Most tragedies don't spring out of thin air; they start quietly. A hiring mistake here. A greed-driven oversight there. Maybe a bit of prideful ignorance to really get it going. Danger creeps in on padded feet, and nobody notices until a statistic gets another notch on its belt. A man from modern-day Earth drenched in guilt wakes up in the forest near Sandgem Town with questions. Where is he? Who brought him here? Is he hallucinating these pokemon? An evil plot churns in the background, uncaring of who or what it might crush in its gears... Nick Ward and the allies he gathers along the way might be the only shot to stop it from becoming a tragedy.
An isekai featuring a main character previously in training to become a private investigator being thrown into the world of Pokemon by means unknown other than the fact it was likely wrought by human hands.
Nick wakes with a start, throat dry as the Sahara and gasping for air like a drowning man. Rolling onto his side, his hands instinctually go to his throat, sucking down as much moist air as he can. He chokes on nothing; deep, laboured coughs wrack his form for what feels like an eternity until, finally, mercifully, it tapers off into mere wheezing.
"Just another great morning," he hisses through gritted teeth, voice like sandpaper. Is he coming down with something?
'I'm already behind on studying; if I don't get on cramming more legalese into my skull, I'm going to fail.'
He supposes that he better get up and get some water before he grows himself a lovely migraine. Maybe then he can focus on finishing a chapter before his next shift.
He shifts again, clothes rubbing and the breeze sending a shiver through his form.
'Wait a minute.'
Nick's eyes snap open with a start, jolting upright, a wave of nausea threatening to overtake him as he whips his head around, blurred vision trying to take in everything. Trees. Rocks. Grass.
He's in a forest. Why? How? He looks down at himself, and a... hospital gown adorns his form, which raises even more questions. He must have been kidnapped in his sleep. Why else would he be out here, alone and under-dressed?
Part of him insists that he should panic, run, and shout, but he forces it down with brute will. It bubbles under the surface as his breath grows shallow, threatening to boil over like an ill-watched pot, but stops short. A wave of chill passes through him and his breathing levels. No time to ruminate, though; he has to get a plan and get one now. Eyes tracing up to the canopies, Nick doesn't need his glasses to see something that strikes him dumb. The trees have fresh green leaves. It was fall when he last went to bed. His breath catches in his throat as he unsteadily gets to his feet on shaky legs, cool dew draining the heat from his soles as he staggers, leaning on a nearby tree for support.
He takes a deep breath in.
And lets it back out.
There are two possibilities: either he is in the southern hemisphere or was kept under for the better half a year. A chill crawls down his spine at both. Neither fit, almost like puzzle pieces from two sets haphazardly tossed together. He doesn't feel frail, so that rules out being in a medically induced coma for six months, but who the hell would ship him to the far side of nowhere?
Anyone kidnapping someone from the fifth floor of an apartment complex would need quite a plan to avoid getting caught, not to mention the vast list of easier targets, so this is unlikely to be a crime of opportunity. He was picked out. Was it someone he maligned in his previous job? Nick can't blame anyone he dealt with back then for hating him enough for something like this. The only issue is that most of the people he ran afoul of almost certainly couldn't scrape enough funds together to quietly ship someone off to the far side of the planet.
There is always that fraction of a percent, though, the edge cases. Nick's mind shoots back to the investigation where he found a car dealership claiming compensation for 'warranty work' and charging people regardless, a faint memory of an article about how the place was forced to shut down amidst the ensuing legal battle later floating to the surface. The owner certainly had the money, given she owned several other businesses last he checked.
'Figures that I might have gotten shoved into a burlap sack over one of the few things I'm actually proud of from that joke of a career.'
Why the hospital gown, then? Or why not just kill him?
The calls of unfamiliar birds and insects fill the forest around him as he forces himself to take another deep breath. Standing around theorizing, while tempting, would most assuredly get him killed if he keeps it up.
A glint of metal catches his eye, and he locks onto a black lump at the bottom of a tree.
'Now, what have we here? A trap? Something to make this more interesting for them?'
Nick checks over his shoulder, squinting his eyes as he scans the treeline for any movement, for any watchers waiting for him to take the bait. Perhaps it would be bereft of logic to club him again immediately. However, he's not in the mood to take the chance on kidnappers following "logical" behaviour.
Skittering closer like a frightened rat, Nick finds the lump to be a backpack, the steel buckle shining in the early morning sunlight. Casting one last uneasy glance about the small clearing, he digs into the bag, dumping the contents onto the ground.
The first thing he sees is the very same clothes he passed out in last night, but something's wrong. The simple black sweats and shirt are stiff, almost like someone had washed them by hand and left them to dry in the open air. Digging around in his pockets, Nick found his wallet, keys, and... A grin creeps across his face. Victoriously, he draws his phone like Excalibur from the stone!
The smile falls away as he recalls how smart his captors had to be to get him out here. He tries to turn it on, only for the screen to remain stubbornly black. Nick let out a frustrated grunt. Yet more questions without damned answers.
'Did they somehow discharge this without turning it on to avoid being tracked? Why not just dump it, other than to maybe mess with me?'
Nick pulls the case off and turns the device so the cracked and peeled upper back corner faces down. Nothing.
'If they dumped the phone in water for a bit to fry it, I'd expect some water to get trapped inside. Installing something that acts as a tracker but keeps the screen off would be a lot of work when there are easier, less obvious routes. No, it's either damaged in some other, less obvious way or out of power.'
His attention drifts to a tree, and Nick considers punching it a few times to bleed off his ballooning frustration before cursing under his breath and returning to the pile.
A pair of shoes and socks are tucked under his clothes. Notably, they are not his, but they look to be his size. Alongside them, a saran-wrapped ham sandwich, an aluminum water bottle, and a toy Poke Ball sit. Oh, now someone is definitely messing with him.
Is it a message, somehow? A warning that there are dangerous animals around? He sighs deeply, wordlessly checking all the 'gifts' for any tracking device and coming up with nothing, not even inside the damned toy when he popped it open. Why not just dress him if they already undressed him at some point, anyhow?
Still, no time to dawdle.
A harsh cough reminds Nick of his poor, aching throat, and he pops open the water bottle, sniffing it before drinking greedily. Two-thirds of the way through, he forces himself to stop, the thought of not finding more in short order tempering his desire to down the whole thing.
"Right," he says to hopefully nobody, "I'm burning daylight." The ground seems slightly sloped, even if it is subtle. Hopefully, if he followed, it would lead him to a creek? Sure, the ordinary procedure when lost in the woods was to stay in place, but this is not an ordinary situation. It's not as if he has another plan, anyhow.
He quickly dresses and packs the hospital gown away -evidence for later, he tells himself- before setting off downwards. The minutes creep by in silence, punctuated only by distant birdsong, unsurprisingly alien notes setting him on edge. No sign of his captors. No sign of humanity.
'How did they manage to dump me so far out without leaving tracks or a trail?'
A bird calls, closer now, landing on the branch; Nick glances up to see-
"Starly!" The foot-tall brown and white bird croons briefly from its perch, head lowering to preen its wings. Numbly, uncomprehending, Nick stares up at the bird pokemon, jaw slack at the living impossibility a mere few feet above him. There's an underlying level of reality to seeing it in three full dimensions rather than a screen that shakes him, even as it does little more than casually adjust feathers.
"No bloody way," he murmurs, mind short-circuiting as he fights the profoundly illogical idea that he is in another world. No, no, he is definitely hallucinating. Was the water bottle drugged? Did his captors expect him to throw it at random wildlife for their entertainment? No, you can't just target hallucinogens like that. Prompting like the ball might help, but he's sure it needs more than that.
"Star!" It calls out with a trill, gaze upon him, even if it seems still mostly engrossed in its grooming. Intelligence shines behind those eyes to a degree that surprises Nick. Perhaps...
"Excuse me, I'm new around here!" he calls up to the bird, "Do you know where the nearest town is?"
The bird glances at him for a moment longer before returning to preening.
"Can't I pay you with anything? I don't have much on me right now other than a sandwich, but I'd be happy to-"
And at that, the bird's wings flick open, igniting with a bright white energy as it glares down at him. "Star!" the bird calls with a harsh edge, eyes suddenly hard.
"Whoa, whoa, alright, I'm going!" Nick says as he holds up his hands placatingly and starts walking away, keeping it in his field of view but pointedly not making eye contact. In response, the pokemon's wings lose their shine as it settles back down, returning to preening. He hardly blinks until he loses the overgrown pest between the thick, leafy trees.
Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, Nick rests his back against a nearby tree, nervously running his hands through his dirty blonde hair. As tempting as it was to write it all off as a hallucination, he can't. If that was all this was, it would have been more likely to call forth a species that actually left a mark on him from those days rather than something he only remembered the name of when it spoke.
At least, he's about seventy percent sure.
He pulls the Poke Ball from his bag, pops it open, and takes a closer look. Despite being razor-thin, the hinge feels surprisingly sturdy when he tests it. Despite looking smooth, the outside was surprisingly grippy, almost as if optimized for throwing. On closer inspection, the reflective panels forming a row on the upper and lower inner halves aren't even any material he recognizes, looking like one-way glass but with the texture of burnished steel.
He humphs before snapping the ball shut and giving it a test throw, sending it spiralling through the air, notably on a spin-filled angle that didn't make sense with how he tossed it. It hits dead on the button, popping open, the interior momentarily flashing with a red light before dimming.
"Ah," he numbly murmurs, picking the ball back up and packing it away. Right.
'Either I'm so far gone that trying to figure out what's real is utterly useless, or, unthinkably, this is real. For now, I have to stick to the former and see where that takes me, as galling as it is. What's the other option? Sit down and chant it's "not real" until I either starve to death or someone comes to kill me for being boring?'
His eyes snap to the treeline again, tensely scanning for any hint of an observer, cameras, or anything. Nothing. Like last time, he is alone but for the still trees and the calls of distant pokemon.
Steeling his will, Nick continues his trek. He ducks under branches. He circles wide around any source of noise. Anything that would make noise with a careless step is carefully avoided, be it dry-looking sticks, loose rocks, or even old leaves from the prior autumn. That Starly might have been merciful, but who knows what else might be in these woods with him? A memory of a particularly gnaw-happy fly trap-esque Carnivine from the old anime comes unbidden to his mind, followed by a traitorous thought of a less friendly one clamping down with hydraulic press might on a stray limb.
He shivers.
Why couldn't they have dropped him off with a knife, at least? Sure, he doesn't expect one to do much against a superpowered weed charging him, but there is comfort in being able to at least do something, never mind the utility of one if he has to survive out here for a while.
He stops, pulled out of his train of thought by the hair on the back of his neck standing straight. Something's wrong.
The forest had gone quiet.
No chirps or distant buzzes.
Momentary peace, enforced by the promise of imminent violence. With great struggle, Nick keeps his composure, surveying bush and branch for signs of predators, for anything and everything that stands out. Pokemon are smart. Showing weakness is likely death if silence means even remotely the same thing here.
He steps back, still scanning for the wild beast, but there is just him and the woods.
'Best to assume it can see me even if I can't see it.'
Every cautious step backward feels like his shoes are full of rocks as he refuses to break eye contact with even the idea of his potential predator.
The grass rustles lightly to his side. Nick freezes. The trees are still. That is not the wind.
He ducks forward just in time to see a purple orb that feels like bubbling hate fly scream past him and sail off into the sky. Glancing over his shoulder as he takes off running, Nick only catches a glimpse of white and red disappearing behind a tree trunk.
Rustling comes from the brush before him, and the man turns sharply to dodge an ambush... but no attack is forthcoming, only an ethereal, echoing giggle that makes his blood run cold.
Nick's pulse thunders in his ears as he runs, frantically trying to dust the mental cobwebs away and root through long-abandoned memories to figure out what he's dealing with, scrounging up some bits of half-remembred insights that might help him survive.
