Will other trainers attempt to catch Flairwile? Will a coat be used to infiltrate Jubilife? How long before Ash and Co. catch up (or surpass) and episodic Things happen?
That's why, actually. The original phrase is "champing at the bit," but champing is a more obscure word, so it's become very common to say chomping instead.
Yep, IIRC Pokeworld technology and civilization is 100% electric, powered by clean, renewable energy harvested from gigantic swarms of Voltorbs. (And other Electric types, but those are less relevant, because Voltorbs.)
The easiest way to tell the difference is that Voltorbs explode with very little stimulus, whereas Electrodes explode with no stimulus at all.
So you can tell if you have any Electrodes in the area by measuring whether you have been blown the fuck up or not, if you have indeed been blown the fuck up, congratz, there's an Electrode around somewhere nearby.
Incidentally, Team Rocket apparently thinks that Electrodes are perfectly acceptable power generators, for some reason.
The easiest way to tell the difference is that Voltorbs explode with very little stimulus, whereas Electrodes explode with no stimulus at all.
So you can tell if you have any Electrodes in the area by measuring whether you have been blown the fuck up or not, if you have indeed been blown the fuck up, congratz, there's an Electrode around somewhere nearby.
Incidentally, Team Rocket apparently thinks that Electrodes are perfectly acceptable power generators, for some reason.
The asnwer to that is, both! It brings my hopes up, if only a tiny teeensy bit everytime, but honestly? Discussion like this usually makes it worth it!
Good to know, because I'd wanted to have an update done by today (as well as an update for Subsumption), but sadly I don't think either of those things is going to happen. As such, hopefully this will at least partially make up for it. ^^;
Ah, no, don't do this to me! If I get sidetracked into reading another multi-hundred-thousand word story, I'll never get around to working on my own fics! >.<
...actually, now that I see this, I'm pretty sure my mind went to that specifically because I follow Dragonith on DA. I've followed him since he was first around; he drew me a piece of fanart for being the first one to ever favorite one of his deviations/pictures. Guess that was a bit of subconscious influence... ^^;
Mind, if the gym is really at FUSE-Corp (which on an isolated island, if I recall), the trainers of that region have bigger problems. The number of ridiculously powerful Pokefusions that lab's scientists have collectively unleashed into the world is... well, "worrisome" isn't a strong enough word. Trust the word of a former Professor of the place on this; we do not need more things like THIS-
-getting loose. There's been more than enough incidents of that nature already.
I'm aware - I was deliberating between Champing and Chomping for a bit whilst naming the chapter actually, but decided to go with the latter, as champing is a more obscure word. No need to use the less familiar term when they essentially mean the same thing.
(Also, while it wasn't intentional, Chapter 6's title gets to have TWO biting puns. Too bad I didn't get to also make it more literal by also having Mawile!me chomp on metal; the chance came and went in Chapter 5.)
Ahah, no, stop, I don't want to be buried in omakes... (yes I do) That would be terrible... (no it wouldn't) Don't do it... (ignore me!)
I'm surprised they didn't just cite the existence of Gardevoir (aka the Waifu Pokemon) and then, in a perfectly serious voice, ask if anyone really believed that there wasn't someone, somewhere, somewhen, who tapped that.
I wouldn't be surprised if someone did, but hopefully they weren't taken seriously if so - while I don't at all doubt there's some portion of the community in the Pokemon world that thinks that way, and may or may not champion the return of Pokemon/Human marriage rights, I don't particularly want to think about the subject in turn, lest this board go places I'd rather it not. ^^;
...and yet still, no one noticed. Turns out Voltorbs and Electrodes just aren't interesting enough to give a second glance even when something is obviously wrong.
I'll say now that this fic isn't very likely to end up following the canon episodic structure, beyond perhaps references to its timeline, in a way. Take what you will from that.
He appears to be contemplating getting a different job - this power plant gig sounded a lot nicer when he first signed on, but he didn't realize that when the listing said he'd be "running the facility", they meant it literally.
