The Gin Haze
"Because sometimes all you want to do is forget. With war looming on the horizon, some of us have more reason to want to forget than others. The next generation of Pokémon trainers, what kind of world are they to inherit?" Warning! War stories, dark, gore, sex and real life. This is what it takes to survive in the new war-torn era.
Chapter 3 – Undertow
8-8
Closing my eyes, I can't help but see it over and over. Haze explaining the ins and outs of being a Pokémon trainer to his juniors. Him showing them little tricks he's picked up over the years. Them asking him more and more questions.
I lean my head back, combing my fingers through my hair as I wash out the conditioner. The hot, almost searing, water rains down on me, cascading through my hair, over my back as it hugs every curve… kisses ever millimetre of skin.
Listening to him getting more and more detailed about raising Wynauts, and Mime Juniors, and other types of Psychic Pokémon. The berries they like to eat, an intro to his favoured Pokéblock recipes. He just kept going and going and going. But it wasn't just the obvious knowledge, it wasn't just the words. It was his confidence. How he carried himself with poise, his gentle tone as he explained things to his juniors.
Taking my loofah, I add the shower gel and start lathering it up. I slowly, methodically, massage myself. The coarse material drags against my skin, working away the worst of the day, leaving only this… this… sensation…
When they started talking about battle tactics. The hard look in his eyes. The way he squared his shoulders, the steel of his spine shining through. How he shone with confidence, as if a battle of wits, of words, was his whole world.
More than that, his words, the look in his eyes. When Ilene asked him about 'partners', suggesting that maybe she and her sister could team up. The way his eyes flicked towards me… In that moment, I could see something—a thought, a hope, coursing through him.
He needs me.
He needs me to stand beside him when the world loses its mind. He needs me to grow strong so someone he trusts will have his back. I don't understand the reason, but I know that he has trouble truly trusting people. He trusts me, and he needs me. That's all I need.
So, Miss Harrison. It's time to get your shit together. Tomorrow is Saturday. A day off, a day to get things done. It's time to do more than stare at his back.
8-8
Breakfast. Everyone's here, even Jerron. He seems to be here more and more often these days, constantly keeping an eye on Michelle and Aaron. He and daddy seem to exchange worried glances from time to time, though neither utters a word.
"It's fine. We really don't mind," Mina assures mom for the tenth time this morning. It seems she and Myron decided to close the business to stay close to the family in our time of need. Amalia, of course, is here to help them with the administrative side of things—officially closing the business, getting the books in order, paying the taxes and outstanding bills to ensure there will be no problem, and arranging the sale of all their things.
"Oh, Haze, what time are your juniors arriving?" daddy asks, patting his lap so Aaron knows to come sit down so we can eat. Aaron, naturally, comes running and jumps into daddy's awaiting arms so he can be plopped onto his lap.
"I'm going to their house after we eat," Haze says. Somehow his tone seems too light, when considering the tension in his shoulders.
"Uh uh," I shoot him down. His eyes widen slightly, obviously not having expected me to stick my nose in his business. "You, me, and Adam need to start planning." Adam is quick to agree, but Haze is the control freak. He studies me, seemingly dissecting me and my motives. "Don't give me that look. Your dad's coming the weekend after next. We need to start planning how we're going to handle that trip. We need to start planning how we're going to maximize the time until then. And we need to start researching what we're going to catch from around here."
"Hmm?" he noises, thinking about it, if nothing else. He knows I'm right, so I don't worry about a thing. Instead, I focus on breakfast and helping Michelle with figuring out what she wants to eat. We get into a discussion with Myron about 'the value of eating rice for breakfast', seeing as Michelle feels like eating sushi… Not sure what even brought that on.
"So I need to get my map and markers out, huh," Adam teases. I smile, nodding and noising in agreement that he should. "So you're doing the research?"
"Already started," I lie easily, just barely not grinning at how badly I'm teasing them. He and Adam both know I usually just tease information out of them and consider that my 'information gathering'.
"Fine," Haze intones, his gaze harder than it usually would be. I see a thought flicker in his eyes, before he looks away and musses Aaron's hair. Without missing a beat, he takes out his Dex and starts typing something. He's texting someone? Hmm? When he closes his Dex, I start counting…
My Dex doesn't vibrate, so he didn't text me. I narrow my eyes at him, wondering what that was about. "Haze?" daddy seems to notice as well, and seems to want an explanation for it.
"Incoming call from Tate!" Haze's Dex announces. The tension in the room instantly skyrockets. Haze flicks his Dex open, but doesn't say a word. No matter how I strain my hearing, I cannot pick up what is being said. No matter how carefully I study Haze, I cannot decipher what he's thinking or feeling.