'Some kind of ghost or dark type, perhaps? What the hell is white and red in those types?'
He runs and runs and runs, not stopping even though he ceased hearing his pursuer, dodging between trunks, avoiding slick-looking rocks, every instinct shrieking at him to get further away, but something isn't right; he just can't put his finger on-
Stars swim in his vision as he finds himself face up on the hard dirt, breath crushed out of his lungs by a tree that he somehow didn't see before impact. The tall, imperious pine seems to mock him as he stares up at it, a spot of blood marring where he smashed his skull. Vision blurred and unsteady, adrenaline compels him to flounder to his feet, fingers desperately scrambling for purchase against a nearby trunk to help himself up faster.
Blood drips into his vision from a numb spot on his forehead, although a quick check of his nose reveals that, thankfully, it isn't broken. "What a shit morning," he mumbles as he fights down dizziness and an urge to keel over and let his growing nausea take him, only having enough time to get back upright before another airy chortle sounds from inches behind him.
He has barely enough time to tense before claws carve effortlessly through his clothes, only lightly scratching his back before it pushes him forward, sending him scampering away again.
Whatever or whoever it was could have ended things then and there, but it didn't.
Does it not want to seriously hurt him? Is he merely the day's entertainment?
Thick bramble closes in, and walls rise around him on either side, a gully he has no choice but to sprint into, thick tree cover cloaking all in shadows like a gaping wound in the land hidden, but not erased. Nick skitters over a fallen log as something bounds on branches and old fallen leaves close behind. The rocky ground is rough, giving him no chance to look back at his pursuer, each step a fight to avoid twisting his ankle. Wait- No.
He is being herded.
Ice water pours through Nick's veins as dread threatens to overflow from his gut into his throat like bile. He has to do something, has to get away, but how? Heavy breathing closes in, closer, and closer yet until he can feel it roiling on the back of his neck, dispelling any delusion of merely turning back and darting past his hunter, but what can he do?
There. Rocks, perhaps a bit loose looking, but they are flat enough to act like steps out of this damned trap. Without further thought, Nick hard pivots and darts up them like a squirrel, scrambling up, reaching for the next... until his hand finds nothing, passing right through. He lets out a strangled cry as he falls forward, stone and dirt giving away under his weight and sending him careening down a hill into darkness.
Tough roots and sharp stones batter his weary body as he tumbles down an earthen slope, too late realizing that even that was just a trap laid for him with some manner of arcane power, just a fake escape for the desperate.
'Why should I have expected anything less?'
The man desperately curls up in a ball as he tumbles, desperate to protect himself in any way he can. As Nick rolls further down, his skin is torn and grabbed and punctured by debris, leaving his body a mosaic of red-smeared dirt and fabric as he crashes into the grass at the bottom.
A shuddering cough steals what air is left in his lungs, leaving him wheezing as he tries to get up and run, to do something, but he barely has the strength. His doom should have fallen upon him like an executioner's axe, but it hasn't. Not yet, in any case. Evidently, he still has some torment to go through. Tall trees loom over the clearing -or perhaps crater would be more accurate, with how berms rise around the edges- the only bright light through their dense canopies is a circle dead in the centre where their branches can't reach.
Desperately, he limps towards it, fighting to stay upright as his rebelling body threatens to drag him back down to the ground over each hard-fought inch. Step by step. Second by second. By some mercy, he makes it to the centre, bathed in light yet feeling no less safe than in the depths of the shade. Nick has naught to defend himself with except dwindling hope and an empty Poke Ball as his pursuer finally makes another appearance.
Even then, it seems content to circle and pace out in the dark, the light killing his chances of seeing it beyond vague shapes, disappearing from one side and appearing on the other with but a moment between. Are there multiple? Why is it still playing with him? He is here and right screwed! Fury starts to burble forth.
'I get kidnapped from my home, dropped in a forest, and even the local wildlife wants to do nothing other than play twisted games with me. Un-fucking-believable!'
His limbs shake with barely contained hate. Perhaps it is karma.
'But I was getting my life together, I planned to help people!'
Deep, heaving breaths fuel his fury, and he cries out without thinking, "If you're going to kill me, at least have the balls to look me in the eyes as you gut me, you coward!"
The figure freezes, and Nick can feel its gaze sharpen even through the shade. It can wait until his rant is done. "First, I get kidnapped from my awful apartment! Second, whoever did so saw fit to dump me in the wilderness with a bunch of monsters that aren't real! Then, and here's where you come in: I get harassed and hunted through the woods by some psychopathic critter who won't even show me their face! Do you care that I just had the worst morning of my life? No!" he hoarsely screams into the darkness.
"Pokemon aren't even real back home! Just a product to make money off of!" A hoarse cough cuts through him mid-rant, forcing him to stop to suck down more air before continuing his unhinged tirade, "Do you have any idea how depressing it is to be hunted by some corporate-designed bullshit?" His aching knees give out from under him, and he goes crashing down onto them, but he hardly notices the pain.
"Come on, right here! Big jackass full of bad life choices, evidently a tasty snack for forest monsters!" he calls out, gesturing wildly at himself as he stares down the shadowy figure, "But I'm going to go down swinging, you hear me?" His voice falls towards the end, and he slumps, trying to muster a second wind but coming up empty. Almost as a response, the beast blurs and disappears into the shadows. Nick tenses, awaiting the inevitable, but it doesn't come. His head silently pounds as he waits seconds, then minutes.
Then, the creature returns and quietly plods along the edge of Nick's vision until it is opposite him at the far edge. He grimly muses to himself as it takes its sweet time.
'Perhaps it is honouring my request.'
It struts closer and closer to him. Quadrupedal. White and red. More and more details come into focus as it leaves the shade, and he finds himself staring at a Zorua rather unlike what he remembers from the games, even if the creature is unmistakably one. It bears hard eyes of yellow with snow-white fur wrapping around its neck like a scarf, shifting into pinks and rich reds until it trails off into tips, waving in an intangible breeze. The tuft on top of its white-furred head has a similar gradient, reminiscent of a flickering candle flame, and the same with the tail. The pokemon seems a tad big, though, the tip of its head perhaps even a third of the way up his chest if he were standing.
'Fuck, it's been all illusions from the start, hasn't it? That's why I didn't see the tree and fell through the wall; this was all just one big trap I rushed headlong into. I'm an idiot who deserves what I get.'
He braces for whatever is coming and labouriously lifts his shaking hands into a rather pathetic guarding position, watching the pokemon as it walks up with... a fruit in its mouth? No, that's not quite right.
The oversized Zorua drops the large blue-tinted berry before him as he drums up what it is from a dusty corner of his mind. "An Oran berry?" he says aloud, more to himself than anything else, but getting a nod from the oversized Zorua in return.
He shoots it a suspicious look.
'Why mercy now? Was this all just a game he lost?'
The cuts upon his back throbbed in protest at that laughable guess.
Without much choice, he cups it in shaking hands before biting into it, his face quirking into a confused grimace as his brain stumbles over the taste. It's uncomfortably similar to biting into an apple with no sweetness but a confusing melody of other assorted tastes, almost like someone spliced a dozen species of berries together. The corner of Nick's mouth twitches, thinking about offering to 'share' the rest before recalling the remarkable restorative properties and buckling down, consuming the rest like a child being given cough syrup.
His focus drifts back to the Zorua sitting across from him, evidently quietly observing each bite with what Nick swears is wry amusement.
"If you get your kicks assaulting strangers in the woods and making them choke down medicine, kindly leave me out of it next time," he quips, freezing once he realizes that he talked back to a fox that can clearly kill him.
The only response he gets back is a short vulpine huff that carries the same air as a snicker.
Nick closes his eyes briefly and starts breathing deeply, drawing on the same exercises he had learned years back for exams to slow his racing pulse and give him what he needs now: calm.
"Right," he begins, eyes snapping to the fox, "We can't talk. We can still communicate," he lowers himself onto his rear, crossing his legs and holding out his hands, palm up, "Tap the left for yes, right for no, that work for you?"
The pokemon drifts into thought, leaving him in agonizing silence before it reaches over and gently taps his left with a surprisingly dainty paw.
"Right, so, did you back off because of my story? And you're interested in hearing more?" Nick asks, cutting to the heart of the matter.
A soft tap to his left hand and then one to his right. He jolts, looking at the pokemon only to behold the Zorua looking away with folded ears.
'Looks like I'm not the only abductee.'
The Zorua's gaze drifts to meet his, and the faux flames upon its fur burst into motion. First, the sound of a peaceful forest plays throughout the hollow, then people talking in indistinct voices, underscored with beeping and whirrs, suddenly cutting off into the soft crunching of paws on snow. Nick's eyes widen.
"Wait, wait, does this seem familiar?" he fishes the hospital gown out of his backpack, holding it up for the fox-like pokemon to examine. Silently, the Zorua inspects it for a few moments, leaning in to sniff and- The fur on its back stands ramrod straight, a growl leaving its muzzle, and only quick reflexes stop his one piece of evidence from getting torn from his grasp by a wrathful bite.
"I get it, I get it!" he calls out, pulling the gown further back as the Zorua lunges at it again, "Stop that! This is evidence that will help me find them!" At the mention of finding the perpetrators, the Zorua stops dead, eyes locked onto the clothing. "I woke up wearing that this morning. As narrow of a shot as it might be, this was made by a corporation and sold to someone else. If I can figure out which company made this, who they sold to..." Nick trails off as comprehension lights in the Zorua's eyes, rapidly abandoning fury for a disdainful glare levelled at the fabric that dares impinge upon its space as Nick puts it away.
"Right, now that we're all... friendly," he starts, ignoring the flash of mild annoyance upon its muzzle, "Do you happen to know the way to civilization? I'll get out of your hair and on my way."
The fox mulls it over before turning and walking away, and Nick, without a better plan, follows it beneath the shaded boughs, between two dry ferns, out through a hole under some roots, back into the light and sound of the forest. Nick takes a deep breath of fresh air and savours the sun on his skin, basking in the sounds of the forest. An annoyed huff draws his attention, and he glances down at the Zorua.
"Hey," he holds his hands up defensively, "You were angling to kill me for a moment there. I just needed a moment to appreciate being alive." The fox chuffs and very humanly shakes its head, amusement radiating in waves, before walking off, not glancing back to ensure Nick is following.
Hurrying to catch up, Nick asks, "Wait, you're going to head there yourself with me? You aren't going to just point me there?" The annoyed look he receives in response is like that of a boss who doesn't trust an employee to do anything right.
"You know that if you head into a town, people might try to fight you, right? You are a 'wild' pokemon, after all."
The Zorua pauses mid-stride, a quiet growl crawling up its throat before it falls into silent thought. Spinning around, it darts past Nick and reaches up, snagging teeth into his backpack! Nick teeters, his arms flung wide and wildly flailing as he tries to maintain balance, but all is for naught as he collapses into a pile of limbs at the damned creature's incessant attacks.
"What the hell is wrong with you, you demented-" he cuts himself off the start of his rant mid-shout as he stares up at what the pokemon has in its jaws. The Poke Ball.
It drops the ball in front of his face, and Nick haltingly grabs the object, rolling it uneasily in his palm. "You sure? You know that it means you'll have to at least try to listen to me, yeah?" he asks as he looks up at the Zorua. The only response he gets is a quick illusionary snippet of the same beeping from whatever facility it was held in before and a stern gaze.
Nick chuckles bitterly, "Yeah, I guess that's a fine enough reason." He slowly sits back up, "I'm going to feel weird about just calling you 'Zorua' all the time, though; you want a name?" He drops the Poke Ball on his lap and holds out both hands, "Before I start brainstorming, what gender are you? Left for female-" The Zorua whips forward, nipping his left hand to the sound of a panicked yelp before retreating, holding her head high and pointedly turning away from him.
