5.05 - If a Rocket Falls in the Forest, Does It Make a Sound?
New
- Location
- Edmonton, Alberta
Hoshi greeted the Monday morning with an uncharacteristic grogginess. "Blah," he spat as the wan morning light penetrated the translucent fabric of his tent.
"Blah," came another voice from his side, and Hoshi amended the thought: his and Casca's tent.
Slowly and with his muscles protesting every motion, he rose up and dragged his feet out of the nice warm sleeping bag. Arcus. I remember liking camping when I was little – what happened?
You decided to camp in the real woods, a more awake part of his brain answered, flashing images of the group's frantic late-night escape from a flock of wild hoothoot as he pulled on his socks and laced up his boots. The amount of effort needed to prepare for the day should have been minimal, since he'd slept in his clothes, but it still somehow managed to eclipse even his most unwilling workday. This would be hard even with an evolved team. The only reason you've gotten through without issue is because you started with twelve people. A few days on the outskirts of Route 6 is a lot tamer than… The tent flap opened, revealing a misted forest – and, visible more as a shape than anything else, Puce and Mimi's own tent.
Or rather, the numerous venonat swarming around the source of autumn warmth. They bristled their thick fur as he came into view, buzzing with an intimidation born from sheer numbers – there must have been twenty of them covering the tent, soft bodies forming a giant pile that was a lot more dangerous than it looked. …This. Damn it, did they both forget their Repel?
They must've; Hoshi's tent was completely untouched, courtesy of the horribly foul gunk he'd sprayed it with before crawling inside. The fabric was waterproof enough that they could sleep without the smell penetrating through, but now that the flap was open it was providing almost as much of a wake-up call as the horde of wild Pokémon.
Slowly, Hoshi zipped the door closed, hiding the venonat from sight. The warning buzz ceased, replaced by a long groan as his girlfriend dragged herself fully into consciousness.
"Ugh. Morning already?"
"Yeah," he replied, voice flat. "Morning."
Casca yawned, pulled on her own footwear, and was halfway through a granola bar before she realised he hadn't moved or spoken. "Uh, you good?" she asked, flashes of concern mixing into her confused expression.
"Puce and Mimi forgot their Repel."
She took another bite of her breakfast, chewed, and swallowed. "Well, fuck. They're not..?" Dead, she didn't say. Or maybe it was just missing, or hurt; Hoshi was feeling a certain amount of morbid about the situation, probably more than her.
He didn't have the best track record with Pokémon attacks, after all.
"No, the tent is just covered in venonat. We'll have to do something about it before they wake up and set them off."
"Right." Casca was silent for a moment, then continued with the ghost of a smile. "Hoshi, this forest is fucking horrible."
That brought a laugh to his lips, where he struggled to shove it back down. "Yeah. Hopefully the others aren't having the same problems."
Cliff liked to think of himself as a dependable sort of person. The kind of guy who could help people without needing to be helped. Somebody people could lean on, emotionally and physically.
That self-image was… Not quite holding up to the light of day, right this second. "I think we'd be better goin' after the tree, not the line," came a growling voice from below. "Shit's gotta be some kinda special steel."
"Yeah, it is, but it's still going to be faster to cut through than this huge tree," replied a younger and much more feminine voice, husky in a way that implied either a bad cold or damaged vocal cords.
"Zen Headbutt'd do it in like ten hits." A pause. "Uh, twenty?"
Cliff sighed, hanging upside-down as the Rocket Grunts argued six or so metres beneath his head. All of his weight was being held up by one ankle – or maybe it was eighty percent ankle, twenty shin; the wire was wrapped around halfway to his knee, loosening as it went. His foot hurt, the joint twisted despite the inflexible armour hiding under the fabric of his shoes – fabric that had been cut straight through.
If I'd been wearing normal runners, I'd probably be bleeding pretty bad. Fuchsia must be a seriously fucked up place if this was just training. Even at his meanest, the Boss wouldn't set a razor wire trap for his own people. What do they do to the trainees who fail? Just toss them out on the streets with limbs missing?
Probably not, but he wasn't feeling very charitable to the forest's owners at the moment. "Hey!" he called down. "Scarlet, you hear me?! Come on out! Emergency release!"
The forest was silent for a moment, and then he sighed again. His belt, containing five of his six Pokémon, hung from a branch just out of reach – and apparently also just far enough away that the storage-mode Rocket Balls couldn't register the command. Damn paranoid scientists. 'Anti-tamper features,' more like…
No continuation to the sentence came to him. A gaggle of spearow poked their heads out from the tree's foliage, chirped at him, and then took flight.
Kenny and Nerine looked up. "You doin' fine, big guy?" the former asked, causing Cliff to shake his head – which, in turn, caused him to swing slightly. Ugh, damn. Gonna lose my breakfast at this rate.
"I'm stuck in a tree," he sent down. "Trussed up by my ankles. Don't any of you have a cutting move?"
Nerine shook her head. "I've got a snake with no fangs and a ball of fuzz."
"Bubbles has Rapid Spin- uh, orange Rapid Spin?" Kenny offered.
Ravioli, his father's poliwrath, stepped from one foot to the other in anxiety, and Kazubara didn't even glance up from where he was picking nidorina quills out of his electabuzz's ass.
This is a lot dumber than I'd thought it would be, Cliff admitted as he dangled. First we get split up, and somehow none of us have any tents. Then we find a cave, only for it to be so crammed with zubat we need to just sleep out in the trees. I figured that if something came up, it'd be the ninja themselves, not… just normal hiking shit. At least the snare was man-made, not that it necessarily made the situation less stupid. It probably hadn't even been set out for them – if it was, someone would have shown up by now. Can't believe it was me that got caught. If the League shows up now, I'm gonna be so pissed. "Anything that can climb a tree?" he called down again as the grunt's sandshrew attempted to cut the sturdy wire by rasping at it with its claws. "My venusaur'll get me out of this easy, if you just release her."
The grunts looked at each other, long seconds passing as Cliff became gradually more nauseous from the blood rushing to his head.
"Sherry can probably climb a tree?" Nerine eventually said. Cliff had the perfect angle to see the top of her hat; the girl was so thin, her entire body was hidden underneath. "It's worth trying, I guess. Sherry, come over here."
The venonat hopped over and received hushed words from its trainer. Then it began climbing, small claws gripping the mighty cherry tree's bark. It ascended with a leisurely pace, but despite the flush that filled his face and made him feel like an over-inflated balloon, Cliff smiled at it as it approached. "There you go," he said, watching as it paused at the belt looped half-around a spindly branch.
…And continued to pause. "Toss it down!" Nerine ordered, and the venonat pawed at the belt for a moment, flipping it over with a satisfied "Eee!" before once again sitting still.
"I don't think she-" Kenny began, but he was cut off by a snippy tone.
"Yeah, I noticed." Nerine blew air through her nose, and snatched her hat off to scratch her scalp – which gave Cliff a view of her crown, where the roots of her hair went from metallic blue to dark purple. "I guess I'll just have to do this myself."
She tossed Kenny her hat, then her heavy vest, and to the cueball's mild astonishment began climbing up after her Pokémon.
"Huh. You sure? The nearest branch is like…"
He trailed off as her thin fingers and the heavily textured soles of her hiking boots brought her up the smooth trunk of the unnaturally large cherry tree. "Haven't missed these things," she muttered inaudibly – if he hadn't taken a few Agent classes to round out his skillset, Cliff wouldn't have had any idea what she was saying. Should probably… thank Chispan for dragging me to those…
His thoughts were starting to get fuzzy, which was probably a bad sign.
Twenty seconds passed as she climbed, then a further ten as she caught her breath. "Stupid snares," she gasped as her venonat chirped happily at her. "You good, big guy?"
No, his legs were going numb. "Second ball on your right," he answered, receiving a tired nod. Nerine reached for the belt and its balls-
And then Cliff was suddenly falling. "Wa-hack-!" he exclaimed, his eyes tilting down – up – to follow the girl as her expression turned to surprise. Then he looked up – down – at the rapidly approaching ground. He braced for impact-
And Ravioli and the large Rocket caught him, the former burbling in relief while the latter grinned. "Hey!" Kenny exclaimed, cheerful. "I remembered I had a knife!"
