Fumbling desperately to get out of The Witch's grasp, Armend tried to pull the red head's closed fists away to no avail. Snarling angrily, The Witch shoved him against the brick wall again; pain forcing Armend to shut his eyes in an attempt to hold back tears. "I said 'Who the Hell are you?'" The Witch repeated.

"A-Armend," Armend managed to splutter out. Another violent shaking 'encouraged' him to say more. "Armend Ratoula! Fifteen years old! I'm from Unova! I'm just a journalist! PLEASEOHARCEUSDON'THURTME! I JUSTWANNAINTERVIEW!"

Armend panted for breath in panic unable to tear his eyes away from his glaring attacker. Or, at least, Armend thought that he could be glaring. That damn hat made The Witch's expressions impossible to tell even from this close distance. And somehow that just made the situation even worse.

Armend kept as still as he could, stewing inwardly over whatever fate The Witch was planning. He was in the middle of a scenario involving dumpsters when, miraculously, the red-head let go, allowing Armend to drop to his wobbly knees. A cold wave of relief swept across Armend's entire body, and he gulped in lungful after lungful of air in an effort to get his hammering heart under control. Meanwhile, his mind struggled to keep up as he slowly realized that he was not going to 'disappear' anytime soon. He even thought he could hear a heavenly choir in the background.

A quiet snort brought Armend crashing back to reality. Remembering that he was still in immediate danger Armend lifted his eyes to meet The Witch's shrouded face.

The Witch had already turned to leave.

"H-Hey! Wait a minute!" Armend shouted, stumbling to get up and chase after the boy against his (screaming) better judgment. He trotted behind The Witch and fumbled to pull out a recording device from his bag. "So…uh. I was hoping to post a story about you on my blog. It's kind of a thing I do. Get other trainer's stories and…write about them. Journalism and all that?" He gave a nervous laugh, but The Witch hadn't even turned to look at him. Armend cleared his throat.

"Anyway…not a whole lot of people know much about you. Hah hah. I mean, I don't even know you're name, and there's a lot of rumors about you. It'd be nice if you could…uh…clear them up a bit? Ya know? Like, say, I heard you were involved in some sort incident at Fortree? And there's one about a really big fight at a circus where you, uh, allegedly killed a clown, and everyone thought it was part of the show. Or maybe why you dangled that one guy off a five-story building by the legs?"

"That story gets distorted every time," The Witch responded with a huff.

Armend broke into a wide grin. "Finally! A bit of progress!"

"It was an eight-story building."

"…Yeah…so…does this mean that you'll-"

"No."

"But-"

"No."

"It would-"

"Do I have to shove you through you a wall this time?"

"NO! Sorry! I mean no." Armend rubbed the back of his head, the weight of disappointment mixed with nervousness causing him to hang his head low. Just where precisely had he blown it? He knew he had sounded like an idiot especially about the rumors. Or was it when he admitted that the interview would be for a blog. Nobody wanted to tell their life story for a teen-ager's blog. He thought that word in disgust and scolded himself for not at least pretending he was writing for something a little more official sounding.

He took a peek of The Witch's face. The boy, in turn, continued to stare straight ahead for whatever his intended destination was. Again Armend tried and failed to detect any sign of emotion but at least he didn't see the usual signs of annoyance. That could've been a good sign, right?

Armend tried plucking his courage up for another try. He wasn't about to let someone like The Witch get by him. Sure the kid may not have been some big name trainer like Sabrina or Lance, but people acquainted with the name always spoke it with a shudder and hushed whisper. Plus, he was by far the most mysterious, and Armend could not pass up being the first to solve him.

"If-"

"I don't like journalists."

Armend shut his mouth again. Ok, so it was his profession that was the problem; not him! Maybe he could still smooth this over then. "I-I know we have a tendency to write from our own point of view, but I assure you I'm not like that."

"No. You're just a crappy one." The Witch said. Armend winced from the insult, but The Witch continued unforgiving. "I mean, what can of journalist doesn't even get the name of his subject?"

"How on Earth could I get your name?" Armend protested in an attempt to salvage a bit of pride.

"You got every rumor and tall tale about me including the Fortree event, right?" Armend slowly nodded. "That last one should've used it in the news. Didn't you notice?"

"Uh…" Armend fiddled with the since found recording device, happy he hadn't turned it on. "It was in Hoennese. I tried Google Translate, but…you know…Google Translate."

"Thank you for making my point," The Witch replied. Armend did not miss the sarcasm either. "Hence, crappy journalist. Which I dislike even more, actually."

"Well, I don't like weirdoes with mysteries and crappy hats!"

Armend immediately clamped his hand over his mouth and froze. He hadn't meant to burst like that! Immediately the bruises on his shoulders began to throb, and Armend shrinked back in terror.

The Witch stopped as well and looked back at Armend for the first time since the attack at the alley. He stared at Armend for a bit, terrifying the boy to no end, before cocking his head. Armend couldn't help but notice his mouth tighten into a thin line. Was he frowning? The shadowed eyes were really starting to piss Armend off underneath the mortal terror.

The Witch let out a sigh at last and broke contact, suddenly finding the pokeball around his neck more interesting. "How determined are you to get a story out of me?"

Swallowing hard lest he say something truly stupid again, Armend peeled his hand off his face to speak. "V-very," he responded. A simple answer seemed to be the best idea.

The Witch didn't reply back; instead continuing to fiddle with the pokeball as he seemed to think. Armend tried to focus on the capsule and observed, for the first time, something rubbery and yellow around the seal. Glue?