"Understood," is the only word Haze mutters, before closing his Dex and flicking it to silent. "Doc?"
An ambulance's siren fills the room—daddy's emergency alert, so he's needed at the Centre. Daddy picks up, telling them he's already on his way, but his eyes never leave Haze's.
"Liza will meet you there," Haze says, nodding gravely.
"Haze, wh—"
"You need to get going, doc. We'll handle things here," Haze reminds him. I keep looking between Haze and daddy, trying to figure out just what is going on—what is being communicated between the lines. Nothing comes.
"You'll stay with them?" daddy almost begs, a slight quiver in his voice.
"I'm staying here, dad," Jerron assures him, but daddy's eyes are still focused on Haze. "Amalia, Myron, and Mina, too. We're fine." The anxiety in daddy's eyes doesn't lessen. I turn to Haze again, just barely seeing him nod to daddy. Looking at daddy again, I notice the tension noticeably lessen. He trusts Haze more than Jerron? Well, not that that's surprising, really. Jerron's quite the flake. But more than Amalia, Myron, and Mina? That says something.
"Will—"
"You're needed, Brock," mom cuts daddy off. "We can handle things here. We always have."
8-8
"I don't think so! There's no way I'm letting you out of this house!" mom isn't having all this 'I can handle myself' talks. Haze barely reacts, his eyes are on me. Only on me. Part of me is grateful this is happening in daddy's office, to make sure no one else hears us, but I'm still uncomfortable that it's come to this at all. I've never heard mom raise her voice…
"Mrs Harrison, ple—"
"I don't want to hear it!" Mom is almost to tears, balling her fists at her sides. "There is no way I'm letting anyone leave this house alone!"
"Would you feel more comfortable if Adam comes with me?" he tries. Adam starts cracking his knuckles, showing he's ready for anything. I'm tempted to say that I should come as well, but…
The look on Haze' face. An almost pinched, pained look, as if he just bit into a lemon while watching a gory horror movie.
"I'm coming," I demand. Too much is going on, too much I've never experienced before. There's no way I'm letting my idiots ride off into the sunset and leave me here!
Three pairs of eyes are suddenly glued to me. I can't tell who feels more incredulous, but I know Haze is to the point of having a meltdown. "No," he refuses me without even considering it.
"If it's safe enough for your juniors, it's safe enough for me," I point out, trying to keep the fire out of my tone. I'm not some waif waiting to be rescued!
"Fine," Haze intones, taking out his Dex. I glare at him as he flicks it open, as he dials a number, as he puts Dex to ear. "Training is cancelled for this weekend. Follow the text I'll send you in one hour. Don't leave your house without my express permission."
"What's going on, Haze?" I hear Ilene asking, her tone dripping with worry and bordering on fear. "What's happening?"
"Questioning is healthy, but disobeying might cost more than you are comfortable with. For now, I need you to trust me," Haze says, before hanging up. "Settled. Gin, I need you to come with me."
"Why?!" I snap, thoroughly annoyed with his crap. He doesn't react immediately. Just standing there, gazing at me impassively. I get the impression he's studying me, but I don't know what he's hoping to find.
"You want in, right?" he asks. I narrow my eyes, tilting my head to one side as I try to figure him out. I come up empty-handed, as usual. Deciding to go with the flow, for now, I nod. "As you are, you're not ready."
"Wha—"
"Gin," he cuts me off, even though I want so badly to tell him off for looking down on me! "You wouldn't last a second against me."
I huff, crossing my arms and looking away from him. I might be blushing as well, but I'm too embarrassed to know for sure.
"If you don't like it, then you'd better be ready to train like I train," he soothes. Sort of. "If you refuse, then you need to accept where that leaves you."
8-8
A strong body houses a strong mind, he says. Still the mind, grow the soul, he says. What does all this translate to? Meditating. Haze made such a big deal about me training, only to practically order me to sit still and meditate. And not just any meditation, either. What he calls 'mindfulness meditation'.
I'm supposed to sit here and not think. Instead, I'm supposed to 'feel around me'. As much as that seems to make sense to him, it makes none to me. "Stop thinking," I hear for the umpteenth time since I got here. Wherever 'here' is. Haze blindfolded me, and led me somewhere, without telling me where.
So fine. Let's see what I can't see.
I'm barefoot, sitting cross-legged. I feel grass. I smell grass, as well. Hmm, interesting. Backyard, perhaps? Rocky's shivering right next to me. That I didn't even notice my baby! Fine, weird. What else? There's an odd SHLCK, SHLCK sound—probably Pistachio licking herself.