Cliff stared, his constitution fighting the urge to pass out from the sudden reset of his blood pressure.
"…Ow," Kenny eventually said, shrugging off the wire from where it had drifted against his shoulders. "This shit's sharp."
Tor woke up in the grip of overwhelming fear, a distant hoot filling his every cell with adrenaline – though whether it had been in reality or merely a nightmare, he already couldn't say.
Lilian stirred next to him, his panicked bolt into uprightness waking her in turn. "Tor? It's still dark."
It was. "Sorry," he replied. "Nightmare."
"Hmm…"
A minute – or more, maybe, he hadn't been able to sleep with his watch on – passed as his heart gradually climbed down from between his ears, settling back to its normal place in his chest. When at last he could breathe without gasping, he leaned back to rest on his elbows.
Lilian was breathing softly beside him, and there was only the slightest impression of dawn coming through the canopy and tent… But there was no way he would be able to go back to sleep.
Calm down, he admonished himself. It wasn't that bad. You didn't even get hurt, really, it was just Poison Powder. Mojo was the only one who had actually taken a full-on attack, and he seemed fine. Probably. Maybe he had nightmares too.
The thought was half-hopeful, and the urge to slap himself for his childishness passed light and sharp through the pitcher's head. Stupid shit. Calm down. You're fine, Lily's fine, Mojo's fine too.
It was just… a few wild Pokémon in a spooky forest. That they would need to keep going through, and then come back through on the return trip.
…Maybe we can take the Cycling Road back up?
Again the urge to smack himself out of his half-hysterical state came, but before Tor could either send it away or indulge, movement from outside the tent drew his attention. The sting of fear returned. Shut up, brain. It's obviously one of the others getting out of their tent to… It wasn't even dawn yet. …To take a leak or something. Damnit.
He grabbed his spearow's ball, clutching it hard. "Okay," he whispered. "Stealth function. I remember it has one…"
That absolute ass of a Rocket Grunt Nak had given them a condensed explanation of how to use a Pokéball, but yesterday had been kind of a lot.
I think… press and hold? That sounded right, so he pushed his thumb down until the lens-slash-button clicked and then kept pressing. Whatever was outside shuffled around again, and the ball wobbled once, twice…
A tiny sliver of memory connected two points. Wait no that's the RELEASE function holy shit-!
Tor pulled his thumb away, breathing hard, and decided he wouldn't be messing around with this thing until he'd gotten a refresher. Arcus above. His hands shook, and then stopped as he… simply ran out of panic. Like he was staring down an enemy batter, everything seemed to crystalize; either he was imagining the danger, and his panic was stupid, or he wasn't, and it was still stupid.
"Sorry Lil'," he muttered. "Probably gonna wake you up again…"
With an echoing whoosh-oosh-oosh, his spearow appeared – and his luck seemed to be turning, because Lilian didn't snap awake. "Be ready to fight," he ordered, and the bird gave a hopefully-affirmative flap of its wings.
He very slowly unzipped the tent flap… Not a noctowl. Anything but that. Or that giant golbat. Or…
Come on, man. Just do it. The flap opened enough to peer out from – and Tor exhaled in relief as he saw the indistinct shadow and soft crunching footsteps were only Ryan trying to restart last night's fire. I was right, it was just one of the others.
He stepped out, not particularly caring about his barefootedness; the ground of their campsite was soft and dusty, without any of the thorns or other obstructions that the rest of the forest was dense with. The sky above was startlingly clear – without a fire or nearby city, he could see every star.
"Tor," Ryan greeted without looking. "I see you're excited to get going as well. Fancy a try at lighting the fire?"
Tor shook his head, slightly taken aback. He's smiling. And… "You don't have your Pokémon out."
The Rocket waved him off. "Jormungandr is sleeping inside, but he'll wake quickly enough if I call out. Besides, one has to be a little independent, even as a trainer; better I learn to start a fire without his help, just in case."
Well, your funeral. Tor crouched down near the shallow, ash-lined pit, and absentmindedly placed his hand on Spearow's head. I'll be keeping mine with me until we're safely back in Vermilion. He watched for a minute as the younger man – probably younger, for all that he carried himself with authority – fruitlessly tried to ignite a pile of crushed leaves and thin twigs by rotating a stick between his palms, its end pressed into the tinder.
"I think you're supposed to use two sticks."
"I tried that earlier. This way makes more smoke, so I think it must be better."
An amount of time that Tor decided to label as an hour passed. The sky lightened, stars scared off by the approaching sun, and eventually Ryan actually managed to produce a flame with his probably-not-very-good method.
The two of them sat. It wasn't exactly pleasant, not with the smell of the Repel and the edge of exhaustion that still lingered from yesterday's events, but it was… better than the state Tor had been in last night, at least.
"So why Jormungandr?"
Ryan favoured him with a look that was probably meant to be mysterious, but that his weird proportions turned into constipated but flirting through the pain. "Do you know what it means?"
"It's a foreign name for… the Rayquaza, I think? Stadian, or something like that."
"Stadaborean. My sponsor enjoys their wine, so I felt the urge to look into them a bit. They have a delightfully grim sense of storytelling when it comes to their mythology. Much more engaging than our own, though perhaps that's just because it has that…" He waved his hands. "Foreign mystique."
Tor poked at the fire with a stick. "Doesn't answer the question. Seems kind of… blasphemous?"
"You are Arcean, then?"
"No- uh, not really? I go to church on holidays, but that's it." The sparks that drifted up were bright and cheery, even as they went to their deaths in the moist air. "You dodged the question again."
Ryan rolled his eyes. "Fine. I simply think it's a grand name; exotic, while still having that dragon connection. And Quetzalcoatl is simply too hard to pronounce."
Tor blinked, afterimages continuing to dance behind his lids in the split-second of darkness. "I don't know that one."
"Verdim Illia."
"Where do they speak that?"
"Ah – no, that's the name of the place. 'The Island of Green Monsters.' I haven't the foggiest what language they speak there."
"Hmm."
The two continued their drawn-out conversation, which ended up being mostly Ryan talking about himself. The blond liked to talk about himself, and Tor was more comfortable just sending out the occasional grunt or short question.
Eventually they were interrupted. Mojo pulled himself from his and Ryan's tent as the last of the wood they'd gathered began to burn down, yawning and carrying his meowth in his arms. "Hey man. And… sir." He joined them by the fire, and Tor blinked in surprise as he examined his best friend's face.
"Wow, dude, it's been a while since I've seen you with a beard."
Mojo scratched at his chin, half his fingernails disappearing under the dull black bristles. "My hair grows fast. You know that." His eyes passed over Tor's own face, and he quirked a brow. "You're starting on your own, too. Mine's better, though."
"…Yeah." Somehow I doubt I've got an overnight transformation in me the way you do. Tor drew a hand across the side of his jaw, where a small amount of stubble had grown in. "I'll probably have something by the time we make it home. Don't think I'm up to shaving with a machete."
Mojo grinned, drawing the aforementioned blade from… somewhere. "It's a camp knife, actually. Machete's, like, way longer 'n heavier."
"Whatever. I still don't want it near my neck."
Ryan broke in with a sigh. "Alas, I find myself envious." He, too, touched his chin – which was completely smooth. "I've never been able to grow facial hair. I'm afraid I'll be consigned to relying on mere boyish charm for my entire life."
Mojo snorted, while Tor cracked a thin smile. With that bird-beak nose?
The three men and two Pokémon continued to sit for a while, until the campfire was only smouldering embers and it had become properly morning. The silence tugged at the corner of Tor's brain that still wanted to freak the fuck out, but it was easier to set that urge aside with the sun up.
"Should we get going?" Mojo asked, looking to the brightened sky, and Ryan answered with a small shake of his head.
"Not just yet. Look at your Pokémon."
Tor blinked, then obeyed. His spearow looked… normal? "What's up?" Nothing seemed wrong with the meowth either; it just lazed in Mojo's lap, exactly as he'd expect from a cat.