Nick glares at her before checking over his hand. No blood, just faint toothmarks. "Ow! Fine, point taken," he growls, "Female, I'm sure I can come up with something..."
Her ears perk, and a curious eye is cast over her shoulder at him. Mind churning through potential names, one sticks out to Nick like a lightning bolt in the depths of night.
"Mira?" he says aloud, unsure, "A shortened version of mirage. I figured it fit because, well, you know." The man gestures vaguely behind him to her den.
The Zorua turns around, eyes alight even though she bears a carefully neutral expression, peacefully sitting on her haunches before him.
"Nailed it, right?" His declaration is immediately met with a derisive huff, even if a smile tugs at the edge of her muzzle.
Reaching down, Nick snags the Poke Ball and rolls it around in his hands for a few moments, and, hearing no objections, he presses the button and very lightly tosses it against the Zoru- Mira. A flash of red light fills the forest as she dematerializes, fading into crimson light before getting sucked into the ball, which shuts and drops onto the ground.
Nick sits down upon a lovely, cool stone, aching soles demanding rest after a mere hour of walking. Leaning back, the man looks up at the clear blue expanse of the sky and takes in the few clouds that drift across.
The annoyed whine and accompanying stink eye from his zorua companion need no translation.
"Look, these shoes are killing me. How about we take a moment and break for brunch?" Nick says, shucking off the backpack and dropping it next to him, "Whoever took me was kind enough to leave a snack. I'll share."
Mira's ears perk, her eyes narrowing in suspicion a second later. 'Why?' he can almost hear her question.
"We're partners now. I don't exactly know what I'm walking into with the whole civilization thing — I mean, I'm assuming that my and your kidnappers are some evil team working from the shadows rather than a local governmental force since that's how it always worked in the games and shows back home. Still, I'd rather have us both fed and rested," he babbles, fumbling through the sack and pulling out the saran-wrapped ham sandwich.
'Actually, isn't this probably made out of pokemon? That seems messed up... Unless animals exist here, too?'
He vaguely recalls five different species being called the "Mouse Pokemon," implying the existence of mice, before shrugging. That's a moral quandary for future Nick. He unwraps the sandwich, takes half of it, and places the other half on the plastic wrap as a makeshift plate for Mira. Taking a bite, other than being potentially morally dubious, he concludes it's technically passable, albeit unexciting — just cheap plastic-looking "cheese," a substance legally distinct from butter, and something vaguely resembling ham in the same way that all vending machine food vaguely resembles something edible. What interests him, though, is Mira's reaction, Nick keeping track of her from the corner of his eye.
The white and red menace stares up at Nick eating before shifting her attention to her half, slowly plodding over and taking a tentative bite. Her muzzle twists into a surprisingly human grimace, and Nick bites the inside of his cheek so as not to laugh at the murder fox. Evidently, Mira's not one to waste a meal, powering on like an absolute trooper.
"Legends say that there are office workers that haven't seen the sun for years that live off this stuff, you know?" he adds between mouthfuls, a disgusted sneer creeping across Mira's muzzle, "To be honest, I'm disappointed this stuff exists here at all, but maybe god-awful vending machine food is a universal constant."
Despite her general distaste, Mira finishes well before him, choking down most of her half in one big bite to get it over with, although he's done not long after. Staring at the last bit of the sandwich, he takes the least spit-contaminated section of wrap and packs it back away, just in case it might reveal a clue later. Somehow.
He'll see what type of insanity the police here can pull with psychics later, after all.
An annoyed growl from Mira forces Nick to raise his hands defensively. "I ate it too. I've just eaten worse, is all." Her growl tapers off as she looks him up and down before her face drops into pity, but any anger or disbelief at being pitied for his diet by a wild pokemon is cut off at the knees by confusion.
'Why am I so good at reading her expressions, anyhow?'
It isn't as if he has experience training pokemon other than as pixels upon a screen, nor does he have animal handling experience beyond family pets. Her expressions don't match up with humans, but that knowledge had to come from somewhere; it's not just innate. Yet another question without answers.
Leaning back, he stares up at the wide blue yonder once more. "You know," he says, "It gives me conniptions thinking about the implications of there only being humans and animals back on my home world."
From the corner of his eye, he can see Mira nod along before she jolts, ears standing on alert as the implication sets in. "Zorua? Zor, ua-zor!" she trills out, hopping up next to him and staring down in bafflement.
"Right, I forgot to mention that. Surprise! I'm an alien, but some humans are native here, and that's screwing me up," Nick says, watching a cloud roll into sight, "The odds of some random company back home coming up with the idea of 'Pokemon' and getting things like the design of starlys or Poke Balls so close to reality seems like it'd be impossible, right? Maybe it's just chance in an infinite multiverse. Perhaps there's some connection between Earth and... Poke Earth or whatever you call it. Hell, maybe Arceus took humans from home and brought them here, or it could be the other way around."
Nick looks over with a sad smile to an uneasy Mira. "It's just terrifying how much I don't know. Yesterday, I had my purpose figured out. Now I'm here because someone decided to take that all from me. Perhaps if the insurance industry hadn't chewed me up and spat me out already, I'd think I was brought here to be some kind of hero, but I know that's not what I am."
He lapses into silence as he runs out of steam, closing his eyes. "It's probably not a good sign that I'm dumping all this on a stranger that I just met in the woods who was planning to kill me, nor is it fair to you. Sorry about that. I'll keep a lid on it better."
A few silent moments pass before Mira softly jumps off the rock, milling around near his feet, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
'That was definitely too much too fast. I wouldn't be surprised if Mira was contemplating my sanity after that; she might even take off. Not as if I-'
His eyes snap open as a muzzle bites into his already ruined sleeve and pulls him to his feet, giving him barely enough time to grab the backpack before Mira starts dragging him along. "Fine, I get it, break's over!" The corner of Nick's sleeve tears away, and the zorua spits it out, not slowing her stride as she continues her march.
The man huffs and puts his hands in his pockets. "Come to think of it, I was rude enough to name you and didn't even give you mine, wasn't I?" he ponders aloud, and one of Mira's ears flick in response. "Let's correct that right now, then. My name's Nick Ward. Call me Nick, though. The last name's more of a formal thing back home."
Mira pivots her head just enough to look at him, flicking the same ear in response before turning back forward. "Zor-ua," she responds, which he charitably interprets as "Pleased to meet you" rather than "Finally, a name to call the idiot by."
The two's walk resumes in silence, but the air feels lighter. There is something about the simple act of sharing a meal to shatter tension. For a time, the unlikely duo weren't strangers in a strange land but two simple souls taking part in a tradition older than words.
The xylophonic cry of distant kricketot, which he only remembers the name of due to the ungodly cry of its evolution searing itself into his brain, and starly echo through the woods.
Minutes tick by, and a breeze whistles through the trees; then, the distant scent of the ocean. At long last, the duo crest one final ridge, breaking through the tree cover and back into the sunlight.
Below, a great expanse of rolling grassland waits, broken only by the occasional dainty tree or bush and a single paved road. Following it leads to a sleepy-looking town amongst the small hills, covered in quiet homes, small fields of crops, and wild pink flowers, flowing into a beach towards the edge. The cool, gentle sea air mixed with the delicate floral scent is positively invigorating, and Nick takes a deep breath.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, a smile pulling at the edges of his face.
"Zor?"
"Right, sorry," he responds after looking down at Mira, "For now, let's see if we can see about getting me, ugh, licensed to train and battle." Mira looks like she has bit into a lemon, almost like the mere concept of delayed vengeance is distasteful. He can't imagine it's as simple as just having a pokemon, right? Surely, even the ten-year-olds they send out on weird cross-country treks must have some training.
He takes the lead, carefully half-sliding down the grassy slope ahead of Mira, who hops down in a single leap with far more grace. "People presumably get educated on the best practices for combat training and care of pokemon, right? I'd be shocked if whatever group took us didn't have that training, so with just the two of us..." Nick trails off, and Mira's sour expression slips into thoughtfulness. "Besides, are you going to say no to getting stronger?"
Mira's stare is level and unamused, but underneath it is a small flash of curiosity, as if to say, "I know you're playing me, but I'm interested."
'The Poke Centre seems like a pretty good place to start. They definitely have something to treat these scratches so they don't get infected, although I'm praying this idyllic fantasy world isn't running on privatized healthcare.'
He doubts that anyone asking for payment will do anything other than stare at him blankly if he hands them his debit card.
'Not that there's much left in there anyhow.'
"So, do you know how trainer battles work?" he asks, shaking off that unpleasant thought.
"Zoru?" Mira inquired back.
'Was that a no? Or a why are you asking? Best to split the difference.'
"So, I mentioned that there are no pokemon back home, but there are tales in the form of games and stories. In those stories, trainers and pokemon work together in a symbiotic relationship — the pokemon battle on behalf of their trainer against other trainers' pokemon in mostly friendly fights, and in return, the pokemon are cared for and trained. The fights go to incapacitation only, and after the trainers take their pokemon to get healed up, thus giving the pokemon experience against many species in safe conditions, plus a generally safe environment to exercise and build up power and the like in. I don't know for sure if it works the same here, but I'm willing to bet that it does."
At least, he hopes that it does. Those grim depictions were never his cup of tea. However, could he rule them out when interdimensional kidnapping is on the menu?
"There's this thing called the 'Gym Challenge' in those stories, too, where a trainer can travel and train to fight a series of expert trainers of escalating strength, growing their might and collecting a badge from each victory. By the end, a trainer and their team are considered contenders to challenge the strongest in the region for the title of Champion," he says, stepping over a puddle that Mira chooses to splash through instead, "Of course, I have no interest in the title, and I doubt you do either, but the strength garnered by completing the badge set would be useful for dealing with whoever took us, to say the least."
A moment's silence hangs between them as she contemplates before Mira gives a determined "Zorua!" with a particularly vicious-looking grin.
Returning a smile, albeit a less bloodthirsty one, Nick supposes that settles that.
Despite everything, Nick can't help but feel a giddy excitement deep in his core as they finally break onto the road near the edge of town, walking through the outskirts and slowly worming their way deeper in. In the air, a staravia ferries a wrapped package in its talons. In a park, an espeon throws a frisbee for a child to chase in a bizarrely backwards game of fetch while their parents sit and relax nearby. Down a side street, a stout magby's breath provides heat for an oven in an open-air pizza restaurant. Seeing people and pokemon living, working, and playing side by side is positively striking. The attention they're drawing is less so.
A man looks up from working on his bike in a garage, eyes lingering on Nick's torn clothing and scratches. A pair of kids having a metapod mirror match turn to point and stare at Mira. A child attempts to cross the street to say hello to the fluffy pokemon, only for his mother to thankfully pull him back by the wrist, shooting the pair an awkward smile before hurrying along.
Under all the attention, Mira tenses, sticking close enough to Nick that he has to fight to avoid stepping on her paws. With the fur on her back half-standing, her eyes dart around, sizing up every potential threat with a stern gaze.
"I could return you to your Poke Ball. Just say the word," he whispers, the fox's closest ear twitching once in acknowledgement. Does she not want to leave him alone with so many "threats," perhaps? It's strange behaviour for someone who tried to kill him a few hours ago.
'I can figure that out later. Now, how the hell do you find the Poke Centre?'
"Jeez, you're looking a bit rough," a voice calls out from a few feet behind Nick, and he startles, breath hitching as he turns.
Mira wheels about, lets out a low growl, and drops into a wide stance. The black-haired teenager jumps back. "Gah!" he calls, and a Poke Ball pops open upon his belt, releasing a chimchar that takes a defensive stance.
"Chimchar!" the diminutive orange monkey cries, pounding a fist on its chest, the flame upon its rear flaring brightly.