Not quite what I meant.
Updates are recognisable because the alert says something like "[...] replied with 4k words [...]".
The important difference between "[...] replied with 1k words [...]" and "Flairina quoted your post [...]" is that the latter means one has been selected as worthy of an answer.
Ah, no, don't do this to me! If I get sidetracked into reading another multi-hundred-thousand word story, I'll never get around to working on my own fics! >.<
It says grimdark, but I feel it crosses into grimderp a bit. It took a few doses of willing suspension of disbelief to get through, but I found it enjoyable nonetheless.
Mind, if the gym is really at FUSE-Corp (which on an isolated island, if I recall), the trainers of that region have bigger problems. The number of ridiculously powerful Pokefusions that lab's scientists have collectively unleashed into the world is... well, "worrisome" isn't a strong enough word. Trust the word of a former Professor of the place on this; we do not need more things like THIS-
-getting loose. There's been more than enough incidents of that nature already.
Paul's First Pokemon Omake
Codename: Pokemon Fluffy
Idea: Everyone hates Paul as a trainer, but how did he get this way? Why does he think handing pokemon impossible tasks with virtually zero supervision will end well? And why does he think that if they fail, he should just find a more competent pokemon rather than reflecting on his own failures as a trainer? This is the answer to that question, featuring chibi-Paul and the tiny eevee that somehow manages to meet all his ridiculous expectations, while growing along the way.
It wasn't so bad here. It was shocking to be pulled away from my family and for many days and nights I'd longed to be returned but it seemed clear now that that wasn't going to happen soon, if ever. But it wasn't as bad as I feared. There was food, a house a hundred times larger than what I was born in to explore, and lights. It still amazed me that with a little flick I could make the lights turn on and off. Human magic was quite interesting, the "TV" most of all.
I still wasn't sure how it worked, or even what most of the buttons on the magic clicker did, but the picture-box was an amazing "masheen". It showed stories just like my mother did with her illusions, and it never grew tired doing so. When Paul's parents were gone I watched it for hours with him. He pulled my fur too hard sometimes and I was strictly not allowed to nip him to show him better manners, but he was still a very cuddleable size. Together we watched as magical ponies solved problems with the power of friendship. Well, at least when the Power Rangers weren't on.
***
I ducked just in time, a pikachu-yellow crayon flying over my head to leave a mark on the wall. With caution I gingerly retrieved the crayon. I deposited it gently on the table next to Paul before stepping back. His tantrums could last a while and it was better to be out of arm's reach.
The crayon went flying again, and once again at me. I was too close to dodge again but I'd suspected this outcome and was able to block it with my adorably fluffy tail.
"Eevee," I whispered disapprovingly, too low for him to hear. Reluctantly I returned the crayon to him again. If he didn't have the crayon to throw he might throw something heavier. He'd been more irritable than usual since starting kindergarten.
"Stupid paper. Stupid crayons. Stupid lines."
I moved onto my hind legs to see. Not the most comfortable position, but not terrible either. I suspected that thanks to my father being a lopunny that I was better at standing upright than the average eevee.
'Oh.' Now I knew what had him upset. He'd gotten three-quarters of the way through coloring in the electabuzz before accidentally leaving a bloch of bright yellow outside the lines.
"Eevee, you do it!" With that, Paul stomped off and shut the door behind him.
I flopped over, staring at the ceiling. It was a strange request. Pokemon didn't color things, at least so far as I knew. I was a pet, meant to provide companionship for Paul while his parents worked and his brother was out on his years-long pokemon journey. I was bred to be friendly and as fluffy as possible, a gentle-tempered companion for even the youngest of children. Coloring an electabuzz wasn't what I was born for. Or maybe it was?
I played with my tail as I thought it over, the fluffy bush nearly big enough to cover the rest of my body. I supposed it wasn't like I didn't do other things for my young master. I changed the channel for him, fetched the salt and pepper, and tucked him into bed at night. I could at least give coloring a try.