Ryan cocked a brow. "You don't see it? They still haven't recovered." Then his expression became pensive. "…Ah, forgive me. I forget that you've likely never never spent time with a Pokémon before. Trust me, your spearow is quite fatigued."
Tor looked down, and Spearow looked up to meet his eyes. I… don't see it? The bird seemed as lively as usual. "I'll take your word for it. Should we, uh, put them in their balls, then?"
"No, that isn't necessary. We'll just spend a bit more time near the tents – though I suppose we'll need to get more wood soon."
Mojo grunted. "Should probably eat something, too. We got enough food?"
With the group being what it was – three tent-carriers, with only Lilian having been given food and other supplies – they only had half a week's worth of sustenance rather than the amount a group of four should have had.
"For a day or two," Tor answered. "Hopefully we'll meet some of the others on the way through – or just all make it to the other side."
"Yes, we should definitely be able to navigate better during the day," Ryan said. "On that note, perhaps you should wake our fourth member? We'll need to have everything packed up shortly."
Mojo groaned. "Gah, gonna suck carrying that thing while it's soaked in Repel…
"So… You think this'll work?"
Casca sent a side-eye his way. "Babe, this is your plan. Do you think it'll work?"
Hoshi opened his mouth, a long, awkward moment passing before he answered. "…Maybe?" His girlfriend frowned – only for the tension to be undercut by Crow. The zubat chirped at him from his cupped hands, her feelers tightly curled around his wrists. The impatient sound drew a smile from his lips. "Well, Crow thinks it will. I don't have any better ideas anyway, so…" A breath. "Do it. Supersonic."
Within the confines of the cramped, Pokémon-filled tent, a high-pitched whine sounded out. Even with his 'mon right there in his hands it was almost impossible to tell the sound was issuing from Crow's mouth – that was how high it was, only barely on the edge of audible. Hoshi's ears did not ring, and his vision did not wobble; the Supersonic was extremely underpowered, a mere annoyance rather than the balance-destroying cacophony the zubat was capable of.
Good girl, he thought, relief colouring his mental voice. I knew you'd understand.
The sound built further as it echoed off the fabric walls, and after ten seconds Hoshi began to feel just the slightest hints of confusion. He was unsteady on his knees, as though his brain was convinced he could fall over despite his girlfriend, her staryu, and Guts all pressed to his sides inside the tent.
Ten seconds more, and he was having trouble keeping his hands steady. Twenty, and he felt like his limbs weren't quite where he knew they were. But still, the exact origin of the noise was obscured. And hopefully it's the same for the venonat. They have better hearing than I do, but that isn't necessarily a good thing for them in this situation.
A minute into the bombardment, Hoshi heard a tiny thump. Is it..? Is it working? Another handful of seconds passed in anticipation – and then, another soft impact, like tossing a coat to the floor. Then another, and another. "Good girl," he repeated under his breath as something brushed up against the front of the tent, retreated, then brushed again. The furry round shape staggered into and away from the obstacle several times, not unlike a drunk drawn magnetically to every lamp-post as they went down a midnight street. "It's working!" he whisper-yelled, nudging Casca with his shoulder as he grinned. "I knew it would work!"
Crow was able to hold the Supersonic for another half-minute before the move petered out, her voice breaking into a louder, rougher squawk. Guts sniffed in relief as the sound ended, and Hoshi moved forward to grasp the zipper. "Everybody get ready," he said. "It looks like it worked, but better safe than sorry,"
The entrance flap opened as he pulled, and Hoshi held his breath; he was certain it had worked, he'd seen them dispersing, but there was still the tiniest sliver of his thoughts that expected something to go wrong-
But it didn't happen. Guts bounded out of the stuffy space with a squeak, the sound scaring off the two three-foot-tall insects still loitering around the campsite. "Ha!" Hoshi exclaimed as he followed her out, zubat taking her place on his shoulder. "There we are. Scared them right off."
Casca nudged him to the side so she could leave too. "It did," she said. "Though I'm surprised the other two slept through all that. I kind of expected one of them to poke their head out and for all heck to break loose."
"Huh-huh!!" Candy agreed.
I guess we were due some good luck, at this point. "You know, that is kind of weird. Let's check on-"
Before Hoshi could finish, and as though summoned by their words – actually, that's probably literal; we aren't exactly being quiet – a squared-off head topped with soft green pixie-cut hair appeared, poking out from the freed tent.
"Morning," Puce greeted. "Wow, it feels like just a minute ago it was pitch-dark and – huh?" Her expression twisted in confusion as Hoshi choked on another laugh. "What's so funny?"
Kaz Kazubara – Bart, to most people – lingered at the treeline as the stooge, the ninja girl, and the Rocket Enforcer walked out into the open. The latter sensed his absence after a second, looking back over a broad shoulder. His expression was thunderous – though that was due to the wet mud coating most of his body, rather than anything Bart had done. "Something wrong, Kazubara?"
At his side Madder croaked, annoyed both at losing to a mere quagsire, and about the lingering pain in her behind. "No," Bart responded. "Just waiting to see if anything else pops out."
Cliff snorted. "Well, hurry up. I want a fire started before things get chilly."
He nodded, but waited a moment longer before moving. His eyes drifted from the enforcer to the skinhead, then to the sickly-looking little girl. His expression was cool, but in his head he was squinting. The meatheads didn't notice, but I'm onto you, 'Rose.' She had hidden it, but she'd been half-assed about it – she'd been leading them through the trees, ever since their encounter with those river salamanders.
Which meant that she'd known the way through.
"Come on, Madder," he muttered as he finally left the forest. The electabuzz croaked again, following closely. And that Hoshi… He wasn't even trying to hide his surname. Is this a work? Or the opposite – are we disappearing a few traitors?
Cliff seemed to know something he didn't and that… irked. Supposedly there was supposed to be some major action happening, but the only reason Bart knew about it at all was because Beady's creator had absentmindedly run his mouth during his latest health checkup.
"Looks like we're the only guys here," Kenny called as he approached. "Think they're still in the forest?" Beside him his lickitung plopped down, moistening itself with foul-smelling saliva.
"Probably," Nerine answered, standing awkwardly in her drenched clothes. "They had tents, so they probably slept the whole night."
Sure, that's why we passed them. Bart's eye went to the venonat sticking close to her side, its form looking startlingly slender with its fur matted down, then to the ekans coiled around her neck. Only the snake noticed his gaze, slit pupils moving as he casually looked away. "Cliff is right. We should gather some wood."
"Not it," Kenny immediately said, and Bart raised a brow. Are you a child? The others seemed to feel the same way, because neither of them responded.
"Cliff, you and I are obviously the strongest trainers present. The other two can make camp."
"Oi."
Cliff took a moment to wring out his hat before replying. "Makes sense, except…" He stomped his foot. "Leg still isn't feeling great. You and Nerine go."
He scoffed inside his head. You say that, but your stomp just now shook the ground. Whatever. Madder disappeared back into her ball, replaced by Beady. "Up," he ordered, and the ancient insect began climbing up his leg to settle on top of his backpack.
Nerine met his eyes, face sagging with potentially-feigned exhaustion. "Really?" she said. "We just got out."
Cliff sat down on a fallen log – and perhaps his leg really was injured, because the hissing sigh that came through his teeth sounded real. "Stay near the edge. Actually – here, take Pinch."
He released a Pokémon – without throwing, Bart noted, a feat of impressive strength given the kick a Pokéball's rebound mechanism could exert – and after a moment Bart identified it as a pinsir. You named your pinsir Pinch? Are you a child?
The enforcer gestured with his chin, and with a huff, the teenager began walking. Bart took a moment to search the man's eyes, but found nothing. What does he know? Damnation, why pick me for this and then keep me in the dark? With a light scoff he turned, Beady clicking his mandibles behind his head.
Well, Bart conceded as he followed Nerine Bay Rose, or whatever her real name was, at least this way I can keep an eye on her. Then he blinked, eyes stinging as an acrid smoke drifted in the noon air. The teen exhaled right into the wind, in what was either active malice or a stunning lack of care for others – either way, the display set his teeth on edge. Yes, hopefully this is a spot of housecleaning. If it's really just make-work, I'm going to have words with the executives.