There's the scent of salt in the air, but given Mossdeep is essentially an island off the coast, that isn't surprising. There's also the scent of exhaust and other crap I try to filter out—signs of city life. Given Mossdeep is the fourth largest city in Hoenn, this also isn't surprising. So why do I smell paint?
Have I really been paying so little attention?
"You're still thinking," I hear again. "You cannot hope to tame a Pokémon, if you cannot tame the mind." Whatever.
8-8
Saturday, meditating. Sunday, meditating. Nothing but meditating. Just meditating. Annoyingly repetitive. The only thing I've started noticing, is how much I'm annoyed. This seriously can't make the difference between a crappy trainer and a good one. It can't! There's just no way.
Trainers should busy themselves training their partners, teaching them new moves, perfecting those moves. So why am I only focusing on nothing but me? It's not as if I'm the one doing the fighting!
Frustrating. It's just so frustrating. Too frustrating. I want to grow stronger, to show Haze that I'm all he needs, that I'm all he'll ever need. Just like he's all I've been needing. And yet…
Arceus! That boy! Why can't I ever seem to get him to notice me like that?
"Rrrrrrrr!" I turn to Pistachio, who's growling at the living room window? That's… not normal. Nothing seems to be 'normal' anymore. Why does it feel like the world is shifting beneath my notice.
"Arf, arf arf!" Even Rocky seems to be getting in on this, jumping up next to Pistachio. I look again, a little closer than before. I pet both my babies, wondering at the lack of anything out of the ordinary.
"There, there," I soothe. "It's alright." They pair of them turn to me, worry lining their eyes. I beckon to them, but they aren't having it. Pistachio is the first to go back to growling, but Rocky is quick to join her, barking up a storm. I go over to look out the window, trying to see what has their heckles up like that, but I don't see much of anything. Nothing new, at least. Same old busy street, same old familiar faces going about their day.
"Rrrrrrrrr!" And yet the growling continues. Figuring it's just them being nervous about something, I scratch behind their ears to help them calm down.
Maybe they're just picking up on everyone's stress.
8-8
"I'm telling you, Princess is not the type!" Adam defends his baby. Sam and Lilian are too busy accusing Princess of picking a fight with their Corsolas, but Adam doesn't seem to want to hear it. Figuring it isn't my problem, I keep scratching Rocky's ear to keep him calm—he's been fidgety all weekend, everyone has.
"Nuh uh! Corsola started it! I saw it!" Michelle gets involved. I roll my eyes, already knowing the twins' defence: if a water type is upset with a ground type, the water type will come out on top. Ignoring that Corsola is part rock type, and therefore weak against ground type attacks. And ignoring that Princess is of a lower level and is therefore less likely to start trouble with a Pokémon of a much higher level—survivability, genetic predispositions are funny like that.
Instead of worrying with something that isn't likely to change, I focus on Haze. He seems to be thinking again. Thinking long and hard. Judging by the pinched look, the blank eyes, and the seemingly zoned-out, lack of reaction when Michelle starts asking him questions…?
Everyone seems to be acting oddly.
What really sticks out, though, is how Haze is keeping his partners in their Balls. And, thinking back, I haven't seen Paris, Jade, or Grey in days. That isn't like him.
"Ginny?" daddy calls me. I turn to him, still idly scratching my pups. "Can I speak to you in my office?" I agree, but I with each step I take, I notice that I'm not allowed to go alone. Pistachio and Rocky I fully expected to come with me. Haze, however… that's not something I anticipated.
Daddy asks me to sit on the couch with him, his eyes on my Pokémon as they hover about my ankles. When I sit down, and Pistachio lays her chin on my foot—which, of course, tempts Rocky to do the same—daddy relaxes. Why does that calm him? What's going on?
"She's been invaluable, but…" daddy says, offering a minimized Pokéball to me. I narrow my eyes, wondering at the begging in his eyes.
"Giana?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. "Wasn't she supposed to help you around the Centre?"
"You'll need her," he insists. I start shaking my head, trying to wrap my head around the situation. I mean, I know things are a bit tense, but this is getting blown completely out of proportion! "Your team has one glaring weakness. Fighting types. But I figure you'll be fine so long as you stick near Haze, given his penchant for psychic types."
"Daddy…?" I blink away the confusion. This day just seems to be getting weirder and weirder all the time! I mean, JEEZ! "Aren't you being dramatic?" I'm worried about this whole thing Haze was talking about, I'm starting to get freaked out about the move, and I'm starting to freak out about a lot of other things. But those are all, at the very least, months away! Right?
"Please?" he begs with both his tone and his eyes.
With a sigh of resignation, I accept Giana's Ball. Daddy hugs me. For some reason he blocks my view of Haze, but I don't think much of it.