The corresponding "Zor" from the comparatively towering Mira sounds almost contemptuous, ghastly purple energy rising like smoke from the corners of her mouth.
"Wait a second now!" Nick shouts, stepping forward, "Come on now, he just surprised us. Let's all just calm down and start over. Agreed?" he pointedly looks toward his companion, who nods after a tense moment. "Right," he turns towards the teen, "Sorry about that. She and I just met this morning, and this is her first time around other people."
The foot-tall monkey gives Mira one last "Chim!" before being recalled, disappearing in a flash of red.
"Oh! Yeah, I guess I should have known better than to sneak up on an unfamiliar pokemon. I just got Chimchar two days ago, and I already know he can be trouble, too," the teen admits, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish smile, "My name's Lucas. I work with Rowan in the lab!"
The professor's name is like a bolt from the blue, reawakening long dormant synapses as memories of Pokemon Platinum come flooding back.
'That's the name of the generation four professor; that means this must be Sinnoh!'
"My name's Nick Ward," Nick politely responds, gesturing to his companion, "And this is Mira."
Lucas turns to look at her and freezes, almost like he has just now registered her presence. "Whoa, no way! You have one of those weird zorua that are showing up all around Sinnoh!" Lucas steps forward and crouches to get a better look at her, a bright grin on his face. "I heard they're really aggressive, and she's calm enough to walk through the city already? You must have lucked out! How did you find her? They're so rare! What pokemon did you use to battle her?"
Mira glares dispassionately at Lucas before stealing a glance up to Nick. Part of him feels like she's asking permission to evict the lad from the land of the conscious. "No," he mouths, and she sighs.
"Actually," he interjects before Lucas can think up any more questions, "She's my first pokemon. I found myself in the woods this morning without knowing how I got there. I met her while I was reorienting myself, and we clicked."
Nick gets a disbelieving stare in response. Lucas' gaze flicks to the large Zorua, then back to Nick. "Are you being serious?" asks the teenager.
"Yes?"
"You caught one of the new, highly aggressive zorua subspecies wandering about with no pokemon of your own while lost with no prior experience?"
'I've wandered into some bullshit, haven't I?'
A surreptitious glance toward Mira fills him with unease. He could have guessed that her species isn't native, but how Lucas spoke about her suggests that more of her kind have been reported. He's nowhere near naive enough to assume introducing her species to the wild is the point of their adversaries' endeavour, and if the scale of their operation is large enough to have a whole species as mere runoff...
A shiver catches him.
'The scale of our adversaries grows greater yet. I'd be surprised if they don't have some form of governmental ties if they've managed to stay hidden despite all that.'
"Yes." Stillness reigns between the two of them as they stare one another down. Perhaps he should have made up a lie.
"I think Professor Rowan might be interested in talking to you," Lucas slowly starts, "Want to head over to do the lab and get your wounds cleaned while you're at it?"
What would the professor want, anyhow? His meta-knowledge says that Rowan is a good man, at least, so it's unlikely he's part of this. If Mira's subspecies are as unusual as Lucas says, perhaps he might want some quick data. It could be helpful to get a contact like a region's professor if Nick will be tracking folks down.
"Hey, are you okay?" the youngster uneasily asks, "Do you need a nurse or something?" Perhaps he stayed silent for a bit too long.
"Sorry, I'm fine. I just have a lot on my mind," Nick says, fidgeting on the spot, "We'd be happy to."
Mira's eyes dart briefly towards Nick's, and she flicks her tail once before acquiescing, tension dropping from her form.
"Rrrright," Lucas begins before giving him a nod, "This way!" At that, he turns and walks down the street, hands in his pockets and humming.
Nick and Mira follow close behind. "So," Nick fishes, "You said you just got Chimchar a couple days back, yeah? Did you pick him out special?"
"Oh yeah! The professor gives out pokemon yearly to a few kids about to go on their Journey, and since he's sponsoring me this year, I got first pick!" the youth beams, "Piplup and Turtwig are fine, I guess, but Chimchar's evolutions are waaay faster, like, it's not even close. I mean, did you see Flint at the Lily of the Valley Conference last year?"
"Can't say I did," Nick truthfully answers.
"I guess I can't blame you. The slot was pretty early in the morning," babbles Lucas, "But his Infernape? Hits fast, hits hard, and his opponents hit the ground! He even managed to do a clean sweep! Can you believe that? Oh! How about I show you after you talk with the professor?"
The kid's energy is infectious, and Nick can't help but find a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Sure thing," Nick says, starting up a rapid-fire burst of the information on last year's matchups that Nick struggles to keep up with, completely lacking context as Lucas fills the void with trivia as they travel. Of course, Mira's giving the teenager a dirty look and looks like she's in hell, but her ears remain locked on him. She's not too proud to turn down information about the "dangers" of this land, it seems.
They trek through the winding streets, back out of town, and finally reveal an unusual building as they round a thick copse of trees.
On one end, a towering rustic windmill made of brick bearing three blades turns slowly in the breeze, with the only entrance between a single simple wooden door at the base. On the other is an ultra-modern tiered cylinder made of steel, only a tad shorter than its companion, with plenty of windows to let in natural light, complete with a pair of double automatic doors at the bottom. A concrete-looking hall links both despite their distance apart, and Nick can't help but feel it's some sort of artistic choice, even if he can't put his finger on it.
'Something about the past and future, maybe?'
"Right, here we are!" Lucas struts confidently up to a door, which glides open, with Nick and Mira not far behind. "The bathroom's down the hall on the right, and there's some stuff for your wounds under the sink."
As the youth walks around the counter into the back, calling, "Professor, I have someone you might want to meet!" Nick takes the opportunity to slink off and find the medical supplies where he was directed.
Cleaning and bandaging every scratch and ding is trivial but tedious, made worse by Mira giggling every time he hisses when he puts ointment on the wounds. He's about ready to shut the door when she starts poorly mimicking his awkward stretches to get at the middle of his back, but Nick manages to resist the urge only because he doesn't want her out of sight in a lab full of expensive equipment. The image of a long bill of damages flits across his mind's eye.
He shudders.
"You know that this is all your fault, right?" he accuses, and her vulpine giggles turn into outright laughter. Her mane flares to life, and she replays the sound of him tumbling down into her den, drawing a sigh and an annoyed glare.
Mercifully finished, he takes the opportunity to look in the mirror once more and flinches. "Man, I look like garbage," he mutters. Blood and dirt still spatter Nick's tattered shirt, and despite the spot cleaning, the grime still sticking to his face makes him look like he spent the last five months in a storm drain. He'd tidy up the five o'clock shadow if he had a razor, but the idea of rooting around for stuff beyond what was already offered makes him feel dirty.
He sticks his head under the sink and scrubs, cleaning the blood, dirt, and even a tiny twig from his rat's nest of hair and most of the remaining grime from his face. Combing his hair with his fingers, he turns off the sink and wrings the moisture into the sink once he is passably satisfied with the cleansing. Annoyingly, Nick can do nothing about those heavy dark circles under his eyes, though.
A thought comes to mind.
"I think we might want to trust the professor here and tell him what's going on," Nick admits.
Mira growls, hopping onto the toilet seat and closing the door behind her before replaying the beeping and whirrs of whatever lab had held her captive.
Nick turns to face her, stating, "We need allies. If he's part of whatever conspiracy took you, the cat's already out of the bag. Rowan would know from looking at you, and I don't doubt the conspiracy would have records on my mug. Remember, he's the Pokemon Professor of the whole region; that's not some small-time title," he rambles before stopping to catch his breath and sigh, "Look, the man was depicted as a good soul in those stories back home and we need support he can provide. Maybe the professor will fast-track me into training and a license. Maybe he has an idea of how to get you strong fast. Maybe he has contacts that will track down our mutual enemies. We have a lot to gain here."
The zorua's eyes narrow, and Mira lets out a quiet hiss of displeasure.
"Look. How about I tell the professor just most of the truth? I leave the parts that make me sound crazy out; we play up the criminality of our foes, and we get support." Nick acquiesces.
A moment of silence hangs between them.
Mira nods.
"Shall we see what this professor wants, then?" he asks, Mira giving an ear flick.
They leave as one.
"...How he did it. He's not dressed for an expedition, but he's definitely not local," Lucas tells the frowning professor, who was stroking his chin in thought as Nick walks back into the spacious lobby. "Oh, hey there, Mr. Ward! The professor was just asking about how you caught Mira!"
Professor Rowan, a staunch man in his mid-sixties from the look of it, turns to face Nick. A deep frown half hidden by his thick white mustache creases the professor's face as he peers at Nick like a biologist looking over a particularly unsavoury specimen dropped on his table.
Movement catches the corner of Nick's eye, and he freezes as Mira steps forward, almost passively standing between him and the professor, but her faux flames flicker faster than they were a few seconds ago.
'Please don't maul him, please don't maul him, we don't need felony charges, please don't maul him.'
"Mira. It's alright," Nick says, keeping his voice as calm as he can manage. A single huff is all he gets before she turns around and returns to his side, sitting with a scowl. "Sorry, professor. She's still getting used to people."
'Just don't mention that she's probably tolerating them only for the sake of skinning her kidnappers later.'
His frown eases, although it doesn't entirely disappear. "Ah, Mr. Ward and... Ms. Mira, was it? I hope you aren't too put off by my attitude; you wouldn't believe the kind of scoundrels that come here occasionally. Her being ready to jump to your defence so soon after you met her speaks well of your character. " He casts an eye on Lucas. "I don't mean to speak ill of your judgement, assistant, but the last time you brought someone to see me, they were peddling monitor cables as evolutionary items."
The teenager in question recoils as if struck. "Hey, that trick with that gengar was really convincing, alright?" Lucas sputters.
A deep, rich chuckle burbles from Rowan, "Everyone has to learn about scammers sometime, and it's best learned before you can sign off on a timeshare. Live and learn, Lucas."
That has to be experience talking, in Nick's opinion. Tucking that fact away for later, he adds, "Mine happened when I was twelve and playing an MMO. Never listen to someone who tells you they can trim your armour if you just let them hold it for a second." He nods sagely. "Oh! Speaking of, I have a few things regarding pokemon training I'd like to discuss privately with Professor Rowan. It's a bit embarrassing. Would you mind giving us a moment?"
A cheeky grin flashes on Lucas' face. "Oh, I get it! You don't want me to see you getting lectured on stuff that I already know," he asserts, transparently trying and failing to distract everyone in the room from his earlier blunder. "Alright, I'll leave you two alone now to talk about adult things."
Rowan very pointedly watches Lucas walk over to the door, waiting for the tension to drain from his shoulders before calling, "Lucas." The teen almost jumps out of his skin. "I forgot to mention earlier, but Roseanne had to go home early today. I'll need you to head to the back and refill the feeds for pastures six through nine."
His shoulders slump, and he replies, "Yes, professor."
"I know you're eager to train with Chimchar, but you must finish your duties first. Besides, you and him working together should make light work of this. Come see me after. I'll lend you a fire-resistant dummy."
Lucas perks. "I'll get it done quick, professor!"
"Get it done right, assistant! No mistakes means you're out of here sooner!"
"Got it, professor!" The door hardly has enough time to open before he runs through it, releasing Chimchar, who immediately rushes to keep up with his trainer.
"To be young," Rowan says before letting out a short bark of laughter, "Now, Mr. Ward, Ms. Mira, this way." Without further ado, the professor leads them down a hall and out from the ultra-modern steel into a more classic brick space. Nervous energy starts to bubble up as Nick feels they are being led deeper and deeper into the belly of the beast. What if he's wrong? What if the professor is on it, or maybe even worse, thinks he's crazy? Where do they go from here if they get tossed out?