"Mankey," Lilian ordered, her voice steady despite the tight v-formation of blue and pink shapes darting distressingly quickly through the grass. "Focus Energy."
The pack of nidoran moved as a single unit, led by a farfetch'd – Lilian didn't know how the strange group had formed, or if this was normal behaviour for the duck Pokémon, but she wasn't in a position to be asking questions. The farfetch'd pointed its leek like a sword as it charged towards them, its rabbit-like allies fanning out into a line behind it.
Let it get close, and..! "Scratch!"
Mankey flared its limbs and struck, paws swinging down to meet a rising slash from the leek. The farfetch'd took the attack with a hissing quack – and for a moment the absurdity of the situation was unignorable. The urge to laugh at the display was strong, but Lilian pushed the feeling down; as silly as a duck wielding an onion-sword should be, it was a legitimate danger to her and her Pokémon. "Keep attacking!" she ordered, teeth clenched. "Low Kick!"
Usually using a kicking attack against a bird would be stupid, but she was ninety percent sure that farfetch'd only flew under duress. The leek moved, cutting the air like, again, an Arcus damned sword as it parried her pig-monkey's heel. The nidoran ran past, and a voice from behind her back sounded out.
"Jormungandr, Dragon Breath. Sweep low."
Lilian grit her teeth harder as a streak of blue fire passed close to her right ankle, the Rocket Grunt's dragon spitting a long, strangely unhot stream of it into the charging group. They were smart enough to break off, scattering and breaking their formation to avoid the attack. "Leer then Scratch," she projected as her Pokémon fought furiously.
But Mankey either failed to register her voice, or was simply ignoring her; it continued to kick at the farfetch'd, movements increasingly sloppy as it failed to land a blow. "Mankey, Leer," she tried again, but it was useless. "Damn it. Tor, can I get a hand here?"
She glanced back to see her boyfriend stepping forward, and while he still had a tinge of deep-seated fear lurking somewhere in his posture, he had obviously gotten some of the steel back in his spine. Good. Hopefully that keeps up. "Spearow," he ordered, "Go high then dive. Peck."
His spearow cawed, taking to the air, and she turned back to the fight. "Mankey! Damn it, it's screwing with you! Back off!"
"Hmm," Ryan hummed. "It is, isn't it? I think that might be Fury Cutter it's using there."
"Fury Cutter?" It doesn't look angry – that bird is smug, if anything. "Isn't that a bug type move?"
"Yes, one that grows in power with successive hits. Perhaps you should-"
Tor's spearow dove, and the farfetch'd sidestepped. The smaller bird's Peck buried its beak into the ground for a fraction of a second, before Mankey's Low Kick smashed into its skull. Oh, shit. "Tor, you'd better-"
Then the length of green stalks cut into her Pokémon's side, Mankey's eyes bugging out with a surprised oink as blood flew.
"-Return your Pokémon," both she and Ryan finished, her incredulous and him intrigued. "Well, that was certainly impressive," he continued as Lilian aimed her ball.
"Mankey, come back!" That's another Potion down. Darn it, Mankey, you need to listen when I give an order!
The farfetched quacked in triumph, raising its 'blade' in the air before sweeping it down – then it paused, looking around. Probably looking for its allies. Did it even notice the fire? The duck puffed its feathers, indignant, and started forward.
Lilian gulped. Okay, a lot less silly and a lot more dangerous, now. She stepped back – and as she did so, Ryan stepped forward. "Alright, I think that's enough training for now. Jormungandr, Fire Fang." The Rocket reached for his belt, drawing a ball. "Don't roast it too bad. I think we've finally found you a worthy sparring partner."
The four of them all but collapsed as the final tree receded behind them, their muscles aching and accumulated injuries stinging.
"Ugh," Lilian groaned. "Is it over?"
The darkening sky made the dancing flames in the distance obvious, but after that thing with the gastly she wasn't sure if she'd ever trust a light in the forest ever again.
"Looks like it," Mojo answered. Of the four of them he seemed to be doing the best, physically – despite stepping on a sleeping vulpix that had left a large burn across his nose, the tall man was moving a lot better than the rest of them. His meowth was the same, padding with a grace that Tor's spearow and her own mankey just couldn't muster anymore.
Ryan, in contrast, was doing the best mentally. "Ah, it seems we've managed to arrive last. How shameful!" Despite the contents of his sentences, his voice was upbeat. "Let's go – I'm positively starving."
Lilian dragged herself forward together with Tor, the two leaning against each other as the forests turned to hilly grassland. Ryan jogged ahead, bagon bouncing at his side, while Mojo slowed to keep pace. "Prat," the man said as the Rocket left earshot.
"Eh," Tor responded. "It's kind of endearing? I thought they were all intimidating, but he's…"
"A prat?"
Lilian's boyfriend and his teammate giggled, the sound more a function of released tension than actual amusement. "I don't like him," she opined as they continued towards the firelight. "Too much like a politician. But I'm glad he was there."
Tor nodded. "Yeah, that noctowl would've gone to town on us if not for him."
"And the duck," Mojo said sardonically. "And the ghost."
"Was that really a ghost? I can't really remember…"
"It was." Lilian shivered, remembering the gleeful, hateful face floating in the empty air, physics- and logic-defying in the way the eyes just slid through objects. "A gastly. I'm surprised an untrained meowth was able to beat it."
"Bite's dark type."
She and Tor both grunted at that, more occupied with anticipating the coming warmth and safety. The three of them stumbled into the circle of tents, relishing the increasing stink of day-old Repel.
"Finally," Lilian muttered, and Tor squeezed her shoulder in silent agreement. All eight of the Rockets – the other Rockets; she was one too, she needed to remind herself – were gathered around a large pit containing a small fire.
Hoshi, the Senior Grunt, looked up at their approach. "Hey. Glad to see you, we were starting to talk about a search party."
"You were?" Tor asked, slipping away from her grasp to actually collapse on a log bench.
He half-smiled, bushy eyebrows that didn't match the rest of his face coming together in something adjacent to sympathy. "We were talking about it. Obviously it wouldn't have happened; those woods are fucking evil. I think we're gonna take the Cycling Road on the way back, because holy shit."
She attempted to dredge up a bit of offence at the knowledge that they would have been left out for a second night, but she couldn't find any – if their roles were reversed, she wouldn't have even considered going back in before morning.
She found her own seat, and plopped down with an articulate "Uh."
The languid conversation passed over her like high tide for a minute as she just… decompressed, like a sponge slowly going back to its proper shape after being wrung out.
Tor might have freaked out a lot harder than her or Mojo, but that didn't mean she was fine. Holy Arcus above, it's over. It almost seemed like a crazy dream – she was a cheerleader. She majored in Business Management and Marketing. What was she doing out here? Why did she fight a ghost however many hours ago that had happened?
Did she even want to do this?
She was abruptly dragged back into the present as Cliff, the large dark-skinned man whose muscles were smaller than that-woman-whose-name-she-forget's were, cleared his throat and stood.
"Since we're all worn out from making it into Route 14, I don't think we'll be doing any more training today." He looked to the side, receiving a considering nod from the Senior Grunt, and continued. "So I thought we could take an evening to tell the new recruits what the organisation is all about."
"Uh, you sure that's wise?" Hoshi asked. "We could still have a tail. Whoever's watching the forest probably doesn't just stop at the treeline."
Cliff shook his head. "That won't be a problem. Trust me."
Again Hoshi's brows came together, this time in an expression of confusion. "You're certain?"
"I am."
"Then… Go ahead, I guess."
The large man nodded, the movement like tectonic plates – slow, subtle, even, but with an energy that couldn't be stopped. "Thank you. I'd like to start us off with the reason I joined Team Rocket, and then maybe a few other people could do the same."
From across the firepit came a groan. "Damn it," the orange-haired woman – Casca? It had only been a day but it felt so long since the introductions – groaned. "I knew he'd make a big speech."