8-8
With the world's strangest weekend behind me, I find myself walking to school with Adam and Haze. Pistachio's once again walking with us, and we're doing our thing. Nothing… nothing out of the ordinary.
Other than the trainers that seem to be arguing with each other. Some of them seem to be arguing with their own Pokémon? Then there's that weird dream—something with flowers, but I'm sure it wasn't all that important. No matter how vivid, dreams are just that: dreams. They're little more than a mental process of organizing our day, sorting through our memories, and storing the important bits into our long term memory. Nothing weird about that. Nothing at all… right?
Yeah.
So why do I keep getting this niggling little feeling in the back of my mind? Like I'm forgetting something, even though I've gone over everything twice before leaving the house. It's probably nothing—lingering tension from how nervous everyone is at home.
Adam is looking at me expectantly. I narrow my eyes at him, wordlessly asking him what the deal is. He shrugs, jabbering on about whatever it is that seemed to bug him not a moment ago.
Finally arriving at school, we go through our usual chatter. Adam makes another joke about misbehaving, Haze seems to think of something equally witty to annoy him with. It's almost normal—so why is this feeling of disquiet still bothering me?
My first class, PE, turns out to offer even less solace than usual. Physics brings me back into Haze's company—which comforts me somewhat, seeing as the niggling seems to increase when he's far away. I… I just don't understand.
The professor starts droning on about the law of the conservation of matter and energy, but that gets ignored. As interesting as physics is—or can be—there's just too much going on right now for me to be at ease. The whole time, I keep fingering Giana's Ball.
Why is my need suddenly greater than the Centre's? I mean, I know daddy always places his family above his job—no matter how vital his role there. But why the sudden shift? The plan was for Gianna to help him train daddy's younger Geodudes to help him out. After all, training Chanseys is only preferable because of their Soft Boiled, not their demeanour. So why not use Pokémon daddy's familiar with?
It isn't that I'm unhappy to have Giana back. She is my first Pokémon, after all. I just don't like the timing, the atmosphere. I mean, Giana was trained right along Myron and Mina's Geodudes, by none other than Haze himself. I've always felt quite close to Giana, even though I haven't seen much of her in recent months, she's always been a constant in my life.
Is… has there been a report? Is Mossdeep the next target?
No, that can't be it. It would explain everyone's paranoia, but Haze wouldn't let me walk around without such information. So what is it…?
8-8
Standing in front of the group. The Hazies. Nine pairs of eyes—the usual eight, plus Ilene, who's apparently a student here—seem glued to me. They study me, dissect my every move. Haze is out there, somewhere, dealing with Adam and some issue he's been griping about—as I understand it. Figuring Haze suggested she join this group, I get the initial introductions out of the way and we discuss the usual beginning of week stuff. We take turns talking about our weekend, our plans for the week, things that might be bothering us, all of it.
The thing that really sticks out to me, is how each girl, in turn, talks about how uneasy their Pokémon seem to be.
Soon, theories start flying this way and that. Everyone seems to think they know why and none of them agree with anyone else, though politely done. I find myself zoning out half the time. So many things going on. So many coinciding signs, but what are they pointing to?
"Upperclassman?" I shake myself out of my stupor, finding everyone's eyes on me again. They all seem even more nervous than before, worried about the unknowns no one seems to have answers to. I nod to Ilene, wondering what's on her mind. "Has Haze said anything? About the news?"
"News?" I ask, narrowing my eyes slightly. What have I missed, exactly?
"About the woman they found on the beach?" Jeantrite asks, wordlessly asking why I don't know about it. "I mean, your dad made an official statement over the weekend about her condition. It was on the news and everything!" Well, that's news to me.
"Sorry, I hadn't heard. Daddy doesn't talk about work," I say, making a face to show how sorry I am about that. "So what happened?"
"Nobody knows. And she hasn't said a word about it," Channel says, looking worried about that. "All we know is that her clothes were in tatters, and that she had both arms and both legs broken. Doctor Harrison said that she's no longer in critical condition. Officer Jenny announced something about how they're investigating, and any leads are more than welcome."
"Yeah, but mom said how it's not likely anyone would have seen anything. I mean, she was found on South Beach. That's the most secluded spot in Mossdeep!" Jeantrite adds. I think about that, wondering what happened.
"South Beach? Freddy was begging me to go there the other night. I think he wanted to…" Xaviera trails off, blushing up a storm. No doubt that horny mutt wanted to jump her bones… Hmm… Maybe the girl was there with her boyfriend, then? But what kind of beast would do something like that to their girlfriend?