He guides them through a heavy wood door into a tight but cozy office. A vintage desk sits in the centre of the office, the stain faded with time, sunlight spilling in through thick glass windows at a diagonal, bathing its surface in an orange glow, just missing a far more modern computer sitting on top. Tall bookcases line the walls, heavy with knowledge and souvenirs of a well-lived life. A handmade postcard here. A few esoteric encyclopedias in unfamiliar languages there. Pictures, from foreign peaks, caves, and oceans.
Walking around the desk, Rowan eases himself into a well-used chair, a black-furred tail with a star on its tip flicking out from behind.
"Oh, calm down, Luxray. This is my office," the professor chides, scooching the chair over and getting an incredibly half-hearted yowl out of the feline.
'Ah, that's probably why he's so okay with hearing out a sketchy stranger in private; I bet he doesn't see me as a threat with the amount of pokemon around. He mentioned lots around back earlier, too; I bet they can see into this office even if I managed to get past Luxray.'
"Thank you for your time, professor. I'm sure you have a busy schedule," Nick says, sitting in one of the chairs on the other side as Mira jumps up on the other. She stares at the tail, the black and blue cat not even giving her the dignity of poking its head around to check out the new 'threat' in the room. Her muzzle scrunches.
"I can always make time for up-and-coming trainers, even if they're getting a bit of a late start on it," Rowan says, "Now, what do you need?"
Is he really going to do this? How do you even explain this to someone without it sounding like-
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Cold flows through him.
"This will sound hard to believe, so let me present some evidence first." His voice tense, Nick fishes around in his pockets, drawing his phone and wallet and placing both on the table. "I'm not from around here, professor. Very not from around here."
Rowan's face drops into a heavier frown, but he says nothing, hesitantly grabbing the phone and turning it over. "Samsung?" Nick sees him mouth, suspicion plain on his face.
"Unfortunately," Nick adds, "That has no battery left, so I can't turn it on and show you the very not local weather or maps, but if you apply heat carefully to the back plate, you can melt the glue and shim it off to see the internal components. I assure you, they'll match no manufacturer you've seen."
The professor nods. "Luxray, Fire Fang if you please. Keep the temperature about as warm as when you're heating my drinks. Thank you." He takes the phone and passes it down to the feline, paying no mind to the room suddenly getting a degree hotter with a gentle fwoosh.
'Holy hell, I hope it's gentle with that.'
Next up is the wallet; the professor promptly pulls out a driver's license, debit card, credit card, and some assorted bills and change.
"British Columbia? Canada?" Rowan questions, glancing up at Nick.
"The second is the country I'm from, and the first is the province. Vancouver's the city, before you ask." Nick explains, tucking his hands away in his pockets so the professor can't see him fidget.
He tilts it from side to side, looking over the security holograms with a furrowed brow before placing it next to his computer. Glancing down, he types, deepens his frown, and then types more.
Rowan snags the debit card next, flipping it over and examining it down to the CVC. "Not the right amount of digits. Wrong date format, too," he mutters, checking the credit card in turn, "No Porygon-safe encoding, just a mag-stripe and a chip."
Nick's gut ties itself in knots. "There's no Porygon in my area, professor."
Rowan's eyes dart up to his, off-balance, before he stills and lets out a short chuckle. "Ah, yes, how foolish of me. If you are from a distant region, I'd be surprised you were familiar with Silph Co products."
Nick almost corrects him, but the dread building in his gut cuts him off. What if he gets carted off to an asylum with naught but padded walls to look forward to for years?
Unaware of Nick's struggle, Rowan continues, holding a ten-dollar bill up to sunlight and marvelling at the security features. "Transparent sections, polymer construction, micro-dot printing..." he trails off, grabbing a coin and examining the milling on the side with a snort. "Even if this was the setup for a con, I'd feel almost obligated to fall for it due to the sheer effort."
"Lux!"
"Ah, thank you, Luxray! I'll make sure to add some extra steak to your dinner tonight," Rowan says, reaching down and petting the out-of-sight feline before retrieving the warmed phone and placing it on the desk. "Now, Nick, if you would, since you know better how to do this than I..."
He slowly, almost jerkingly, reaches forward, grabbing his now-useless debit card and wedging it into the already damaged corner. Wiggling it downward, it's simple enough to pry the aged glue from the frame, popping the rear off and revealing myriad internals.
He hardly has time to place it on the table before Rowan grabs the phone back, quickly scanning the alien components with one hand on the keyboard, slowly typing serial codes, names, and SKUs, speeding up and becoming more frantic with each passing moment. His eyes dart back and forth before stopping with a sigh.
"I see. You're really not from any contacted region, are you?" Rowan asks, closing his eyes in thought for but a moment.
"No," Nick affirms, and at that, the man pulls the baby blue hospital gown from the depths of his borrowed bag and tosses it on the desk, face hard. "In fact, I woke up wearing that this morning in the woods after sleeping last night in a nice, warm apartment in Canada."
Aghast, the professor's face goes pale as he stares at the garment, swallowing dryly. "Surely, you aren't implying what I think you are, Mr. Ward?"
"I was kidnapped, professor," he states, "And Mira was too, albeit from somewhere else."
The fox in question takes that chance to finally chime in with a "Zorua!" in agreement, sitting up and placing her two front paws on the edge of the desk.
Rowan looks uneasily between them before grunting and uttering, "But why you?"
Elation floods Nick, and he almost melts in the chair. "You have no idea how ready I was for you to call me crazy and call the cops to take me away for my own safety."
The professor quirks a brow at that, gesturing to the pile of evidence sitting on his desk. "I have to know, Mr. Ward, why did you bring this up with me rather than going to the police?"
Nick chews the inside of his cheek nervously before answering, "Professor, I have reason to believe that there might be corrupt elements in the government related to whatever group captured Mira and me."
"And why, pray tell, do you believe that?" skepticism creeps into the professor's voice as he speaks, and Nick can't blame him. He'd think he's crazy, too, were the positions reversed.
'Now for the real tough sell.'
Nick closes his eyes for just a moment and steadies himself. "To be blunt, professor, Mira's subspecies isn't native to the area, meaning whoever the source is has a big operation going if an entire species showing up is a mere side-effect. An operation which has gone entirely undetected. Of course, there might be a chance that they're so stealthy that nobody has seen or heard them, but people make mistakes."
The professor's frown deepens. "You're saying they have ties to someone powerful enough to keep such activities quiet."
"I don't see any other option," Nick says before placing the bottle and remnants of the wrapped sandwich on the table. "Something that bugs me is that whoever dumped me off left me clothing, food, water, and an empty Poke Ball. They wanted me to survive. Why? As much as I hate to admit it, it would have been easier to just kill me and leave me in the woods. You know, to keep their operations under wraps."
Rowan leans forward, fixing Nick with an inscrutable stare. "And this shadowy government conspiracy slipped into a region with few pokemon, took a random civilian, and headed off to dump them in the woods continents away?" he queries with a wince, "That seems awfully hard to believe, Mr. Ward. I'm certain you came from elsewhere, you provided proof enough of that, but only pure speculation as to these conspirators. For all we know, your and Mira's cases could be completely unrelated, or it could all be the fault of some random miscreant with no moral compass all the way over in Unova with a boat and a particularly powerful psychic that knows teleport."
Nick shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "All of that may be true," he admits, "But I never did say it was the government behind it, just that someone in it might be erasing their affiliates' mistakes and that I'd probably not want to alert them of my presence. Perhaps I'm wrong about everything, but I'm a stranger here and entirely unfamiliar with what everything is like, and I'd prefer not to take chances."
"The simplest solution is likely the correct one," Rowan retorts, "And although I don't pretend I have all the answers, a massive conspiracy likely isn't it."
"Let's say I go to the police, and I'm taken seriously. What then? Something as big as first contact with a new nation will make international news if someone somewhere leaks it, and that'd be a political nightmare I'd be the centre of. I'd prefer that not to happen," Nick argues, and Professor Rowan actually looks contemplative at that.
"And with how slow the League can move, you'd likely be waiting years in a bizarre legal limbo," Rowan mumbles to himself, "I can understand not wishing to deal with that for the time being, at least."
Nick lets out a nervous cough and looks to the side as a few moments of silence stretch between them, and Rowan sighs. "I suppose we ought to talk about matters of your homeland. I assume you'd prefer I put you down as a trainer from a 'remote region' on the paperwork? And what was your occupation back home?"
Nick jerks, sharing a confused look with Mira. "I'm sorry, do you mean to say..." Nick begins before trailing off.
"Mr. Ward, Ms. Mira, the two of you seem adamant about keeping this quiet. As this region's professor, I have a friend or two who could help me get something as simple as a trainer ID pushed through with minimal fuss, assuming you can pass the tests," Rowan says, the barest hint of a smile appearing on his face, "I know you two are from elsewhere and likely stranded here. By that same merit, I know you believe yourselves marked or hunted, even if I don't agree. I would be gravely remiss to not help you."
"Well then," Nick says before clearing his throat, "I'm a private investigator in training. I was nearly done with my program before I was brought here, and the work experience sections went exceptionally well if I say so myself."
Rowan looks Nick over, then back to the now peacefully sitting Mira before asking, "Anything before that? What type of pokemon are you most experienced with?"
Nick cringes. "Ah, well, I worked in the insurance industry in claims prior, but I got out of that and worked retail until today. Sadly, my homeland is pretty barren thanks to being mostly tundra, so I've never directly worked with pokemon," he lies, biting his lip.
The professor lets out a quiet hmm before tapping away at his keyboard, eyes drifting back to the zorua again. "Interesting. Mira's variant is noted for their aggression in the few notes from enterprising trainers we have so far. Frankly, how close she is to you already is fascinating. How did you convince her?"
Internally, he lets out a sigh of relief at the professor not pushing for more information about his work history. He opens his mouth.
'Do not tell him about your near-death experience.'
"A lot of it was in the approach," he lies through his teeth, "I figured it'd be best to connect with her emotionally and have a heart-to-heart. We both got kidnapped, so I thought it best to stick together, you know?"
The ear twitch and small chuff from Mira tells Nick he's not going to hear any end to this, but she makes no move to contradict him.
"Fascinating. Tell me, have you considered trying the gym circuit? It's due to start in a few weeks, and I still have a spare sponsorship slot due to a lack of promising candidates this year. If, and only if, you get your license done, I'm comfortable granting it to you," Rowan explains, starting to type away, and Nick jolts.
"Professor?" he asks incredulously.
A printer under the desk sputters to life, and Rowan's eyes tear from the computer screen to meet Nick's. "It's clear you lack the capital to do much, and any accreditation you have is, sadly, useless here. By being sponsored, your victories would be the lab's victories as well, and if you do a good job, it'll bring more funding for me to continue my research into evolution. In return, you get a weekly stipend, which can be rather generous at the higher badge counts if you don't acquire too many high-maintenance pokemon. So if someone was looking to acquire a nest egg for their own purposes, perhaps to look into the location of their homeland or maybe even start up their own business..." The professor's smile is knowing. "Of course, if you prefer, you can try to find another job on short notice that will take you without verifiable work experience. I hear Hearthome City has many openings in the service industry which would fit, but that might be quite a walk."
Not as if he has much of a choice. Rowan isn't obligated to help him, and he doubts many other positions would give them the freedom they need to actually investigate their kidnappers when they're strong enough. If they could even get a good enough team together and enough training in working some dead-end job somewhere. Still, he couldn't help but feel a stab of guilt.
'Some kid out there could have probably gotten this on merit, even if I wasn't lying.'
"Thank you, Professor," Nick says, forcing a smile onto his face, "I'm not sure what to say. Is it really okay? This feels like a big deal."
"Despite the unfortunate circumstances, a first-day capture of a Class Three species is impressive for any new trainer, never mind for someone with no prior experience with pokemon, but don't let that go to your head. Still, before I send you on your way with some reading," Rowan says, hefting a proper brick of paper and placing it on the desk with a thump, tossing a pen on top, "We'll have to get your documentation faxed off."