I went to pick up the crayon in my mouth but paused as I realized he'd broken it in two place before he left. There was no way I could draw with it. There wasn't enough left to grab with my teeth and still get it through my lips.
It was a mighty strange thing to do for an eevee, but I gave picking up a piece of crayon with my paws a try. Holding it between both my front paws… sort of worked. Perhaps thanks to my lopunny father I had enough dexterity in my front limbs to pull it off, but the piece was still too short to do much with.
"Vee!" Victory! I had it. The piece was just the right shape to fit between my digits. It was like when Paul's parents ate with chopsticks. It gave me just enough control to draw, and a test proved it. With a wave of my paw a thin streak of yellow showed up at the center of the electabuzz.
"Vee vee vee vee!" I ran circles around the coffee table, finishing in a tail-clutching roll into a pile of pillows. 'I did it!'
Upon re-finding the crayon I'd lost during my victory celebration I settled back into place over the paper. My back creaked a little at having to bend into two-legged standing position again but I ignored it. I may have colored the paper once, but now I had to do it a few dozen more times to finish the drawing. And be careful to stay inside the lines.
***
[Next Week]
Paul took a long look at his homework before shoving it my way. "You do it."
I looked up from my tail, not terribly amused. I'd thought the coloring thing was a one time deal, not to mention I was busy. I was very fluffy, and all my fur took a great deal of time to get in order every day. I couldn't skimp either, or I could end up with knots that would bug me for weeks. But maybe his homework wouldn't be so bad and I could still finish grooming my tail before bedtime.
I winced as I saw the drawing he was supposed to fill in. It was some type of fish pokemon that I didn't recognize, but more importantly it covered most of the page and it wasn't even started. It took over an hour to finish the last drawing, I didn't want to imagine how long it would take me to do this one from scratch.
"Ee eev eevee," I said, uncertain. I wasn't sure I was allowed to outright refuse Paul without making him or his parents mad, perhaps even enough to trade me for a new pet, but this was a big job. Maybe he could at least brush my tail while I worked on it?
Apparently he took what I said as acceptance because he took off. Moments later I heard him bouncing a basketball outside.
With a long sigh I picked up a crayon between my digits. At least I didn't have to relearn how to hold it, which would save me some time.
I paused before the crayon could make a mark. I didn't actually know what this pokemon was or what it looked like. And maybe that didn't matter. Paul hadn't gotten the hue of the electabuzz quite right last week, but he was at least pretty close. Better to play it safe and find out exactly what it looked like before I colored a fin the wrong color.
I switched on the TV, flipping past a tempting cartoon about a sponge under the sea to find the pokemon discovery channel.
"Caterpie are found in virtually every forest. They live in…"
My head dipped onto my paws as I watched, anxiously waiting for the next pokemon to appear. I already knew what caterpie were so I wished the TV would just start being helpful soon. So far all it was doing was renewing my internal debate about whether caterpie fell under the category of potentially tasty or creepy, avoid at all costs.
The channel finally switched to a new pokemon ten minutes later but that didn't make me any happier. It was a fish, but not the right fish, and an incredibly mouthy one at that. I was amazed they hadn't censored it. Did they not realize that in garbled Common it was talking about all the ways it wanted to rend the flesh from the researcher's bones? It was no wonder that every package of kibble came with plenty of magikarp bits, despite being rather bland in flavor. It was obviously an eat them before they ate us situation. And like, wow, gyrados — who knew?
The lifecycle of hateful magikarp was interesting but it wasn't what I was looking for. How long was this going to take, I wondered. Paul could come back any minute and he might get upset if he saw I hadn't started coloring yet. I didn't want him to report me to his parents for not doing his homework promptly.
It would be easier to know how long it would take the program to cycle through to the one I needed if I knew how many pokemon were actually existence. A million maybe? Whatever a million was… I was still a little iffy on numbers over eleven.