8-8
School is finally out. We're hanging around the courtyard just inside the school grounds, waiting on whomever we're walking home with. A few of the girls have already left, after promising me they'll be careful. Ilene is walking with Haze, Adam, and me, so we can pick up her sister on the way so nothing to worry about there.
Honestly, it's been a rather boring day. "It's just in. The remains of Jacques Friar, the sole suspect in the Pennifair case, have been positively identified. The cause of death is currently undisclosed, though the coast guard reports he was found with, and I quote, an impressive collection of bruises and broken bones. The police have yet to release the coroner's report, but they haven't ruled out a revenge killing." I turn to the group huddled around a Dex, obviously listening to the news. "Jennifer Pennifair, who still hasn't said a word since being found on South Beach this past Saturday morning, is reported to have become hysterical upon hearing the news. What that means, remains to be seen."
The rumour mill starts up immediately. Theories are flying this way and that what this means, who might have done it, whether this guy (who, according to gossip aficionados, is Pennifair's boyfriend) really is the culprit in that case, whether Pennifair's family is behind his murder. I groan, hating being around people for exactly this reason.
Still, it's… troubling. So much going on, and with this hitting the news over and over again? I finger Giana's ball again, wondering if daddy knows more than he's been letting on. I think he does, and with the talk of war…?
8-8
The second we get home, I get dragged into Adam's room. Adam's map gets pulled out and we start plotting our 'warpath'. Haze starts with the latest migration data he knows of—probably everything ever—so we know what's out there. Of the ones we find attractive, the circadian rhythms are marked, along with typical habitats and natural diets.
Haze, being Haze, sticks to all things Psychic and Ghost—a psychic trainer through and through. Adam, naturally, sticks to his favoured ground types. As for me? I'm back to a familiar problem. What type or types do I prefer?
Haze starts talking about catching a Snorunt, because he wants a Froslass. Adam is talking about bugging Haze's dad about letting us go to the ruins of the Safari Zone near Lilycove, for Rhyhorn and Phanpy. That of course gets Haze excited, because that opens the possibility for Girafarigs and Natus. Soon names I've never even heard of are being tossed around.
All I find myself thinking, is that I have no idea how I feel about any of them. I mean, Pistachio is a dark type and I love her to bits. Gianna is a rock-ground hybrid, and she's the sweetest little darling to me. And Rocky, though I've only had him for a few days, is the cutest little normal type.
Laying here on Adam's bed as the boys go back and forth about their ideas and ideals, I find myself as the odd one out. Haze has always been the intellectual type. Bookish, nerdy, and definitely up to scratch on the theory of how things work. Psychic types seem to compliment his natural state of being. Yet, he has quite the vicious streak if you upset him enough—a trait he shares with ghost types, no doubt.
Adam, on the other hand, is sturdy, dependable, and down to earth. Simple, if a bit touchy. He's a solid kind of guy, just like ground types.
So, who am I? What type of person am I? Am I just the undecided one? Flitting from person to person, Pokémon to Pokémon, depending purely on what I feel at that point in time? Is that who I am? Does it really have to say something about who I am?
I mean, what if I'm just looking at it wrong? What if not picking a Pokémon because of a type or species is my strength? A lack of predetermined preference, allowing me to zone in on traits I find most attractive. But what traits would those be?
"Stop worrying about it," Haze says, his eyes trained on me. How does that boy keep doing that? Is it because he's a psychic trainer, reading my mind? It would be awkward if he could. I mean, then he should know how I feel about him! He's never said a word about it. Is it because he doesn't see me that way? Is it because I'm like a sister to him?
Arceus, I hope not. I don't think my heart could take seeing him with someone else.
Gazing into his eyes. Those calm, piercing eyes. There… there was something I was thinking about, worried about. What was I thinking? I know I was thinking something… something important…ish…
A smirk.
That cocky little smirk, like he holds all my secrets and I'm the only one unaware of it. He knows. Arceus, how could he not know? So why doesn't he make his move? Should I… make the first move?
"Gin?" he calls me.
"Nn?" I noise, knowing I would deny him nothing. Ask me anything, everything.
His eyes smile, even as his face relaxes into his usual blank mask. He beckons, reaching out for me. My hand meets his. A tug. A coaxing nudge. My head is lain in his lap. Fingers combing through my hair, nails gently scratching my scalp.
Eyelids grow heavy, though I'm not tired. Darkness engulfs me. Smell; a melange of scents. Fabric softener, dust, and… something. Something uniquely Haze.
"So, we'll need a flyer, a swimmer, and a mount. Preferably one each," Haze continues as if nothing is the matter.