Mira understands not mankind's eternal enemy, paperwork, but the look of dread on Nick's face is apparently more than enough for her to stiffen.
Nick and Mira stumble out of the office in a daze, Nick tucking the tablet into his pocket. Thankfully, it's too large to slip through the holes.
'Red tape comes for us all, it seems, no matter the universe.'
The man shakes his aching wrist and pops his knuckles one by one, wincing. "You'd think he was trying to give me a repetitive strain injury," he mutters to Mira.
She nods sympathetically, and envy momentarily floods Nick over her sleeping through most of the process. Well, at least Rowan had snacks to tide them over.
The pair walk out into the mid-afternoon sun, warm sunlight soaking into their bones after spending so long in the chilly air-conditioned lab.
'I hardly noticed how cold it was in there until I got out. Maybe the lab equipment needs to be kept cold to work.'
Come to think of it, he didn't see any lab equipment while he was there. He supposes that as sympathetic as one might be to a stranger, showing them your gene gun on the first day would be weird. The white furball by his side gives him an odd look as he chuckles.
"Don't worry about it; let's just get shopping," Nick says, the two walking side by side down the path, heading outside the lab grounds and back toward town.
"Hold it!" a voice calls, and the two turn to see a smiling Lucas and Chimchar sprinting towards them. Mira tenses, her stance dropping wide, and her flames flicker, a soft glow emanating from their tips.
"Mira," Nick whispers, the zorua in question glancing over.
She eyes his relaxed pose, silently huffing before incredibly reluctantly softening her stance, mane and tail stilling.
"Hey, Nick, aren't you forgetting something?" Lucas asks after skidding to a stop, a broad grin on his face. By his side, Chimchar bounces eagerly from foot to foot, eyes flicking between Mira and Nick.
Nick pauses to take a quick check of his pockets. Interim ID, boxed Pokedex, wallet with a few hundred Poke Dollars generously given as an 'advance' by Rowan. Yep, that's everything all accounted for. His lips draw tight. "No?" he responds, drawing out the O, "I should have everything I need to get some clothes, so I'm not walking around in torn-up rags." He glares at the zorua when she has the audacity to snicker.
"I mean, you got a Pokedex, don't you?" Lucas questions, the black-haired youth raising a brow.
"Yes? I mean, Rowan put my info into it, but I still have to figure out how it works. I was planning to do that after I got back," he says, pulling the device out of the box. To be honest, Nick's just glad it's not the bizarre see-through screen of the Kalos model. That tech was awkward enough back home when you saw it in a living room; he can only imagine how strange it would be to use it out in the wild with glare potentially coming through your screen.
"What? You just got a Pokedex, and you want to go shopping?" Lucas asks, eyes wide.
"Hey. I don't know when the stores close here," Nick defensively says.
"It's only three. Whatever. I challenge you two to a battle!" Lucas yells, pointing at the two of them with Chimchar posing dramatically at his side, the latter staring directly at Mira.
Ah, that's what this is about. The poor monkey must think he has something to prove after earlier. A quick glance at Mira confirms that, yep, that's a vicious grin upon her muzzle, as expected. Does she dislike the poor fire type or just want a target? Nick's first instinct is to decline until later and go on his merry way, but Mira'd probably be a terror for the entire shopping trip if he does, and if she does lose, maybe it'll mellow her a bit. Not as if he'd let that happen for free, granted.
"Are we even allowed?" Nick queries, "It's not as if I have a license yet."
"Do you think eight-year-olds with starlys and bidoofs battling in the park have licenses?" Lucas retorts, and Nick has to admit he's got a point. Now that he thinks of it, he's pretty sure he remembers battling some preschoolers in the games, and there's no way that those kids had formal battle training.
"Okay, but Mira's fresh from the wild, and I'm not the most experienced, but I can tell she's pretty strong. Aren't you worried about Chimchar getting hurt?" Mira practically glows under the praise, while Chimchar outright glowers at the pair of them. Perhaps not the wisest choice of words.
"Pssh, nah, pokemon are pretty tough. Unless it's a crazy gap, they tend not to hurt each other too seriously unless they really overexert themselves or keep going after someone already out of the fight," Lucas says, offhandedly waving Nick's concerns away. "Besides, I've been training really hard with Chimchar since I picked him up a few days back, and I've been reading up on battle strategy for ages. Even if Mira's crazy strong, that'd just make this even."
"Fine, just give me a second," Nick sighs, fishing the Pokedex from his pocket. At first, when Rowan fished it out of a box, Nick was surprised at how much it looked like a small tablet computer with some slide-out controls. A silent fist pump is shared between their two foes as Nick boots it up, thoroughly ignoring all the various other menus to go right to the scan screen before pointing it at Mira.
"Sinnohian Zorua," the synthesized voice chimes, "Warning! Highly aggressive species. This entry is a work in progress. The subject is significantly larger than the recorded range. Please upload scanned data at your nearest Poke Centre." After the useless blurb, it shows her as being registered to him, and below that…
'Wait, is she both a ghost type and a normal type? That's bizarre. Wouldn't that mean she's immune to normal, fighting, and ghost types? Surely it would, unless they changed how types work at some point. She's about double the height this entry says she should be, too. Perhaps they've only seen small ones so far. Now, where are the moves?'
After a few seconds of wildly tapping and trying random buttons, he finds the one to switch to the next tab and finally finds what he's searching for. The list: Scratch, Hone Claws, Leer, Torment, Shadow Sneak, Confuse Ray, and Dark Pulse.
'Why so many moves? I suppose it makes sense that the limit of four was a game balance thing. Now, let's just glance at what they do.'
"Right," Nick says after reading each entry, slipping the Dex back into his pocket and looking at Mira, her tail idly flicking as she stares down Chimchar. I think we're ready to go now; how are we going to handle this?"
Lucas thinks for a second before taking off his yellow backpack and hefting it. "How about I drop this, and we start the battle when it hits the ground? We could go until knockout or forfeit."
"Fair enough. That's good with me. Good with you, Mira?" he responds before turning to the zorua, whose eyes are already locked onto the bag. The zorua does not even look at him to nod.
'Say, don't most pokemon have pretty bad type coverage to start? Lucas has only had Chimchar with him for a few days, after all. That gives me an idea...'
Mira strides forth upon hardened dirt, eyes still locked on the bag. Her guide has much to learn if he genuinely fell for such an obvious ploy. Really, conceding the power to start the battle to a foe? Bah, that'll take but a moment to hit the ground, and Lucas would have the jump on them. At least, he would if she wasn't going to be ready.
Then again, how often had her older siblings given her concessions while Mira was still small, so she had some ghost of a chance when they played? Perhaps humans extend that to others beyond their families. Lucas is clearly not fully evolved, and Nick's a final evolution or at least a mid-stage, after all.
"Ready to lose, little spark?" she says with a smirk, eyeing up Lucas' champion.
He carries himself with little grace, bouncing into the field like an infant given honey. "No way!" Even though they are not that far apart, Chimchar shouts as loud as he can, "You aren't that tough! Lucas and I are going straight to the top, and that climb starts here!"
Ah, he's still angry about her needling last time. Really, who introduces themselves as a "champion to be" when you're barely taller than four wiki berries stacked on top of one another? That's just asking for teasing.
"Feel free to tell me what the dirt tastes like when we're done," she borderline coos, the monkey rankling and grumbling. Oh, this is going to be positively delicious.
"Right! Three, two, one," Lucas counts down before dropping the bag, which thuds against the ground a split second later. "Chimchar, Ember!" he commands before Nick can speak. Just as Mira expected.
His order is not too delayed, at least. "Mira, get clear and use Torment!" her guide calls out. Oh, now he's talking! Did he pick up that much on her style from their encounter this morning? Impressive.
Chimchar breathes deeply, gaze locked upon Mira with violence in his eyes. He tops out his lung capacity and holds it until flames lick at the corners of his mouth before blowing a trio of small fireballs through the air.
The zorua deftly leaps to the side to dodge the trio of fireballs, the blasts scorching the dirt below. Mira's foe doesn't get long to breathe, though.
Malicious dark energy burbles up in her lungs, infusing her very breath. "Is that the best a 'champion to be' can do? Pathetic." Mira taunts, and she can just barely see the wince as her poisoned words dig deep into her target's psyche. Gotcha.
Lucas frowns, ordering, "Chimchar, she's too fast to hit with that from that far. Get on top of her and use it again!" much to Mira's glee. Obediently, Chimchar hops in close, sucking down air, but Mira doesn't react. It was doomed to fail, after all. The poor sap only sputters out naught but a few sparks before breaking off into a harsh cough. "Oh no, Chimchar, what's wrong, buddy?"
Ha! Oh, that's one of the best things she's seen all day! The look on his stupid face is positively priceless.
"Confuse Ray," Nick simply says. At this close, when Chimchar is already staggered, there can be only one outcome.
Mira's grin grows more savage yet, and her eyes glow with malicious red inches away from Chimchar's face. The fire monkey staggers quasi-drunkenly, fighting to stay upright as his vision swims, stumbling to the side. Mira can't help but chuckle. "Come on now, I'm sure you can hit me! Surely a rising star like you can manage it, right? Right?" she taunts, circling around Chimchar.
"Torment is a peculiar move. I take it that it does not come up often in the competitive scene? Stopping the victim from using the same move twice in a row seems useful at lower levels, at least," Nick explains, letting Chimchar slowly right himself, even if he still isn't doing well and looks about ready to keel over.
What's with the holdup? She has him on the ropes! Call for her to use her illusions, and he'd be swinging at shadows! Call for a Dark Pulse, and she could take him out at the legs and disappear before he can get up! However, Mira supposes that if she wins too crushingly, she might not get the chance to do this again. Perhaps a bit of mercy is in order.
Deftly, she hops over Chimchar, forcing him to wheel around to face her again. He flinches, a hand shooting up to hold his head.
"Poor little monkey is getting a bit dizzy, isn't he? Maybe you should just lie down for a while," she coos, and her target grunts.
"Q-Quiet! I can still win this!" he shouts, flinching as his own sheer volume sets off his head again. She just giggles and leaps well over him to another spot, forcing him to try to track her.
Her mane and tail light as she whispers, "Over here," into his left ear, the disoriented ape swinging around to face nothing but air. "No, here!" she murmurs into his right, but sadly, he doesn't fall for the same trick twice and actually manages to twirl to face her properly.
Perhaps he's a bit smarter than she figured at first glance.
Lucas bites his lip, evidently deep in thought, finally calling, "Alright, Scratch!"
"Hone Claws."
Chimchar's recovery is frankly impressive for how unsteady he is, bounding across the field like someone on a rolling log toward her. Oh, this poor fool. He draws closer, hopping high into the air, even as Mira doesn't bother to dodge, contentedly focusing dark energy through her claws as she sharpens them.
Chimchar's nails glow white with energy as he bares down on her, shouting, "Feel my wrath!" The triumphant smirk turns to confusion and shock as he phases right through her and tumbles into the dirt.
"Is this a bad time to mention that Mira's a ghost type?" Nick chimes in, and the zorua titters. Now, this is what she's talking about! The playfulness! The trickery! The drama! She re-squares herself, idly turning to face her opponent.
"Chimchar, I know you can do it. Get up!" the beleaguered trainer shouts, with a rough groan answering him. To his credit, Chimchar tries to get up, slowly pushing himself off the ground.
"Mira, Shadow Sneak," Nick says.
Bitter spite bubbles up through her with a shiver as she channels the familiar, almost comforting, ghostly energy. She extends the energy out of her body and into her shadow, creeping it towards her downed opponent.