"Blah," came another voice from his side, and Hoshi amended the thought: his and Casca's tent.
Slowly and with his muscles protesting every motion, he rose up and dragged his feet out of the nice warm sleeping bag. Arcus. I remember liking camping when I was little – what happened?
You decided to camp in the real woods, a more awake part of his brain answered, flashing images of the group's frantic late-night escape from a flock of wild hoothoot as he pulled on his socks and laced up his boots. The amount of effort needed to prepare for the day should have been minimal, since he'd slept in his clothes, but it still somehow managed to eclipse even his most unwilling workday. This would be hard even with an evolved team. The only reason you've gotten through without issue is because you started with twelve people. A few days on the outskirts of Route 6 is a lot tamer than… The tent flap opened, revealing a misted forest – and, visible more as a shape than anything else, Puce and Mimi's own tent.
Or rather, the numerous venonat swarming around the source of autumn warmth. They bristled their thick fur as he came into view, buzzing with an intimidation born from sheer numbers – there must have been twenty of them covering the tent, soft bodies forming a giant pile that was a lot more dangerous than it looked. …This. Damn it, did they both forget their Repel?
They must've; Hoshi's tent was completely untouched, courtesy of the horribly foul gunk he'd sprayed it with before crawling inside. The fabric was waterproof enough that they could sleep without the smell penetrating through, but now that the flap was open it was providing almost as much of a wake-up call as the horde of wild Pokémon.
Slowly, Hoshi zipped the door closed, hiding the venonat from sight. The warning buzz ceased, replaced by a long groan as his girlfriend dragged herself fully into consciousness.
"Ugh. Morning already?"
"Yeah," he replied, voice flat. "Morning."
Casca yawned, pulled on her own footwear, and was halfway through a granola bar before she realised he hadn't moved or spoken. "Uh, you good?" she asked, flashes of concern mixing into her confused expression.
"Puce and Mimi forgot their Repel."
She took another bite of her breakfast, chewed, and swallowed. "Well, fuck. They're not..?" Dead, she didn't say. Or maybe it was just missing, or hurt; Hoshi was feeling a certain amount of morbid about the situation, probably more than her.
He didn't have the best track record with Pokémon attacks, after all.
"No, the tent is just covered in venonat. We'll have to do something about it before they wake up and set them off."
"Right." Casca was silent for a moment, then continued with the ghost of a smile. "Hoshi, this forest is fucking horrible."
That brought a laugh to his lips, where he struggled to shove it back down. "Yeah. Hopefully the others aren't having the same problems."
Cliff liked to think of himself as a dependable sort of person. The kind of guy who could help people without needing to be helped. Somebody people could lean on, emotionally and physically.
That self-image was… Not quite holding up to the light of day, right this second. "I think we'd be better goin' after the tree, not the line," came a growling voice from below. "Shit's gotta be some kinda special steel."
"Yeah, it is, but it's still going to be faster to cut through than this huge tree," replied a younger and much more feminine voice, husky in a way that implied either a bad cold or damaged vocal cords.
"Zen Headbutt'd do it in like ten hits." A pause. "Uh, twenty?"
Cliff sighed, hanging upside-down as the Rocket Grunts argued six or so metres beneath his head. All of his weight was being held up by one ankle – or maybe it was eighty percent ankle, twenty shin; the wire was wrapped around halfway to his knee, loosening as it went. His foot hurt, the joint twisted despite the inflexible armour hiding under the fabric of his shoes – fabric that had been cut straight through.
If I'd been wearing normal runners, I'd probably be bleeding pretty bad. Fuchsia must be a seriously fucked up place if this was just training. Even at his meanest, the Boss wouldn't set a razor wire trap for his own people. What do they do to the trainees who fail? Just toss them out on the streets with limbs missing?
Probably not, but he wasn't feeling very charitable to the forest's owners at the moment. "Hey!" he called down. "Scarlet, you hear me?! Come on out! Emergency release!"
The forest was silent for a moment, and then he sighed again. His belt, containing five of his six Pokémon, hung from a branch just out of reach – and apparently also just far enough away that the storage-mode Rocket Balls couldn't register the command. Damn paranoid scientists. 'Anti-tamper features,' more like…
No continuation to the sentence came to him. A gaggle of spearow poked their heads out from the tree's foliage, chirped at him, and then took flight.
Kenny and Nerine looked up. "You doin' fine, big guy?" the former asked, causing Cliff to shake his head – which, in turn, caused him to swing slightly. Ugh, damn. Gonna lose my breakfast at this rate.
"I'm stuck in a tree," he sent down. "Trussed up by my ankles. Don't any of you have a cutting move?"
Nerine shook her head. "I've got a snake with no fangs and a ball of fuzz."
"Bubbles has Rapid Spin- uh, orange Rapid Spin?" Kenny offered.
Ravioli, his father's poliwrath, stepped from one foot to the other in anxiety, and Kazubara didn't even glance up from where he was picking nidorina quills out of his electabuzz's ass.
This is a lot dumber than I'd thought it would be, Cliff admitted as he dangled. First we get split up, and somehow none of us have any tents. Then we find a cave, only for it to be so crammed with zubat we need to just sleep out in the trees. I figured that if something came up, it'd be the ninja themselves, not… just normal hiking shit. At least the snare was man-made, not that it necessarily made the situation less stupid. It probably hadn't even been set out for them – if it was, someone would have shown up by now. Can't believe it was me that got caught. If the League shows up now, I'm gonna be so pissed. "Anything that can climb a tree?" he called down again as the grunt's sandshrew attempted to cut the sturdy wire by rasping at it with its claws. "My venusaur'll get me out of this easy, if you just release her."
The grunts looked at each other, long seconds passing as Cliff became gradually more nauseous from the blood rushing to his head.
"Sherry can probably climb a tree?" Nerine eventually said. Cliff had the perfect angle to see the top of her hat; the girl was so thin, her entire body was hidden underneath. "It's worth trying, I guess. Sherry, come over here."
The venonat hopped over and received hushed words from its trainer. Then it began climbing, small claws gripping the mighty cherry tree's bark. It ascended with a leisurely pace, but despite the flush that filled his face and made him feel like an over-inflated balloon, Cliff smiled at it as it approached. "There you go," he said, watching as it paused at the belt looped half-around a spindly branch.
…And continued to pause. "Toss it down!" Nerine ordered, and the venonat pawed at the belt for a moment, flipping it over with a satisfied "Eee!" before once again sitting still.
"I don't think she-" Kenny began, but he was cut off by a snippy tone.
"Yeah, I noticed." Nerine blew air through her nose, and snatched her hat off to scratch her scalp – which gave Cliff a view of her crown, where the roots of her hair went from metallic blue to dark purple. "I guess I'll just have to do this myself."
She tossed Kenny her hat, then her heavy vest, and to the cueball's mild astonishment began climbing up after her Pokémon.
"Huh. You sure? The nearest branch is like…"
He trailed off as her thin fingers and the heavily textured soles of her hiking boots brought her up the smooth trunk of the unnaturally large cherry tree. "Haven't missed these things," she muttered inaudibly – if he hadn't taken a few Agent classes to round out his skillset, Cliff wouldn't have had any idea what she was saying. Should probably… thank Chispan for dragging me to those…
His thoughts were starting to get fuzzy, which was probably a bad sign.
Twenty seconds passed as she climbed, then a further ten as she caught her breath. "Stupid snares," she gasped as her venonat chirped happily at her. "You good, big guy?"
No, his legs were going numb. "Second ball on your right," he answered, receiving a tired nod. Nerine reached for the belt and its balls-
And then Cliff was suddenly falling. "Wa-hack-!" he exclaimed, his eyes tilting down – up – to follow the girl as her expression turned to surprise. Then he looked up – down – at the rapidly approaching ground. He braced for impact-
And Ravioli and the large Rocket caught him, the former burbling in relief while the latter grinned. "Hey!" Kenny exclaimed, cheerful. "I remembered I had a knife!"
Cliff stared, his constitution fighting the urge to pass out from the sudden reset of his blood pressure.