With a very deep sigh I trudged over to the bookcase. The pictures didn't move like the TV did but it still might be quicker. Provided I could actually get the aquatic field guide I needed, anyways. I pulled on it as gingerly as I could but still left a few tooth-marks that I ineffectually tried to rub away. Hopefully no one would notice since it was part of Paul's collection and he never opened a book without prodding.
It was tricky to turn the pages. Very tricky. My claws were kept filed down per house orders so I couldn't slip them between pages without a lot of effort. I managed though, sometimes with the help of my nose. Slow and laborious as it was, it was still many times faster than waiting for the TV to move onto a new pokemon.
"Vee!" 'Found you!' It was far more intimidating when seen in a photo, but was still recognizable as the colorless drawing. I set about collecting the crayons I'd need so I wouldn't have to go fishing for them mid-project. Then I set about carefully coloring in the fish without any further delay. I wanted at least something done to show Paul if he checked up on me.
Two things bugged me as I colored — not including my aching back. The first was how much easier this would be if I had hands like Paul instead of clumsy paws. The second was my own curiosity. I was spending a lot of time working on a pokemon whose name I didn't even know.
After another solid ten minutes of work I gave in and took a break, both to shake out the ache in my back and paw and to take another good look at the field guide. "Eev?" So many words. Maybe the big letters at the top were its name.
'C-ca, car?' Some of the TV programs I'd watched with Paul went on and on about letters in the songs they sang but they spent far less time on putting them all together. Their advice to sound things out didn't help much either. Saying it outloud required converting the letters to poke-Common which mostly just made reading the word more confusing. I stuck to trying to sound it out in my best mental imitation of a human voice instead. It was tough work, but eventually I thought I had it.
'Carv- Carvanha!' I collapsed on a pillow to take a short breather in front of the television. Reading was exhausting. It was no wonder Paul threw a fit when his mother last tried to teach him how to do it. It was neat though, figuring out something on my own like that. Since none of the humans understood any of my questions without a ton of charades I wasn't normally able to learn anything I chose. I was just stuck learning whatever the humans happened to talk about, bar my partial control over the television. I might consider opening a book again if I had something I was really interested in learning.
Wary of being caught lazing I soon went back to coloring. It was hard to be motivated though when the drawing looked creepier and creepier the more I filled it in. If this was what dwelled in the ocean then I was never step foot in it.
***
[Next day]
I spent most of the day sleeping, trying to make up for what I'd missed out on from spending half the night on that stupid drawing. It wasn't just lost sleep either. Thanks to my back aching from standing up so long I'd had to sleep on the firm floor, and even after grooming myself twice I swore my fur wasn't sitting quite right. There was no way I was doing Paul's homework again, no matter how many tantrums Paul threw. They could even sell me if they wanted. I was bred to be fluffy, cute, and nice, not to draw scary fish pokemon.
I heard my humans coming through the front door and dutifully rose to meet them after a very long set of stretches.
"What's this Paul, a gold star?" said his mother.
Paul shuffled in place, kicking at dust at the floor.
"You did such a good job on this carvanha, son." His father gave Paul a pat on the head, but it almost felt like he was petting me. Even if he didn't know it, he was praising me. It was the first time I'd ever been complimented for something besides my adorable cuteness.
"Yes," said his mother. "This little fellow is going on the fridge."
As she pinned it up with magnets I was vibrating with excitement. I had to start bouncing to keep from saying anything. Maybe doing a few more assignments if Paul needed them done wouldn't be so bad.
blarg.... SV destroyed all my formatting during copy-paste. Think i just remembered why i stopped writing here...
He's used to highly competent pokemon...moreover he is aweful at learning things cause he never knew how to do it more than once (regardless of success rate). Interestingly, this probably makes him a good trainer in the eyes of pokemon with high standards. Afterall, if "this idiot" would release them quickly then they wohld be free to find a better trainer or even just get stringer on their own.
He appears to be contemplating getting a different job - this power plant gig sounded a lot nicer when he first signed on, but he didn't realize that when the listing said he'd be "running the facility", they meant it literally.