"I'll tell you what." The Witch's voice snapped Armend out of his study. "I'll answer your questions if you manage to impress me first. I want you to learn something about me."

The Witch paused a bit to let his request sink in. Armend's brow shifted in confusion as he struggled to process the logic. "But…I could just always ask you-"

"I hate giving people things they haven't earned," The Witch snarled making Armend cringe immediately. "And if I'm going to spill any details about my personal life to someone they had damn well better be good."

The Witch lifted a finger between himself and Armend. "First rule: For every detail you learn about me, I'll answer one question. Second." The Witch held up another finger. "You can get this information any way you please short of asking me. You can observe me, check my pokegear calls; get my birth certificate. I honestly don't give a crap. And third." He held up a third finger to stand alongside the other two. "Whatever you learned about me so far does not count towards this. You technically already know, so there's no point."

The Witch let his hand drop to his side. "Do we have a deal?"

Armend internally reeled. This was just too sudden and weird for him. Who on Earth just goes and makes bets like that? It was just completely out of the blue! Not to mention creepy since his tone had been completely monotone the whole time. Did The Witch really think Armend was so desperate that he would accept something so outlandish?

"…"

"…"

"…Deal."

(o)

Staying at the PokeCenter was a good idea. Emphasis on 'was.' Past tense. Meaning it was too late to act on it.

Dan let out a loud sigh as he unrolled his sleeping bag. He had thought that he could get through Eterna Forest and into Floaroma Town by the end of the day, but the woods were so thick it had taken him that long just to get to his current campsite: some clearing deep in the middle.

Suddenly 'Cut' didn't seem like such a useless move…

Sensing his master's distress, his buizel rubbed his head and long body against the trainer's legs. Pulled out of his thoughts, Dan looked down and smiled softly at the weasel pokemon; giving it an affectionate rub on the hindquarters. "Guess me frowning isn't going to fix anything, huh, Buizel? Thanks. Want some dinner?"

"Buizel!" The pokemon's head shot up at the word 'dinner,' and his eyes widened, puppy-like, at the chuckling human.

Reaching for his bag, Dan fished his poffin case and pulled out a pink one. Holding it just out of Buizel's reach. The pokemon, excitedly, began alternating between standing on all fours waving his tails to doing a little dance on his back legs. All the while never letting the treat out of his sight for a second.

Of course, this little display was tradition between the trainer and his pokemon. After a moment of well-respected tradition, Buizel leaped up and snatched the poffin from Dan's fingers. Munching on it noisly, the pokemon shoved half of the sweet, sweet pastry into his mouth. Dan, mood significantly higher, laughed.

Both noises of the cheerful campers was cut off, however, by a low buzz they just barely caught. Frowning in confusion, Dan got up and peered into the woods, as if eventually he would be able to see where the source was. Buizel also joined him the wary staring contest, leaving the half-eaten poffin in the grass as he took a fighting stance with both tails raised high. They both turned around in a slow circle, trying to pin point what the buzzing was.

They didn't have to wait too long. A large streak of yellow shot out from the darkness, hurtling towards them and buzzing madly. Dan just managed to see the pokemon coming at them in time to fire off an order. "Buizel! Water Gun!"

The weasel pokemon's cheeks puffed up and he shot a jet of water at their attacker; hitting it squarely in the center and pushing it back. With a wet, weak splutter the aggressor hovered briefly in the air before dropping to earth in a dead faint.

Combees were not very well known for their defensive power after all.

Dan and Buizel stared at the blocky, yellow bug-type for a moment before they each took a cautious step forward. All of the combee's heads were relaxed in unconsciousness and showed no signs of noticing them. Relieved and scolding himself for getting jumpy over a combee, Dan let out a loud sigh and smiled.

Another buzzing sound began.

Dan looked up in alarm. The sound was louder than the combee's and seemed to surround him and Buizel. It seemed to waver and vary in pitch, sometimes higher. Other times it seemed lower. Sometimes both at the same time, but always blending seamlessly together.

Dan felt a hard lump crawl emerge in chest as he realized what that meant.

It wasn't one single buzz.

(o)

Hello again, everyone! And now that I've said that, let us take a moment of silence for Dan and Buizel as they will never be written about again. Probably for good reason too if that ending means anything. Pokemon world's dangerous ain't it?

At least Armend seems to have gotten off ok, though. Could've been worst. At least The Witch isn't saying no after all. Sure he's not being very amicable about it, this sudden bet and all, but it beats everything he was imagining. Plus, The Witch himself gets some proper dialogue and…establishes himself as an ass. XD I do admit, though, I enjoyed writing their banter. I know purely dialogue heavy chapters are frowned on, but having these two characters just go off on each other is fun!

So enough about those dorks. What do you guys think of this fic so far? Think I should do something different or what? If it's not apparent yet, I'm trying to make this story as different and fresh as possible for you long time Pokemon readers on this site. After re-reading the last chapter, though, I caught a lot of typos that made me want to beat my head in (I blame 'end-of-the-year' stress). I know I'm a crap writer but that doesn't mean I want my writing to be crap, so feel free to say something if you caught a mistake I made.

Hmm. I guess I could do one of my profiles for The Witch's stunky buuuuuut I kinda want to put hers and the swampert's together, and his name hasn't been revealed yet. You'll understand this decision once I've done and written them but hold tight for now.

Anyway, press on, Armend. Next chapter will be entirely at your expense.