Chapter Nine
While all the drama was going on underground, Snivy had simply walked home. "Home," of course, being underground itself, which wasn't at all a nice situation for any Snivy. If it weren't for the light energy provided by his own cooking fires, Snivy would have died of starvation.
A funny thing, fire was. The sun, the most important thing in the world to a Grass-type (and one that particular poor Snivy hadn't seen for ages) was a ball of fire itself, up there in the great expanse of blue nothing called the Sky (which he also hadn't seen for ages), yet touching its fire would prove fatal to any Pokemon, even a Fire-type – and especially a Grass-type. Deadly, yet essential. It was a metaphor for something, but Snivy couldn't think of what.
Mongoose was waiting for Snivy in its stone-carved hut for news of the Plan. He was not disappointed. "You were right," said the Grass Snake Pokemon. "The Purrloin escaped as you said she would. Took some boneheaded Team Rocket woman with her, too, although it was the Rocket that really did the grunt work. I doubt they'll make it out of the Rebel Underground, though. Not alone."
Mongoose gave Snivy a pointed look that said, "Well, don't just stand there, do something." Mongoose never spoke aloud. Snivy wasn't even sure if the base animal COULD talk in any language, but he certainly seemed to understand Poke-speak.
Snivy shook his head. "I can't go out there; I'll be missed on rations duty. Either you go out yourself, or you cook for the troops while I round up some help. Take your pick."
Mongoose gave Snivy one of his dirty looks, but got up from a chair made of roots plastered with mud and began nosing around Snivy's cupboards for supplies. Snivy shrugged. "Go ahead. Rob me blind. There's nothing much in there anyway, and it's not like you'll ever be any better off than I am in this pit."
Mongoose shook his head firmly, and for the first time in Snivy's hearing, spoke a word. "Go."
Snivy snorted. "FINE," he whined. "I'll go round up whatever pathetic resistance still exists within this dark hell of a-"
Mongoose shook his head, then pointed at himself. "Go."
Snivy stopped cold. "YOU'RE going...? But Titan's out there, and Primal Banette, and all the Shuppet... and Litwick and Lampent and Chandelure..."
"GO," Mongoose insisted, giving Snivy a very firm look.
Snivy snorted. "You're a lunatic, but okay, just so long as it's not me." Dang it, his sympathy act had worked a little TOO well this time. Snivy had had no intention of actually collecting help, of course – he knew as much as anyone not to mess with Titan's plans – but he had earnestly hoped to get out of having to cook yet another under-appreciated meal with the truly terrible ingredients that the Rebel Underground provided. Heck, Mongoose had been a barkeeper, right? That had to mean he could cook, RIGHT?
Snivy shuddered to himself as Mongoose continued searching through the cupboards, finally choosing a carving knife almost as long as he was tall. With his plans, Mongoose was going to need that knife sooner or later. Maybe even to kill himself before Titan could do something worse to him, which Titan probably would.
James rushed to catch the falling Flareon morph – if that was even what she was; at the moment, identifying her was the least of his worries. Later on, given everything that had happened afterwards, he forever wondered if this had been a wise idea, but he always knew, from that moment onward, that it was the right one.
He just hadn't expected the morph girl to collapse into dust halfway down and completely engulf him in a cloud of sand, uncontrollably pouring into his nose, mouth, ears, and clothes as if to smother him.
James panicked – especially as he realized that in his starvation, his mouth was swallowing down whatever this dust was without even thinking of how disturbing that was. Even more disturbing, the dust cloud (part of which he was eating!) was still alive, swirling around him in a panic that almost matched the total and utter horror James was feeling himself.
Sorry! said a voice inside his head. I didn't mean to! It was presumably the voice of the morph girl, but James didn't have time to figure that out before the dust transformed into a painful shower of blue sparks, knocking him deeply unconscious.
Unconscious... or worse.
Next chapter: Things get worse before they can get better... and the story becomes a true crossover at last.