See? This is why Electrodes make terrible power generators, Voltorbs are at least stupid enough that it usually never occurs to them that they could be doing something other than rolling around and electrocuting things or blowing up because that shadow looked scary for a moment there.
Electrodes though? They're evolved, and thus smart enough to start getting ideas.
You don't want the Pokemon version of Azidoazide Azide-chan to get ideas, because while they might be smart enough to get ideas, it only ever seems be the same idea: Explode, they just keep coming up with it over and over again.
e: (Electrode is also clearly miscategorized; it's not the 'Ball Pokemon', it's the 'Bomb Pokemon'.)
In the most recent chapter I noticed Mawile did not make any thankful note during the narrative of the fact that, yes, they can read the local language depicted in the Pokedex.
In the most recent chapter I noticed Mawile did not make any thankful note during the narrative of the fact that, yes, they can read the local language depicted in the Pokedex.
Paul stared down at the ground outside his tent, the anger bubbling within his chest battling for dominance with a surprising amount of curiosity.
When he'd first woken up to discover that he'd seemingly been robbed some time last night, his immediate thought had been that the morons with the talking Meowth had to be responsible. Despite his rapidly increasing disdain for a certain Pikachu-owning annoyance, the other boy's attitude seemed too similar to Reggie's to realistically imagine he had anything to do with this, and the same likely went for his pair of hanger-ons, who seemed to simply be following along in said annoyance's bumbling wake. That, along with how Paul had deliberately chosen a highly roundabout way of getting from Sandgem to Jubilife in the apparently futile hope of avoiding other people, meant that not only were the self-proclaimed thieves likely the only other individuals in the area, but also the only ones likely to try something like this, and thus the only logical culprits.
Paul scowled. The very idea of being stolen from by such utter incompetents was infuriating beyond measure, though less because of the theft itself, so much as what it in turn implied about his own competence. If he truly hadn't managed to stop idiots like that from getting the better of him, then he quite frankly deserved to be robbed.
Thankfully for the sake of his self-respect, after a bit more thought he'd soon concluded the theft couldn't possibly have been the work of the supposed Team Rocket members after all. Despite their clear association with a gang best known for stealing both money and Pokemon, from what he'd witnessed, those three were too inept to successfully steal literally anything — certainly not without making an extremely loud, obvious production of it in the process, at least.
Unfortunately, eliminating the pathetic trio as suspects meant that the thief's true identity remained something of a mystery. Not that Paul particularly cared exactly who it was that had stolen from him, beyond how that information might be useful in hunting them down and enacting an appropriate level of retribution, but he still couldn't help but notice that something seemed odd about this — so far as he could tell, the only things he was missing were one Pokeball, his Pokedex, and the plastic container he'd filled with berries last night. However, if the thief's goal had been to take his Pokemon, they'd presumably have taken all four of them, while if their goal was to take his supplies, they'd have taken his entire bag instead. Thus, the fact that everything besides those three specific items had apparently been completely disregarded seemed bizarre, something Paul was internally having a great deal of trouble making sense of.
...and then he'd noticed the message scrawled into the dirt just outside his tent.
You took me, so I'll take these — not quite an eye for an eye, but close enough.
Seeya, Paul.
Once again, Paul squinted down at the words, scrutinizing and puzzling over them in turn.
He'd initially thought the culprit to be a fool to have left something like this behind, as despite its short nature and irritating vagueness, the message was more than enough to clarify not only the culprit's motive, but also their likely identity. However, the more Paul actually thought about that identity, the more he began to doubt his own conclusion. Could he possibly be missing something...?
He knelt down, crouching to examine the words of the message in closer detail. Upon closer inspection, it was easy enough to tell that they had been carved into the soil by a thin, sharp object. Something like a small, pointed stick...
Or perhaps a similarly-sized claw.
Paul stood back up, his brow furrowing in irritation.