"Yeah, but that…" Adam trails off. I can almost hear the frown in his tone. "I'd want ground types, and few…"
"Vibrava and Flygon can learn Fly. As can Golurk," Haze reminds him. I hear a noise, but can only assume it's Adam's reply. "As for surfers? Well, there are a lot more options. Including Mudkip, which…"
"We have in the nursery," Adam finishes, sounding relieved. "And mounts. There are Rhyhorns en route. But what are you doing for a mount and surfer?"
Haze's leg tenses. My left eye opens, looking up at the blank mask not gazing at me. "There are Staryu outside of Lilicove. There's also been Frillish sightings not far from here."
"Dude, you really should get a Gol—"
"Dad's been trying to tempt me with an Audino," comes the predictable interruption. Even the scalp scratching halts. He isn't over her, at all. Though I see no signs on his face, I feel him. I feel the pain in his heart.
"They wouldn't want this," Adam soothes, though I already know it'll fall on deaf ears.
8-8
Three types of world views. Guilt-Innocence. Deductive reasoning, cause and effect, good questions, process. Issues are black and white. Written contracts are paramount. Communication is direct, can be blunt.
VRRRRR!
I grab my Dex, flipping it open without looking. I stuff it between my ear and shoulder, still reading through my assignment.
"Hello?" Honour-Shame. Teach children, honourable choices according to situation. Communication, interpersonal interaction, and business dealings are relationship-driven, "Hello?" with every action having…
I grab my Dex, looking at the screen to see who's calling. No one I know calls at this time, and they certainly wouldn't call and say nothing. Xaviera? She hates her Dex with a passion, so why would she call? I put my Dex to my ear. "Xav?" With every action having an effect on Honour-Shame status of participants.
My eyes narrow. I could swear I heard something, but for the life of me I can't figure out what.
"Ma… ma… ma…" What the hell?
My eyes flick to my bag, sitting on the edge of my desk. I grab my earphones, plug the jack into my Dex and quickly stuff them in my ear as I turn up the volume somewhat. I always did hate how soft my Dex sounds without earphones. I hear breathing almost immediately. Laboured breathing. And there are interspersed noises as well… 'ma'…
Listening closer, those murmurs sound almost… aroused? "Xav!" Am I listening to her having sex?
Bump. Bump. Bump. Tap-Tap-Tap. Bump. Bump. Bump.
Colour drains from my face.
I don't know what the hell is going on, but I know something is wrong! Horribly wrong! I tap my Dex, minimizing the current screen and tap the Friend Finder App. "ADAM!"
Bump. Bump. Bump. Tap-Tap-Tap. Bump. Bump. Bump.
Fuck! Why is this taking so long! LOAD, YOU STUPID APP!
A flicker of life, colours fade and an animation starts to show the loading of the map of Mossdeep.
FINALLY!
Check friends list… scroll, scroll, scroll… Xaviera Delanie! Locating… locating…
"Ma~aaaaaaaaah!" Panting, whoever—or whatever—that is, sounds exhausted but satisfied.
Located! Shit, she's in school! It'll take us forever to get there!
I click share location, sending it to Haze with a note: Shit hit the fan!
The door flies open, Adam comes rushing in already asking me what has me shouting. I turn to him, my index finger on my lips to tell him to shut up. "No time, call the police. Xaviera's being attacked. She's at school," I whisper to him. Colour drains from his face, his body locks in place. I swat him, hoping to get his ass in gear.
Meanwhile I'm grabbing my Pokéballs and jacket, getting ready to leave.
SNAP!
A muffled scream. I don't understand what just happened, but I hear pain, anguish, in that scream.
SNAP!
Another muffled scream.
SN-SNAP!
Another muffled scream. Tears sting my eyes. A memory bubbles up; broken arms and legs.
SN-SNAP!
More screaming, only this time unmuffled and words accompany it. Xaviera's voice, I recognize her voice but I can't make out what she's saying. Her words are malformed. Her tone speaks of pain and fear… and almost… No… No! "Mah. Champ!"
tuut tuut tuut tuut tuut…
Longing. Her tone… she longs for…
8-8
Running.
Through the busy streets. Ignoring traffic lights, concerned shouts, and indignant cries. I run. As fast as my legs will carry me, I run.
Intersection coming up. Crowd waiting to cross, red light for them. Cars driving. Don't care—can't care. I zip past the people, crossing right in front of an oncoming delivery van. Don't care. I run, ignoring the angry honks and shouts.
Shouting again, this time seeming authoritative. Still don't care.
She needs me. She needs me. She needs me.
I run. I can't feel my body. I can't tell if I'm breathing. I can't tell much of anything.
Obstacle!
I blitz around it, putting everything I have into picking up the pace.