"…Ow," Kenny eventually said, shrugging off the wire from where it had drifted against his shoulders. "This shit's sharp."
Tor woke up in the grip of overwhelming fear, a distant hoot filling his every cell with adrenaline – though whether it had been in reality or merely a nightmare, he already couldn't say.
Lilian stirred next to him, his panicked bolt into uprightness waking her in turn. "Tor? It's still dark."
It was. "Sorry," he replied. "Nightmare."
"Hmm…"
A minute – or more, maybe, he hadn't been able to sleep with his watch on – passed as his heart gradually climbed down from between his ears, settling back to its normal place in his chest. When at last he could breathe without gasping, he leaned back to rest on his elbows.
Lilian was breathing softly beside him, and there was only the slightest impression of dawn coming through the canopy and tent… But there was no way he would be able to go back to sleep.
Calm down, he admonished himself. It wasn't that bad. You didn't even get hurt, really, it was just Poison Powder. Mojo was the only one who had actually taken a full-on attack, and he seemed fine. Probably. Maybe he had nightmares too.
The thought was half-hopeful, and the urge to slap himself for his childishness passed light and sharp through the pitcher's head. Stupid shit. Calm down. You're fine, Lily's fine, Mojo's fine too.
It was just… a few wild Pokémon in a spooky forest. That they would need to keep going through, and then come back through on the return trip.
…Maybe we can take the Cycling Road back up?
Again the urge to smack himself out of his half-hysterical state came, but before Tor could either send it away or indulge, movement from outside the tent drew his attention. The sting of fear returned. Shut up, brain. It's obviously one of the others getting out of their tent to… It wasn't even dawn yet. …To take a leak or something. Damnit.
He grabbed his spearow's ball, clutching it hard. "Okay," he whispered. "Stealth function. I remember it has one…"
That absolute ass of a Rocket Grunt Nak had given them a condensed explanation of how to use a Pokéball, but yesterday had been kind of a lot.
I think… press and hold? That sounded right, so he pushed his thumb down until the lens-slash-button clicked and then kept pressing. Whatever was outside shuffled around again, and the ball wobbled once, twice…
A tiny sliver of memory connected two points. Wait no that's the RELEASE function holy shit-!
Tor pulled his thumb away, breathing hard, and decided he wouldn't be messing around with this thing until he'd gotten a refresher. Arcus above. His hands shook, and then stopped as he… simply ran out of panic. Like he was staring down an enemy batter, everything seemed to crystalize; either he was imagining the danger, and his panic was stupid, or he wasn't, and it was still stupid.
"Sorry Lil'," he muttered. "Probably gonna wake you up again…"
With an echoing whoosh-oosh-oosh, his spearow appeared – and his luck seemed to be turning, because Lilian didn't snap awake. "Be ready to fight," he ordered, and the bird gave a hopefully-affirmative flap of its wings.
He very slowly unzipped the tent flap… Not a noctowl. Anything but that. Or that giant golbat. Or…
Come on, man. Just do it. The flap opened enough to peer out from – and Tor exhaled in relief as he saw the indistinct shadow and soft crunching footsteps were only Ryan trying to restart last night's fire. I was right, it was just one of the others.
He stepped out, not particularly caring about his barefootedness; the ground of their campsite was soft and dusty, without any of the thorns or other obstructions that the rest of the forest was dense with. The sky above was startlingly clear – without a fire or nearby city, he could see every star.
"Tor," Ryan greeted without looking. "I see you're excited to get going as well. Fancy a try at lighting the fire?"
Tor shook his head, slightly taken aback. He's smiling. And… "You don't have your Pokémon out."
The Rocket waved him off. "Jormungandr is sleeping inside, but he'll wake quickly enough if I call out. Besides, one has to be a little independent, even as a trainer; better I learn to start a fire without his help, just in case."
Well, your funeral. Tor crouched down near the shallow, ash-lined pit, and absentmindedly placed his hand on Spearow's head. I'll be keeping mine with me until we're safely back in Vermilion. He watched for a minute as the younger man – probably younger, for all that he carried himself with authority – fruitlessly tried to ignite a pile of crushed leaves and thin twigs by rotating a stick between his palms, its end pressed into the tinder.
"I think you're supposed to use two sticks."
"I tried that earlier. This way makes more smoke, so I think it must be better."
An amount of time that Tor decided to label as an hour passed. The sky lightened, stars scared off by the approaching sun, and eventually Ryan actually managed to produce a flame with his probably-not-very-good method.
The two of them sat. It wasn't exactly pleasant, not with the smell of the Repel and the edge of exhaustion that still lingered from yesterday's events, but it was… better than the state Tor had been in last night, at least.
"So why Jormungandr?"
Ryan favoured him with a look that was probably meant to be mysterious, but that his weird proportions turned into constipated but flirting through the pain. "Do you know what it means?"
"It's a foreign name for… the Rayquaza, I think? Stadian, or something like that."
"Stadaborean. My sponsor enjoys their wine, so I felt the urge to look into them a bit. They have a delightfully grim sense of storytelling when it comes to their mythology. Much more engaging than our own, though perhaps that's just because it has that…" He waved his hands. "Foreign mystique."
Tor poked at the fire with a stick. "Doesn't answer the question. Seems kind of… blasphemous?"
"You are Arcean, then?"
"No- uh, not really? I go to church on holidays, but that's it." The sparks that drifted up were bright and cheery, even as they went to their deaths in the moist air. "You dodged the question again."
Ryan rolled his eyes. "Fine. I simply think it's a grand name; exotic, while still having that dragon connection. And Quetzalcoatl is simply too hard to pronounce."
Tor blinked, afterimages continuing to dance behind his lids in the split-second of darkness. "I don't know that one."
"Verdim Illia."
"Where do they speak that?"
"Ah – no, that's the name of the place. 'The Island of Green Monsters.' I haven't the foggiest what language they speak there."
"Hmm."
The two continued their drawn-out conversation, which ended up being mostly Ryan talking about himself. The blond liked to talk about himself, and Tor was more comfortable just sending out the occasional grunt or short question.
Eventually they were interrupted. Mojo pulled himself from his and Ryan's tent as the last of the wood they'd gathered began to burn down, yawning and carrying his meowth in his arms. "Hey man. And… sir." He joined them by the fire, and Tor blinked in surprise as he examined his best friend's face.
"Wow, dude, it's been a while since I've seen you with a beard."
Mojo scratched at his chin, half his fingernails disappearing under the dull black bristles. "My hair grows fast. You know that." His eyes passed over Tor's own face, and he quirked a brow. "You're starting on your own, too. Mine's better, though."
"…Yeah." Somehow I doubt I've got an overnight transformation in me the way you do. Tor drew a hand across the side of his jaw, where a small amount of stubble had grown in. "I'll probably have something by the time we make it home. Don't think I'm up to shaving with a machete."
Mojo grinned, drawing the aforementioned blade from… somewhere. "It's a camp knife, actually. Machete's, like, way longer 'n heavier."
"Whatever. I still don't want it near my neck."
Ryan broke in with a sigh. "Alas, I find myself envious." He, too, touched his chin – which was completely smooth. "I've never been able to grow facial hair. I'm afraid I'll be consigned to relying on mere boyish charm for my entire life."
Mojo snorted, while Tor cracked a thin smile. With that bird-beak nose?
The three men and two Pokémon continued to sit for a while, until the campfire was only smouldering embers and it had become properly morning. The silence tugged at the corner of Tor's brain that still wanted to freak the fuck out, but it was easier to set that urge aside with the sun up.
"Should we get going?" Mojo asked, looking to the brightened sky, and Ryan answered with a small shake of his head.
"Not just yet. Look at your Pokémon."
Tor blinked, then obeyed. His spearow looked… normal? "What's up?" Nothing seemed wrong with the meowth either; it just lazed in Mojo's lap, exactly as he'd expect from a cat.
Ryan cocked a brow. "You don't see it? They still haven't recovered." Then his expression became pensive. "…Ah, forgive me. I forget that you've likely never never spent time with a Pokémon before. Trust me, your spearow is quite fatigued."