The red-eyed shadow shoots up from beneath him, claws tearing into his sides as he cries out, sheer concussive force tossing him into the air. He sails like a stone thrown by a child, gracelessly careening before he hits a tree with a loud THUMP, tumbling down into an unconscious heap.
Oh, victory, aren't you so sweet?
Mira beams with pride, even if the fight's outcome was foregone. Really, Nick could have just sat back and let her do her thing, but other than the points where he was presumably holding back to not bully Lucas too much, it was a fine enough showing. Chimchar and Lucas were dancing to their tune the whole time! She flawlessly played her half of the field, her guide played the other, keeping them off balance. She glances over her shoulder to gauge his reaction.
To her surprise, he's covering his mouth, worry clear on his face.
"Chimchar!" Lucas shouts, jogging over to his downed friend, Nick trailing not far behind, stiffly walking over. What was he so worried about? Chimchar merely lost a fight, and she didn't start whaling on him when he was down or hit him with anything particularly nasty.
Come to think of it, she hasn't seen any humans fight since she was taken; maybe they are much more fragile. Nick seemed pretty scared about taking even a minor hit when she first pursued him, so that would make sense. Given that there's no Pokemon back where he comes from, he probably thinks they're as fragile as he is.
Mira supposes it's all the better when she gets her paws and jaws on those who dared to kidnap her. Anger flashes through her, and she twitches before forcing it back down. Perhaps they don't even have moves, and that'd certainly make it easy to hold them down.
Lucas kneels and scoops up his downed companion, softly saying, "Hey, buddy, you did good. They were just a bit stronger than we thought, that's all. We'll just have to train harder to beat them, right?"
After a moment, Chimchar's eyes blearily flutter open, and he hoarsely responds, "You got it, coach. Next time we'll get them." His gaze flickers over to Mira. "You hear that?" he says, "We're going to catch up to you, no, surpass you, if you stay like you are! You better keep getting stronger so you can give me more good fights, alright?"
Mira blinks. "I smashed you into the dirt," she slowly states. What was wrong with this monkey?
"Ah, but this defeat will fuel my fire to rise to even greater heights! I'll learn Flare Blitz and Zen Headbutt just for you! From this day forth, you have a rival in me! Don't fall behind now!" he raves, shakingly striking a pose and flexing in Lucas' arms.
"Is Chimchar alright?" Nick cautiously asks, tension bleeding through every terse word.
"I mean, yeah? Mira didn't hit him that hard," Lucas says, withdrawing a Pokeball from his pocket. "Let's get you looked at just in case, okay buddy?" In a flash of red, Chimchar disappears into the ball.
Nick, embarrassingly, seems to deflate like a punctured drifloon as he sighs in relief. "That's good to hear," he says.
"Why, were you worried?" Lucas asks, turning to face the two of them as he gets back up.
"Ah, well, there are not many pokemon in my home region, so I don't have much experience with them," Nick lies, "The battling scene wasn't a thing I had much interest in back home, either, since I couldn't go do it for myself."
Lucas closes his eyes and slaps his palm against his forehead. "No way; not only did I lose to a complete newbie," he laments, "But I lost to one that didn't even watch the sport."
"Hey, Mira's pretty strong, and she just happened to hard counter Chimchar. Besides, Torment's probably not that common at high levels when people have so many more moves, right?" comforts Nick.
Lucas frowns, "It could have been much closer if I remembered. Sure, Chimchar doesn't have any moves that can touch her other than Ember, but I could have had him use Scratch on the ground first rather than jumping right in with a dud. I really should have looked into her species more than just planning like she was a normal zorua."
That is positively hilarious.
Nick shrugs as Mira titters. "Well, you know how it goes. 'If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.' Something to think of for next time, right?"
Mira and Lucas both stare at Nick as if he has grown a second head.
"Right," Lucas says, deep in thought. "Oh!" He interrupts himself with a jolt, "You said you had to go into town, right?"
Mira huffs. Any one of the people walking around town could be working for their kidnappers, and she wouldn't know. It's a shame humans built their communities so dense.
"That's right. I need to get some clothes and stop by the Poke Centre to upload some data, apparently," Nick says.
"Well, you did fight us like I asked..." Lucas trails off, "Why don't I show you where the stores you need are? I'll get the Poke Centre to look Chimchar over while I'm there."
Please no, two encounters with Lucas and Chimchar are enough for today.
"Please do, thank you," Nick says, betraying her. She groans.
The annoyance, suddenly looking nervous, turns his attention toward Mira. As he should. Her eyes narrow as he starts talking. "Oh, Mira? I may have gotten a bit excited when I first saw you, and it came off bad. You know, talking about you to your face rather than to you? So, you know, sorry." After he finally manages to finish, he reddens and looks away.
Her ears slowly rise throughout his apology, and a satisfied grin creeps onto her face. Well, at least he recognizes when he's in the wrong. That's one redeeming quality, at least.
"So..." he trails off, nerves still evident in his voice, "Are we good?"
Mira takes a moment to think. She annoyed her siblings and the neighbours something fierce when she was younger, and they found it in their hearts to forgive her. Sure, he might be a stranger, but it's not like a child would be involved in whatever conspiracy took her. Would it really be that bad to not reserve any particular malice for him and just give him the usual amount instead?
He gets one more chance.
She nods. "For now," she says, "Don't mess it up."
Lucas blinks, looking off to Nick, who stands looking at the two of them with a bemused smile. "I'm pretty sure that's a provisional yes," he translates. Why did humans have to be the one intelligent species that can't understand others?
"Oh, Mira?" Nick says, getting an ear flick in response. "Good job."
"You were acceptable. There's still room for improvement, though," Mira trills.
Nick takes a deep breath, glad Mira made friendly, or at least friendly enough, with Lucas.
'Holy hell, I thought Chimchar fucking died for a minute there; it was like he got punted by Thor.'
He glances at the small imprint left in the tree. It is one thing to see pokemon in shows or games take superhuman amounts of damage and be fine, and entirely another to see it in person.
'And it was just a fresh starter who shrugged that off. How high does the ceiling go? How bloody tough are pokemon our kidnappers have, given they have the resources to access other worlds?'
"Right!" Lucas stands back straight, pivoting to walk down the road, "I suppose that we ought to get going. Daylight's burning, right?" He shoots a smile at them.
Nick follows, with Mira tightly at his side once more. For a minute or so, they walk in silence before Lucas starts a conversation.
"So," he begins, "Does this mean Professor Rowan decided to sponsor you too?"
"That it does," Nick admits, "You remember how I mentioned that I'm not from around here?"
Lucas turns to fix Nick with a flat look. "You wandered into town with a rare pokemon glued to your side, looking like you spent the last three months out in the mountains fighting everything that got in your way with your bare hands. Do you really think I'd forget anything about an encounter like that?"
'Way to make me feel like some bizarre cryptid only seen through blurry pictures, kid.'
"Oh, sorry! That was insensitive of me. Again, my bad," Lucas sheepishly apologizes.
Nick wipes away the sour look that inadvertently crept onto his face when he wasn't paying attention. "It's fine," he says. "I just got in my own head for a moment there. To answer your question: Yes, Rowan kindly decided to sponsor me." He decides not to mention the part where he doesn't really have a choice in the matter.
"Alright! I was worried that I would be his sole pick this year. He has four slots, and the other three are still unfilled. I mean, there are two unfilled now, but you get what I mean," Lucas rambles, "It's only a few weeks until the start of the League year; I'm surprised he hasn't filled the other two up yet. I know he can be picky, but it's crazy. You'd think teens from all over would be all over him trying to get in like usual, but I guess the new developments from Silph Co. and Dr. Kenzo have everyone trying to get all the new pokemon."
Well-honed instincts scream at him to pay attention, and Mira perks up as well. "New pokemon?" Nick asks, pulling out his Pokedex and navigating to a notes app he saw earlier to note down the name for later research.
"Yeah!" Lucas exclaims, "Archaeologists are saying that hundreds of years ago, there were a whole bunch of different species around Sinnoh, and human activity changed the biomes so much that many went extinct. The League's been bringing in breeders and importing pokemon from other regions to rebuild the historical populations in the wild. Plus, Silph Co. and Doctor Kenzo are working together to un-extinct the species they can't import from elsewhere, too. They're calling them Hisuian variants after the old name for Sinnoh." By the end, the teen is forced to suck in a huge lungful all at once, having delivered that entire spiel in an impressive single go.
"Don't forget to breathe," Nick dryly teases.
Lucas gives him a dirty look, but his heart clearly isn't in it. "But yeah, most new trainers going for a sponsorship are trying to get the Hisuian starters," he explains.
Mira and Nick make eye contact, and she plays the sound of lab equipment in his ear as unease bubbles up through him. Yeah, they'll definitely pay a visit to Doctor Kenzo later. Here's hoping he's not on the other side of Sinnoh.
"Say, do you know if Sinnohian zoruas are part of that program?" he questions.
To his surprise, Lucas shakes his head. "Nah. Nobody knows where they came from, which is weird. Some people say they snuck aboard shipments, but they're not from any known region, so I dunno how much I believe that. I hear the League is looking into it, but there's no answers yet."
Again with the League. Are they the local governing body or a multinational part of the government that deals with pokemon issues specifically? How independent is the Sinnoh League of, say, the Kanto League?
'At least these questions can be quickly resolved later with a quick search or two, unlike most of the others I've been saddled with.'
The rest of their trip's idle chatter is far more subdued, although Nick gets a good recommendation for that pizza place he saw earlier. The town's quiet streets eventually lead them to the Poke Centre. The glass door of the red and white building slides open at their approach.
The sterile scent hits him.
His breathing sharpens, his pupils narrow, and his eyes dart around the room for threats as he prepares to run. He freezes.
'No, no, no, something's wrong. This isn't right; I'm in danger. I have to get out of here. Out, out, out, out-'
Every moment that a threat doesn't jump out at him drives his paranoia to new heights, every shadow a hidden foe and every shine a scalpel. He takes a step back as his pulse thunders in his ear.
"Zorr?"
He glances down at Mira, her amber eyes looking up in concern, stance tense and ready to fight.
Forcing himself to flash what he hopes is a reassuring smile, Nick takes a deep breath.
"I'm okay. It's just something stupid; I'll talk to you about it later," Nick says, dryly swallowing his fear and taking one hesitant step after another behind the oblivious Lucas. It's just a Poke Centre, right? Those have always been places of healing, constant companions to trainers on their treks.
Mira, evidently not believing him, pulls closer to his side. For the first time, Nick feels how unearthly soft the fur of her ruff is, brushing against his leg through the holes in his pants.
'I'll unpack all this later.'
Lucas walks up to the counter, smiling at the pink-haired woman on duty at the desk. "Hi there, Nurse Joy!" he says.
"Good afternoon, Lucas!" beams Nurse Joy back to him, "What can I do for you today?"
He pulls the Pokeball from his belt and places it on the counter. "Chimchar lost a battle earlier," he explains, "He seems fine, but I'm stopping by like you said I should after his first loss."
She smiles, takes the ball, and stands from her chair. "Of course! Did you perform a spot check like I told you before you recalled him?"
"Yes, ma'am, but he was awake a second after I picked him up, so I didn't need to go over the whole list," he affirms.
With that confirmation, Nurse Joy nods and says, "Good work. Now, just a second, please." At that, she heads into the back, the chansey at her side following her. How did he not notice that pokemon?
The next few minutes feel like an eternity as Nick stays stock still, eyes snapping to every corner for threats. Is it the nurse setting his instincts off? She could be a member of the conspiracy. No, no, that is insane. He just needs to keep calm enough to get this over with.
"Zorua." Mira's reply felt a lot more like a statement this time. Something like "We can leave," perhaps?
"I'm afraid we must do this," Nick says lowly. What, was he going to avoid Poke Centres the entire time? No, no, he has to get used to this.