8-8
Getting here, school. I see no signs of anything out of the ordinary. The guard is at the gate. I shout at him that someone's been attacked, that the police are on their way, and leave him there. Xaviera is around here somewhere, but where? I'm a bookworm, panicked and likely in pain. Where do…
THE LIBRARY!
Slamming the door open, I rush into the hall. Down the hall, through the doors at the end and out into the rear courtyard. The library is dead ahead. My heartbeat throbs in my throat, in my ears. I soldier on.
Entering the building, I stop and look around. Shelves of books, an unmanned desk. No one's here, none that I see. No signs pointing to her. Nothing. No time, no time. I stop running. I grab two Pokéballs. Giana's and Pistachio's. I call them out at the same time.
"Pistachio, we need to find Xaviera," I order. Pistachio looks worried. "Now!" She flinches at the sudden shout, but starts sniffing anyway. She looks this way, then that, seemingly trying to find a trail. Thank Arceus she's familiar with the Hazies.
"Arf!" She dashes off. I'm hot on her heels, Giana a step behind me. Further and further, to the back of the library, up the stairs to the study centre. Another bark, Piz leads. Over strewn papers, disembowelled books, through tunnels of partly overturned shelves. I follow.
"Yena!" Piz announces, running to a heap just ahead. Red. Bright red, dark red, a patch of cream now and again. No, not a heap, a person!
"Xav?!" I fly to her, losing my footing and sliding the last leg. I try to take in everything I can, try to see what I can make sense of. Hair matted red from blood. Face dark red and swollen. Jaw hanging lopsided, unhinged. I don't know who this is. Clothes are missing. Breasts, so female—though they are malformed and dark red. Her forearms are bent back, the backs of her hands resting under her elbows. Legs z-shaped.
Eyes. Bright green eyes find mine. Unfocused, unseeing. Dead eyes.
I check for a pulse, finding it weak but steady. Her eyes go wide, swimming in fear. Unintelligible, malformed words are warbled.
"CHAMP!" I snap towards the sound. My eyes widen, my body tenses.
Eyes. Eyes wide, red. Pupils dilated.
"Rrrrrrrr!"
Madness. Pure, unbridled madness. Those eyes. Glaring at me from the pits of hell.
"Dude! Ge Geo dude!"
Movement. Right at me. I see it, but at the same time I don't. I feel pressure on my forearms as they are jerked in some direction.
Those eyes are closed now. Lust is added to the madness. As is a tainted sort of joy. Swollen, yellow lips curl upwards. A smile, too wide, too happy. A tongue sweeps over the lips, drool collects and starts dribbling down.
A hand covers my mouth, its grip too tight. Painfully tight. Hands! Everywhere hands! My forearms, hands! My mouth, hand! My thigh… there's a hand on my thigh!
It's going down, to the hem of my skirt.
Upwards, against my bare skin.
The grin widens even more, showing black, sickly gums, and a pink tongue with white splotches. The hand gropes my most intimate place. Only the fabric of my underwear separates it from my secrets.
My body betrays me. I feel myself growing warm there, positively reacting to this. I feel myself moistening, preparing for what is to come.
NO!
I struggle. Even as I feel the grips tightening, I don't care. I pull back my crotch from the assault, refusing to let this… this THING take what it wants from me!
I pull back my leg, flick my eyes south and take aim at the one thing this shitfaced asshole will care about. With every ounce of power in me, I kick.
Eyes widen even more on impact. Shock and pain replace lust, though the madness increases. Its mouth widens, forming an 'O' as it shrieks in pain. It doesn't jerk back, and its grip on me tightens even more. I kick again, and again, and again.
SNAP!
Pain explodes from my left arm. A pained scream echoes off every wall. My left arm is released, my hand and part of my forearm hangs as if by a thread.
Its hand is raised, balled. Its eyes blaze with anger. Piz growls and barks, her muzzle sounding full—she probably bit into the thing's leg. A thud cuts her off, a snapping sound soon follows. Something tumbles away from me, likely Piz. A pained yelp.
Like a scared little girl, I find myself wanting daddy to come save me. I find myself wanting my knight in shining armour, just like the fairy tales. Without a doubt, if this thing hits me, I'm dead.
I close my eyes.
Light. Nails gently scraping against my scalp. I look up, finding Haze gazing straight ahead—a million miles away, as usual. The sun is hidden behind his face, glowing as if a halo. He blinks, looking down to meet my gaze. His eyes soften, as if seeing in me all he'll ever need. His lips move, the words I've craved these long years reach my ears: I love you.