Tor looked down, and Spearow looked up to meet his eyes. I… don't see it? The bird seemed as lively as usual. "I'll take your word for it. Should we, uh, put them in their balls, then?"
"No, that isn't necessary. We'll just spend a bit more time near the tents – though I suppose we'll need to get more wood soon."
Mojo grunted. "Should probably eat something, too. We got enough food?"
With the group being what it was – three tent-carriers, with only Lilian having been given food and other supplies – they only had half a week's worth of sustenance rather than the amount a group of four should have had.
"For a day or two," Tor answered. "Hopefully we'll meet some of the others on the way through – or just all make it to the other side."
"Yes, we should definitely be able to navigate better during the day," Ryan said. "On that note, perhaps you should wake our fourth member? We'll need to have everything packed up shortly."
Mojo groaned. "Gah, gonna suck carrying that thing while it's soaked in Repel…
"So… You think this'll work?"
Casca sent a side-eye his way. "Babe, this is your plan. Do you think it'll work?"
Hoshi opened his mouth, a long, awkward moment passing before he answered. "…Maybe?" His girlfriend frowned – only for the tension to be undercut by Crow. The zubat chirped at him from his cupped hands, her feelers tightly curled around his wrists. The impatient sound drew a smile from his lips. "Well, Crow thinks it will. I don't have any better ideas anyway, so…" A breath. "Do it. Supersonic."
Within the confines of the cramped, Pokémon-filled tent, a high-pitched whine sounded out. Even with his 'mon right there in his hands it was almost impossible to tell the sound was issuing from Crow's mouth – that was how high it was, only barely on the edge of audible. Hoshi's ears did not ring, and his vision did not wobble; the Supersonic was extremely underpowered, a mere annoyance rather than the balance-destroying cacophony the zubat was capable of.
Good girl, he thought, relief colouring his mental voice. I knew you'd understand.
The sound built further as it echoed off the fabric walls, and after ten seconds Hoshi began to feel just the slightest hints of confusion. He was unsteady on his knees, as though his brain was convinced he could fall over despite his girlfriend, her staryu, and Guts all pressed to his sides inside the tent.
Ten seconds more, and he was having trouble keeping his hands steady. Twenty, and he felt like his limbs weren't quite where he knew they were. But still, the exact origin of the noise was obscured. And hopefully it's the same for the venonat. They have better hearing than I do, but that isn't necessarily a good thing for them in this situation.
A minute into the bombardment, Hoshi heard a tiny thump. Is it..? Is it working? Another handful of seconds passed in anticipation – and then, another soft impact, like tossing a coat to the floor. Then another, and another. "Good girl," he repeated under his breath as something brushed up against the front of the tent, retreated, then brushed again. The furry round shape staggered into and away from the obstacle several times, not unlike a drunk drawn magnetically to every lamp-post as they went down a midnight street. "It's working!" he whisper-yelled, nudging Casca with his shoulder as he grinned. "I knew it would work!"
Crow was able to hold the Supersonic for another half-minute before the move petered out, her voice breaking into a louder, rougher squawk. Guts sniffed in relief as the sound ended, and Hoshi moved forward to grasp the zipper. "Everybody get ready," he said. "It looks like it worked, but better safe than sorry,"
The entrance flap opened as he pulled, and Hoshi held his breath; he was certain it had worked, he'd seen them dispersing, but there was still the tiniest sliver of his thoughts that expected something to go wrong-
But it didn't happen. Guts bounded out of the stuffy space with a squeak, the sound scaring off the two three-foot-tall insects still loitering around the campsite. "Ha!" Hoshi exclaimed as he followed her out, zubat taking her place on his shoulder. "There we are. Scared them right off."
Casca nudged him to the side so she could leave too. "It did," she said. "Though I'm surprised the other two slept through all that. I kind of expected one of them to poke their head out and for all heck to break loose."
"Huh-huh!!" Candy agreed.
I guess we were due some good luck, at this point. "You know, that is kind of weird. Let's check on-"
Before Hoshi could finish, and as though summoned by their words – actually, that's probably literal; we aren't exactly being quiet – a squared-off head topped with soft green pixie-cut hair appeared, poking out from the freed tent.
"Morning," Puce greeted. "Wow, it feels like just a minute ago it was pitch-dark and – huh?" Her expression twisted in confusion as Hoshi choked on another laugh. "What's so funny?"
Kaz Kazubara – Bart, to most people – lingered at the treeline as the stooge, the ninja girl, and the Rocket Enforcer walked out into the open. The latter sensed his absence after a second, looking back over a broad shoulder. His expression was thunderous – though that was due to the wet mud coating most of his body, rather than anything Bart had done. "Something wrong, Kazubara?"
At his side Madder croaked, annoyed both at losing to a mere quagsire, and about the lingering pain in her behind. "No," Bart responded. "Just waiting to see if anything else pops out."
Cliff snorted. "Well, hurry up. I want a fire started before things get chilly."
He nodded, but waited a moment longer before moving. His eyes drifted from the enforcer to the skinhead, then to the sickly-looking little girl. His expression was cool, but in his head he was squinting. The meatheads didn't notice, but I'm onto you, 'Rose.' She had hidden it, but she'd been half-assed about it – she'd been leading them through the trees, ever since their encounter with those river salamanders.
Which meant that she'd known the way through.
"Come on, Madder," he muttered as he finally left the forest. The electabuzz croaked again, following closely. And that Hoshi… He wasn't even trying to hide his surname. Is this a work? Or the opposite – are we disappearing a few traitors?
Cliff seemed to know something he didn't and that… irked. Supposedly there was supposed to be some major action happening, but the only reason Bart knew about it at all was because Beady's creator had absentmindedly run his mouth during his latest health checkup.
"Looks like we're the only guys here," Kenny called as he approached. "Think they're still in the forest?" Beside him his lickitung plopped down, moistening itself with foul-smelling saliva.
"Probably," Nerine answered, standing awkwardly in her drenched clothes. "They had tents, so they probably slept the whole night."
Sure, that's why we passed them. Bart's eye went to the venonat sticking close to her side, its form looking startlingly slender with its fur matted down, then to the ekans coiled around her neck. Only the snake noticed his gaze, slit pupils moving as he casually looked away. "Cliff is right. We should gather some wood."
"Not it," Kenny immediately said, and Bart raised a brow. Are you a child? The others seemed to feel the same way, because neither of them responded.
"Cliff, you and I are obviously the strongest trainers present. The other two can make camp."
"Oi."
Cliff took a moment to wring out his hat before replying. "Makes sense, except…" He stomped his foot. "Leg still isn't feeling great. You and Nerine go."
He scoffed inside his head. You say that, but your stomp just now shook the ground. Whatever. Madder disappeared back into her ball, replaced by Beady. "Up," he ordered, and the ancient insect began climbing up his leg to settle on top of his backpack.
Nerine met his eyes, face sagging with potentially-feigned exhaustion. "Really?" she said. "We just got out."
Cliff sat down on a fallen log – and perhaps his leg really was injured, because the hissing sigh that came through his teeth sounded real. "Stay near the edge. Actually – here, take Pinch."
He released a Pokémon – without throwing, Bart noted, a feat of impressive strength given the kick a Pokéball's rebound mechanism could exert – and after a moment Bart identified it as a pinsir. You named your pinsir Pinch? Are you a child?
The enforcer gestured with his chin, and with a huff, the teenager began walking. Bart took a moment to search the man's eyes, but found nothing. What does he know? Damnation, why pick me for this and then keep me in the dark? With a light scoff he turned, Beady clicking his mandibles behind his head.
Well, Bart conceded as he followed Nerine Bay Rose, or whatever her real name was, at least this way I can keep an eye on her. Then he blinked, eyes stinging as an acrid smoke drifted in the noon air. The teen exhaled right into the wind, in what was either active malice or a stunning lack of care for others – either way, the display set his teeth on edge. Yes, hopefully this is a spot of housecleaning. If it's really just make-work, I'm going to have words with the executives.
"Mankey," Lilian ordered, her voice steady despite the tight v-formation of blue and pink shapes darting distressingly quickly through the grass. "Focus Energy."