Between the message, the berries, and the stolen Pokeball, he was still left with only one apparent answer... but while he had heard of cases of Pokemon running off on their trainers before, he had never heard of a Pokemon attempting to get even with its trainer for a supposed injustice it had experienced at their hands. Not in any fashion remotely similar to this, at least.
Regardless, he had an answer now, and one that made a fair amount of sense — apparently, that Mawile had decided it would rather remain weak after all. Surprising, given just how deep its stubborn streak seemed to run, but perhaps what it had displayed was ultimately less akin to "stubbornness" so much as "willfulness".
Paul squinted down at his belt in annoyance. Theft aside, he probably should have expected the Mawile might try something like this. Not only had it popped out of its ball twice over last night in direct violation of his orders, but while he hadn't realized it initially, it seemed almost certain at this point that the deceptively cutesy Pokemon had previously had at least one other trainer... and seeing as how it obviously wasn't still with that trainer, the partnership presumably hadn't ended well. Most likely, the Mawile had either been deliberately abandoned — possibly due to its absurdly voracious appetite — or, for whatever reason, it had taken off on its own.
A small scoff escaped his lips. Given recent events, Paul was heavily inclined to believe the latter scenario over the former. Either way, the Mawile's clear familiarity with Potions and other medicines, combined with the fact that it had been living in a place where no Mawile would normally have any reason to be, seemed to make a prior history with humans all but indisputable.
Paul frowned. Though, even if that was true, the fact that it was apparently able to write was more than a little unexpected. He'd known that Mawile was smart when it had figured out Thunder Fang so quickly — he'd genuinely expected it to require at least a couple more days, despite the calculated pressure he'd applied to the situation — but an aptitude for learning new moves was entirely different from an aptitude for... this.
The frown deepened as he turned back to the message.
While Paul was well aware that even wild Pokemon could typically get at least the general gist of what people said to them, an understanding of human language thorough enough to actually communicate back implied a higher level of comprehension than he honestly liked. He'd thought that talking Meowth to be an exception, or possibly even some sort of genetic experiment, given that it was apparently part of Team Rocket. Yet that Mawile was clearly possessed of equal, or at least similar mental faculties, and the same explanation couldn't really be applied to it. Meaning, its intelligence was likely just... natural.
And possibly not even all that unusual.
An odd feeling arose in Paul's stomach, the idea making him strangely uneasy. He'd never found the need to mince words or hold back with his criticism when it came to his Pokemon — in fact, oftentimes he'd even deliberately exaggerate his actual anger or disappointment with them, which helped to not only keep them in line, but made sure he got his point across through tone alone. He'd always figured it hardly mattered what he said in the end, since he assumed the actual meaning of most of his words was largely lost on them anyways.
...but if that wasn't the case, and more, or even all Pokemon were smart enough to comprehend human language in its totality...
Paul shook his head, casting the thought aside and letting his expression fall back into its familiar resting scowl.
He was overthinking this. Regardless of the Mawile's intelligence, its language skills surely couldn't be inherent, nor something that could possibly be generalized to all other Pokemon species. More likely, it owed its ability in that field to its previous trainer. Perhaps they'd forced it to pour over a dictionary or something of the like for months on end in an effort to give it a more complex vocabulary. Even then, the apparent success of that effort was probably only because the Mawile was already smarter than most others of its kind — like the Meowth, it was an exception, not the rule, and he shouldn't treat it as anything more.
Paul turned back to his tent, refocusing on his more immediate issues.
In any event, regardless of anything else about the Mawile, he needed to get his Pokedex back from it. He hardly cared about it running off with a few berries, or even its own Pokeball, as a Pokemon that determined to run away from its trainer at the first opportunity wasn't useful no matter what other qualities it might possess. Taking his dex, however, had been an unfortunately effective act of revenge — unjustified revenge, as it wasn't as though he'd caused the thing any permanent harm, but effective revenge nonetheless.