Daddy walks me down the aisle, a proud but nervous smile on his face. He has a few more wrinkles than I remember, and his hair is greyer. Haze awaits me at the altar, only having eyes for me. He looks as stoic as ever, yet when daddy offers him my hand, a lone tear steals down his cheek.
Haze holds my hand, telling me how well I'm doing, telling me just a bit more. One last push. A head of silver hair, and crying. Wrapped in a warm bundle, our baby is handed to me. She grabs my finger, her eyes open. She has my eyes, but Haze's face.
Iria's first birthday. She's still working on the walking thing, but loves chasing after her daddy regardless. She's daddy's little girl, and Haze wouldn't have it any other way. I show her how to rip open her presents, but she doesn't know what to make of the sound. She sees the Eevee plushie, and her face glows with a joy that lights up my whole world.
Sitting in a rocking chair, in the shade, on the porch. Iria walks into view, a beautiful woman now. Haze comes through the front door to welcome her, his crow's feet far more pronounced because of the smile. He turns to me, makes a comment about Iria being as beautiful as I at that age. She laughs, playfully swatting her father. She looks so much like him, but she carries herself as I do. Hiding behind her leg is a little one, a boy. She tells him to come say hello to his grandmother, that there's no reason to be shy with family. I smile, wondering aloud if he'd like breaded chicken—just like his grandfather. He beams, he has my smile.
Lying in bed, in Haze's arms. Looking around, I see pictures everywhere. Pictures of us, of Iria, of the little boy. I'm too sore, too stiff, to move around too much anymore, so I spend most of my time in this room, in this bed. That's why Haze put up so many pictures, so I can tell our grandson the story behind each of them when he comes to visit. Oh so many stories.
We both know time is running out. Haze doesn't even deny it anymore. So we agree to go all out for my birthday this year—it will, no doubt, be my last. We invite the whole family; my surviving siblings, our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. We hold it in the yard, since the weather is so pleasant this time around. There is music, and dancing, and laughter… so much laughter. Haze convinces me to dance with him, playing the first song we danced to as husband and wife. My back gives out half way through, but neither of us cares. He eases me onto the soft, warm grass, laying my head in his lap as Iria calls a doctor. He gently scratches my scalp with his nails, as he looks around at our loved ones… our legacy. The sun is hidden behind his weathered face, glowing as if a halo. He blinks, looking down to meet my gaze. His eyes soften, as if seeing in me all he's ever needed. His lips move, the words I've cherished these long years reach my ears: I love you.
"I love you, Haze."
8-8
Light! Too bright! I try to cover my eyes, but something stops me. I groan, wondering at how scratchy my throat feels. The brightness eases. I noise appreciatively, nodding as I feel my head sink a little deeper into my pillow. There's a light thrum in the background—air-conditioning no doubt. There's the indisputable hospital scent in the air.
"You're safe," Haze's voice seeps through the fog. I try to recall anything that would make me unsafe, nothing comes. "You're in hospital. You took quite the blow to the head." Did I? If you say so.
"Don't try to move your left arm," he says, his tone soothing. I open my eyes, wanting to see him. It takes a moment, but my eyes adjust to the light.
"Th-the sun…" I murmur. Like déjà vu, the sun is hidden behind his face, glowing like a halo. His eyes are murky, and his shoulders are slumped as if he bears the weight of the world.
"We have a test coming up. Do you remember what about?" he asks, worry flickering across his face, almost too fast for me to notice. Almost.
"Social science," I mutter without thinking about it. "The three world views, and how this influences how a society operates." Something tugs at the back of my mind, something he said. My left arm?
I look down, finding a pink cast on my forearm that ends just below the elbow. Something tugs at my mind again, like I want to remember something… a reason perhaps? I don't know, and for some reason it doesn't come.
"It was a clean break," Haze explains. So I broke my arm, and took a blow to the head. What happened to me?
I don't know. Shouldn't I know? Well, a blow to the head sometimes means a concussion? Is that it? I have a concussion and Haze is trying to assess how badly my memory's affected? "How long was I out?"
"Fourteen hours." He said I'm safe. I'm in hospital. I took a blow to the head. I have a broken arm. What aren't you telling me, Haze?
I beckon to him, already begging with my eyes. "Scratch my hair?" He doesn't move. He doesn't react. I comb through my hair with my right hand. No pain, no bandages, no irregularities. He lied.
"Try to get some rest before you deal with that bit," he soothes. I narrow my eyes, trying to make sense of that.
8-8
End Chapter 3
8-8
A/N: I know this seems like a cruel place to leave this, but this is the better spot. The next few chapters will be about unpacking what has been compressed, and finding out what it will mean. Oh, and FYI? Now that Ginny's backstory is in play, what about Haze's?
Smoothed out on 19-Oct-2017.