The pack of nidoran moved as a single unit, led by a farfetch'd – Lilian didn't know how the strange group had formed, or if this was normal behaviour for the duck Pokémon, but she wasn't in a position to be asking questions. The farfetch'd pointed its leek like a sword as it charged towards them, its rabbit-like allies fanning out into a line behind it.
Let it get close, and..! "Scratch!"
Mankey flared its limbs and struck, paws swinging down to meet a rising slash from the leek. The farfetch'd took the attack with a hissing quack – and for a moment the absurdity of the situation was unignorable. The urge to laugh at the display was strong, but Lilian pushed the feeling down; as silly as a duck wielding an onion-sword should be, it was a legitimate danger to her and her Pokémon. "Keep attacking!" she ordered, teeth clenched. "Low Kick!"
Usually using a kicking attack against a bird would be stupid, but she was ninety percent sure that farfetch'd only flew under duress. The leek moved, cutting the air like, again, an Arcus damned sword as it parried her pig-monkey's heel. The nidoran ran past, and a voice from behind her back sounded out.
"Jormungandr, Dragon Breath. Sweep low."
Lilian grit her teeth harder as a streak of blue fire passed close to her right ankle, the Rocket Grunt's dragon spitting a long, strangely unhot stream of it into the charging group. They were smart enough to break off, scattering and breaking their formation to avoid the attack. "Leer then Scratch," she projected as her Pokémon fought furiously.
But Mankey either failed to register her voice, or was simply ignoring her; it continued to kick at the farfetch'd, movements increasingly sloppy as it failed to land a blow. "Mankey, Leer," she tried again, but it was useless. "Damn it. Tor, can I get a hand here?"
She glanced back to see her boyfriend stepping forward, and while he still had a tinge of deep-seated fear lurking somewhere in his posture, he had obviously gotten some of the steel back in his spine. Good. Hopefully that keeps up. "Spearow," he ordered, "Go high then dive. Peck."
His spearow cawed, taking to the air, and she turned back to the fight. "Mankey! Damn it, it's screwing with you! Back off!"
"Hmm," Ryan hummed. "It is, isn't it? I think that might be Fury Cutter it's using there."
"Fury Cutter?" It doesn't look angry – that bird is smug, if anything. "Isn't that a bug type move?"
"Yes, one that grows in power with successive hits. Perhaps you should-"
Tor's spearow dove, and the farfetch'd sidestepped. The smaller bird's Peck buried its beak into the ground for a fraction of a second, before Mankey's Low Kick smashed into its skull. Oh, shit. "Tor, you'd better-"
Then the length of green stalks cut into her Pokémon's side, Mankey's eyes bugging out with a surprised oink as blood flew.
"-Return your Pokémon," both she and Ryan finished, her incredulous and him intrigued. "Well, that was certainly impressive," he continued as Lilian aimed her ball.
"Mankey, come back!" That's another Potion down. Darn it, Mankey, you need to listen when I give an order!
The farfetched quacked in triumph, raising its 'blade' in the air before sweeping it down – then it paused, looking around. Probably looking for its allies. Did it even notice the fire? The duck puffed its feathers, indignant, and started forward.
Lilian gulped. Okay, a lot less silly and a lot more dangerous, now. She stepped back – and as she did so, Ryan stepped forward. "Alright, I think that's enough training for now. Jormungandr, Fire Fang." The Rocket reached for his belt, drawing a ball. "Don't roast it too bad. I think we've finally found you a worthy sparring partner."
The four of them all but collapsed as the final tree receded behind them, their muscles aching and accumulated injuries stinging.
"Ugh," Lilian groaned. "Is it over?"
The darkening sky made the dancing flames in the distance obvious, but after that thing with the gastly she wasn't sure if she'd ever trust a light in the forest ever again.
"Looks like it," Mojo answered. Of the four of them he seemed to be doing the best, physically – despite stepping on a sleeping vulpix that had left a large burn across his nose, the tall man was moving a lot better than the rest of them. His meowth was the same, padding with a grace that Tor's spearow and her own mankey just couldn't muster anymore.
Ryan, in contrast, was doing the best mentally. "Ah, it seems we've managed to arrive last. How shameful!" Despite the contents of his sentences, his voice was upbeat. "Let's go – I'm positively starving."
Lilian dragged herself forward together with Tor, the two leaning against each other as the forests turned to hilly grassland. Ryan jogged ahead, bagon bouncing at his side, while Mojo slowed to keep pace. "Prat," the man said as the Rocket left earshot.
"Eh," Tor responded. "It's kind of endearing? I thought they were all intimidating, but he's…"
"A prat?"
Lilian's boyfriend and his teammate giggled, the sound more a function of released tension than actual amusement. "I don't like him," she opined as they continued towards the firelight. "Too much like a politician. But I'm glad he was there."
Tor nodded. "Yeah, that noctowl would've gone to town on us if not for him."
"And the duck," Mojo said sardonically. "And the ghost."
"Was that really a ghost? I can't really remember…"
"It was." Lilian shivered, remembering the gleeful, hateful face floating in the empty air, physics- and logic-defying in the way the eyes just slid through objects. "A gastly. I'm surprised an untrained meowth was able to beat it."
"Bite's dark type."
She and Tor both grunted at that, more occupied with anticipating the coming warmth and safety. The three of them stumbled into the circle of tents, relishing the increasing stink of day-old Repel.
"Finally," Lilian muttered, and Tor squeezed her shoulder in silent agreement. All eight of the Rockets – the other Rockets; she was one too, she needed to remind herself – were gathered around a large pit containing a small fire.
Hoshi, the Senior Grunt, looked up at their approach. "Hey. Glad to see you, we were starting to talk about a search party."
"You were?" Tor asked, slipping away from her grasp to actually collapse on a log bench.
He half-smiled, bushy eyebrows that didn't match the rest of his face coming together in something adjacent to sympathy. "We were talking about it. Obviously it wouldn't have happened; those woods are fucking evil. I think we're gonna take the Cycling Road on the way back, because holy shit."
She attempted to dredge up a bit of offence at the knowledge that they would have been left out for a second night, but she couldn't find any – if their roles were reversed, she wouldn't have even considered going back in before morning.
She found her own seat, and plopped down with an articulate "Uh."
The languid conversation passed over her like high tide for a minute as she just… decompressed, like a sponge slowly going back to its proper shape after being wrung out.
Tor might have freaked out a lot harder than her or Mojo, but that didn't mean she was fine. Holy Arcus above, it's over. It almost seemed like a crazy dream – she was a cheerleader. She majored in Business Management and Marketing. What was she doing out here? Why did she fight a ghost however many hours ago that had happened?
Did she even want to do this?
She was abruptly dragged back into the present as Cliff, the large dark-skinned man whose muscles were smaller than that-woman-whose-name-she-forget's were, cleared his throat and stood.
"Since we're all worn out from making it into Route 14, I don't think we'll be doing any more training today." He looked to the side, receiving a considering nod from the Senior Grunt, and continued. "So I thought we could take an evening to tell the new recruits what the organisation is all about."
"Uh, you sure that's wise?" Hoshi asked. "We could still have a tail. Whoever's watching the forest probably doesn't just stop at the treeline."
Cliff shook his head. "That won't be a problem. Trust me."
Again Hoshi's brows came together, this time in an expression of confusion. "You're certain?"
"I am."
"Then… Go ahead, I guess."
The large man nodded, the movement like tectonic plates – slow, subtle, even, but with an energy that couldn't be stopped. "Thank you. I'd like to start us off with the reason I joined Team Rocket, and then maybe a few other people could do the same."
From across the firepit came a groan. "Damn it," the orange-haired woman – Casca? It had only been a day but it felt so long since the introductions – groaned. "I knew he'd make a big speech."
Whoof. I was sick for a few days last week, but even accounting for that I still think this chapter came slowly. Not sure why; I like multi-perspective chapters. Breaks everything into more digestible chunks.
Anyway, thanks for reading – and happy almost-2025!
Anyway, thanks for reading – and happy almost-2025!