"Good news!" Nurse Joy calls as she rounds the corner back to the front, "Chimchar's in good health; a quick Heal Pulse was all he needed. He should be back up and going later this afternoon, although he should take a break from battling until tomorrow at the earliest. Okay, Lucas?"
The kid smiles, taking the Pokeball back from her. "Thank you! I'll make sure he doesn't do anything too crazy before then!"
"See that you do," she chimes, leaning in curiously, "So, I hope you don't mind me asking, but who finally ended your winning streak? I've gotten a few kids coming by over the last couple of days listing Chimchar as the cause of injury."
Lucas's face turns sheepish. "Ah, well, I lost to the Professor's new sponsored trainer," he says, gesturing over his shoulder to Nick.
He stiffly waves. "Hello, Nurse," he forces out, his voice catching, "I'm here to upload some data." He fumbles around in his pockets before pulling out the tablet. "I'm afraid I just got my Pokedex earlier today, and I haven't had time to read through the instructions yet."
'What the hell was that? You sound like a five-year-old trying to read a teleprompter, Nick; get it together.'
The nurse looks him up and down, then at Mira standing protectively at his side, before comprehension lights on her face. "Of course," she sunnily says, picking up a device similar to a wireless charging pad and placing it on the desk, "Please place your Pokedex here, lining up the centre with the pad, and unlock it, please."
After hesitating for a few seconds, he robotically walks up to the counter, following her instructions precisely and tapping accept when the tablet asks him for permission to transfer data over a wireless connection. Nick stares at the progress bar, unwilling to look around any more than he has to, lest he find a new horror to set his mind aflutter.
Slowly, agonizingly, the progress bar ticks up as he fidgets. The moment a window pops up saying that it is now safe to disconnect his device, he pulls it off, slipping it back into his pocket. "Thank you. Is there anything else, or are we done here?" he quickly rattles out.
A lollipop hits the counter in front of him with a click.
He jolts and looks up to see Nurse Joy surreptitiously checking on Lucas, who is now engrossed in talking with Chimchar, before turning her gentle gaze back to him. "Thank you for stopping in. It looks like you already handled your scrapes and scratches, but when was your last tetanus vaccination? Small wound care doesn't end at cleaning and sealing, after all," she almost whispers the first half. Something about that tone bugs him, like she thinks it was some great struggle for him to show up.
'Is she implying that I'm afraid of hospitals? I'm not—I wasn't, at least.'
"It was three years ago," Nick says after some brief thought, shakingly pocketing the peace offering.
"You should be fine, then," Nurse Joy says before turning her attention to Mira, "Make sure he takes care of himself, okay? A little wound can become a big problem if you don't treat it."
A bewildered Mira stares up at her before slowly nodding, prompting another bright smile from the sunny nurse. "Excellent. Have a good day now, you four. Keep safe!"
"Thank you, Nurse Joy. We will!" Lucas chimes in, recalling Chimchar and heading toward the door. Nick gives her a stiff thumbs-up and follows close behind, carefully keeping his breathing slow and even as he can manage.
Soon enough, they are mercifully out into the cool afternoon air and Nick's shoulders drop as tension melts out of them.
'What's next, coulrophobia? I have enough going on right now.'
Brief pain flashes from his leg, and he looks down to see Mira nipping at his thigh before glaring resolutely up at him. Perhaps a demand for an explanation?
"When we're alone, I promise," he mumbles, her ears perking in response as they both drift off into thought.
'Something about this feels like a clue, but I was unconscious all last night. You could argue that I'm missing time with how the seasons changed, sure, but I'm in an alien world with a seasonal cycle unbeholden to my home's to begin with. Did I get a whiff of a medical facility while I was out, and is it tripping up my subconscious now that I'm awake? It would track with the medical gown.'
Nick frowns.
"Hey, didn't you need to go to some clothing stores?" Lucas asks, and Nick jolts out of thought.
"Yeah, you're right. Mind showing me the way?" Nick replies.
The following shopping trip is surprisingly tame. Mira mostly behaves and only almost attacks someone twice, both times being some poor sap reaching in to pet an unfamiliar pokemon like an idiot. Surprisingly, she understands the concept of a store just fine from the get-go, even though standardized currency is a sticking point.
'Do Zoroarks have a barter-based economy in the wild?'
Really, the biggest obstacle to this trip being easy is that Nick paraphrased The Art of War earlier.
"So, let's say I'm in a mirror match, and Chimchar is about their equal, right? What do I do then?" Lucas asks.
Nick thinks momentarily, drudging through memories for something else to distract Lucas. "All warfare is based on deception," he quotes, "Try to lure them to attack where you are strong and make your weaknesses appear as points of strength. Sure, you might not be able to do that for everything, but even just doing that for some aspects will force them to reconsider which are which. A moment's hesitation can win a match."
Lucas furiously types Nick's every word in his strange phone-Pokedex combo, committing the mangled quote to his notes. "Thanks! Too bad that you don't have that book of yours on you. I'd really like to read it for myself."
"Indeed, shame." The lack of pokemon-related information would lead to many questions he can't answer without letting the cat out of the bag, so Nick isn't too broken up about it. He looks down at his pad, scrolling through the zorua dietary information as they approach their last stop. Mercifully, the new check-out lane glasses make it far easier to read. Sure, they're still not ideal, but he feels that tracking down an optometrist without insurance is a fool's errand.
'Maybe once I'm officially registered, it'll be covered by the League or the Sinnoh government.'
Tucking away his pad in the spacious pockets of one of his new sets of unshredded pants, Nick once more takes in the quiet streets of this idyllic little town, pokemon and humans living side by side in something roughly approaching harmony.
'It's a lot easier to appreciate with some cash in your pocket and intact clothes, that's for sure.'
The scent of smoke floats through the air, and Nick smiles. "Come on, want some dinner?"
A stunned expression jumps to Lucas' face before morphing into joy. "Whoa, really?"
Nick shrugs. "You've been helpful; the least I could do is treat you a bit." He also still feels a bit guilty for Mira sending Chimchar to the hospital, even if that is a feeling he has to get over.
"Sweet, thanks a lot! You know what? You're pretty cool!" Lucas shouts.
"Don't sweat it." Nick glances down at Mira, and he can see her muzzle scrunch at the thought of more human food.
'Oh, just you wait, you gremlin. This is going to blow your mind.'
The trio walks down a side street and up to the open-air pizza restaurant Nick saw earlier. An older man puts a pizza into the wood oven as the magby working there breathes fire into the hatch below, the sweet scent drifting up and wafting through the air. Perhaps apple tree wood?
"Good afternoon," Nick says as he slides into a bar-style chair beside the counter, Mira perching by his feet.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Bruno!" echoes Lucas, eagerly hopping up next to Nick, waving as the man turns around to face his customers.
"Lucas!" he greets, gently smiling. "I thought you had already left on your badge journey without saying goodbye! And who's this that's with you?"
"Oh, this is Nick. He's the Professor's other lab trainer!"
"Really? It's good to see that old coot remembered that he had more than one slot this year," the man mumbles before seeming to startle once he remembers that he's talking to the person in question's employees. "Oh, uh, don't tell him I said that, you hear?" A moment later, he takes two menus from the rear and gives them to Lucas and Nick as Lucas chuckles.
'Lot of meats on here, and, annoyingly, it's all types of processed stuff like prosciutto rather than something as clear cut as ham. That's derived from pigs back home, though, and I don't recall there being a pig pokemon, so they probably have animals here. Interesting. There are QR codes here that lead to articles about pokemon food safety facts, too. From what I read on the way over, zorua can eat everything humans can, so at least that's not a worry.'
"Hey, Lucas? What do you and Chimchar want?" he asks. The kid knows more about what's good here and what's safe for his partner, anyhow.
"Oh, the three meat's real good!" he enthusiastically chimes, finally letting Chimchar out of his ball.
"Chim!" the orange monkey calls, looking around for a moment before recognizing his environment, smiling, and dancing for joy. "Chim! Chim-cha, char!"
As Lucas starts to talk to his beloved starter, Nick looks down and asks Mira, "Sound good to you?"
A moment later, he gets a hesitant nod in response.
"One large three meat pizza, please. Keep the rest as a tip," Nick says, pulling out a pair of bills from his pocket and placing them on the table.
Smiling, Mr. Bruno takes the cash and heads over to the station to prepare it, of course, with help from the magby. "Thank you, it won't take long!"
"So, I take it you're planning on going for the circuit too?" Nick asks, glancing over to Lucas.
"Well, duh!" he exclaims, "What's there not to love? Even if I don't become Champion, I'll get to see Sinnoh! Heck, maybe even the world! The Professor's working on documenting evolution, right? If I bring a bunch of grant money to the lab, I bet I could go all over getting him data from other regions! Alola, Hoenn, Unova! Come on, tell me that seeing pokemon in the wild worldwide doesn't sound great?"
"That it does." Such was not for him, but it did sound great in its own way. Nick can hardly guess where he'll personally end up by then. Perhaps he'll end up back home where he belongs. Maybe he'll be trapped here trying to scrounge up a proper job. Perhaps something worse. "So, I got to know, why haven't you left yet?"
The youth snorts, looking away, "I can't actually start until I'm sixteen, even though my birthday is only a few weeks away.
"Rough," Nick says, "Taking off as soon as you can, eh?"
"Well, I have to say bye and get some supplies scraped together… but pretty much! I've been saving up for months!"
"And here we are!" the chef calls as he places the pizza and four plates in front of them. "Enjoy now!"
"Thank you," Nick and Lucas echo at once, with similarly thankful noises from Chimchar. Loading up each plate with a trio of slices, each trainer passes meals to their respective pokemon. Chimchar digs right in, but Mira's a bit more hesitant, poking at a slice with a paw and sniffing the cheese.
She licks it, and her eyes widen before she sets upon it like a rabid beast. Nick chuckles, and she takes a second to glare up at him in response, only to go back to viciously tearing into her meal the second she decides he's sufficiently chastised.
Deciding not to disturb her further, Nick lifts up a slice of pizza and takes a bite. The smoky slice tastes like home—not the city he moved to to pursue his career, but the town of his youth. It tastes like it's from a small place down by the river. It tastes like time with friends, like a listless day that is still well spent. He cracks a smile.
The meal is over far too soon.
"Well, I'm stuffed," Lucas says, leaning back in his chair. "Thanks, Mr. Ward, thanks, Mr. Bruno!"
"Call me Nick. 'Mr. Ward' makes me feel old," he quips, "No offence intended, Mr. Bruno."
This earns them a sharp bark of laughter. "Ha! I am old, this is my retirement project, you kids. I make pizza four days a week at hours of my choice."
"I'm twenty-seven," Nick flatly states.
The old man laughs once more. "Listen here, sonny, it's all relative. Once you get old enough, you can call anyone you want a kid!"
Lucas sighs, getting up from his seat. "Well, I should probably get home now; I have some stuff to do around the house," he bemoans. "I'll see you later, alright, Nick?"
"Chim!"
"See you around the lab," Nick says, getting up from his spot as the youth walks away. He stoops to pick up the pokemon's plates and places them on the counter.
"Thanks," Nick says, and he and the chef share a quick nod and wave before he and Mira are off, starting back down the way to the lab.
"What a day," Nick says, hands deep in his pockets.
Silence hangs between them as she looks Nick up and down, and he can feel her unspoken question.
"I don't know what happened, either. I wasn't scared of doctors last night, but now…" he trails off. "I'm sure I'll get it under control; don't worry. In any case, it might be a clue, so I'll keep it in mind."
"Zor."
After a short walk in silence, the two round the corner, revealing the lab, with a broken glass door surrounded by police tape and Rowan positively fuming by the entrance.
![Stolen Lives, Stolen Time [Pokemon]](/data/threadmark-index-icons/l/76/76545.jpg?1720251131){kind=icon}