Paul grimaced. Aside from the sheer inconvenience of not having access to the device's Status Analyzer function, it was also the only form of ID he generally kept on his person, as well as the only map he'd currently had on hand. Pokedexes typically weren't replaceable either, barring truly exceptional circumstances, so he couldn't exactly just go back to Professor Rowan and demand another, even if his pride would allow it of him.
Thankfully, Pokedexes were also designed to withstand just about anything, so it was highly unlikely that the Mawile had managed to destroy it, assuming it had even tried — based on how the little walking mouth's message had said "take" not "break", Paul figured there was actually a fairly good chance the Mawile intended to keep the device anyways, and possibly even use it, assuming that it could figure out how. As such, simply tracking it down and taking his property back from it seemed like a perfectly valid option...
Or at least, it would be, if Paul had idea which way the tiny Pokemon might have gone. While he highly doubted the Mawile had gotten very far, even with an entire night's head start, it apparently didn't weigh enough to leave any obvious tracks, at least not on healthy, springy grass like the kind he'd set up camp on. He also didn't have any of his more scent-sensitive Pokemon on hand at the moment, so trying to track the Mawile by smell wasn't possible either.
Unfortunately, his next best option was... inconvenient. Paul was fairly certain that the Pokedex's satellite signal could be picked up and tracked from an external device, but he'd still need to talk to Professor Rowan for that. Meaning, he'd either have to backtrack all the way to Sandgem after all, or head the rest of the way Jubilife and contact the man from there. Which, without a map...
Ugh. How irritating.
"Murkrow, stand by!" Paul called, grabbing and throwing its Pokeball into the air.
In a flash of light, Murkrow appeared in the air roughly five feet above him, squawking its name to the sky.
"Find the nearest Route or path, then come back here and lead me to it." Paul ordered. "While you're at it, keep on the lookout for the Mawile from yesterday. It ran off in the middle of the night, so if you spot it, knock it out and drag it back here, along with anything it might have with it."
Murkrow tilted its head at him questioningly, but cawed what Paul assumed to be an affirmative before turning around and flying off. He watched as it sped away over the nearby forest, rapidly becoming a mere speck in the distance.
Paul shook his head again. Given the sheer number of trees likely to be blocking the view of the ground from above, he thought it fairly unlikely that Murkrow would actually manage to spot the Mawile, even on the off chance that it had gone in the same direction, and that Murkrow had even understood enough of his instructions to realize what he'd wanted from it. But it didn't hurt to cover his bases.
As he turned around to begin taking down his tent, Paul idly wondered if perhaps he should consider "re-catching" the Mawile after all, once he inevitably caught up with it. The considerable payback he owed it aside, if it was as fast at learning other moves as it had been with Thunder Fang, and intelligent enough to understand more complex strategy than he could normally use with his Pokemon, it had the potential to be a shockingly effective fighter. It remained a fact that a Pokemon too rebellious or flighty to control wasn't useful, but the message the Mawile had left implied that it was mostly angry at having been "taken", as in taken by him against its will. In which case, would it have still run off if Paul had simply asked it to come with him, like he had with Chimchar?
Hmm. A question for another time, perhaps.
As he clicked Murkrow's Pokeball back into place, Paul glanced down at the other two red-and-white spheres attached to his belt and frowned.
Now that he looked closer, something seemed... off. If the Mawile had taken its own Pokeball with it, then why was one still placed where he'd-
Paul's eyes widened as he realized what was wrong. As a quick press of a button and an empty click confirmed his suspicions a few moments later, his mouth twisted into a contemptuous sneer.
...well then. Evidently, he owed that Mawile a little more "payback" than he'd initially thought.
For such a short chapter, I sure struggled on this one - in fact, even after countless hours of editing and rewriting, I still don't think I got Paul's voice down quite the way I'd hoped to. I can't keep fussing over it any longer however, so just know that I did my best.
A big thanks to @Pheonix14 and my two other patrons not named here, as well as an extra special thanks to a certain generous patron who wishes to remain unnamed. Each of them receives one of Paul's spare Pokeballs. 🎊
